#and i doubt he could get away being a detective for i think it was four days??

[astrophileous]

A Well-Kept Secret

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Synopsis: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.

Warning(s): established secret relationship, mentions and/or depictions of death/physical violence/gun violence/injury/attack, signs of trauma, survivor's guilt, curse words, hurt/comfort, nudity but it's not sexual, allusions to sexy times, mentions/implied alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5900-ish

Author's Note: hiya! I decided to write this lil piece after seeing the fic challenge posted by @imagining-in-the-margins abt the family/found family trope. I had a lotta fun writing this one and I think it's got potential to be something more. So pls comment or message me if you wanna see me exploring with this idea (either turning it into a series of connected one-shots or multi-parters). Don't forget to like/comment/reblog and give me a follow :) I hope you enjoy! 💞

Criminal Minds Masterlist

When Hotch had notified the team to haul their asses up and drove all the way to D.C., Spencer never expected that it would also entail him having to suffer through a mini heart attack.

The series of attacks around D.C. had been dominating the 6 PM news segments in the entire country. What was initially perceived as a suspected sequence of robberies gone wrong--since the first two targets to have been hit were a bank and a prestigious auction house--soon turned into a nationwide panic as people realized that there was a bigger game at play.

After the third attack was found to have occurred in the headquarters of one of the top, up-and-coming renewable energy startups in the states, the D.C. police finally started to entertain the idea that perhaps they hadn't been dealing with their usual petty robbers at all.

And naturally, that was when the BAU had been called in.

As soon as the team entered the Metropolitan PD bullpen, they were struck with the smell of panic and the sight of chaos.

"Agent Hotchner?" A middle-aged man in a gray shirt and blue tie appeared in front of them. "My name is Detective Mills, we spoke on the phone."

"Of course, Detective." Hotch shook the other man's hand. "This is my team. Agent Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid. I have two others already at the latest crime scene. What can you tell us so far?"

"As you can see--" Detective Mills gestured towards the frenzied scene behind him, "--the entire D.C. area is going haywire after news broke out about yesterday's attack. The public is demanding the city to be put on lockdown, and I'm getting pressure from above as well. We received information that nearly half the city has called in sick today."

"A classic response to mass paranoia," Spencer noted.

"Well, paranoia or not, I just want to start getting some answers." Detective Mills began to lead the team further into the bullpen. "I have every pair of hands I could spare in this. If they aren't out there chasing leads, they're here interviewing the victims, friends, and families."

"Any luck so far?" Emily asked.

"Nothing more than what you've probably seen in the files."

Detective Mills pushed open the door to an office in the corner, away from the havoc in the center of the station.

"Lieutenant Jeffreys retired a couple of weeks ago. The lucky bastard." Detective Mills scoffed jokingly. "It's the most decent space I can spare at the moment. Think you'll be fine in here?"

"It's more than enough, Detective. Thank you," Hotch replied.

"What about the witnesses from yesterday's attack? Have you had the chance to interview them?" JJ asked as the rest of the team started setting up.

"Some of my men are with them right now. But I doubt they'll have anything useful. Just like the other two cases, the attack happened while most of the office was out. The rest left behind were DOA at the latest scene."

"They're rapidly devolving," Spencer pondered out loud as he skimmed over the case files. "They went from killing a non-compliant security guard during the first attack to executing almost every witness in the last one."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"

"It says here there is one survivor." Spencer showed the word he had underlined in the case overview to JJ.

"Yes, there is," Detective Mills confirmed. "I had one of my men talk to her. There's not much she could give us. Thing is, she wasn't even supposed to be there."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"She didn't work in that office. She was a consultant who just happened to be visiting. Poor girl's pretty shaken up. She hid in a supply closet the entire time. She was the one who found the bodies and called 911."

"So, the perpetrators never checked the rooms while they were holding the victims hostage?" Hotch questioned.

"Not according to her statement, no. See, I thought it weird myself. Do you have any idea why?"

"Not sure." Hotch hummed, deep in thought. "Perhaps our UnSubs didn't think to check because they didn't know someone was in there. Detective, you said all of the victims were the only employees of the company who didn't attend the event downtown, correct?"

"Yeah, they were the only ones who weren't listed as attendees. Why? Do you think those people were specifically targeted?"

"Unfortunately, we can't rule out anything yet this early in the investigation," Hotch said. "We need to talk to the witnesses to know more. JJ?"

"On it." JJ nodded. "What can you tell us about yesterday's sole survivor, Detective?"

"Not much. I didn't interview her personally, one of my men did. She works at a consulting engineering firm in town," Detective Mills replied. "I believe her name is... what is it called?"

When Detective Mills mentioned the name, Spencer's heart instantly crashed inside of its cage.

"What?" His hand had stopped scribbling on the board. In a matter of miliseconds, Spencer had crossed the room towards the doorway where Detective Mills was standing. "What did you say her name was?"

Dumbfounded, the detective stared at a dread-stricken Spencer before spelling out the name once more.

"Why? What's wrong?" Detective Mills asked in confusion.

JJ touched Spencer's shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

But Spencer, either too alarmed or merely choosing not to acknowledge both questions, asked instead, "Where is she? I need to see her."

"In the waiting room by the pantry--"

Spencer didn't even wait for Detective Mills to form his complete thought before dashing out. JJ exchanged a glance with Emily following Spencer's sudden exit, perplexed by his odd turn of behavior.

"I'll go get him," JJ announced before leaving the room, chasing after a flurry of wavy hair and a wool-knitted purple vest sprinting across the bullpen.

The roaring commotion inside the station was almost loud enough to rival the intensity of your racing thoughts.

Almost.

At this point, you didn't think there was anything you could do anymore. The vivid images from yesterday's attack were playing continuously in your head. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

Rubbing your eyes from exhaustion, you mourned the loss of sleep that you failed to get the previous night. As if the waking nightmares weren't torment enough, the images had somehow translated even more cruelly into your subconscious. You could barely close your eyes for three seconds without feeling like you had been brought back to that place.

Cold, cramped, and alone. Fearing for your life in the tiny supply closet that smelled more like death than bleach.

At the sound of the door opening, you quickly turned around in your seat to hide your face away from prying eyes. The last thing you needed at that moment was having a complete stranger seeing you fall apart in the middle of a police station.

But when the voice came carrying the sound of your name, it wasn't the voice of a complete stranger you had heard. It was a voice you knew more than you probably knew your own. A voice you loved and a voice you had longed to hear for the past gruesome twenty-four hours.

"Spencer?" You turned back towards the door, seeing the face you adored most in the whole world staring back at you.

"Sweetheart."

At the speed of a lightning, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you and gathered your broken little pieces into his arms.

Spencer's touch was everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your shoulders. As if he was checking whether you were real. That you were actually there inside his arms, and you were not a simple imagination that his mind had conjured up.

Surrounded by the safety of his embrace, you could feel the shattered pieces of yourself beginning to mend once more.

"Spencer," you uttered his name again as you pulled away, still in disbelief that he was physically there with you.

"I'm here," he promised you as he cupped your face gently.

"Spencer, what are you... How..."

"My team is working your case. We arrived half an hour ago," he explained simply. "Sunshine, why didn't you tell me? I thought you were still in Alaska?"

You had previously apprised Spencer that you would be hard to reach during your trip since you would be spending most of your time at the power plant site where cellphone receptions were scarce. So when an entire day went by without him ever hearing from you, Spencer didn't have any reason to be worried.

Never in a million years would he have ever predicted that you'd be caught in the middle of a hostage situation.

That thought alone caused Spencer to squeeze your hand a little tighter than usual.

"I'm sorry, Spence," you said sincerely. "My trip ended earlier than planned. I arrived back yesterday morning. I actually wanted to surprise you last night. After yesterday's... incident, I wanted to call you, but my phone was shot--"

"Wait, what? You were shot?"

"No! No, baby. Not me. Just my phone," you assured him. "But that's why I couldn't call. I did attempt you once using this station's phone, but it went straight to voicemail."

At the new piece of information, the colors immediately drained from Spencer's face.

"That was you? Fuck. I didn't--I didn't know. I rejected the call because I didn't know it was you."

"Hey." You stopped his guilty rambling with a hand to his cheek. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm just glad you're here."

And then, because Spencer needed to make sure that you really were okay, he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter this time.

"Uh, Spence?"

The sound in the doorway snapped you both out of your mutual reverie. You looked up to see a blonde woman there, staring in an equal mixture of shock and confusion at the sight in front of her.

Spencer begrudgingly untangled himself from your arms before getting up to approach her.

"JJ, do you mind if I do the cognitive for this one?" Spencer asked.

The woman--JJ-- shifted her eyes a few times between you and Spencer. "Um, of course. I'll just go and inform Hotch. Tell us if you need anything."

After JJ's departure, Spencer closed the door again to award you both a much needed privacy.

He grabbed a wooden chair from the corner and dragged it before sitting down right in front of you.

"I need to start the interview now, sweetheart. Think you're up for it?"

Your whole body went rigid for a matter of seconds before you forced it to restart again. It was gone as soon as it came, but Spencer noticed it just the same.

"Look at me," Spencer ordered softly, using his delicate finger to nudge your face up until he was looking straight into your eyes. "I know it's scary. I don't want you to have to relive yesterday either, but it will help us catch whoever did this."

"I've told the police everything I knew yesterday. I was hiding the entire time." Like a coward. "I didn't see anything. I don't have anything else that could help you."

"I know that, sunshine. But as I've told you before, our method is slightly different. We won't be just focusing on what you saw, but also what you smelled, or maybe even heard." Spencer took your hands then, squeezing affectionately. "I'll be here with you the entire time."

The nod you gave him was hesitant, but it was a start nonetheless. You listened intently to Spencer's words and closed your eyes just as he had instructed.

"We'll start at the beginning," you heard him say. "Why don't you tell me why you went there yesterday?"

"I, uh, received a call from my friend, Nick, after my plane landed. We had been communicating back and forth since his company seeked my consultation for one of their upcoming projects," you began. "I wasn't even supposed to work because I had requested the day off. But Nick said it didn't have to be a formal meeting, so I agreed to meet him."

"Tell me what you remember after arriving at the office."

Your mind traveled back to that specific time one day prior. You remembered walking into the place and seeing its unusual state of vacancy even though there was still a good half an hour left before lunchtime.

"I just assumed everyone had gone to lunch earlier and shrugged it off," you recalled.

Spencer nodded his head. "Did anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?"

"No? I don't... I don't know. It was only my second time being there, I'm not sure what was normal and what wasn't."

"Okay. That's okay. You're doing good so far, sweetheart," Spencer quickly interjected, trying to get you to calm down before your distress could turn into a full-blown panic. "Now, what did you do next?"

"I followed Nick into his office."

Nick was keeping his promise true. It hadn't felt like a formal meeting, just two old college buddies reminiscing about the past and discussing possibilities of the future that, of course, included the company's upcoming project which you would be working on with him.

"I excused myself to the bathroom at some point," you added. "When I first heard the commotion, I thought nothing of it. It's like the idea that a group full of armed men had taken over the building didn't even cross my mind. I mean, why would it? I was on my way back to Nick's office when I saw them."

You recalled turning a corner after exiting the bathroom only to see those figures carrying machine guns and shouting at everyone to get on their knees or put their hands above their heads. You remembered sprinting the way you had come from and opening the first door you could reach that just happened to be the supply closet.

"Let's go back to the moment you saw them," Spencer urged gently. "How many people were there? Do you remember any conspicuous detail? Maybe one of them had tattoos or spoke with an accent. Anything that distinguished them."

Taking a deep breath, you tried replaying those crucial seconds slowly in your head.

"There were four of them. I couldn't see much. They were all wearing identical black clothes."

Suddenly, an unexpected piece of memory rushed to the front of your mind. You opened your eyes in shock, meeting Spencer's curious gaze that had been kept intently on you the entire time.

"I think at least one of them is a woman," you told him.

Spencer's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"One of the guys said something about... fucking this place up. And then she laughed. I heard her. It was definitely a female laugh."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah? Do you think it'll help?"

Spencer nodded assuredly, bringing his hand to leave calming strokes on your head. "I know it will. You've done a great job, sweetheart. I'm proud of you."

The praise Spencer gave eased the tension in your shoulders. As if having been granted fresh air after decades of confinement, you were finally able to let yourself breathe again.

Spencer continued his loving strokes on your head. Little by little, the weight of his touch melted the resolve you had built into a pathetic puddle on the floor. Without its mental shield protecting you, your tears sped forward, gathering in your eyes until they spilled on the vast path down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey." Spencer's voice was laden with panic after seeing you start to cry. "Sunshine, what is it? What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I-I just... God." You struggled to get the words out in between sobs. "I'm a coward, Spencer."

"What?"

"All of those people... They died because I was a fucking coward."

Your admission tore into the air before stabbing Spencer right through his chest.

"Sweetheart, you know that's not true."

"But it is!" you cried out, pulling away from Spencer's grounding hold around your shaking body in favor of your own arms. "I was a coward. I ran and hid because I was too scared to die. Too scared to fight. If I had just tried a little harder, I could've called for help. That way, maybe all of those people wouldn't... And Nick wouldn't..."

A haunting image flashed behind your eyes. The image of Nick's limp and lifeless body on the floor, among those of the others. You remembered crying next to him, punching his chest, body, and arm despite having seen the gunshot wound on his forehead. It took you another five minutes before you eventually managed to gather yourself together, found a phone, and dialed 911.

Not that it made any difference. They were all already dead.

Spencer could hear his heart breaking at the sight of you curling into yourself, recoiling from his touch because you somehow believed you didn't deserve his affection at that moment. If Spencer could just transfer all of your pain towards him, he would. Seeing you beat yourself up that way over something that happened and was done to you was the worst kind of torture he ever had to endure in life.

And Spencer had been through more kinds of torture than the general population in the world.

Deciding that he had seen enough of your self-deprecating torment, he reclaimed your hands inside of his palms and urged you to look at him.

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Spencer asked incredulously. "How can you even think that way? Sweetheart, what happened to those people, to Nick, it is not your fault."

"B-but, if I hadn't run away--"

"Then you would've died, too," he cut you off. "Sunshine, there were four of them with machine guns. No one stood a single chance against them. Those people were there to kill. There was nothing you could've done."

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Spencer needed you to hear it.

He needed you to know the truth no matter how unacceptable it was.

"If you hadn't hid from them, we would've found seven bodies there instead of six. And I--" Spencer took a shuddering breath, "--I would've lost you."

Your shoulders deflated at his revelation. "Spence--"

"So please--" he searched your eyes then, using his thumb to sweep away the remaining tears under your eyes, "--stop holding yourself accountable. I promise I will do everything I can to find those people and make them pay for what they did."

Spencer's vow triggered a new wave of tears that compelled you to sink into his awaiting arms. He let you stay there until you had cried your tears dry. It was something he also secretly needed for himself after suffering through the short-lived horror over the mention of your name in relation to the heinous case. He just needed to make sure that you were okay.

A few minutes passed by with you in his arms. Eventually, Spencer had to tear himself away to finish his job. He asked you to wait as he wrapped up the transcript of your cognitive interview, along with his professional report over it.

"I need to run somewhere real quick. I promise to be back in a couple of hours," he notified JJ as he handed her the interview report. "Tell Hotch for me? Thanks."

Without waiting for his friend's reply, Spencer rushed back to the waiting room before leading you out to take you home.

Back at your apartment, Spencer guided you towards the direction of your bathroom as soon as you had stepped into the threshold.

"Are you trying to get me naked, Spencer?" you remarked playfully after he refused to let you take your clothes off yourself.

"Yes." The gleaming mischief in your eyes caused him to flick your nose lightly. "Just to get you ready for your bath. Get your head straight, will you?"

You scoffed at his back as he turned around to check the water temperature in the tub.

Once you were submerged safely inside, Spencer left the bathroom to give you some privacy. Meanwhile, he began rummaging through your drawers to pull out a change of clothes, a towel, and a clean sheet for your bed.

By the time you exited, Spencer had changed your bedsheets and lit one of your favorite candles on the bedside table. He asked you to sit down on the bed as he kneeled before you, helping you put on the pajamas he had picked out with little prints of sunflowers on them.

None of Spencer's touches were sexual. They swept over your skin with the care of an artist handling their most precious work. When his eyes found yours, you swore you could almost cry from the intense adoration that seemed to shine so brightly out of them.

As he guided you to lie on the bed, you were surprised to see him following suit. He got under the covers with you, pulling you close to tangle every inch of your limbs with his.

"I love you, Spencer," you admitted to his chest, heart heavy with the deep appreciation and overwhelming affection for the man beside you.

Spencer looked down at your confession, finding his favorite pair of eyes already looking earnestly at him. Instinctively, he reached for your chin with his fingers, tugging your face upward until he could capture your lips with his.

The kiss was slow. Careful. Filled with silent promises and discreet reassurances. When you both parted, Spencer didn't pull himself away. Instead, he let his forehead touch yours while his eyes stayed closed.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" you asked quietly.

"Yes, sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

Although the two of you knew his answer was a lie, you both chose to pretend otherwise. You knew Spencer still had responsibilities to fulfill, along with a promise to you that he intended to keep. You knew that when you woke up later that evening, Spencer would already be long gone, and you would be forced to bask in the traces of himself that he had left behind.

But for now, Spencer was still there, in the comfort of your bedroom, lying on the bed next to you. And that knowledge alone was good enough for you to finally drift further into the land of sleep, surrounded by the warmth of Spencer's loving embrace.

"I'm telling you," JJ insisted, looking at her entire team minus Spencer and Hotch. "There was definitely something going on between them. Why else would he request to take over the cognitive for me?"

"Maybe he was feeling generous," Rossi deadpanned, earning an unimpressed glare from JJ.

It had been a full week since the BAU team had arrived in D.C. to investigate the series of gun attacks in the city. Just the day prior, they had successfully made their fourth arrest, bringing this case to yet another satisfying conclusion in the eye of justice.

If nothing else was amiss, they should have been on their way back to Quantico in less than an hour. In the meantime, though, JJ felt obliged to gather her team members in the middle of the bullpen to share her suspicion about a certain scene she had accidentally caught on their first day working the case.

"Pretty boy did seem more emotionally involved in this case than he usually does, though," Derek pointed out.

"Right? Right?" JJ replied almost too enthusiastically. "Come on, aren't you guys at least half as curious as I am about who this mystery girl might be? Don't you wanna try finding out who she is while we're still here?"

They all stared at each other in hesitation.

"Or, we could just ask Spencer directly and let him explain?" Emily suggested, receiving incredulous looks from the other three in response. "Yeah, you're right. What did you say her name was again?"

"I don't remember," JJ answered.

"It must be listed in the files somewhere, right?" Derek immediately sprung into action, reaching towards the scattered case files that might contain the name they were looking for.

"Just to be clear, I am not taking any part in this." Rossi sighed.

"Got it!" Derek waved the offending file in hand, giving it to JJ, who instantly began skimming over it.

"Alright. Says here that her name is..."

JJ read the name aloud when unexpectedly, an answering sound sprouted from behind them.

"Yes?"

Every single one of them turned in shock at your voice. You smiled at their wide-eyed expressions, waving your hand a little awkwardly in the air.

"You!" JJ exclaimed.

"Me?"

Emily nudged JJ in the ribs, making the blonde woman wince.

"Y-you're the witness from the startup case, right?" JJ said, trying to rectify the situation.

"That's me."

"What can we do for you, Miss?" Rossi asked, stepping forward and away from the rest of the group.

