A Man of Many Masks || 'The Grabber' x Reader

A Dove in his Cage

hey, it's been awhile. ...sorry :,)

TW: Stockholm, Language 

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As you dozed off into unconsciousness, Albert lay on the mattress awake, still trying to comprehend the fact that you'd actually kissed him. Not only was he surprised that you'd ever want to do something like that to him, but he was just so taken aback by how naturally you'd done so. For fucks sake you giggled. And now you two are tangled up in each other's arms—and legs—. How had he not noticed the fact that if anyone were to see the position the both of you were in they'd say you looked like an adorable love-sick couple? Well... he hadn't noticed a lot of things before. Like the way your cold and noticeably shivering frame seemed to fit so perfectly in his arms, and the fact your hair smelled like (your hair product's scent) even though you'd been locked in a dank, earthy smelling room and unable to shower for at least three or so days. It wasn't even a kiss kiss, more just a peck, but nevertheless it surprised him enough to the point that he'd already stayed up at least fifteen minutes thinking about it—about how soft your lips were, even if he didn't feel them for that long, about how cute you sounded when you giggled at him, about how you snuggled into his chest while your arms wrapped tighter around him—. Eventually, his thoughts slowed, and he fell asleep.

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At some point during the night, you and Albert's positions had changed from you both holding each other to just him holding you. He'd just woken up and was contemplating getting up, before your words from last night rang through his ears, "So I know you won't leave the room this time."  He couldn't leave, not while the look in your begging eyes was still fresh in his mind. After all he'd done, you were still so kind to him. He had to do what he could to repay the favor. When Albert looked out the small window he could tell that it was still dark. He didn't know if Max was home yet, nor did he know when he would be able to go back upstairs to avoid questions from his intrusive brother. All Albert knew was that he couldn't leave before you woke up.

Albert didn't even realise that he'd been subconsciously playing with your hair. The feeling of each lock going through his fingers instantly calmed any worries he'd had about Max, or really anything else. He was determined to not fall back asleep, he wanted to be awake when you woke up so that he could consciously be there for you. He wanted to say good morning and hold you tight to let you know that you're safe here, safe with him. 

About twenty or so minutes of Albert trying to desperately stay awake and ever so often drifting in and out of sleep, he could tell you were starting to wake up. You shifted a bit in his hold before you were able to open your eyes and see the partially masked man who lay before you. 'Did he sleep with his mask on?' 

You looked up to make eye contact with the man before you saw the small smile he had before morf into a grin. "Look who's finally up." He had that same happy and cheerful tone, but it was weighed down by a sleepiness that made his words seem slower and his voice sound deeper.

"Good morning." This interaction was what you'd been happy to avoid when he had left while you were still asleep the first time, but to your surprise it wasn't as awkward as you'd expected, it was actually preciously lovely moment.

"Well, I'm not too sure it's even morning yet, dove." Dove. Had he really just called you dove? What did he mean by it? He knows your name, why not just call you that? Why not a nickname based off of your name? Why did he bother referring to you at all? That sentence would've been fine even if hadn't referred to you. Maybe he forgot your name? But then again, if he did forget your name why wouldn't he just not refer to you at all?

"What time is it?" You briefly looked him in the eyes while asking him the question, but then you weren't sure where exactly to look after that, the gaze his eyes held was too powerful, too intimidating for you to hold eye contact with for too long. It was like anytime you did make eye contact you could feel him peering into thoughts, analyzing your brain the way a poet might analyze song lyrics. 

"Mm.. I'm not quite sure. It was around 11:40 something when I came down to check on you." Although you understood what he'd said, the sleep in his voice plus the fact he'd buried his face in your hair once again made it sound more like, "Mm.. M'not quite sure.. ihwas around 11:40 sumthing when I came downtuh check un you." 

You wanted to ask how long you'd been down here, but you didn't want to risk upsetting or angering him, so you decided against it. "Oh." Was all you got out as a response. For a while the two of you just lied there, both of you comfortably nestled underneath the comforter, your arms folded again his chest, his entire figure encasing yours, it was... nice. Neither of you talked, but it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward, it was a comfortable, reassuring silence.

You heard Albert sigh—as well as felt it, his hot breath dancing through your hair and momentarily warming your scalp—before he lifted his head from the top of yours and used his hand to guide your face so that you were looking into each other's eyes. There was a moment where when you looked up at Albert with your eyes slightly widened and offered him a small smile, you could see his sleep ridden half lidded eyes almost lite up, like he'd just seen a Christmas tree for the first time, and his lips slightly parted in what seemed to be pure awe of the sight in front of him. You took the time to admire him as well, the sleep messed stands of hair that fell past his mask, his cold yet soft eyes... and his lips. They weren't thin, but they weren't full either. You weren't entirely sure if they were chapped or if they just looked that way—slightly indented vertical lines decorating them—, because they did seem quite soft. What you were sure of was that they were an adorable shade of pink—despite the fact that they should've been a soft shade of blue considering the temperature in the room—. You were so caught up in the moment that you hadn't even realized that the two of you were leaning closer to each other, and before you could even comprehend what was happening your lips were already only about a centimeter away from the other's-and then you both paused. You saw him quickly glance around your face before he swallowed and slightly mouthed the words that he wasn't fully able to say aloud... and then he finally found a way to choke out, "Can I? Please." Your entire body suddenly forgot how to form words, so instead of a response you decided to close the cold, tension filled gap between you two, and pressed your lips to his. You were right, his lips were soft... and you could swear that they almost tasted like a sweet kind of smoke.

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Word Count: 1k+

sorry it's been so long, I just had really bad writer's block. i actually ended up re-writing this chapter almost three times :,l  I'm still not all that happy with the way it turned out but it was the best version out of the three and I needed to get something out

-Bowie <3