"I'm actually looking for Spencer. Do you know where he might be?"

"Spencer Reid? You know Reid?" Emily asked.

Before you had the chance to reply, the man in question came strolling into the bullpen, rambling animatedly to Hotch who was walking beside him. The moment Spencer caught sight of you, though, he immediately abandoned Hotch's side and rushed towards where you were standing.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," you told him, fitting yourself easily into Spencer's side as his arm went around your waist. "Hi, Hotch."

The older man called your name in greeting. "I got your message. You wanted to talk to me?"

"I wanted to ask you--well, all of you, actually--" you glanced around at the other team members, "--if maybe you all would let me treat you to lunch? As a thank you for your hard work on the case."

Hotch nodded in response. "It's fine with me. We don't have to be back until tonight, anyway. Everyone?"

Instead of replying to your offer, Emily voiced aloud the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"You know her?" Emily looked at Hotch before dragging her eyes away towards you. "And you know him? You know each other? How?"

You gazed up at Spencer's eyes, seeing them shining with the same mirth as the one you felt dancing in your stomach.

"I guess this is supposed to be the part where I introduce myself, isn't it?" You chuckled.

Extending your palm, you shook each of their hands while telling them your name, them responding back with theirs even though you already knew who was who long before you had even met them.

"I still don't understand," JJ admitted after you finished shaking her hand. "How did you know Spencer and Hotch?"

Once again, you looked into Spencer's eyes, a question bouncing around in yours. Spencer's nod of affirmation was the only go-ahead you needed.

It's time.

"I'm Spencer's girlfriend."

"She's my wife."

You turned your head towards Spencer in shock.

In front of you, Spencer's teammates were causing an uproar.

"Wait, what?" Emily stared dumbfoundedly.

"You have a girlfriend?" Derek asked in disbelief.

"You're married?!" JJ shrieked.

"Hold on a second," Rossi interjected, holding his palms out as if to tell everyone to stand down and calm themselves. "So which one is it? Girlfriend or wife?"

And that was how you found yourself sitting in the private VIP room of your favorite restaurant in the city with some of Spencer's closest people on earth.

"That's the craziest story I've ever heard," Emily pondered in astonishment.

Rossi, Derek, and JJ were all wearing an identical look on each of their faces after hearing the story of how you and Spencer met: by drunkenly getting married in Vegas after only knowing each other for barely one night when you both weren't even twenty-two yet.

"If someone were to tell me yesterday that there's another member of this team who also went to get married while drunk in Vegas, I would have never even thought of mentioning Spencer's name," JJ mused.

At your curious expression, Spencer explained, "Rossi also got drunkenly married in Vegas to his third ex-wife,"

"Why didn't you two get a divorce?" Emily suddenly asked.

It was something that everyone who knew about your situation with Spencer had questioned at one point or another. The real answer was because you and Spencer had both been reluctant to go through the nasty and lengthy legal process of getting a divorce. Therefore, you decided to part ways without doing anything about it, vowing to only track each other down if one of you ever needed to end the bond because of another impending marriage or any other urgent matter.

But that reason alone was usually not enough to appease people's curiosity. And over the years, you and Spencer had poked fun over that particular fact by coming up with the most outrageous lie you could muster up.

"She wanted to get a divorce," Spencer fabricated smoothly. "I persuaded her otherwise because I had this inkling that someday we were gonna fall in love."

Usually, any other people would coo sweetly at Spencer's statememt.

But these weren't any other people. These people were Spencer's family in more ways except flesh and blood, and even without their profiling skills, you knew they could see right through Spencer's little deception.

"That sounds like bullshit to me. Doesn't that sound like bullshit to you?" Emily asked, turning to JJ for support.

"Yeah, that was bullshit, alright," JJ claimed vehemently, prompting an innocent-looking grin from Spencer and a series of chuckles from everyone else.

"When did you two start dating, then?" Rossi spoke up from one end of the table.

"About two years after Vegas, right?" you estimated, to which Spencer nodded in confirmation. "He strolled into my place of work while he was on a case, and then he asked me out."

Derek sat up on his seat after hearing the new information. "Wait, when was this? Why didn't I know about this?"

"The beginning of my second year in the BAU," Spencer offered. "Elle knew."

"Elle? Elle Greenway? You told Elle but not me?" Derek looked offended.

Spender shrugged nonchalantly. "Elle was assigned with me that day."

"Unbelievable." Derek slumped back down in his chair. "Penelope is gonna freak when she finds out what she missed today."

"Penelope? Oh, she already knows," you told him.

That revelation earned a collective disbelief look across the entire table.

"Yeah... I, uh," you cleared your throat, "I actually just went shopping with her two weeks ago."

"You've got to be kidding me," Emily muttered.

"You told Penelope but not me?" Derek sounded hurt as he pointed his accusatory stare at Spencer. "You even told Hotch!"

"I didn't tell Garcia. She dug through my history and found it out herself. Had to bribe her with candies and chocolates for a whole month to keep her quiet," Spencer grumbled. "And I had to tell Hotch. We needed to add her number to my emergency contact list."

Despite Spencer's concise explanation, Derek still seemed unsatisfied by the whole ordeal.

"How long have you known?" he finally decided to ask Hotch.

"A while," the man answered from his seat at the opposite end of the table from Rossi. "They even babysat Jack a few times for me."

"I don't believe this," Derek scowled. "Pretty boy's got himself a girl for the last six years, and I never knew? Outrageous."

"Technically, we've been married even longer than that," Spencer responded, as if he was unaware of the imminent glower that Derek was sending his way. "Eight years since Vegas."

"That's longer than any of my marriage," Rossi remarked before sipping his drink.

The laugh that resonated upon Rossi's little comment elicited an affectionate smile on your lips.

"So, you live in D.C., then?" JJ asked, at last stirring the conversation away from the topic of your and Spencer's secret marriage-slash-relationship.

"I do, yeah. But most of the time, I live out of my suitcase," you answered. "My firm has clients all over the country. A few overseas, as well. I'm lucky if I even get to have an entire week to sleep uninterrupted in my own bed."

Even then, you truthfully quite enjoyed the work you had to do. You didn't mind having to travel some place new every other week. In fact, you somehow believed that your constant need to travel for your job, and Spencer for his, was one of the reasons why the two of you worked so well together.

Although people might think that two adults who had to travel for a living were a recipe for a disastrous relationship, you and Spencer had so far proven otherwise. Because of your respective schedules, you could sympathize more with the other anytime they had to go somewhere urgent for work. It only made you savor every single second you spent together because of how much precious each one of them became.

The rest of lunch unraveled with the same bucket of smiles, jokes, and laughter. It felt good to finally tell the few people who meant the world in Spencer's life the truth about your relationship. It was also a huge relief to see them opening their arms and welcoming you into the family without an ounce of hesitation.

"Hotch?" Spencer called out after everyone exited the restaurant. "Will it be okay if I stay in the city for one more night?"

"As long as you promise to be back for tomorrow's briefing," Hotch reminded sternly, but the meaningful look he passed over you before he entered his vehicle spoke of a thousand things left unsaid.

"It was so nice meeting you," JJ said as she took you in her arms. "And I'm sorry again about your friend."

"Thank you. And thanks for all of your hard work in catching those guys."

"Of course, it's what we do." JJ smiled as she pulled away. "Invite me and Emily the next time you and Penelope hang out, okay?"

"Will do," you promised.

You watched as every single one of them scrambled into the two black SUVs, waving your goodbye until the cars drove out of your sight.

"I think that went well," you commented before looking up at Spencer. "Do you?"

"I think it went as well as it could."

"So--" you began, circling your arms around Spencer's neck, "--we have more than twelve hours until you're expected back at Quantico. What do you wanna do?"

Spencer nudged your nose with his. "I can think of a few activities we can partake in."

"Really?"

"Really."

Just as he was a hairbreadth away from pressing his lips to yours, you suddenly tore yourself out of Spencer's arms.

"Like getting some frozen yogurts?" you asked giddily, smirking at the dumbfounded look that you managed to put on Spencer's face.

"Fine. Let's go get some frozen yogurts."

Spencer had to hide his amused grin at your elated squeals. He was more than content at that moment to let you produce those addictive sounds at the mere prospect of frozen yogurts.

But later that night, he had a whole different set of activities lined up to pull those same sounds out of you once more.

And it might or might not potentially involve an entirely different yet creative use of frozen yogurts as well.

Spencer simply just hadn't decided yet.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminam minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #mentioningmargins

[ka3mika]

FIREWORKS IN TOW WITH YOU

Watching the fireworks with your longtime colleague, who you can’t help but silently love.

It’s peaceful, the only sound heard being the wind and fireworks, as it can be for a Friday night.

You’d only came for the festival not far away but you soon ended up with Dazai on a small roof, far enough from the edge but not so far that you couldn’t see the colourful streets below.

“What do you think, pretty?” He asks, a small grin on his face.

It’s hard to tell whether he’s calling you pretty or the view but you take it the way anyone would believe, sighing in comfort at the sights above and below.

“Definitely.” You gaze at your sleeves for a moment, hoping the darkness would hide your tinted cheeks.

“…Hey, look at that one.” the detective points up, making your eyes wander to a illuminated firework right above you both.

A bright red heart.

Your cheeks seemed to heat up at that, light awe on your face at the sight.

Unbeknownst to you, someone else’s cheeks were also heated up in light awe at the sight, not of the fireworks but of a person.

“Rather fitting, no?” A teasing voices awakens you from your gaze.

“Fitting, how so?” You ask, head turning to look at him.

“Well, this is pretty romantic.” He grins playfully, hand outstretched for you to take it.

“Huh.. It is, isn’t it?” You quietly reply, taking his hand with your head faced away from him once more to gaze at the fireworks.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise, seeing as you constantly danced around each other with comments such as these, but the sincerity and atmosphere seemed to top every single other comment made by each other in that moment.

Your hands simply stay intertwined for somewhere between five and ten minutes, both looking up peacefully and sneaking occasional glances at each other.

“If you were asked, would you consider a true relationship, Dazai?” You break the silence, now looking down at the families and couples walking through the pretty pathways.

“True?” He repeats, “If the one I wish for asked, no doubt I would.”

The one he wished for, huh?

“Must be a lucky person.” You reply, still gazing away.

“My, what a charmer you are! Though on the contrary, I would consider myself the lucky one for even being in their presence for a few moments.”

A comfortable silence fills the air once more as you wonder who could have caught Dazai’s eye.

You can’t really see them as an agency member, maybe it’s that sweet waitress?

“What are they like?” You question, sighing quietly.

You’re not devastated, you expected him to get a partner one day, serious or not, but…

“You.” He suddenly says, making you pause.

Like you or you?

“In truth, they’re much like you, too much so that I can deny it’s anyone but you.” His hand clutches your slightly tighter at that, his usual shine when he was asking someone to do a double suicide at least 10x brighter in your vision.

“..Me?!” Your eyes widen, face lightly red.

A small hum of approval is heard and your brain goes blank.

“Most definitely.”

“…Are you asking me out?” You gawk, the idea being maddening in your head.

“Well, yeah.” He grins, not minding your denial of the situation.

“I— i accept then, Dazai.” You manage to muster out, your face a shade of rose-like red.

A chuckle is all it takes for your head to go fuzzy.

“Call me Osamu, if you wish.”

Okay, your head is definitely fuzzy.

#ka3mika💋 #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x you #osamu dazai x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd fluff #short but sweet #not beta read

[l0ngschl0ngking]

Apology won’t cut it

Tim Rockford x f!reader

summary: Tim forgot about your anniversary…how can he make things right?

warnings: SMUT (oral -f!receiving, vaginal fingering, somnophilia -with estabilished consent, reader and Tim talked about it before-, unprotected p in v, reader “hangs” onto those shoulder holsters while Tim fucks her, creampie,(1) spitting on pussy, praise kink, biting), talks of infidelity, cursing, mentions of food, mentions of reader being pregnant, fluff -it’s me…so :)

word count: 4.3K (how that happened? - i don’t know either)

A/N: Tim is hot and I have things for detectives/agents with shoulder holsters (*cough, cough* Seeley Booth)

You met Tim a few years back through your friend. Normal Sunday brunch turned into you confiding to her – telling her that you worry that your husband might be cheating. The past few months he was spending more and more time in his office – the fact that you saw his new personal assistant a few months back who was much younger and prettier than you didn't help.

Susan, your friend, tried to soothe your worries but when you started being a babbling and a sobbing mess – you've spend most of your life with your husband and the thought of him cheating on you cut your heart deeper than you thought it would – she sighed and withdrawn something from her purse. A small plain business card layed between her neat fingers.  

She passed it to you with a few tissues as well and when you finally wiped all of your tears away,  you looked at what was written on it – both of your eyebrows raising in a question.

“It's a private investigator. I hired him when I had a suspicion that Richard might be cheating on me as well. Turned out he was just working extra shifts so he could buy me an engagement ring.” She grinned at the memory and you looked at her finger – the diamond ring he bought her shining in the daylight sun. You offered her a little smile – happy for her. Richard was a nice guy – sweet and genuine and you didn't know how she could think he was cheating on her – he kissed the ground she walked on. “But really, he is great, sweetie. A little pricey but he does his job well. It doesn't hurt that he is easy on the eyes too.” She winked while you bit your lip in contemplation.

A few days pass since your Sunday brunch and you think about calling the number numerous times – then telling yourself that you shouldn't doubt your husband's loyalty. Though when he left this morning without even kissing you on the head as he normally would – not even sparing you a little glance, you were more certain than ever – you were going to find out what was going on once and for all. Even if it should break your heart.

When the other voice on the other line says “hello?” you get nervous. You are really doing this.  

“Hello, uhm – I, ugh- I’d received your business card from a friend and would like to hire your services. Are you busy or-?” Smooth. Real smooth.

“No, not really,” he chuckles - the cigar he was smoking dangling from his lips, “would you like to meet at yours or at my office?” His voice was a little gruff but very soothing at the same time. You try to imagine what he looks like – didn't sound like a young man, maybe someone close to your age range – not that you were old or something.

You quickly scribbled the address where he worked as you found it more appropriate that you rather meet him at his office than if he should invade your own home.

When you arrive at the address he gave you, you found yourself in front of a small brick building – the doors are pretty mahogany color but creaky and when you enter it looks bigger than on the outside. Various small offices with different names on glass windowed doors surround you and you look for his business card in your purse – forgetting his name.  

Tim Rockford – it says on the card and you squint your eyes when you see doors with the same name on it far back. You stride with confident steps towards it even when you are not feeling that way at all. You knock – one time, two times and the third time a small gruff “come in” can be heard from the other side of the door.  

When you step in the first thing that hits you is the cigar smoke and you cough a little – you hate smoking. Then you finally see the man in question. He looks a little older - the bags under his eyes make him seem that. He quickly stands up from his leather chair that creaks and offers you a small smile which you uncertainly return. He is handsome in a ruggish way. His hair is short and has a few silver strands mixed in there as well,  and his beard is patchy – that is something very endearing about the fact. His shoulders are broad and you think he should buy a bigger shirt as this one is straining against his frame – not that you mind that much.  

He quickly puts out the cigar when he sees your nose wrinkling at the smell – observant as well. Not bad. He reaches his hand out to you and you take it – his grip is strong but not in an unpleasant way and his palms are a little sweaty. He clears his throat and offers you his name which you do the same in return. He sits down and gestures to the older-looking armchair sitting opposite him. It's comfier than it looks.  

“So, what brings you here, m’am?” You scrunch your nose for a second – not feeling that old but don't say a thing about it. Right, let's cut right to the chase.

“I-I think my husband might be cheating on me and I'd like for you to find out if that's true.” He doesn't look at you weirdly or anything – as you thought he would. He just nods his head and asks your husband's name which you provide.  

“That's all I really need. I will find out all of the other information myself and will call you if I will find some clues. Sounds good to you, m’am?” You nod and give him your phone number – the phone you called him from being the house landline.

A few weeks pass, Tim calls you often or you go to his office – recently you started inviting him to your house as you started feeling more comfortable around him – all of the clues hint that your husband is really cheating on you and he tries to make you feel better about it – cracking jokes here and there and you appreciate it even though it doesn't seem all that professional.  

Today he brings a folder with him. The yellow one you often see in some kind of crime film that holds photos of the victim – and when he enters he throws you a sad smile. You know what it means but you try to not think about it. You offer him tea and he hastily accepts – he knows that you already know. In the past few weeks, he got to know you and he noticed that you try to occupy yourself with other things when you are nervous.  

He sits on your leather couch – you bought it last week – and he watches you make the tea in your smaller kitchen. When you sit down next to him you put the cups of tea on the glass table. He passes you the folder and when you open it a few tears flow freely from your eyes. You were expecting it. You really were but it still hurts. You feel sick as you throw the folder next to the cups – not really in the mood to look at the pictures of your husband sticking his tongue into someone else's throat. Tim lands his hand on your shoulder – trying to comfort you. That's when you throw yourself at him, hugging him close to you and he doesn't reciprocate the hug for a while – it's not professional at all and he shouldn't but when you sob into his work shirt his heart breaks and pulls you closer to him. Slowly stroking your back and kissing the top of your head gently.

You stay like that for a while – him rocking you while stroking your back and telling you “what an idiot your husband is for treating you so poorly” as you try to compose yourself. And when you do- you pull away a little – looking into his eyes, maping out his face with your eyes. He's handsome – you noticed the first time you've seen him but after each time you've spent together you started appreciating his ruggish handsomeness more and more. You'd never admit it but you've touched yourself at the thought of him a few times – feeling guilty afterward not knowing if your husband was cheating on you. You felt like you were the one cheating after every time you got yourself off at the thought of Tim between your thighs.

“Kiss me.” You whisper as you look at him and he shakes his head – feeling like he would take advantage if he did.  

“No, you're in a bad mental state right now and you don't know what you are saying, sweetie.” The nickname of endearment falling from his lips is first and you shake your head in protest – pulling yourself on top of his lap and he doesn't have the strength to stop you as this is something he wanted for a long time too – you were not only a client to him. Not for a long time, anyways. You were smart and funny, and beautiful and he liked you a lot. Even if he really shouldn't feel this way.

“I wanted this for a long time, Tim. Please, just kiss me, will you?” You don't have to tell him thrice, he surges forward to meet your wanting lips and grabs your hips and you start grinding down on him. You moan when you feel him harden under you and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours – it's frantic and passionate and you feel him everywhere at once. His hands are pulling your tank top off and he cups your tits when they come into the view – pulling away from the kiss. He starts kissing your cleavage, his hands trying to quickly unclasps the bra if that piece of clothing offended him and you on the other hand try to unbutton his shirt. Getting impatient you huff and he notices – he always does with everything. He slows the pace down and unbuttons the shirt himself while getting distracted multiple times – you're kissing his neck and he moans when he feels you nip at the sensitive skin behind his ear.  

When the shirt is finally off you immediately start paying attention to the newfound flesh – kissing and licking a path across his shoulders that you oh, love some much and dragging your tongue lower – circling his nipple with it. He groans and throws his head back – the vein on his neck popping with the movement and you bite him there, soothing it with your tongue. He grinds against your mound and if you keep going he will for sure cum in his pants like a fucking teenager. He pushes against your shoulders softly and you start to protest but he shuts you up with his mouth once again. It's slower and more sensual – his tongue fighting with yours lazily and unhurriedly. He finally unclasps your bra – his greedy eyes taking you in. Palming them in his hands it's your turn to moan and he grins – his thumbs stroking the sensitive nipples. He brings his head to take one into his mouth and you can't do anything else than writhe on him – your hands are in his hair and you massage his scalp. He groans against your bud while the other hand strokes your other tit and you feel like you've gone to heaven and back. You didn't feel this good since – well actually never.  

When he is happy with his work – the bitemarks on your tits will leave nasty bruises for a few days for sure – he slowly puts you on the leather couch. You are sweaty and it sticks to your skin but you don't care – not when Tim is trying to get rid of your shorts. You don't wear anything underneath and you swear you can see his eyes goes entirely black – his pupils blown wide and his breathing quick. He lowers himself onto his tummy and you are confused for a second before you realize what he is doing. You try to protest that he doesn't have to but he just “shhh” you. His mouth is on your inner thighs in no time and his beard causes a delicious burn on them. He is slow with it – trying to enjoy every second of it but you are impatient. You tug on his hair and growl – slapping one side of your inner thigh mumbling a quiet “impatient girl” before he licks into you without a warning.

You cry out – your head thrown back and your back arched, the hands that are in his hair grip him tighter and he moans into your cunt with an unspoken agreement for you to keep doing that. Not many men went down on you – certainly not your husband – but Tim looks like he is enjoying this more than you if it is possible. His nose bumps into your clit with every lick – you feel yourself squeezing around his tongue. One of his hands makes its way to your open mouth and he sticks two fingers into it – coating them in your saliva. Pulling them back out he creates a path with them from your mouth to your neck, then under your neck, on your tits, down your tummy and then pressing two of them against your pussy – exchanging his tongue with his fingers while he sucks your clit into his mouth and it doesn't take long before you are cuming, after all, it has been too long since anyone made it seem like their life goal was to make you cum – the moans and cries of his name echoe throughout the living room with the wet sounds of your pussy squeezing his fingers while he fucks you through the aftershocks of it all.

When he finally stops – you have to push his mouth away from you feeling overstimulated – he just grins against you and sits up – balancing himself on his heels while he cleans his fingers humming at your tangy taste on them. You are exhausted and your lashes flutter against your cheeks but you can hear the clang of his belt and his words echoing in your ears: “ We're not done in the slightest, baby.”

You try to wait for him. You do. But your eyes feel heavy – you already ate the dinner you made for the two of you – Tims's favorite meal – lasagna. You put the rest of it along with the portion into the fridge – scribbling a quick note that if he feels hungry the leftovers are in the fridge. You look at the time: 23:03. And that's when your phone dings.

Hi, baby. Don't wait for me, I am still at the office working on that crazy grandma case . Love you, xoxo

You sigh in defeat. No apology, no nothing. You expected it, to be completely honest. He was so wrapped up in this new case he sometimes forgot what his name was. But you felt that he was married to work and not to you – not that you two were married but you get the drill. You understood it, he worked hard for the position he now has and you too are a workaholic yourself – the money you won at the court after the divorce was put into opening your little bakery. But to forget about your 5-year-old anniversary? That seemed over the top. You don’t bother answering him – putting your phone away you put the dirty dishes in the sink – you will wash them tomorrow morning. Keeping his favorite wine on the table in case he will want it when he comes home, you grab the little envelope.  

“Seems like it's just me and you again, little bean.” You smile sadly while you caress your stomach – Tim didn't know yet but you hoped you would tell him tonight. Guess not.

As you make your way into the bedroom you lock the door and turn off all the lights. Brushing your teeth and hoping in the shower for a quick wash you think about if you should have kept the envelope on the table – no, you will tell him tomorrow after you won't be mad at him anymore. After drying yourself you tuck yourself in and put the envelope into the drawer on your bedside table. Sleep consumes you quickly – you've felt exhausted for the past couple of days.

Tim comes home long past after midnight. He's exhausted and he just wants to plop on the bed next to you. He puts the keys onto the kitchen counter and wonders in the kitchen – the kitchen lits up when he puts on the flashlight in his camera – you like to sleep with the bedroom doors open and usually wake up if he turns on the lights. He furrows his brows when he sees the wine on the table – the single rose in a small vase in the center of it. He stalks towards it and sees that it's his favorite. And then he sees the dirty dishes and the small note on the fridge – dread takes over him when he sees the date on the calendar and he lowly curses at himself.

He forgot your fucking anniversary. What a fucking moron he is. He ventures into the bedroom to see if you are already asleep – if not he will apologize profusely even when he knows apology won't cut it this time. When he sees you fast asleep he sighs and slowly creeps into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The weight of what had done – or more so what he didn't – creeps on him and he decides that he will cook you breakfast tomorrow and take you out somewhere nice – maybe even finally do the thing he'd been dreading to do for over a half a year now. When he is finished brushing his teeth he returns to the bedroom to put his guns away. You are sleeping peacefully even when he turns on the light on his bedside table.  

You look so pretty in the dim light. Your hair is sprawled on your pillow and it's too warm in here for you to be covered – he can see your legs and the curve of your ass. He licks his lips and he is not so tired anymore. An idea pops into his head – you've talked about it before but never really tried it – maybe it would be one of the many steps of his apology.

He rolls up his sleeves and slowly makes his way onto your side of the bed. You are a pretty light sleeper and he thinks if you will wake up right in the start or if he can indulge a little. He kicks the covers that surround you and touches your ankle – the touch is light and gentle. His fingers slowly make their way up your thigh stopping on your hip and you jerk a little - you turn onto your back the flimsy tank top you changed into riding higher. Tim grins, slowly sinking onto the mattress. He kisses one of your knees and then the other. Slowly making his way up – he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly tugs – seeing that you have nothing underneath. He always loved that about you. He caresses your thighs and kisses the inner side of both of them – trying if you will wake up he pokes his tongue out but you just mumble something so he keeps up his advances. Creating a path to your core he softly inhales and opens your folds with his thumbs as kisses your clit – you jerk a little but he hooks his palms under your hips to keep you still. His nose bumps against your clit with the first swipe of his tongue and he groans at your taste that he knows oh, so well. His tongue lazily licks into you and he is in no rush – enjoying the slow pace he slowly grinds his pants-clad hips against the mattress. It's not enough but he doesn't mind. Sneaking one of his hands away from underneath your hips he pushes one of his fingers in – you are soaked even though he barely touched you and he loves the fact that you are always so ready for him. You mewl softly and start to stir but he stops when your breathing gets even again he pushes two fingers inside of you.

The only sounds that can be heard are his harsh takes of breath and the wet suck of your pussy taking his fingers in – his mouth is now more relentless and so are his hips as he humps the mattress. His fingers curl and he tries to find the spot that makes you make such a pretty noise for him and when your breath hitches he knows he found it. He kisses your clit and starts setting a quicker phase. The tip of his tongue now flicks against your clit quickly. He can feel you start squeezing him and he moans when he feels your hands tug on his hair – the quiet “Tim” from your lips effortlessly. He mumbles a quick “good morning” even though it's not even 3 am yet.

You are right on the edge and when he adds a third finger it's all over for you. Your back arches and you cry out – his plush lips kiss your clit to work you through it and when he finally stops he pushes his cock out of his pants – stroking his dick with the hand that was in you just a few seconds ago. You are still sleepy and try to get a sense of what is happening but before you can think about it  Tim is kissing you and notching the weeping head of his cock against your entrance.

“Can I fuck you, baby? Can I fuck you silly?” You nod and he enters you with one quick swift of his hips – you can feel his balls against your ass and he tries to push even deeper. It's too much for your sleep-tired brain and you need to hold onto something – so you grab his shoulder holsters – they are cold and feel smooth against your palms and when you look up at Tim he snarls. “Yeah, hold onto me, baby.” And then he is pounding into you. The head of him pushes against your g-spot and he angles his hips just right. You can feel every ridge and vein of him and you feel him pulse in you – knowing that he won't last long. He grabs one of your ankles and puts it on his shoulder – you always said to him that shoulders like that were made for leg rest. With this new angle, he feels even deeper and you close your eyes – it feels so fucking good, his pubic hair is scraping against your clit and the gentles with hich he kisses your ankle while mumbling how “good of a girl you are for him” makes your heart ache with love for him.

He can feel you starting to squeeze around him and he bends so he can spit onto your pussy – it makes you cry out when you feel the wet press of his fingers on your clit. His are relentless and the sweat rolling off his forehead is making its way down his neck – his vein on it is popped and you'd like to bite it. The slap of his balls is lewd and the way he says your name – ordering you to be “good girl and cum for me” is making your head dizzy. It just two or so more thrusts before you are clamping down on his length and he moans – grabbing him by the neck you kiss him and start sucking on his neck – right under the himge of his jaw– and then he is cuming too – his forehead pressed up against yours. His hips try to push the cum deep inside of you and when he stops he falls next to your side, bringing you closer to him and caressing your spine.

“You think it worked this time?” You are still hazy from the orgasm, listening to his heartbeat slowing down and you just hum in question so he repeats it for you – you don't think about it too much and reach for your nightstand drawer putting the envelope you hid there into his hands.  

He opens it reluctantly and when he sees what's in there he can't contain his smiles and the few happy tears that spring out of his eyes.

“You serious? We're going to have a baby?” He laughs with joy and you caress his cheek – kissing the patch on his beard and then soothing it with your thumb

“Serious as I can be, babe. We're going to be parents.” you grin and he kisses you – smiling into the kiss and he thinks about the box in his suit jacket that has a small and elegant diamond ring in it.

He will propose to you tomorrow, take you out on a picnic or something. Yeah, he will do that.

#pedro pascal ff #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford smut #tim rockford merge mansion #merge mansion

[blissfullyapillow]

┆I’ve loved you from the start

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ Neuvillette x fem reader

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ wc: 10,483~

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ Prompt: pinning, pinning, and more pinning. Wait, it’s mutual?! Oh, your heart can’t take this… “Oh how I’d wish you’d wake up one day, run to me confess your love at least just let me say, That when I talk to you, Oh cupid walks right through, And shoots an arrow to my heart…. Oh the burning pain... Don’t you dare look at me that way..”

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ warnings: fluff, slowburn, mutual pinning, lots of Fontaine characters make an appearance, reader is referred to as Name instead of Y/N but same thought applies (reader insert)

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ Pillow Talks: Hi guys! I’ve spent the last few days writing this, and I have to say I’m in love with how it turned out! I had to do my man justice (get it?) with a fic I can be proud of. Anyway, I really hope someone can find joy and comfort from this fic. As a side note, yes this fic was inspired by the song From the Start, by Laufey. The specific lines stated in the prompt is what really inspired me to write this. Regarding Neuvillette, I tried to be as lore accurate as possible here haha. I wish you all a wonderful holiday season. Stay safe out there. With much love, Pillow ‹𝟹

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ Masterlist

Credits: sillyakito on pinterest

I tap an impatient finger against my knee as I take a slow survey of my surroundings. Everyone is patiently seated, although animated whispers reach your ears as citizens anxiously wait for the trial to begin.

I don’t know what to expect…

As the people beside me engage in idle chatter, I take a deep breath to mentally prepare myself. My friend convinced me to attend one of Fontaine’s public trails, insisting it was a rite of passage as a new citizen of Fontaine.

Unfortunately for the both of us, they came down with a cold the day before the trial.  I would’ve loved if they could accompany me, but I’m here nonetheless.

Another quick glance around the courtroom sets my nerves on end. I’m fine with huge crowds but at times they can feel suffocating. My finger tapping increases in speed as my thoughts begin to spiral.

Before my thoughts can completely spiral out of control, a loud sound catches the attention of everyone in the room.

There, sitting before everyone in a comically large chair, is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Something that is no small feat in the world of Teyvat.

He has a commanding presence; there’s something about him that makes it difficult to pry my eyes away. He situates himself before the people of Fontaine, and before long the trial is well underway.

I wind up being swept up in the moment; I’m heavily invested in this case. I close my eyes for a moment, playing detective to deduce whom the culprit is.

The majority of the attending party is not as quiet as I’d prefer them to be; It’s hard to think when everyone is so rowdy.

“Oh my, did you hear that? She’s definitely guilty!” “Disgusting.” “Who? Her? I doubt it was her! Do you not see the remorse on her face? Oh, what poor soul…”

…

aha, that’s it!

I open my eyes with a triumphant expression. I’ve determined who the culprit is. At least, I think so. Now to wait and see.

“Order!” The man before the citizens of Fontaine slams what appears to be a cane to the ground. The room is immediately engulfed in silence.

I gaze at him in awe.

The man, who I now know is the Iudex of Fontaine, talks through his deductions before a machine generates the final verdict.

I silently cheer since I successfully determined the culprit.

Overall, I’d say this was a valuable experience. There are definitely some prominent flaws in how trials are viewed and the implemented system. Of course that was only one trial and I shouldn’t get ahead of myself, but something about the fate of another being viewed as entertainment just doesn’t sit right with me.

With my head in the clouds, I don’t pay attention to where I’m going.

Well, not until I accidentally bump into something.

A small “omph!” comes out of whatever I bumped into. That’s weird. Why would an inanimate object make a—

The sudden realization that I bumped into someone dawns on me. I’m quick to bow my head in embarrassment.

“Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention..” I hope they aren’t mad!

I blink my eyes open when I hear nothing, and I find myself face to face with a Melusine.

“It’s no problem. We can all be clumsy at times.” The Melusine smiles at me; it’s the most heartwarming smile to ever grace my eyes.

I can feel the way my heart melts as the Melusine continues to smile at me, although she tilts her head in confusion.

Oh, I haven’t responded to her yet!

“You’re right. Still, I’m so sorry for bumping into you.” A sheepish smile lifts my lips. The Melusine sighs as they shake their head in dismay.

“Oh dear. You remind me an awful lot of Monsieur Neuvillette. He tends to over apologize for things when it comes to us.” This time, I’m the one tilting my head in confusion.

“Monsieur… Neuvillette? … Did I say that right?” The Melusine nods her confirmation, although she seems a bit surprised by my confusion. Why, though? “Are you new to fontaine?” She asks. When I slowly nod my head in confirmation, her eyes sparkle with an emotion I can’t pinpoint.

“Ah, I see. Well, my name is Sedene. It is very nice to meet you.” Sedene holds out her hand for a friendly shake, and it takes everything in me not to squeal over how adorable she is.

I haven’t lived in Fontaine for long, but all of the Melusine have my heart. They are all so sweet with their own personalities, it’s hard not to have a soft spot for them! They especially helped me out with navigating the city when I first arrived, their eyes devoid of judgment or apprehension when communicating with me.

Sedene tilts her head at me once more, and it takes me a moment to realize I haven’t responded yet… again.

My face warms in embarrassment.

Why do I keep getting lost in thought today?

I smile at her as I extend my hand, and we shake. “So, what’s your name?” She asks me. “Name.” Is my response.

She considers my answer, trying the name out on her own. “Name… it sounds pretty.” Sedene’s thoughtful comment causes my smile to morph into a grin. “Not as pretty as Sedene! Still, thank you.” I bend down to my knees to be at eye level with her.

I notice her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t seem to take offense to my action. If anything, she seems overjoyed. “Y/N, have you met Monsieur Neuvillette yet?” I shake my head no in response to her question.

“Monsieur… Neuvillette…,” Sedene nods again to confirm I have said the name correctly as I speak, “..Who is he?”

She blinks her eyes owlishly, before she bursts into a fit of giggles.

I’m a bit taken aback, but I find myself joining in on the laughter. Once Sedene stops laughing she gestures for me to follow her. I oblige her request as she begins to skip away.

Before I know it Sedene has led me to a new area, and now I stand before a large door. Sedene politely knocks before a voice from inside calls out, “Come in.”

Huh, why does that voice sound so familiar?

My question is quickly answered once Sedene pushes the door open and I follow her inside.

Sitting before the both of us, at his desk, is none other than the beautiful Iudex of Fontaine.

Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette!

everything clicks for me, and I find myself feeling a bit overwhelmed.

I’m standing before such a prominent figure in Fontaine! With no appointment or anything! I’m sure you need to schedule an appointment to see someone like him, right?

Is there some sort of etiquette I should follow here?

I break out into a nervous sweat as Sedene introduces me.

“I hope I am not imposing on your work Monsieur, but I have someone I’d like you to meet. This is Y/N, and she is a new citizen of Fontaine.” I shyly wave and offer a smile as Monsieur Neuvillette fixes his gaze on me.

Archons, my heart is pounding!

…

He remains silent.

I catch sight of his curious eyes roaming my figure, before they leave me to return to Sedene.

A soft, warm expression takes over his features as he communicates with her.

It makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.

“You are fine, Sedene. I was just about to take a break from all of this paperwork anyway.” He speaks in a very refined manner, but his tone is more relaxed than it was in court. Obviously that’s to be expected, but still.

“Well hello Name, you can refer to me as Monsieur Neuvillette. Thank you for being good company to Sedene.” The Iudex of Fontaine now stands. He makes his way over to us.

I scramble my brain for a dignified response since the only fact in my mind is that I’ll be able to see his pretty features up close.

Oh,

He’s coming closer.

He’s standing in front of me now.

Damn, he’s even more handsome up close.

“Hmm?” He hums, prompting me for something. But what could it—?

Oh, yeah. I need to respond.

I open my mouth to thank him for his generosity, maybe even congratulate him on how smooth the trial seemed to go today.

Unfortunately, he chooses that moment to glance at Sedene, and he chuckles at whatever he sees.

Oh, my heart.

…

“Yeah.” Is my blunt, ineloquent response.

Oh ARCHONS why is that the only word that came out of my mouth?

He seems a bit taken aback by my lack of a response, but then he smiles.

At me.

He chuckles once more, and he lifts his hand. He moves his hand in my direction, and my entire body stiffens. His fingers grace my cheek.

My heart stops.

“You had something there. Do not worry, I have removed it.” Monsieur Neuvillette tilts his head in a polite gesture, a warm smile on his face as he retracts his hand.

I forget to feel embarrassed since I just had THE beautiful Iudex of Fontaine touch my cheek.

“Thank you..” I murmur, sounding a bit more eloquent this time.

“You are quite welcome. How long has it been since you’ve arrived in Fontaine? Do you hail from Liyue?” Neuvillette’s eyes roam my form once more as the realization dawns on me.

He’s studying my clothes, since I’m not wearing clothing native to Fontaine.

“Ah, yes. I just moved here recently. From Liyue.” When the word ‘Liyue’ leaves my lips, Neuvillette’s expression shifts for the briefest of moments.

It’s subtle, but I notice the quick frown that turns his gorgeous lips upside down, before they resume their neutral position.

“I see. Well, there are many things to enjoy in Fontaine. I hope you find Fontaine to be a suitable new home for you.” He sounds sincere, and it makes me happy.

“Thank you Monsieur.” I twiddle my fingers as my gaze leaves his face, to look around the room.

I assume this is his office.

There are shelves in the room, huge as they are, and there are two piles of paperwork on his work desk.

Sedene strikes up a conversation with Neuvillette, but I tune it out.

That is, until my name is brought up again.

“So, what do you say, Name? Does that sound like something that’s of interest to you?” I whip my head around to look at him, and his gaze is as fierce as it is intense.

Uh, what was the question?

He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can I interrupt. “Y-Yes! Sure, that sounds wonderful…” I chuckle nervously, hoping he doesn’t realize I didn’t catch his question.

He smirks at my response.

“So you don’t know what I have asked of you, yet you agree nonetheless? You are proving to be an intriguing individual Name. I shall see you here tomorrow then. Promptly in the morning, at 9, and not a moment later.” He turns then, walking back to his desk.

“Yes.” Is the only response I’m capable of mustering.

Oh my.. wait, did I say my question out loud earlier?

I watch as he sits down at his desk once more, that same smirk on his lips as he returns to work.

“Thank you for introducing us, Sedene. I shall see you tomorrow.” Sedene happily waves goodbye to Monsieur Neuvillette, and I hastily follow suit.

We leave Monsieur Neuvillette to his work, and Sedene happily bids me farewell outside of his door. “It seems you’ve intrigued Monsieur Neuvillette. That is not an easy feat (Name). I shall see you here tomorrow. At 9 o'clock okay? Don’t be late.” Sedene moves in to give me a hug, and I quickly bend down to return it.

As I leave the Court of Fontaine, I’m in a daze.

What did I just get myself into?

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

It’s 8:50. I am most definitely not running late to my surprise meeting with the chief justice of Fontaine.

On the contrary, I’ve arrived early!

Too bad my sense of direction isn’t serving me well..

“Um, excuse me? Do you know where I can find Monsieur Neuvillette’s office?” I kindly ask a Melusine I stumble upon.

They generously agree, and soon I’m led to the same door I stood before the previous day.

I check the time. It’s 8:57 now. How fortunate.

“Thank you so much!” I gratefully give my thanks to the Melusine before me. I bend down to give her a hug, and she accepts. “No worries. Thank you, (Name). It’s been a long time since Monsieur Neuvillette allowed himself to be involved with another person.” Oh?

Before I can ask the Melusine to elaborate, the door to Neuvillette’s office suddenly opens.

I look up, and he stands tall and proud above us. He awkwardly coughs into his fist as he glances at us. “Name. I’m glad you could make it.”

I take that as my Que to rise and properly stand in front of him. I discreetly wave goodbye to the Melusine as she skips away. When I turn back to face Neuvillette, he has a glint in his eyes.

I can only hope to decipher what it means.

He moves to stand beside me outside of his office, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Now, are you ready to begin?” I feel a sudden burst of energy surge through me, jumping up in excitement. “Yes! I’ll admit, I have no idea what we’re doing and I usually don’t wake up this early, but I’m ready!”

My words clearly take him by surprise, as his whole body stiffens and his gorgeous eyes widen.

“My… you sure are full of surprises.” He sounds smug about it for whatever reason, but I take it as a compliment.

“Sedene had asked me to show you around Fontaine, since you are new to this nation. Normally, this is not an activity someone of my.. position.. would partake in with a citizen. So count yourself lucky, as it was Sedene who requested it.” I eagerly nod my head in approval, and a shy “thank you,” leaves my lips.

He only nods, noticeably turning his head to look elsewhere.

He was struggling to contain his smile.

“Let us be on our way then. There is much to show you, while the day is still young.” So with that, Monsieur Neuvillette guides me out of the Palais Mermonia, which he later explains is the name of the building his office is located in, to show me the sights of Fontaine.

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

Neuvillette proves to be a wonderful tour guide, though I didn’t expect any less from him. He points out famous shops that the citizens rave about, making a point to mention Chioriya Boutique, run by a famous fashion designer from Inazuma. My eyes sparkle as I catch glimpses of the clothes, but Neuvillette is quick to continue our tour.

I can’t help but pout as we continue on. My eyes struggle to leave a particular piece that has caught my eye. Little did I know, Neuvillette was all too aware.

As we continue our impromptu tour, we run into many people who are familiar with Neuvillette. Each and every one of them express genuine surprise at seeing him out and about, especially with someone they’ve never seen before. 

A famous magician, Lyney, performs a magic trick for us as his assistant Lynette silently stands beside him. I politely applaud, enjoying the cool trick he managed to pull off. 

Halfway through the tour Neuvillette stops me. He pointedly looks towards a building a few feet ahead of us. My confusion morphs into one of delight as a girl runs out from behind it, quickly swarming Neuvillette as she asks for an interview for what apparently is the third time that week.

Later on, nearing the end of the tour, we run into a tall, beautiful lady. Neuvillette introduces her as the Champion Duelist, Clorinde. To say I'm starstruck is an understatement. She seems a bit stoic, but a subtle smile remained on her lips as she questioned what Neuvillette was doing with a citizen of Fontaine. 

I giggle as he slowly becomes more flustered with Clorinde’s obvious teasing, briskly walking off as he bids her a quick farewell soon after. She smirks, turning her gaze to me. I smile at her, and she nods politely before she continues on her way.

Our tour ends with a chance meeting, with none other than the Archon herself. 

Well, if the whispers you heard are true, then former Archon… ish? I don’t know the whole story, and it honestly sounds complicated. I don’t particularly care to know the details, as I give Furina a friendly wave of the hand. She stops to greet the two of us. She almost looks like she wants to ask Neuvillette what everyone has already, but she refrains from doing so, quickly entering her house with what appeared to be boxes of macaroni in her arms.

…

I think it’s better not to ask.

With that, my tour of Fontaine with Neuvillette concludes. The two of us return to our starting position, back to the Palais Mermonia. Neuvillette’s expression is hard to read as the two of you stand in front of his office door. “Thank you so much for doing this for me. Or, well, I’m not sure if it was entirely for me but either way I appreciate it! I got to meet a lot of cool people, although some of them made me nervous with how cool they seem…” You chuckle as you express your thanks. 

“No need to thank me. I actually enjoyed myself quite a bit.” You both send a smile in the other’s direction, before an awkward silence ensues. 

Luckily, you believe you’re good at handling these. “Um.. so, until we see each other again?” You extend your hand for a shake. He looks taken aback for a moment before he reaches out towards you, shaking your hand. 

“Until we meet again, Name. Truly, you are a lovely individual.” He politely nods, smiling at you before he turns, entering his office. 

His back is turned as the door shuts behind him.

Thank goodness.

You quickly place your hand over your heart, as the organ beneath your chest pounds violently against your ribcage.

Archons, how did you manage to walk beside him all day long? He’s genuinely an intriguing individual, and you enjoyed the various expressions he made. From a look of exasperation with the young reporter Charlotte, to looks of endearment as some Melusine waved to him when they spotted him, to an adorable look of embarrassment as Clorinde took it upon herself to extensively question his motives.

A soft look paints your features. Your cheeks, along with your heart, feels so warm.

You take your time leaving the Palais Mermonia.

Your only wish is that you’re able to meet Monsieur Neuvillette once more, even if your wish is quite far-fetched and impractical.

Who knew a rainy day would be the thing to grant your wish?

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

A heavy sigh leaves my lips as I hold my umbrella above my head. This rainy weather is quite fitting for today; after that trial I just witnessed, anyone would be sad. 

I roll my shoulders as I attempt to work out the kink in my neck. I stayed behind as the other citizens slowly filed out of the courtroom. The verdict weighs heavy on my chest. It was a tough case to watch, and it pained me to see the grief stricken look that crossed Neuvillette’s features as he announced the defendant guilty. 

I sat alone in the vast courtroom to give myself time to absorb everything that occurred. It almost felt like too much, but then again, I’ve always been one to put myself in others shoes even when it doesn’t directly affect me.

I shiver; it’s getting quite cold with this heavy downpour.

My gaze shifts to the sky. Although the circumstances were not ideal, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over me as the rain splatters to the ground. A raindrop drips down from my colorful umbrella, splashing to the ground before my feet.

I’ve always loved the rain. Sometimes it can be a bit of a nuisance, but even so, there was something so beautiful about it. I adore all kinds of weather, but rainy weather has always held a special place in my heart. It calms me enough to sleep during late nights; it makes what would’ve been an ordinary night cozier and a bit special.

Nothing soothes me more than the gentle, or rough, splatter of raindrops against my window.

My  thoughts drift back to the present as my eyes come into focus. Whoops, I was daydreaming again.

I glance around, hoping no one spotted me zoned out, when my eyes connect with a familiar pair of dark blue-purple slit eyes. Said eyes widen, before they visibility soften. He takes long strides towards me, and my heart flips in my chest. 

‘Act cool, Name. Act cool,’ My thoughts warn me.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Neuvillette.” I cringe at my choice of words, internally berating myself for sounding cheesy.

“It is lovely to see you again as well, Miss Y/N.” Neuvillette smiles courteously in my direction, before his gaze shifts towards the sky. “Ah, my apologies. This heavy rain must be quite an inconvenience for you.” I glance at him, with what I’m sure is confusion on my features. Why is he apologizing for the rain? 

It’s not like he’s the one causing it. 

“No need to apologize for something that isn’t your fault Monsieur.” I’m not sure if I’m imagining the way his body winces. 

“No, no… ahem–” He awkwardly coughs into his fist, cheeks warm as he looks elsewhere.

Huh. How odd.

I shake my head to get myself back on topic. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette, do you have an umbrella?” My question draws his gaze in my direction. I suck in a sharp intake of breath at the intensity within his gaze.

“No, but do not worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He dismisses my concerns, stepping forward to walk in the rain. “It was nice seeing you again–” He pauses, glancing at his side. There I stand beside him, stubbornly holding the umbrella over his head.

He sighs.

“Y/n, I was honest when I said–” “I don’t care. I mean–” I catch myself, reminding myself Neuvillette is a respectable man that I can’t talk carelessly with as if he were a friend. “I mean… I understand. Still, please let me walk with you. I may be imagining it, but you do not seem well. I imagine a trial like that would make anyone feel ill. Not to mention you were the one presiding over the whole ordeal…” I’m a bit nervous that I’m overstepping my boundaries, but I figure it’s worth a shot.

Monsieur Neuvillette looks startled as he stares at me. I shift my weight from foot to foot, feeling awkward once more.

He suddenly looks away. Silence continues our conversation; with a gentle grasp of his hand, he removes the umbrella from my hand to hold it above the both of us. 

“Please, let me repay your kindness.” I nod, following him as we walk side by side through the torrential onslaught of rain. 

It isn’t long before we enter what appears to be an indoor cafe, ducking inside. Neuvillette closes my umbrella before he hands it back to me. I whisper my thanks, following closely behind as we find empty seats.

“Is there anything you’d like to try?” Neuvillette gestures to the menu in front of me. I feel bad, but I can’t resist looking over the menu. Scanning the various sweet items, my mouth begins to water. “This looks so good! Oh, but this does too. Hmm, maybe I want to try this…” I talk to myself, temporarily forgetting that Neuvillette is sitting in front of me. A sudden burst of laughter startles me, and I quickly place the menu down as I watch Neuvillette.

His eyes are crinkled, his hand running through his hair as he laughs unexpectedly.

Stop it, heart. 

He quickly composes himself, chuckling to myself. “You certainly seem eager. Please, order what you want. It’s on me.” I open my mouth immediately to protest, but he speaks before I can utter a single objection.

“The only thing I want to hear from those lips is what you want to order.”

Archons.

This man will be the death of me.

So, I oblige, telling Neuvillette my order before he promptly stands to leave, ruffling my hair as he passes.

My face burns. 

There’s simply no way he said that to me. No way. Nada. Zlitch.

Except…

I know what I heard.

Augghhhh.

I roughly put my head in my hands as I will my heart to calm down. You barely know the man, he didn’t mean it like that… yet.. 

I’m in trouble.

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

Neuvillette returns with my requested order, and I know my eyes must shine with horribly contained excitement. “Do not wait for me, go ahead and…” He struggles to contain his laughter when I don’t even wait for him to finish speaking, happily devouring the treat before me.  

He returns a minute later with my requested drink, just to see an empty plate. He really struggles not to chuckle. “Don’t laugh. I see it on your face, mister.” I warn. “Whatever do you mean, Miss Y/n? I would never laugh at a lady enjoying a sweet treat.” His tone is smug, accompanied by a grin. He places my drink in front of me before he sits in front of me once more. I pout at his obvious teasing, but decide to let it slide.

“Say, where’d you get the fancy glass? What’s in it?” I’m curious, leaning a bit closer in hopes of catching a glimpse at the context. 

“Ah, this? It is simply water, my drink of choice.” He looks all too elegant as he swirls the glass in his hand before he takes a long sip.

Your eyes are glued to his person. 

I should feel embarrassed at my shameless staring, really, but the sight before me is too beautiful to pass up.

The moment his eyes begin to open once he’s finished savoring the taste, I avert my eyes so fast it’s comical.

Unbeknownst to you, he witnessed the whole thing.

He won’t out you though, you’ve treated him with kindness by sharing your umbrella and he can only tease you so much. 

“Anyway, are you feeling better?” I ask. He looks confused for a moment as I take a sip of my drink. You can see the moment it clicks for him, his eyes visibly widening in recognition.

“Oh… yes… I.. am…” He seems completely taken aback by that revelation; it’s all too cute. “I’m glad. I know it mustn’t be easy presiding over cases, but you really do such an important job. I’m sure many are grateful that of all the people in Teyvat, it’s you whose the Iudex of Fontaine.” My words are sincere as I relay my honest feelings to him, closing my eyes as I take another delightful sip of the coffee I ordered.

This taste is absolutely divine. I haven’t had coffee that tastes this good in so long.

I keep my eyes closed as I savor the taste, slowly opening them. 

Just to find Neuvillette staring intently at my features.

To be fair, I did the same thing to him moments before, but gosh this feels embarrassing. I hope I wasn’t making a weird face!

I quickly avert my eyes, looking down at the table as I struggle to contain my smile, surely making an utterly goofy expression. 

I hear Nevuillette’s gentle laugh.

I slowly look up to see such a delicate look on his face; archons, I’ve always wanted to be on the receiving end of a gaze like this. Now that I am, I feel all too overwhelmed, yet simultaneously all too.. Elated. 

I giggle; it bursts out of me like a spoiler to a movie bursts from the lips of another. Neuvillette catches himself, coughing awkwardly into his fist, a habit I’ve realized he has, before he looks down at the table.

Now, we both look silly huh?

I smile to myself. 

I’m glad I was able to help him relax…

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

We step outside once more. I’m prepared to share my umbrella with him, whether he wants to or not! 

Thankfully, that isn’t needed. We both look to the now clear skies, as the stars twinkle above. It seems particularly easy to spot them tonight, not a cloud or raindrop in sight. 

I cheer.

“Look, Neuvillet- Monsieur! It’s stopped raining!” I excitedly point to the dreamscape of a sky, before I turn to face Neuvillette.

I falter at the fragility of his gaze; he’s as still as a marble statue carved to perfection, his fixed expression conveying a tempest of emotion as he longingly looks to the sky. 

“It’s over…” The words are murmured under his breath. My own leaves in quiet gasp, completely rooting me to the spot as his pulchritudinous expression holds me captive. 

A few moments of silence pass between the two of us, both of us admiring different things, yet they are entirely the same at the root. He slowly lowers his gaze to return to mine once more, and they hold me at his every beck and call, as they always seem to do. 

“Ah.. my apologies. I was lost in thought.” He smiles, turning his body to face me. “I appreciate the time we spent together today. I hope to see you again soon, Y/n.” His words cause my heart to flutter with an undeniable yearning that shouldn’t be there. 

Yet, my heart longs for the man standing before me, it performs somersaults in my chest  as he moves, ready to part ways.

“By the way, you can refer to me as Neuvillette.” His statement is simple, yet it holds so much weight. 

He nods in lieu of saying farewell, his steps echo throughout the quiet streets of Fontaine as he makes his way to his destination. 

I can only clutch my chest as I watch him leave, embedded to the spot long after his figure disappears from my line of sight.

Oh, Archons.

What have I gotten myself into?

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

My eyes unconsciously wander to the door once more, waiting for a hand to pry it open from the inside.

I hear giggles beside me, and I can only groan as I get caught red-handed in the act for the fifth time this evening. 

“Name, Monsieur Neuvillette’s meeting should be ending soon.” A sweet Melusine whispers into my ear. I can only muster a meek nod, returning my attention back to the task at hand. 

I’m waiting with a few Melusine, Sedene among us, as Neuvillette finishes his very important meeting.

I wandered into the Palais Mermonia of my own volition, just to find out that Neuvillette is occupied in a meeting. I planned on leaving after I heard the news, but a few Melusine nearby seemed to recognize me and asked me to sit with them.

Lo and behold, I’m here learning how to weave a flower crown with fellow Melusine as we wait outside of Neuvillette’s office.

“You’re doing great Name. Is this really your first time weaving a flower crown?” Sedene’s curious question boosts my confidence. “Yes, it is! I’m glad I’m doing so well that you felt the need to ask that.” Sedene happily nods beside me, before she skips away to tend to something.

I concentrate on weaving the final piece; my trembling fingers complete the flower crown. 

The group of us let out a collective cheer, before we quickly quiet down when Sedene scolds us. We are just right outside Nevuillette’s office after all.

“It looks so pretty! Look at the one I weaved.” A Melusine holds her flower crown up for me to see. It’s much more intricate than mine, but I only feel a swell of pride as I give her my honest praise. 

Suddenly, we hear voices from behind the door. My leg starts to bounce as my eyes remain fixated on the door, waiting for the moment it’ll open. 

I don’t have to wait long, mere moments later the door opens slowly, and Neuvillette’s guest is escorted out of the room. They wave to him, a short blonde with a floaty… thingy. Is that a toy or a person?

I almost want to rub my eyes to make sure I’m seeing things correctly, but I figure it’s best not to question it. I often encounter many creatures and people I wouldn’t expect, but they’re usually a delight in their own unique way.

The blonde traveler and their companion spot all of us sitting together. They seem like they want to come over. They place one foot in front of them before the small floating child beside them interrupts, loudly proclaiming “Paimon is hungry! We’ve gone way too long without food!” The blonde traveler stops and simply smiles, waving in our direction. All of the Melusines wave back in friendly greeting. Well, if they’re friends with Melusines then I see no reason to be cautious. I join the rest of my companions in waving. The blonde traveler winds up chasing the floating thing as they dash towards the exit.  

Huh. What an.. Interesting encounter. 

My thoughts are interrupted when the person I’ve wanted to see most finally emerges from his office. I feel my jaw go slack as I stare in his direction.

He has yet to notice me, so I take the opportunity to admire him. My eyes trace over his form, going painstakingly slow as they admire his length waist white hair. They settle on the adorable ribbon holding his hair in place. I tilt my head, noticing the almost horn like accessories adorning his head. I wonder what that really is? It suits him, but I wonder if..

All my thoughts come to a halt when he finally turns, and his bewitching orbs hold mine hostage. 

I couldn’t look away even if I willed it; nothing regarding his appearance has changed, but it’s almost as if.. The scenery, the world around me has grown more vibrant in color. 

The pounding in my chest feels surreal as he smiles at us. He takes slow and deliberate steps in our direction, curiously eyeing the flower crowns in our hands.

“Name, you may want to close your mouth.” Someone whispers in my ear. 

I immediately close it, feeling all too embarrassed.

Uh.. 

It’s not use. I can’t formulate a single thought.

I dumbly watch as Neuvillette finally reaches us, engaging in pleasant conversation with the girls around me. I pointedly look down, fiddling with the crown in my hands. What if he scolds me for being here, and distracting the Melusine from their duties? I’d hate for them to get in trouble because of me, or to be on the receiving end of Neuvillette’s disappointed gaze.

“Name. What has your mind so occupied that you didn’t notice me sitting down beside you?” Saying I jump in my seat is an understatement.

I’m startled, jerking before I turn to gaze into those mesmerizing orbs once more. I giggle awkwardly before I raise the flower crown in my hands. His gaze finally leaves mine, looking at the object in my hands. 

I’m relieved he’s finally stopped looking at me, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad as well.

What is wrong with me!?

I close my eyes and take a grounding deep breath in.

When they open once more, I feel much more composed. “Neuvillette, these girls showed me how to make a flower crown.” I hear words of agreement as the Melusine all speak up at once. “Yes, and Name has done a wonderful job.” “She’s great company, Monsieur.” “Monsieur, do you want to join us?” “Why don’t you try hers on Monsieur Neuvillette?” Neuvillette laughs, holding up his hand with the onslaught of comments.

“Ah, I see. I’m glad to hear it. I know firsthand how lovely her company is. I’d be delighted to join you all. I do not mind trying Name’s flower crown, as long as she is okay with it.” You gawk at Neuvillette’s smooth response to every comment previously directed at him. You assume it’s a skill he must’ve picked up being the Iudex of Fontaine, being able to take in information from multiple sources at a time.

“Um.. yeah, I’d love it if you could try mine on. Sorry if it isn’t as pretty...” A shy smile lifts my lips before I gesture for him to lower his head. He dismisses my concern with a simple, “Nonsense,” before he’s lowering his head for me. 

I easily place the delicate crown upon his head, admiring his well kept hair up close. 

My eyes find the horn like accessories once more.

I shouldn’t.

I really shouldn’t.

Yet I do.

My hand has a mind of its own, reaching out before they gently caress the blue accessories on his head.

I hear him suck in a sharp intake of breath as the Melusines around us gasps in dramatic surprise.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, actually allowing me to continue.

I’m not going to waste this opportunity. I selfishly lift both of my hands, caressing each appendage as I feel the smoothness beneath my fingertips. My hands glide up and down; it isn’t long before they reach the base of the appendages. There’s no way this is an accessory, they don’t feel like one. Are these actual horns? Hm, if they are then surely he’ll feel it if I…

A careful squeeze of the bases has him jumping, jerking away from my touch. I immediately start to apologize, but stop myself when I catch sight of his face. His entire face is redder than the shiniest apple in Mondstadt, his eyes looking every which way as he clearly tries to compose himself.

For whatever reason his breathing is a bit ragged and he groans, hiding his head in his hands.

I’ve never seen Neuvillette look so flustered before; this sight is a treat for my eyes, and I’m enjoying every last second of it.

I can’t resist the small coo that leaves my lips.

He groans again.

“N-Name, thank you for the beautiful flower crown. I’ll keep it in my office. Please, excuse me.” He quickly stands, speed walking to his office before the door slams behind him.

You’re a bit bewildered now. And a bit confused.

If those are actual horns on his head, then is Neuvillette really a human? I mean, he could be a hybrid of some sorts maybe. I’ve seen those around when I traveled to different nations, looking for a new home to settle down in.

I feel a bit bad for touching his horns like that without his permission. My worried eyes turn to ask the Melusine if I upset Neuvillette, only to see them all crowded around me, eyes wide and full of awe. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette let you touch his horns Name!” “How unexpected.” “Oh my gosh you two are so cute!” “The other girls were telling the truth!” They all chatter excitedly amongst themselves, giddy and barely able to contain their enthusiasm. They quickly bid me farewell when the door to Neuvillette’s office opens once more, giving me quick hugs and pats on the back before they scatter.

One even wishes me luck.

What do I need luck for? I’m not entirely sure, but I’m definitely taking it. 

Neuvillette appears more composed when he sits down beside me, the flower crown still on his head. “I thought you were going to put the flower crown in your office?” I ask. He seems confused for a moment, before realization reaches his eyes.

“Ah, yes. I did say that. I decided your hard work deserves to be appreciated, so I will wear it until the day comes to an end.” His words elicit a broad grin to appear on my lips, and his eyes noticeably take in the sight.

A smile presents itself on his lips as we spend the next few hours just chatting amongst ourselves. 

I’ve learned that Neuvillette can be quite humorous, given the opportunity. I’ve realized a lot of things about him from our interactions. Like how he prefers to keep distance between himself and the citizens of Fontaine, since it is possible one day they may end up on trial. It makes this relationship we’ve formed a bit unusual, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t make me happy.

He also loves water. He wound up telling me how water tastes different from each region, and the feelings they evoke in him when he indulges in their pristine taste. 

Oh, and the warmth he displays towards Melusines is just another thing that I love about him, he can be so–

Wait..

My entire body goes rigid as warmth engulfs every crevice and limb, my body burns like the hottest of waters against human skin. 

Well, my feelings are quite obvious, but to admit it so easily to myself would mean…

Neuvillette stops speaking, eyeing me curiously as I internally berate myself for developing such feelings. I truly don’t know what to make of it, so I simply grip my clothes in my hands, pushing my feelings aside.

Neuvillette seems like he wants to say something, but decided against it. His eyes glance at my balled up fists, and his eyes swirl with an emotion I fail to pinpoint.

“I see you’re still wearing clothes from Liyue. This is not a complaint, just a mere observation.” Ah. I look down at my clothes.

He’s right, maybe it’s time I get something that’ll blend in more. I mean, I see people around Fontaine wearing clothes from Inazuma, Liyue, and Mondstadt even, so there really is no need for me to buy new clothes. I feel comfortable enough to walk around in the clothes I used to wear around Liyue. Still, I have to admit I love Fontaine’s style when it comes to clothes. Maybe I’ll get something new, just to see how I feel in it.

Neuvillette slowly stands. My eyes follow his movements, and they take note of his offered hand. “Come, there is somewhere I wish to take you.” You don’t need to think twice; you happily take his hand, and he helps you stand. 

You dutifully follow Neuvillette, choosing to not read into the fact he has yet to let go of your hand.

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

I admit, I’m shocked.

Neuvillette escorted me to Chioriya Boutique, and in mere moments one of the staff took my measurements as requested by the Chief Justice. 

The bewilderment on their faces caused a snicker to slip from my lips before I stopped myself.

People’s reactions to Neuvillette are always so varied and dynamic, it’s very entertaining to see yet equally intriguing. 

Neuvillette bombards me with questions regarding my fashion choices before he relays this information to the staff. I wait, expecting something more to happen, but alas he ushers me away from the boutique. 

I sigh, pinching my nose. I really hope he’s not trying to get me anything. I’d love to pick something out for myself, but he wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise! I couldn't resist his earnest gaze, so I wound up waiting to the side as he requested.

I look up when the sound of footsteps reach my ears. He approaches me, a satisfied pull of his lips sends my heart into overdrive.

“I have taken care of business here. Now, perhaps we could take a walk by a riverbank ro somewhere similarly fluvial.” He extends his hand to me once more. I’m baffled to say the least. I consider protesting, opening my mouth to insist he does not need to get anything for me, but his hard glare is warning enough.

My mouth closes unceremoniously, and I quietly take his hand. He’s radiant now, humming as he walks closely by my side.

I look to the sky, the blue hues have long since shifted to beautiful pinks and purples.

Oh, Neuvillette. 

You are none the wiser of the effect you have on me…

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

I wait outside the Opera Epiclese as a strong downpour of rain threatens to drown the poor souls who don’t have an umbrella. 

I didn’t witness the trial today, but it’s become a habit to walk with Neuvillette after his trials. He was conflicted about this habit when it first began, but now I notice the undesigned glint in his eye whenever he catches sight of me after a trial. 

So, it’s turned into a regular part of our daily routine.

Unfortunately it seems the trial wasn’t an easy one today; as people file out of the courthouse, sullen faces are many a dozen. 

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest; if the citizens' faces look so solemn, then I can only imagine…

Minutes pass, long after the last person left the opera house. I start to second guess if he’s even here anymore. Maybe he left so I wouldn’t have to see him? Fortunately, he chooses that moment to emerge from the Opera house. 

My eyes light up, excited to finally see him… but..

Oh..

poor Neuvillette…

I bite my lip when his calm, neutral expression catches my eye. Neuvillette isn’t one to openly express his thoughts and feelings through expression, but I know it must’ve been particularly harrowing if he can’t even muster a frown. 

He looks up, and his impassive gaze locks with mine. He feigns a smile as he approaches me. My hand grips the handle of the umbrella; my heart aches for him.

“Thank you for waiting for me, Name. I apologize for taking so long, shall we pro-” Something about his eyes, devoid of spirit, arrests me. His rigid movements evokes a dreadful throb in my chest. 

I drop the umbrella I’m holding, opting to rest my hands on his cheeks. He’s a bit startled by my actions, lifting his hands to rest on top of my trembling one’s. He sighs deeply, closing his eyes. 

He leans into my touch.

Silence ensues.

The cold nibs at my skin. It threatens to seep into me through the fabric of my clothes, but I couldn’t care less when the man before me is clearly hurting.

A moment passes before Neuvillette clears his throat. I already know he’s going to try and brush this off, like he normally tends to do. 

“Name, while I appreciate your concern, I don’t–” “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry.” The rest of his words die in his throat. He’s silent, but I can see the effect the words had on him; his eyes squeeze so tightly it looks borderline painful.

“Name.. where did you hear..?” Oh. He wants to know where I learned about this.

“Do you remember that blonde traveler you had a meeting with that day? And the floating child thing, wait, I think they said their name was Paimon..” You think out loud, satisfied when Neuvillette stiffly nods in confirmation.

“Well, they were one of the attendees of today’s trial. They stopped to chat with me when they saw me waiting here for you. They told me when I see you and it’s still raining, if I say ‘Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, Don’t cry,’ it’ll cheer you up.” My explanation doesn’t seem to surprise him. He only sighs.

It takes him a moment before he slowly opens his eyes.

“I… see. Well.. They were correct. I’ll have to thank them during our next encounter.” I smile brightly at him, and in response his gaze seems to soften. I look out to the sky; the rain has considerably lessened its intensity. Droplets still hit the ground, but it’s an improvement from the earlier downpour. 

“I do have to wonder though, why does an old children’s song speaking of the hydro dragon have such an effect on you, Neuvillette?” He raises an eyebrow, something I didn’t know he was capable of. 

I giggle as he informs me, “It’s not that the song has an effect on me per se, but…” “Hmmm?” I prompt him with a  gentle smile on my lips. He looks elsewhere. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, hydro dragon.”

The way he whisks his head, still resting in the palm of my hands, to gawk at me confirms my underlying suspicions. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, but if I’m really not.. Then maybe..

I release Neuvillette’s face in favor of wrapping him in a warm embrace. He emits a choked sound from deep in his throat when I start to stroke his back, repeating the rhyme once more.

Neuvillette’s sigh sounds equally exhausted as it does exasperated. “Whoever created that rhyme must have believed the Hydro Dragon was akin to a bleeding heart. It could  not have been known if the Hydro Dragon would grieve for humans…” You ponder the meaning of his words for a few moments, before you respond with your own thoughts.

“While that may be true, it’s something only the Hydro Dragon knows the answer to. Whether he sympathizes with us silly humans…” I pull back to look at him. I’m really praying the love I feel stirring in my heart isn’t obvious on my face.

His eyes widen a fraction. He appears completely taken aback. I listen for the sound of the rain, and when I don’t hear it I look back to the sky. The rain has stopped now.

A droplet drips down from the building above, landing on my nose.

Neuvillette’s body shakes, and I return my gaze to him. 

He pulls me close as laughter racks his body. This is the first time I’ve ever heard him laugh so brazenly; I’d be a fool not to join in.

It takes a long time for our laughter to die down, but once it does Neuvillette speaks. His words, “The people of Fontaine are innocent. Through the time I have spent by your side, it was easy to determine that you share a similar verdict, Name.”

I avoid gazing into his eyes for the duration of our conversation, lest he notice my fairly obvious lovestruck gaze.

 

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

He takes a step closer, and I take a step back.

My heartbeat is loud in my ears; roaring louder than an obnoxious car engine as it speeds down the highway. 

He mimics every move I make; for every step back I take, he takes a step forward. This continues until I’m left with nowhere to retreat, back pressed firmly against the wall behind me. 

He takes his time approaching me as my eyes anxiously dart every which way. His office looks the same as I remember it, except…

My mind registers the flower crown on his desk, beside the pile of paperwork that he just finished. 

He kept it?

My thoughts are brought back to him when he’s standing before me, blocking my view of everything else that isn’t him. “Name, could you please repeat what you just said?” I swallow the lump in my throat. He sounds angry. Livid, even. All I did was make a joke about myself..

“I said that, uh, I’m sorry for ruining your image. Being seen with me must not be a good look for you, being the Iudex of Fontaine, and then I said my feelings for you were stupid–” He doesn’t let me finish, slamming his hands on either side of my head. 

SLAM!

I jump. 

I feel small between his arms and his imposing figure in front of me. It’s difficult, but I manage to maintain eye contact with him. The emotion in his eyes reflects a raging tsunami, oppressive with a dangerous glint that’d make anyone feel weak in the knees. My knees feel especially weak right now, being caged in like this. 

“The words you speak reek of lies. It’s a fabrication your mind has created to protect yourself.” His words are true and pierce through the walls I’ve been trying to maintain around my heart. “I don’t understand…” I whisper. 

another lie.

“What is it that you don’t understand?” His voice is low, and the words sound like a growl leaving his lips. “I.. don’t understand why someone- a being- like you, or how, you could possibly.. Return the feelings I harbor for you. You’re the Hydro Dragon after all, are you not? A respectable, prominent figure at that, whose company brings me pleasure and shines a light on my mundane everyday life. So, why, how is it possible that you… you said you…” I struggle to finish my statement, but he waits for me patiently.

“...You said you feel the same, but I don’t understand how you possibly…” He clicks his tongue, clearly aggravated. I don’t believe he’s aggravated with me, rather more, with what I have said. 

He closes his eyes. It’s almost as if I can see the gears turning in his head; he’s figuring out what he wants to say in response to my absurd claim, as he previously called it..

His eyes slowly open, and ardent determination is evident within his burning iris’. His next words stun me into complete silence, absolutely enraptured with the overflowing emotion seeping from his words. 

“Honestly Name, I’m trying to comprehend how you haven’t determined this for yourself, but it is alright. I will make things clear for you now, Celestia and the Heavenly Principles be damned; I yearn for you like a traveler yearns for a haven, a place of respite for their weary soul. My heart aches to feel the weight of your hand in mine. It longs to memorize every ridge of your palm, admire every dip and curve of your body, outline any and every beautiful scar that embellishes your natural beauty. So I’ll be damned if I allow you to stand before me belittling yourself when we are both aware that your words hold no significance; the truth of the matter lies in the longing gaze you’re giving me now. It lies in the quick withdrawal of your hand whenever mine ‘accidentally’ brushes against yours. It lies in precious tears upon your lashes, as you try to conceal your feelings for me. It…” His powerful words lose momentum as said tears escape the confines of my lashes, painting the planes of my face as they drip down at a leisurely pace. 

He lifts a gloved hand to wipe them away, before he pulls it back in a moment of uncertainty. I watch, beguiled, as he removes his gloves before reaching for my cheek, thumb tenderly caressing my tear stained cheeks. 

A strangled sob threatens to escape my lips, so he leans in, unhurried and deliberate with every movement he makes.

His lips brush against my own, yet they hover mere millimeters from pressing firmly against my keen lips. “May I?” His question is simple in nature, yet the implications of his words hold so much weight it threatens to suffocate you. It’s all you’ve wanted, truly, yet you find yourself in a daze. 

He waits. Patiently.

I close my eyes and breathe, and he breathes with me. 

So when I open my eyes once more, my answer is resolute, unyielding, in its truthfulness and authenticity. 

“Yes.”

I can feel his breathing speed up, as little puffs of air tickle my face. His hands feel softer than I’d imagined, as they rest upon my cheeks. 

His tentative lips eradicate the irksome space that previously separated us. I smile into the kiss, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. It doesn’t take long for the both of us to feel comfortable. Our lips part, only to seek the warmth of the other’s once more. This time, it’s Neuvillette who smiles as we kiss.

His lips eagerly taste mine as we explore each other. His hands move from my face to brush against my sides, stopping at the hips. They reside there, pulling me closer. A sweet hum reaches my ears, emitted from deep within his chest. 

Joy bubbles up from within as our kiss comes to a natural conclusion; Neuvillette pulls back to provide me an opportunity to breathe.

I feel warm all over as I study his smokey gaze. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. My palpitating heart can’t take much more of this. 

Yet, I verbalize no objections as he languidly captures my lips once again. He’s impatient now; his hungry lips seek to claim every aspect of me, mind, body and soul. His lips easily devour mine, his tongue, which sought entrance moments before, now laps against my own. 

A shiver racks my body as the warmth flooding my body threatens to be my demise. My hands seek purchase on his shoulder, pressing into his shoulder blades. I’m astonished by the passion within Neuvillette’s tender, yet heated embrace. 

I have to pull away, lest I be swept up in his treacherous waves. A wistful sigh escapes his parted lips as he rests his forehead against my own. I gasp for air; He stole my breath away, just as the mighty waves of the sea indiscriminately rob many of their ability to breath, resulting in futile attempts to resurface.

 I require more time than I’d like to admit to catch my breath. 

“So.. does this mean you like me or?” My joke does not go unrewarded. His unamused look drives me into a fit of giggles. 

Love washes over me, like a gentle caress, when he joins in.

I admire his unabashed laughter as his thumb rubs soothing circles on my hip. 

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

Distinct giggles can be heard from the other side of the door.

Neuvillette sighs.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, meanwhile my chest rapidly rises and falls in mirth.

“Do not encourage them.” He groans.

I overhear Sedene tell the other Melusine of the sight she was met with earlier this evening, as Neuvillette and I walked into his office hand in hand, and the girls gathered around her squeal with glee.

I peeked out of Neuvillette’s office a few moments ago, and my eyes were met with the adorable sight of a group of Melusine gathered around Sedene as if it were story time. 

Now, I rest my head on Neuvillette’s shoulder as he signs the last document of the evening.

“Oh dear. I worry they’ll continue to discuss this for many days to come.” I can only smile as his face is colored with endearment; his eyes soften and he fails to stifle a smile.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that. They’re having fun, and they care dearly for you, Neuvillette..” “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.” His retort leaves me feeling confused, but he only reaches for my hand.

I watch as he plays with my fingers, humming a tune to himself. “Dear, they have come to care deeply for you as well. Do you not notice the way Sedene’s eyes light up whenever you speak with her? Or how Kiara always runs in your direction the moment she spots you? Or, how about when– mmph!” The rest of his words are muffled behind my hands, pressed firmly to his mouth.

I can feel the grin he’s making.

“Okay okay, point taken.” I grumble, removing my hands.

My heart flutters when he sends a wink my way. 

He turns his attention back to the signed document on his desk, moving it to the finished pile. “Speaking of caring deeply for someone… Name, I have something I wish to tell you.” 

“Should the day ever come where you choose to remain by my side, I shall reveal something I know will be of interest to you.” I’m sure my face looks as astonished as I feel, because Neuvillette simply laughs, running his thumb along my bottom lip.

“Now now, there’s no need to make such a face.” “What are you talking about? Reveal.. What?” He only closes his eyes, emitting a quiet hum.

“My name, of course.” 

My entire body stills as the gears turn in my head.

“Wait, so Neuvillette isn’t..” His eyes compel me, keeping mine locked with his as they open once more. A deep emotion lies within them, granting me a glimpse of the altruistic soul within. 

“I have always asked citizens to refer to me by my last name.” His words make sense, and with the knowledge I have of him, he is one to keep people at a polite distance. Still… It's a bit shocking.

Even so, I have no qualms with this arrangement.

“It’s a deal, I’ll patiently wait for the day you tell me your name. ..First name, I mean.” There’s a glint in his eyes that reflects pleasant surprise, albeit there’s a hint of a challenge that resides within them.

“Oh? You sound confident. Not that I’m opposed, that is the ideal outcome I desire for our relationship.” I smile, placing my fingers under his chin as I lean in for a kiss.

He smiles as our lips embrace each other, placing his hands firmly against my back.

I had every right to feel confident; after all, I finally was able to witness Neuvillette on his knees, ring in hand as his loving gaze threatened to break the dam I was avidly struggling to hold back.

My eyes glisten with unshed tears as I join him on the ground. I practically throw myself onto him as I embrace him, and his carefree laugh is an alluring melody to my ears. He leisurely slips the ring onto my finger, pulling back so he can properly face me.

“Now, are you ready for me to consummate our arrangement?” My head bobs up and down so fast that I make myself a bit dizzy.

Warmth gives Neuvillette’s features an almost angelic glow as a delicate finger, free from the confines of his gloves, brushes along my cheek. 

“Hmm…” He stalls.

I pout. He beams.

“Alright, alright. I will leave you in suspense no longer. My name is…”

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

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[itsghvstfvce]

WHAT'S IN A NAME

pairing : tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary : you can keep running, but you can't run from who you are.

word count : 2.5k

warnings : scream vi spoilers, violence, swearing, shitty non-proofread writing

You just wanted Honeybuns.

You wanted to be in and out of the bodega with your Honeybuns and make it home to watch another episode of your favorite show. You absolutely did not expect to be here, tucked away behind a shelf hoping to God that the shooter won’t find you and blow your brains out.

Just as you’re about to make a beeline for the exit while the killer wasn’t looking, you hear an empty beer can thrown into the aisle you were in which meant you weren’t the only hostage here. You hear the killer’s footsteps move towards your aisle so you quickly and quietly crawl to the next aisle before he could catch you. To your surprise, you’re met with the infamous Carpenter sisters and Sam motions both you and Tara to start crawling towards the exit.

As you’re crawling, Tara accidentally steps on broken glass and makes a sound, causing you, Sam, and the killer to stop in your tracks. The older Carpenter holds a finger up and peeks through the shelves to watch the cloaked figure’s next move. As soon as he turns around, the three of you push the shelf with all your might onto him, quickly running out the door before he could get up. Looking back into the store, the killer was no longer there and all that was left was an open back door and a Ghostface mask.

And that was how you officially met Tara.

You already knew of Tara’s existence when you started your freshman year at Blackmore University. Even with all the rumors you heard about her and her psychotic sister, you always found yourself attracted to the girl. At the frat party, you were about to introduce yourself to her but to your demise, Frankie had already beaten you to it. From where you were sitting, you drank your stale beer while watching everything unfold from Chad and Frankie’s little macho dance to Sam tasing Frankie right in the balls (which you found very impressive and also kind of hot) But you thought it’d be best to keep your distance from Tara and anyone close to her as they were known to be danger magnets.

But clearly, the universe had other ideas for you because you happened to meet Tara face-to-face at the bodega.

The three of you were brought to the police station for questioning. It’s silent between the three of you with the only thing being heard was Tara’s soft breathing and a sigh from Sam.

“Do you go there often? The bodega I mean,” the older girl asks finally breaking the silence. Tara keeps her head down, but listens intently to your conversation with her sister.

“Not really, no. I was just really craving some Honeybuns,” you laugh dryly. “But I didn’t think I’d encounter a fucking Ghostface”

“So I’m guessing you know who we are, considering you know Ghostface”

“Well for the record, I’ve also seen the Stab movies so that’s why I know it. But I do know who you are,” you say almost as if embarrassed to admit the fact.

“I’m Y/N by the way, since you don’t know who I am,” you notice Sam’s eyebrows furrow slightly as you introduce yourself.

“That name sounds familiar.. do we know you by any chance?” She asks, shifting her gaze from the table to you.

“Oh I doubt it, I only came to the city recently for school,” you nervously laugh from the sudden interrogation.

Tara’s head shoots up when Detective Bailey walks in and begins his interrogation. Luckily for them, you were helpful because you were able to check out Tara’s alibi for being at the party and seeing the both of them there (Sam bringing up the tasing incident forced you to hide a smile). But not even 10 minutes in, he was asked to leave the room due to the FBI claiming jurisdiction, leaving the three of you alone yet again. It’s quiet just like when you were first brought in here, but Tara is the one to break the silence this time.

“Wait! Y/N Y/N Y/N, I know where I heard this name,” you nervously chewed on your lip as Tara tried to remember where she heard your name.

“Got it! You’re in my film class, right? You sit all the way in the back and I always notice you when I walk in. I remember peeking down at your notebook as I walked to my seat and I saw your name,” she says proudly as if she’s solved a mystery. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, giving her a smile and nodding your head to confirm her statement.

“Okay, well it’s nice that you’re meeting your classmates and making friends but we don’t have time for this. Let’s go,” Sam starts putting on her black bomber jacket before making her way out of the interrogation room. You and Tara get up to follow suit, but before you can make your way out the room, Tara stops you.

“Do you want to grab some lunch sometime? You know, whenever this whole thing will be over?”

You look at her for a moment and take in her features; the way her brown eyes manage to sparkle under the dull white ceiling lights; how a sea of freckles paint over her face so perfectly; and how her lips were plump, red, and so god damn kissable. You knew you shouldn’t get close to her, but every moment you spent staring and glossing over her features, you knew you’d cave into her.

“Guys, come on!” Sam called out from a few feet in front of you. You look back at the younger Carpenter, who was still waiting for a reply.

“Yeah, that’d be nice” you finally manage to say.

The two of you catch up to Sam who finds Detective Bailey talking to someone else but when you realize who it was, you freeze.

“Kirby?” Sam calls out.

“Hey Sam,” the blonde walks over to give Sam a hug and acknowledges Tara. When she finds you standing behind them, her eyes widen and says a quiet “oh my god,” causing the two sisters to look at you.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“You guys know each other?” Detective Bailey asks the four of you, but Sam answers first.

“Yeah. We went to Woodsboro High together. She was a senior when I was a freshman.”

“We share a certain history together, yeah.”

“Wait Kirby, how do you know Y/N?” Tara asks.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the three of them, your palms getting sweatier and your heart racing faster at the sudden attention on you.

Kirby quickly understood and decided to clear the air by offering her help on the case. The girls divert their focus to Kirby and the detective, but not before Sam gives you a questioning look.

And as if seeing Kirby wasn’t bad enough, the three of you happen to meet Gale Weathers right outside the police station. She was looking very eager to cover the story of last night’s events as per usual. You call for a taxi while Sam and Tara talk to Gale, not missing the amazing right hook Tara gives the reporter. They start making their way to the taxi and Gale follows. When the three of them come closer, she catches sight of you and pushes pass the two sisters.

“Jesus Christ, out of all the places you could run off to, I didn’t expect the fucking Big Apple Y/N”

Sam and Tara look at each other, both heavily confused on how you knew Kirby and now Gale.

The reporter approaches you for a hug, to which you don’t reciprocate knowing Sam and Tara were watching. Deep down, you really wanted to hug Gale back but you just couldn’t bring yourself to wrap your arms around her.

“How is she?” you ask as she pulls away.

“I talked to her. She’s worried sick, you know. Are you ever going to go back home?”

“I'm fine here, Gale”

“Well with Ghostface running around here, I don’t think you are anymore. Why don’t you give her a call-”

“I can’t,” you feel the lump in your throat and try your best to fight the tears forming in your eyes. “She’ll never forgive me.”

“Of course she will, Y/N. She’s the only one who will understand what you’re feeling right now.”

The taxi driver honks his horn to get you to hurry up and get in the cab.

“I hope I don’t have to see you around. Take care of yourself,” you squeeze her shoulder and Gale watches you get into the cab together with the Sam and Tara and drive off.

Later that day, Tara invites you to meet the rest of her friend group which includes the Meeks-Martin twins, Ethan, Quinn, and Mindy’s girlfriend Anika. The eight of you sat together on campus as Mindy goes on a ramble about the new rules of a franchise and listing out her potential suspects. Naturally, you were on her top three along with Ethan and Quinn since you just met the friend group, so you couldn’t be mad at the accusation. And as if perfectly timed, your phone started to ring which startled everyone. The number was coming from an unknown number so you decline it, knowing better than to answer it. When asked who it was, you lied and said it was just your roommate. But you get a text from the same number:

ANSWER THE PHONE, BITCH.

The phone rings again and you excuse yourself from the group meeting to answer the call alone, earning you odd looks from everyone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Y/N. It’s exciting to finally be doing this with you,” the voice was all too familiar. You look back at the group and they’re all staring at you, watching your every move. You weren’t exactly doing a very good job at trying to defend yourself from being a suspect.

“Who is this?” you say through gritted teeth.

“You think just because you ran away from home, you won’t be a part of this? It’s inevitable, Y/N. It’s who you are.”

“I’m not the daughter of a serial killer fuckface, I don’t count!”

“Oh but that’s where you’re wrong. Are you forgetting who your mother is, Y/N?”

“Please, just leave me alone,” you beg with tears in your eyes.

“Your secret will be out soon. And when that happens, I can’t wait to be the one who will gut you like a fish in front of everyone.”

“How fucking original. Come up with a new catchphrase next time, you bitch!” you sneer as you end the call. You run a hand through your hair, trying not to let the tears spill out of frustration. Suddenly, a hand grabs your shoulder and you jump at the feeling but when you turn around, a small girl is standing in front of you.

“Woah hey, it’s just me. Are you okay?” Tara asks, genuine concern laced in her voice. Your tense body now relaxes at the sight of her, her presence washing away every bit of fear and anger that was in you. It’s already hard for her to trust you and you can’t blame her for that, so you decide not to keep any more secrets from her.

“He called. Said he can’t wait to gut me like a fish.” Tara shakes her head.

“That’s it, you’re staying with us tonight.”

“Wait, what? Just like that?”

“You’re in danger, Y/N. We have to protect you, we’re the reason you’re in this mess in the first place.”

“Okay first of all, you know you shouldn’t trust anyone, that’s like the biggest fucking rule in this whole franchise shit. Second, you are not the reason that he’s after me, you don’t- we don’t know why he’s after me. And third, I don’t think Sam will be too keen on the idea of me staying with you guys.”

“I’ll convince her. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Y/N.”

You take a moment to look at her again. There’s a genuine and sincere look in her eyes, and for a moment, you forget that you’re all wanted targets about to be murdered. For a moment, it just feels like you two are normal university students who want to fall in love with each other

“See, this is why I want to trust you,” you’re broken out of your trance when the younger Carpenter speaks. She notices your eyebrows furrow in confusion and giggles at the sight.

“You look at me and get lost into my eyes, like you’re looking pass all the crazy shit we’re going through right now. You look at me like you want to fall in love but you’re afraid to,” your eyes widen at how she managed to voice out your thoughts. “And I know I’ve been through a lot, I know I shouldn’t openly trust anyone anymore but for some weird fucking reason, I feel safe and comfortable around you. And maybe this will bite me in the ass later on, maybe you’re just a really good fucking actress and I’m gonna regret everything when you start slicing me up, but I really hope it doesn’t have to end up that way.”

You look into her eyes once more and you prove her statement in that very moment. In the little time you’ve spent with her, you found yourself falling for the girl. You always thought your life was fucked when you learned who your mother was, but now you don’t think it’s all that bad. If it wasn’t for your name and the bloodline you came from, you wouldn’t have been led to Tara Carpenter.

You held your pinky finger up to the girl and now it’s Tara’s turn to look confused. “Normal serial killers usually would verbally make promises or swear that they won’t do anything. But pinky promises are very serious, to me at least. I know it’ll be hard to fully trust me, so this is me assuring you that things won’t end up that way in the best way I know how.” It’s pathetic now that you think of it, offering a pinky promise not to kill the girl. But Tara laughs and links pinkies with you anyway.

“Break this promise and I’ll make sure Sam breaks every bone in your body.”

a/n: hello reader >:) my love for jenna ortega and the scream franchise has led me here. honestly speaking, this won't make a lot of sense canonically but pls bear w me, i'm going to try and execute this idea as best as i can :') if you made it this far, thank you for reading!

#scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #itsghvstfvce

[sanguineterrain]

Jason or Dick with a reader with social anxiety? 😊

sure!! dick grayson x gn!reader | tw anxiety, mild panic attack, dick comforts reader. also i know basically nothing about the young justice league so if anything's inaccurate my b

****

"You're gonna love them," Dick says, squeezing your knee, one hand on the steering wheel.

You smile tightly. Luckily, his eyes are on the road.

"I'm sure I will."

You loving them isn't the problem. It's the other way around.

The Young Justice League is so big now, too. You can't remember most of their names.

Okay. Artemis, Wally... Superboy. What's his name? You can't ask Dick, that's embarrassing. Shit. You should've had him text you all the names earlier so you could work on memorizing them.

You're so busy sifting through the members in your head that you don't notice Dick has parked. He hops out, already a ball of energy. You're more sluggish, dragging yourself out of your seat.

Dick quickly tugs you into his side as you walk to the elevator. You feel a little better when he rubs your shoulder, but as soon as he starts talking about his friends, your heartbeat quickens.

"...They've wanted to meet you for a while! I've talked their ears off about you. I think that—"

Ding! The elevator doors slide open.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight before you. Everyone's here. Jesus Christ. You thought you'd get introduced slowly. Especially on a Saturday afternoon—doesn't the world need saving? Why are they all here?

"Dickie!" Wally says, speeding over and yanking Dick into a hug. Dick hugs back, and you'd fawn over how sweet your boyfriend and his best friend are if your chest didn't hurt.

"Hey, Walls. Hi, everybody," Dick says, smiley and relaxed. "This is my partner."

Everybody looks at you.

You've always been jealous of how easily Dick can interact with people. Luckily, he's never tried to rope you into one of Bruce's charity functions ("oh, babe, I love you too much to do that to you!") When you're out and about, you flail in any social situation. But Dick? Dick is a natural. A born charmer. Everybody loves him.

You feel like you're going to throw up.

"So you're the saint who's dealing with Grayson," Artemis says, a hint of a smirk on her face.

Dick rolls his eyes. "You're dating Wally."

"Hey!" Wally squawks, then zooms to Artemis for a consolation kiss.

"You're a civilian," Superboy (damn it, what's his name?!) says, expression stiff.

You nod, unsure. "Um. Yeah, I am."

"How'd you meet?" someone else asks.

"Uh, well-"

"Wait, Dick said you've been dating for six months. How the hell did you hide your relationship for that long?"

"He and I-"

"They are overwhelmed," M'gann says suddenly, squinting at you. "Their heart is beating faster than normal."

You flinch at her knowing gaze. The chest pain has upgraded from moderate to is-this-a-heart-attack?

You turn to Dick. His smile slips as soon as you look at him.

"Baby?" he asks.

Escape. You need to escape.

"I-I need to use the bathroom," you blurt.

You run out of the kitchen before anyone can say anything. Tears form, and you blink them away quickly.

You can't find the bathroom, which is doubly embarrassing, so you end up going into the stairwell and wedging yourself into the corner of the landing, knees to your chest.

Okay. Grounding techniques. Take five slow breaths. Identify five things you can feel. Your jeans. Your shoes. The cool wall against your back. Two more.

The door swings open. You close your eyes. If one of those super-powered people who've probably never had a panic attack in their life finds you huddled pathetically in the stairwell, you'll never live it down.

You'll have to break up with Dick. You can picture the disappointed crinkle of his brow, the pinch of his mouth. He expected more of you, no doubt.

"Oh, baby," a voice says, and then you're being pulled into strong arms.

You wince, not opening your eyes. Your breaths are still too fast.

Of course your detective boyfriend figured out you weren't in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," you say, burying your face into his arm. "This is so stupid, I—"

"It's not stupid," Dick says and coaxes you to look at him. "Anxiety isn't stupid. Was it too much, meeting everyone at once?"

You sniffle miserably. "You literally work with superheroes, Dick. I know I'm such a letdown. Someone learns that Dick Grayson, the Nightwing, is dating someone, and-and you expect alien royalty or a billionaire heir or something. Somebody more than me. And then I fucking freak over meeting some new people."

You scowl. "Some partner I am."

Dick looks heartbroken. He pulls you closer, rubbing your back.

"I didn't know you felt this way," he says quietly. "Some partner I am."

You shake your head. "No, it's not like I tried to tell you. I just—I wanted to be normal, D. I wanted to be a good partner. I didn't want my stupid anxiety to get in the way. And it's clear you love those guys so much, and you were so excited to introduce us..."

"Sweetheart, I love you too. Your feelings and comfort are important. If I'd known it was too much, I wouldn't have dragged you here. We could've waited or introduced you slowly."

Tears well up. "God, Dick, I just wish I could be like you. You're always so good at this stuff."

"Aw, baby." Dick tenderly kisses your cheek. "That's the product of years of media training. I don't like crowds either. I mean, I like people, but I get overwhelmed, too. We all do. Not like my family's much better. Jason doesn't like unfamiliar places. He has to case out a new restaurant at least three days in advance."

"Jason was dead for two years. He has an excuse."

"Okay, point," Dick allows. "But seriously, honey, we're all like that. B despises those parties he goes to. He's always exhausted afterward. It's all smoke and mirrors. The team has their tough moments too. And the way you feel isn't stupid. I'm sorry I wasn't more attentive to it."

You sit like that in silence for a while, Dick hugging you. Slowly, your heart rate returns to normal. You start to feel more regulated.

"Wanna go home?" he asks gently.

You shake your head.

"No, I wanna meet them. But..." You groan into his shoulder. "I totally made a fool of myself."

"No, you didn't. It's okay. I promise they don't think any less of you. They were worried, actually. And I told them to take it easy with the interrogation."

Dick slips his hand into yours and squeezes. You take a deep breath.

"Okay," you say. "Let's do it."

Dick smiles. "Alright. I got you the whole time, love."

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing fanfiction #nightwing imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #inbox #blurb

[celaenaeiln]

not dick grayson related but what do you think about timsteph and stephcass?

Tim and Steph

I really, REALLY tried my best to ship Tim and Steph together or see them as a ship but I just couldn't. They had some cute moments together like these -

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #963

But Tim sorta didn't treat Steph all that well. He didn't mean it maliciously, but he was way too in his head and worrying about his duties to spend time with Steph or be good to her. He kinda dumps her out of the blue and yanks her around for a bit. Steph was too romantically invested in her and Tim's relationship to focus on what she really wanted to do career-wise or in her life. They wanted very different things.

But it's not that I wish they didn't date. I'm very happy they dated. Actually they needed to date to find out that they were incompatible with each other because Tim and Steph's dynamic is that exact line of "We dated, but we found out we're incompatible, so we're just best friends." So I don't ship them but I'm glad they were together because I like their exes-turned-best-friends dynamic.

Steph and Cass

Ironically, I don't ship but they're without a doubt the most shippable! If I'm being honest, they're super romantic on a casual basis.

Batgirls Issue #4

KADJFKAS;FJANDSFKJAN; IF I COULD BLUSH I WOULD BE BLUSHING!!

Batgirl (2000) Issue #28

CUTE!!!

This feels like another Superbat type relationship where DC gets as close to shipping them together as possible but then puts them away under the name of "best friends".

I don't really ship Steph or Cass with anyone but if I ever did, the closest I would come to is with each other.

#tim drake #red robin #stephanie brown #spoiler #cassandra cain #batgirl #black bat #cl anon asks #cl asks #thanks for the ask!

[underdark-dreams]

Incredibly excited to finally start releasing this into the wild!!

After my 2-part Rolan x Tav fic Good Night For Company, I really wanted to write a longer continuation of their story set in Act 3. And at last, here is the first chapter--multiple others planned! (With more romance soon to follow)

Note: this chapter explores darker themes than my usual work. I encourage you to check the AO3 tags if you have any doubts. They will be updated regularly 🖤

A Strand to Climb - Ch.1

Two very different heroes find themselves in Baldur's Gate at last. All Tav can think about is seeing a certain apprentice wizard again, but Rolan finds himself trying to push her away.

Tags: Angst, Physical Abuse, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 2,840 [Read on AO3]

Lorroakan liked to make Rolan wait. 

He was a man who enjoyed toying with people, and Rolan found himself the newest and current favorite toy in the archwizard’s collection. He tipped his head back to gaze up at the criss-crossing arches in the high ceiling of Ramazith’s Tower, trying to occupy his mind away from the fatigue pooling in the soles of his feet. 

Tonight’s lesson should have begun half an hour ago. He knew better than to move from his usual spot on the fine carpet, however.

Whatever Cal or Lia might think, Rolan was no blind idiot. 

He hadn't gotten this far in life without a bitter skepticism about human nature. He'd filed away every rumor he heard about Lorroakan on the road from Elturel, though he hadn’t given them any weight at the time.

The revelation that the man was even worse than what he'd heard was…a disappointment, to be sure. And a complication. 

But it did nothing to change his path or his determination to succeed. Apprenticeships with archwizards didn't drop out of the sky, even with ones as worthless and vapid as Lorroakan. Especially not to a student with Infernal blood.

And Rolan could be very patient when he put his mind to it. He’d waited many years to find himself standing here in Ramazith’s Tower, hadn’t he? He could survive another year or two as Lorroakan’s apprentice. 

Rolan gathered the thoughts around him like armor where he stood in the center of the cavernous room, awaiting the arrival of his master. 

As if on cue, the rushing portal sounded behind him as Lorroakan himself swept into the room.

“I understand my apprentice has been pawing through the merchandise.”

Entering rooms with a full sentence was another of Lorroakan’s favorite tactics. Though he expected it by now, Rolan still found himself thrown off balance by the words for a moment—no doubt their intended purpose. His mind raced to grasp what he was being accused of before he looked to his master.

Lorroakan stood on the step before him with lips drawn into the hint of a smile, an expression that didn’t reach his eyes. The man was angry.

Rolan kept his voice calm and careful. “Master Lorroakan, I should have explained. Two of Aradin’s men managed to get past the guards several nights ago, raiding for valuables. It took some time to salvage the scrolls they damaged in the process.”

“I see. And as a result, you took it upon yourself to give Klank a little upgrade, did you?”

Performing magic in the shop outside of Lorroakan’s direct orders—a mistake. “Yes, Master,” Rolan replied reluctantly.

“How clever,” said Lorroakan above him. But he didn’t sound like he thought it was clever at all.

“I know what a nuisance they’ve been to you, Master Lorroakan.”

“Don’t lie to me, boy—”

As he spoke, Rolan felt a foreign presence prodding at the corners of his mind. There were few spells Lorroakan had demonstrated complete mastery of thus far—but the ritual for detecting thoughts was certainly among them. 

Rolan knew he would face a far worse punishment than whatever was coming if he resisted. Instead, fighting all his natural instincts, he let his mind’s defenses go slack.

Lorroakan’s consciousness pierced through his own, rough and careless. It rapidly shoved through his thoughts then withdrew just as abruptly. Rolan held back a wince of discomfort at the treatment.

His master’s eyes narrowed at him, that placid smile still on his lips. 

"On your knees," Lorroakan instructed silkily.

As his body obeyed in silence, Rolan felt churning bile and indignant pride rise in his throat. If Lorroakan hoped all these trials would break Rolan's spirit, he'd find they were having the opposite effect.

Lorroakan’s voice was dangerously even. "Although I’ve expressly forbidden it, you decided to avail yourself of a bit of private study from the scroll stock while you were at it. Outside my wishes."

Though Rolan kept his eyes down on the carpet below, he heard the rustle of Lorroakan’s robes as he began to circle him. Like a cat with a mouse.

“Forgive me, Master,” Rolan said down to the floor. “I only reviewed the spells you’ve seen fit to instruct me in.” 

A second mistake.

“Oh?” Lorroakan’s voice dripped with fresh venom. “And is my instruction insufficient?”

Yes. Completely fucking useless. “No, Master Lorroakan. I only know how short your time is with more important matters…locating the Nightsong. I hoped to perfect what you’ve taught me, to arrive better prepared for your lessons.”

Surely that was sufficient for his ego? Rolan dared to hope so as Lorroakan’s steps came to a halt in his periphery.

Without warning, the red wizard's palm connected with the soft dip of his temple.

Defenses still down from his earlier mental invasion, Rolan's body jerked sideways; he caught himself with sharp nails into the carpet. The blow rang deafening and shrill between his ears.

"—suffer insolence, boy," Lorroakan was warning somewhere above him as Rolan's hearing returned. "And put those filthy claws away. Are you a man or a beast?"

"Yes, Master," Rolan gasped, hardly knowing whether he should agree or say no. The pain in his skull overwhelmed his senses in a way that must have translated as meekness. 

Lorroakan sighed, the way one might at a dear but misbehaving pet.

"Young Rolan," he tutted. "Still so willful. So much yet to learn from my wealth of knowledge. And I am generous…"

As he spoke, his polished boots moved closer into Rolan’s downturned field of vision, and Rolan felt the archmage's soft fingers under his chin guiding his gaze upwards.

This was always the very worst part. Rolan would willingly take a dozen more blows if he could avoid what came after. 

Instead, he witnessed the gleam of satisfaction in Lorroakan's eyes as he examined his past weeks' handiwork on his apprentice's face—as if the sight brought him a deep pleasure that verged on carnal. Rolan's insides turned over in disgust.

"Yet even my favorite apprentice must be trained, must be disciplined." Lorroakan's words were silky soft, but his thumb and forefinger gripped into Rolan's chin with bruising force. "You'll stay to reorganize the abjuration wing tonight, alphabetically by subject."

Rolan nodded mutely, as much as Lorroakan's grip allowed. He had just finished reordering them all by title a few days ago. But what did it matter anymore?

At least his penance appeared to have cut the evening short. Lorroakan released him without a backwards glance. 

As the archmage swept away toward the portal to take his leave, Rolan got to his feet as slowly as he could manage. He ran hands down his robes, hoping the scuffs on his knees would come out with some careful spellwork. This was the only set he had.

By the time he raised his eyes to look around, Lorroakan was gone. One of the metal Myrmidons shuffled aimlessly near the railing, quite harmless without its master's direction. Lorroakan controlled them, but he hadn’t created them; Rolan had gathered that early. 

Alone again, Rolan let out a pent-up breath. Then he turned toward the towering case of books and scrolls on abjuration. 

He'd be able to touch them, he knew, but turning a single page would result in a painful rebuke. The nerves in his right hand smarted in memory of the first and last time he'd been stupid enough to try.

Of the vast wealth of texts contained in his tower—how many of their spines had Lorroakan actually cracked open? For an archmage, he was profoundly lacking in a desire for learning, among many other qualities. The wealth of this place was wasted on one like him.

A memory came back to Rolan from the Druid's Grove, a time and place that felt several lifetimes ago now. Gale, her erudite wizard, asking him to repeat Lorroakan's name. Making those insinuations that got Rolan's hackles up in defense for his new master—and for his own judgment. 

Rolan should have listened to the words from an older and clearly wiser mind.

Would it have changed anything in the end? He'd reverently carried Lorroakan's invitation with him all the way from Elturel. No matter what he heard, there was never a chance he might have walked away from the offer. 

But he might feel like less of a fool.

Hot shame rose in Rolan’s throat. If only Tav and her wizard could see him now, he thought bitterly. The fresh bruise forming at his temple throbbed as if to punctuate the idea. Rolan pushed up the sleeves of his robe and set to work.

—

Though it was only her first morning in Baldur’s Gate proper, Tav found that her list of urgent tasks had grown longer than ever.

There was the spate of gruesome murders, the rival thieves’ guilds warring in the underground, the freshly ordained archduke and his formidable army of Steel Watchers. Not to mention the little problem of a godlike Elder Brain that had begun to test its weakened chains. 

Tav had always thought of herself as a patient person. But these past few days, her companions all seemed to be tugging her in opposite directions. Everyone was irritable and on edge, herself included.

After Lae’zel and Astarion had nearly drawn on each other over the campfire last night—a row over what to do with the cambion’s latest offer of a deal—Tav snapped. She made the executive decision that they all needed a day away from each other to clear their heads.

Yet rather than pursue any of her many important leads, here she was loitering alone in front of the message board outside Basilisk Gate.

A good bit of it was taken up with Enver Gortash’s face, looking every bit the messiah he was definitely not. There were other notices: Flaming Fist enlistment posters, a few hand-written notes for missing persons. More likely unfortunate victims in the city’s recent murder spree. 

She found her eye uselessly searching for another name altogether. It was probably stupid—did wizards usually announce their new apprentices to the public?

Just as she’d made up her mind to move on, Lorroakan’s own name caught her eye. Tav tore the pamphlet down from the board.

‘Seeking Information About the Nightsong! Report Findings to Archwizard Lorroakan, Master of Ramazith’s Tower in the Upper City, Famed and Illustrious Mage of the Sword Coast.’

Unease bloomed in her stomach. What did an archwizard want with Dame Aylin? 

She turned the paper over, looking for anything besides vague details. Nothing on the notice said anything about capture or forcible delivery, but there was a reward printed in large type at the bottom of the page.

Her brows descended at the figure. Something about the size of it only increased her sense of foreboding.

Though she’d planned to make her way to Ramazith’s Tower to see Rolan as soon as she possibly could, perhaps now she had another reason to pay it a visit.

“Hey, Tav!”

She looked around at the sound of her name. Lia stood on the top step from the Basilisk Gate barracks, a slim scroll in her hand. She followed Tav's eyes to the parchment.

“Enlistment papers,” she explained, tucking them in her belt as she descended the stairs. “They’re no Hellriders, but it’s a decent job. Plus I heard some mad cult is planning to march an army down on our heads. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Lia added with a wry smile.

Somehow Tav was relieved to hear Lia could joke about it. It lightened some of the weariness in her own chest. She hastily pocketed the reward pamphlet—though she thought Lia’s eyes followed the motion. Then she rounded to return the smile.

“Gods, is it good to see a friend,” she admitted. “How are you, Lia?”

“You mean besides the constant threat of murder and war, and the stupid comments about my horns? Alright, considering,” Lia chuckled.

Tav felt a prickle of anger. She supposed that was a common experience for Tieflings, but that only made it worse somehow.

Lia caught her mood. “Don’t worry about it. We certainly don’t. Besides, it’s loads better here than it ever was back home.”

Tav moved the conversation along. She asked after Cal—trying to avoid immediately turning the subject to Rolan. Even though her heart ached to know how he was. Rolan and his siblings had taken the direct path from Moonrise to the Lower City, no doubt reaching it weeks before her own party had made their winding way toward the gates.

Lia was clever enough to realize what she was doing. Tav’s close relationship with Lia’s older brother was anything but a secret at this point, after all. But the younger woman played along politely for the moment.

When they were all out of other topics to catch up on, Tav did her best to sound as casual as possible. “How’s our brilliant apprentice getting along?”

Lia’s face changed at the question. Her brow flew into a scowl, and the muscle in her jaw tightened. 

“I don't talk to him about it anymore,” she snapped.

Tav blinked in surprise, but the feeling was quickly replaced by concern. “What is it?”

Lia looked around for a moment, as if worried someone might be listening to overhear. She moved down a few steps to stand with arms crossed beside Tav.

“Look…Rolan’s proud,” she said in a low voice. “You know that well as I do. He won't ever give me or Cal a straight answer about it. But Tav, seriously? I'm not sure he's been taught a damn thing yet. Rolan always gets upset when me or Cal come by the Sundries. Like he’s scared of someone seeing us there. And every time I’ve been in, Lorroakan’s got him working the stupid counter instead of studying. And his—”

Tav was hanging on every word by the time Lia abruptly cut herself off. The two of them shared a long look.

“I don't think he’s treating Rolan well,” Lia told her. Her nails dug into the fabric of her sleeves. “I know he isn't.”

“Not treating him well how?” The concern had grown to a snake of worry coiling through Tav’s insides. 

Lia’s hands continued fidgeting over her arms. She glanced away behind the curtain of her hair, as if regretting how much she'd said. 

“Listen, just—just go talk to Rolan. Please? You should hear it from him. If he won't listen to us, maybe he’ll listen to you. Don't think he could ever tell you no,” Lia added with a weak smile, an expression that was more pained than anything.

An ominous feeling swirled around in Tav’s brain, muddling the tail end of their conversation. Her head nodded along automatically as Lia gave an invitation to her and Cal’s flat in Heapside Strands, but her ears barely caught the street name. 

Once Lia had given her a quick one-armed hug and departed, Tav stood hardly knowing where she was. A Flaming Fist jostled past her shoulder from the barracks with a backwards comment about loitering in byways. 

She hardly heard the man. Her mind was filled with images of Rolan; proud, hopeful, excited for his future. Had this Lorroakan done something to spoil the dream he’d fought so hard to achieve?

As Tav’s hand brushed against the reward pamphlet in her pocket, the fingers there clenched into a fist. The other closed tight around the hilt of the longsword resting in her scabbard.

Whatever it was, something was wrong here. Very wrong. She was tempted to march straight into Sorcerous Sundries, find Rolan, and demand the truth out of him. And if he put on his stubborn act, she could think of a few very pleasant ways to get honest answers from his lips.

But what if he was somehow in danger from this archwizard?

That thought brought her up short. Lia’s voice before had held a hint of fear; not an emotion she’d know Lia to express lightly. Perhaps rushing into the situation blind would risk causing Rolan more harm than good.

Tav felt her pulse pound at the thought of putting him in danger. She let out a breath, trying to clear her head of the tangle of emotions. None of them would help her make a sound decision. As much as she might want to, she shouldn’t go racing off straight to Ramazith’s Tower.

And she shouldn’t go alone. If some kind of trouble was waiting there—increasingly likely when she considered Lorroakan’s cryptic interest in the Nightsong—she would need her companions with her. And they were currently spread out gods-knew-where across the city. 

Though her heart fought against it, the logical choice was clear. The wisest course would be to leave this for tomorrow.

In the morning, they would pay a visit to Ramazith’s Tower…and Tav would finally get the measure of this archwizard for herself.

#rolan x tav #cw: abuse #angst #tw: abuse #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #mutual pining #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #tav x rolan #lorroakan is a bastard and he will be dead soon #sage and soldier

[meraki-sunset]

What are the fussion kids classpects?

I gave the black haired ones, the StriderLalonde aspect and the HarleyEgbertEtc class. And did the oposite for the white haired ones, HarleyEgbertEtc aspect and StriderLalonde class.

That way the beta session is still viable, with time and space gods, but the alpha isn't, and they need the beta players to win. like in canon

Jase is a Seer of Space not only to make the session viable but because space players are always green in some way, so it fits canon and also the black clothes look cool with the ears. She can see space. She can percieve everything around her and really far away from her. detect her enemies aproching from a universe away and that kind of thing, you can never surprise her, because she always knows where you are (you also can't escape her)

Dahn is a Heir of time, again, because it was nescesary but also because i think it fits him better than a knight of breath. A heir is suposed to change and manipulate, they're the ones who come to change the previous order. So a heir of time would be able to alter event's using his time habilities with a lower chance of causing a paradox. They go all out when it comes to molding the timeline to their advantage. He will create a perfect balance with his sister's aspect and together they'll scratch the session and head to the alpha session.

Rany is a maid of Void, it's hard describe what her powers do. maids are creators, so she would be a creator of nothing. she can most likely sustract things from places, turn them into nothing, maybe she can create tiny blackholes. It's kind of a dark power. Maids create and regenerate, so she could fix things that have been broken to the point of mising parts or slowly regenerate lost limbs, sumoning the missing pieces from the void itself.

Jark is a prince of hope, therefore hopeless. He got the short end of the stick when it comes to classpect. He started the game in a pesimistic mood, but put on a cool hero facade to hide his doubts about the game being a good idea, after godtiering he couldn't hide his true feelings anymore. He was completely hopeless about the future and had given up on the game (most likely eager to end it) Princes are destroyers, they destroy either their aspect or with their aspect, wich means that Jark can be the one to doom the timeline if he get's out of control or be the one to save it. he needs to be able to focus his destruction not towards hope itself, but towards the enemy, using hope as the fuel. Like Rany, he has kind of a dark power, that's why they'll have to rely on eachother to understand their powers and grow into heroes, not leting those new powers consume them

#homestuck #homestuck au #fussions #fankids #i guess

[lianaisabsent]

BSD men when their s/o gets jealous

A/n: might be a little different from exactly canon reactions but technically it includes my hcs so..

CHARACTERS: dazai, chuuya, atsushi

Dazai:

with dazai it's like you're confused and amused more than jealous.

He flirts to get information, it works greatly is what's more annoying to you.

This one time you both were set up on a mission and not even two seconds in and he flirted with the prime suspect and deemed her "incapable of doing murder"

When asked why he responded “I would frame her too, she's too afraid and cowardly and she's lacking financially so her motive would've been perfect to kill.. however, the way she trembles and speaks and responds is a way no killer would be able to.. She could be an actress but her hands are of those of the abused. Meaning she was purposely planted to distract us.. That's something I would do if I was the killer" (plot holes in this but I'm not a detective so excuse me if I get any thing wrong)

You were just gawking the whole time over how much he analyzed from touching the ladies hand and speaking to her softly and sweetly.. It was a mask yes but still it made you jealous.. Not like you were to admit that.

He might have.. He definitely noticed it. Dazai wanted to tease you over it but you were in a professional setting although nothing about dazai can be called professional at times.. Most times..

Bro would tease you so much so so much

You both were on a mission together, a mission to investigate a murder in an art museum. You inspected the places, found some clues and when you came back you saw your boyfriend speaking, no flirting with the staff members.

You knew it's for work, but it still makes you feel a twisting feeling in your stomach. You're not much of a doubting and possessive person with him but it's still annoying how good he is at this a natural some might even say.

You just inhaled and exhaled before rolling your eyes and walking towards someone else for their statements on what happened. They all have roughly the same statement “he was a kind man, a kind man the manager was, the manager was a nice kind man he didn't deserve this” almost led you to think this was some sort of mystery novels cassette tape on repeat.

A few minutes pass by and you feel someone hugging you from behind, you flinched and pushed the person away, person being dazai who was very wounded (dramatic is a better word) “my love! How could you!? First you get jealous and glare at the staff member and when I came to comfort you like the amazing partner I am, you pushed me!”

You could only sigh at his theatrics, 'how is he not an actor?' you thought. “don't bother dazai I know it was for work..” you sighed looking through the information you gathered. He did tease you but he ultimately didn't really know how to respond to that. As he's told you before he cant really respond with that exact emotions you want. He tried though.

“well.. I only 'flirt' for work but ultimately who do I go home to and for? You” it did make you internally embarrassed because he just said that loudly in a silent hall with people.

Chuuya:

He isn't a flirt, his thing is more of actions speak louder then words but he does get flirted with. He doesn't respond to it but it does annoy you a little.

he isn't going to say much just “oh okay-wait what”

I think he'd be dense when it comes to recognizing jealousy, he'd just think everything is fine unless you directly tell him it's not

“chuuya, I'm jealous” “of what? My charm?”

How did you even end up with him..

One time, at a café when you were both off of your work and getting something to drink while you caught up for the week a woman came up asking for your boyfriends number.

He was about to say something before he saw a book in her hand, he did mention he'd been reading a few books recently and that you should check them out if you have time but you didn't have time. You were regretting it now for sure.

“oh you like that book?” “yes!” “oh what was-....” their words were no longer being heard by you when all you did was stare down at your drink counting till when she would leave him. But to your disappointment it was like chuuya forgot who he came to the date with. After what felt like 30 minutes she smiled and left with his number as you glared at him and picked up the butter knife.

You stared at him and he only smiled at you in return, it wasn't intentional you could see it but it annoyed you so much “so you just give away your number to random people huh?” you asked earning a confused look from him, “what do you mean darling?” “you know what I mean, the girl the book ring a bell for you yet Einstein?” he nodded before pausing “oh wait what? You were jealous!?”

He, instead of sitting across came to your side and sat beside you lightly hugging you “sorry if it made you jealous I was just kind of happy because we had similar interests is all, you're the one I'll take to dinner and you're the one who I'll plan to spend my life with along with wine”

It made you smile.

Atsushi:

He is more dense.. He's oblivious, he doesn't even know you were jealous.. Why were you jealous? That's his thought

We all know atsushi has a thing for saving people but people do tend to over think interactions. You have witnessed multiple times where people who atsushi saved tried flirting with him. As your oblivious partner just kept being dense.

“jealous?? You? YOU WERE JEALOUS?!”

He's confused, he doesn't understand

You knew atsushi saved a girl from the guild and you knew she was his friend (?) if you could call it that because from what kyouka told you she just seemed like a shy girl who hates social interactions.. That was until you visited the café yourself and saw her upset seeing you. Had you done something to wrong her? No, you hadn't ever met the red head.

“um atsu.. Is your upset with me?” you asked to which you received a shake of his head and a small "no"

As you say down she came and threw the menu in front of atsushi and placed it carefully to you.. You were shocked to say the least. She the started bantering and you noticed a blush and thought 'oh. She likes him..' it wasn't until after she left that you felt an annoying twist in your stomach and a voice saying that they've known each other for longer then you and him have been together but you choose to ignore it.

Lucy, he told you was her name, came back with the orders placing it and when he called you 'love' which wasn't often unless he noticed something off about you that her eyes almost bulged out “YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!?” she shouted at him not that loudly to disturb everyone but still nearby customers did hear it. Atsushi nodded “oh yes, I thought I told you last time me and kyouka came” they started bantering again.

You felt jealous and annoyed, she seemed sweet.. But jealousy just made you feel angry and annoyed at her. After your café trip you walked out of the café not waiting for him to catch up. He grabbed your wrist asking what's wrong and you could only sigh "jealousy, I'm jealous, you've known her for longer then our relationship and she even could have feelings for you!” you said to which his response was shutting down literally he tried to process what you just said..

"you're jealous? JEALOUS??” he was shocked and in comparison to his obliviousness you only kissed him. It made him redder then red paint could even get. He was confused as to why you were jealous but he reassured you that he only likes you and lucy is a good person and friend of his.

#dazai fluff #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd fluff #atsushi nakajima #atsushi x reader #dazai osamu #bsd season 4 #chuuya fluff #chuuya bsd

[silverbladexyz]

Hi hun🤭 can I request Tecchou, Dazai, and Chuuya meeting their s/o’s ex fiancé for the first time (but reader is not there when they meet oh and reader is the one who canceled the engagement) and can the ex fiancé be similar to Yukito Ayastuji in personality and looks and be like really smart? And maybe the boys get jealous or smth😭

Hello there! This is quite interesting, and I changed the request a little if that's alright with you ^-^. The boys don’t really get jealous but something else happens.

The images do not belong to me. They belong to their original owners.

TW: Mentions of threats, mentions of death

Tecchou, Dazai and Chuuya meeting S/O's ex fiancée who is like Ayatsuji

Dazai:

-When he first met your ex-fiancée, his eyes narrowed and he observed the person in front of him

-Your ex-fiancée no doubt knew who he was, and Dazai hated the vibes that your former partner emitted

-I feel like Dazai wouldn’t really approach him because he simply is not bothered to talk to them, but the latter saved him the trouble by walking up to Dazai with quite a scrutinising look in his eyes

-‘You must be Y/N’s new boyfriend; not that I care. I would advise you to leave them now so to save you a lot of trouble later on in your relationship. You deserve better, anyways.’

-And Dazai immediately transformed from ‘couldn’t-care-less’ to ‘demonic-prodigy-of-the-Port-Mafia’

-Literally goes all demon-mode. Normally, this would scare most people away and make them think twice, but your ex-fiancée wasn’t an average person. Dazai could see that their smartness could probably rival Ranpo’s

-‘So? Are you going to stalk and kill me just because I told you the truth? That isn’t very befitting for a detective, now is it? Not to mention that Y/N would be heartbroken to see their beloved in jail... but they deserve it anyways, that insufferable-’

-‘Ah, now I see why they left you. With your arrogant and snarky attitude, who would want a cocky man-child like you?’ Your ex-fiancée had laid the fuel, while Dazai lighted the fuse

-Dazai was so tempted to make this into a roast battle, but he has a lot more common sense. So instead, he gave the man a chilling glare, told him to never come back again, and walked away

-Definitely showers you in much more affection, because he just shudders to think if you had married that bastard. He is glad that you cancelled the engagement though, because he can’t bear to see you with somebody else whom clearly didn’t deserve you

Chuuya:

-One word: rip. Good luck to your ex-fiancée

-It’s a 50/50 chance that either Chuuya or your ex-fiancée approaches the other first. I feel like it depends on Chuuya’s mood, but he’ll more likely stay put and send glares at the other person’s way

-But sooner or later Chuuya is approached by the scumbag, and even when he’s holding back every urge to beat him up, Chuuya just asks ‘can I help you?’ in the nicest way possible

-When he hears your ex-fiancée talking trash about you and just basically is being a jerk, your boyfriend is immediately grasping the latter’s collar and talking in a dangerously low voice

-‘You want to mess with me? Careful where you’re stepping, because you’re on very thin ice right now.’

-‘Oh? Threatening me, are you? Now what would Y/N think of you hurting and possibly killing their ex-fiancée? You would end up in jail as well, with a lot of life sentences on your head.’ So your ex had brains as well as a sharp tongue and good looks... Chuuya just wanted to punch his face and break his stupid glasses. He wanted to wipe that smirk of your ex’s face, but your ex was right. You wouldn’t allow Chuuya to do such a thing

-Even though Chuuya couldn’t physically hurt your ex, he could threaten him. So he literally said ‘My lawyers can get me out of jail. And don’t think that I don’t have my ways. If I ever see you talking badly about Y/N then you don’t know what I have in store for you.’

-Chuuya then walks away, but I headcanon that he secretly is insecure about himself. Your ex was so much smarter and better-looking than him, what if you didn’t want to be with him anymore? Not to mention that he was a mafioso, and a very dangerous one at that...

-You definitely notice him being a little quieter when he’s back home with you, and by this point you know him well enough to understand what was bothering him. Please give him a hug and reassure him that you wouldn’t leave him for anything else, because Chuuya’s lost too many people already :(

-He might already have a wedding ring in store for you. It’s hidden in one of his vests in the wardrobe

Tecchou:

-It is also a 50/50 chance that either he or your ex-fiancée approaches the other person

-If Tecchou approaches him, he might say ‘You must be Y/N’s ex-fiancée.’ with a straight deadpan face. I admire his courage I could never do that

-Anyways, Tecchou could probably sense the vibes your ex-fiancée is giving off. He isn’t that dense to know that your ex doesn’t like him, but does Tecchou care? Nope

-But when those words fall out of your ex-fiancée’s mouth, Tecchou immediately starts giving him a lecture on how he mustn’t be rude and disrespect you. I feel like Tecchou doesn’t have a short temper, so your ex-fiancée was secretly getting frustrated at the lack of reaction from your boyfriend

-If your ex-fiancée slips up and says something extremely rude about you, Tecchou would be annoyed and slightly irritated. He might give a warning to him to watch his words, but your ex didn’t choose to listen

-Okay but I feel like Tecchou would just say ‘It is my choice if I want to leave Y/N or not. Thank you for your input.’ And just leaves. He then gives you more affection that day because he also can’t think of you being with that blond-haired man

-But when your ex-fiancée starts to threaten you? Oh boy, now Tecchou is mad. And he is terrifying when he is mad. Basically has to hold himself back from reaching for his sword or pinning your ex-fiancée onto the ground (not the dirty way-) but Tecchou just maintains calm and manages to walk away. Those other actions wouldn’t be befitting for a Hunting Dog, afterall

-Definitely keeps an eye out for your ex-fiancée, but that man will never bother you two again because yes, that’s how terrifying Tecchou is when he’s mad

@nekokinax @pixyys @pianotross @xxelfmamaxx @yuugen-benni @lakeside-paradise @catzlivedforbsd @yukitomybeloved @irethepotato @arisu-chan4646 @voyagewiththesatan @i-just-like-goats

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #tecchou x reader #silverbladexyz

[silverwhittlingknife]

Hi! Thoughts on Dick and Tim during Murderer/Fugitive, and their argument over whether Bruce killed Vesper?

(My interpretation was that to Dick, Robin means not only unwavering loyalty to Batman, but unwavering faith (“I’m dismayed that there can be a Robin who believes Batman could be guilty of murder”)— whereas to Tim it’s more about having faith in the symbol and the mission, not the person)

Tim (suspicious that Bruce has emotional blind spots and is about to get a case wrong): Nightwing. Channel Two. Go discreet. (Gotham Knights 1)

Dick: I don't - I don't see how you can say that and still wear that uniform... Tim: The guy who gave it to me–the guy who wore it first–HE taught me never to back away from any possibility that might lead to the truth. And he still believes that… right? (Gotham Knights 26)

Ooh, look, it’s one of my favorite comics of all time. <33

Yeah!!  I think hmmm.  Both Dick and Tim are intensely loyal to Bruce and they both care about him a lot.  But they do think about their loyalty to him in very different ways.

Also tl;dr I am biased here but also I am right dsfsfs - although I do think that Tim's loyalty is kinda to the symbol, I also think a big part of the issue here is that Tim's more unambiguous personal faith is given to Dick, not to Bruce. When Dick says, How can you wear that uniform and not have faith in Bruce, Tim answers, essentially, I wear this uniform because I have faith in you. Which is not what Dick wants to hear!

I had SO MANY THOUGHTS about this, so below the cut:

Dick and Bruce and the importance of faith

Tim and Bruce and the importance of doubt

More rambling Dick-and-Tim-and-Bruce thoughts

Dick and Bruce and faith

Dick’s notion of loyalty is pretty firm: “It's no secret Batman and I have had our... issues. But I won't be involved in anything that hurts him.”  His connection to Bruce, from the very beginning, is all about their shared sense of mission: the oath in the candlelight. Dick’s got this intense loyalty that he feels he owes to Bruce, and he feels betrayed when it seems like Bruce isn’t reciprocating, because as far as Dick’s concerned they owe it to each other.

I think you owe me an explanation, Bruce. ... We were the Dynamic Duo, don’t you remember? / If Bruce Wayne doesn’t exist, who am I the son of? / I know you have to live through restraint. I understand how brevity is your moral compass. But why lie to me, of all people? Why would you lie to me. ME. ... I trust you more than anyone. / I've trusted Batman with my life since I was eight. / On top of everything, he's my father now, too... I want to hit people just for thinking bad thoughts about him.

Dick’s first experience of Bruce is fighting by his side.  He initially conceptualizes his role of Robin as about being steadfast partners to each other, and although he'll sometimes later recategorize it as a kid's role, that doesn't change the way he thinks of his own relationship to Bruce: partners, no matter what.

Dick fights with Bruce a lot - he'll pick a physical fight in this very arc! He's not afraid to stand up to Bruce! He wants to be independent and bristles when he feels bossed around or ignored or when Bruce is dismissive or doesn't listen or doesn't call on him for help! But paradoxically, he stands up to Bruce because he has faith in him. Dick respects Bruce enough to confront him and he expects Bruce to offer him the same respect in return. He'll pour out his heart to Bruce because despite everything, some part of him expects Bruce to have an answer, to step up, to be the person Dick's determined to believe he can be.

Tim and Bruce and doubt

By contrast, Tim initially interacts with Bruce like a detective stalking a criminal.  He collects newspaper reports. He follows Bruce and takes photos of him and gathers evidence to present to Dick. He goes to talk to Dick, not Bruce, about Bruce’s problems—and Tim will pretty consistently continue to talk about Bruce to Dick (or occasionally to Alfred), to work behind Bruce’s back, to be frank with Dick in ways that he’s not frank with Bruce.  Tim’s often at pains to insist that he does respect and care about Bruce, but one of the reasons he has to keep insisting this verbally is because his actions and assumptions suggest a lack of trust.

Tim’s first experience of Bruce is of someone who could be a knight or a monster, who needs help and intervention, who can be loved but not entirely trusted.  Someone who isn’t gonna be okay on his own; someone who needs saving and fixing; someone whose sense of himself can’t be entirely trusted or listened to.  Batman needs a Robin.  No matter what he thinks he wants.

In New Titans 71, Wolfman writes Dick musing about Tim as a Robin and how he’s different from Dick himself, and thinking, “He questions more.”  Much later, in Teen Titans/Outsiders, Kory will note the same difference.  Which is a funny thing to write given all Dick’s fights with Bruce—but I also think it’s a true insight!  Tim’s default is questioning.  Almost his entire tenure as Robin is spent as Bruce's apprentice, not his kid, and that affects his attitude a lot. He never takes his trust in Bruce for granted.  It’s carefully considered—and it could be revoked.  A part of Tim is always judging and measuring Bruce, deciding which qualities he thinks are admirable and which ones not so much, what's worrisome and what's not, analyzing whether Bruce is looking after his health or not, etc etc.

You have to promise me something. You'll listen to Alfred and at least call it a night and give yourself a chance to heal. / How many times are we going to have this conversation, Bruce? You died tonight. For almost two minutes you were dead. / Maybe Batman doesn't need to know about this. / He's a hard guy to get to know. / I have friends. He has... associates. / Bruce has been on the job the longest. It’s slowly driven him mad and eaten the human part right out of him. / My boss - my teacher is gone, gone as in fled, but also gone out of his head. And now he may be a murderer as well. / I think maybe Batman has gone crazy. / Don't like the risks he's taking. Don't like the way he spoke to me. I hope it's the concussion talking. I don't want to think his edge is coming back.

It’s not that Dick never worries about Bruce in this way.  He does!  In the arc right before Lonely Place of Dying, his inner monologue compares Bruce to an alcoholic. And IMO it’s strongly implied in Gotham Knights 26 (the Dick-and-Tim fight about Bruce maybe being a murderer) that one of the reasons Dick is so forceful and so upset by Tim’s suggestion is that he’s suppressing his own private doubts.  Tim’s dragging into the open something that Dick is refusing to look closely at.  Dick's faith is an act of will—if I’m going to be Bruce’s ally, then I can’t believe he’s capable of this.  I can’t allow myself to believe it.  And if I believe he’s capable of it, then I’m not acting as his ally anymore:

Dick: "I think it’s… admirable that you can continue serving a system in which you have so little faith. But I can’t. I can’t, Tim. I cannot believe that Batman is guilty of murder. I do not believe it, and I will not believe it. And I can’t stand with anyone who does."

You don't get this upset about somebody saying that the Earth is flat, you know? Dick's not laughing the accusation off; instead, he's drawing a hard line - I will not consider this. I refuse to go there. The topic is off-limits.

(In the same comic, you've got a similar fight going on between Alfred and Leslie with similar stakes - Alfred refusing to believe it but clearly harboring secret doubts, Leslie openly suspicious.)

General Dick-and-Tim-and-Bruce thoughts

Tim to friends: "I lie to Batman" (Teen Titans 3) Dick to Bruce: "But why lie to me, of all people? Why would you lie to me. ME." (Outsiders 21)

It’s always been Tim’s instinct to strategize around Bruce rather than with him. Tim will lie and circumvent Bruce’s orders, whereas Dick will disagree to his face.  Dick respects Bruce enough to give him his say and argue back, whereas Tim tends to think of Bruce as an admired-but-unstable figure who you sometimes listen to but sometimes plan around.

And I think you get the core of that in this arc!

Tim voices his concerns pretty frankly to Dick, but is way more circumspect in front of Bruce, because he doesn't entirely trust Bruce - Tim thinks "is Bruce stable and trustworthy" is "a decision that Dick and I will make in consultation with each other," not a decision that Bruce can make.

In the past, Dick has basically gone along with this kind of thing - he and Tim gossip about Bruce a lot! So it's not surprising that Tim's first thought is that they can confer on it again. But when it becomes a question of "is Bruce murderous, criminal, immoral," then Dick's loyalty kicks in. That's too serious an accusation for Dick to feel entirely comfortable talking about it behind Bruce's back.

Generally IMO, how Dick conceptualizes his loyalty tends to vary a lot depending on who he's talking to. So e.g. in general, Dick's more likely to gripe about Bruce to Tim than he is to gripe about Bruce to the Titans, because he knows that Tim basically likes Bruce. Tim's Robin! Dick takes for granted that Tim is loyal. So it's not disloyal to complain about Bruce to Tim, because Dick and Tim are both on Bruce's side. Dick complains to Tim about Bruce abruptly summoning them into No Man's Land, but doesn't share the same complaint with the Titans. And that's because the Titans aren't friendly toward Bruce in general, and so bitching to them would be disloyal, would be airing dirty laundry outside the family.

By contrast, Tim's a safe audience... until you end up in a situation like Bruce Wayne: Murderer, when suddenly it sounds like Tim may not be on Bruce's side anymore. What are you saying, Tim?

I do think that if Tim had been right, if Bruce had been a murderer, Dick would've ultimately helped take him down. He's very defensive of Bruce because that's how Dick understands the obligations of loyalty, but... he's part of confronting Bruce and demanding explanations in the Cave, and he and Tim (and Cass and Babs) all investigate Bruce together. I think if there had been very very very credible evidence, Dick would've helped fight to take evil!Bruce down. But I also think he would've never stopped mentally searching for an explanation: mind control? body double? I think he'd have an incredibly hard time accepting that Bruce had just murdered someone.

And I mean! In Dick's defense! I don't think Bruce would! At the end of the day, I think Bruce deserves all kinds of criticism in post-Crisis, but I also tend to think that Dick's read of him is a bit more accurate than Tim's, that even though Bruce can act monstrously in all kinds of ways he is at bottom a person who would never ever ever murder a civilian girlfriend no matter how unstable he got and no matter how threatened his secret was. Dick might have a bit more faith in him than he deserves, but at the same time, Tim's jumping to the worst-case scenario pretty fast here, much as he does during Batman: RIP, and I think you could definitely argue that Dick - who's known Bruce longer and better, who lived with Bruce for years instead of just worked with him - has a better and more instinctive sense of Bruce's strengths instead of just his faults.

(And in Tim's defense, as Babs is about to point out to Dick, Bruce has not been behaving especially well recently and Tim has a lot of reasons to be frustrated with him. And Tim's not the only one - Babs is pretty suspicious too!)

.... And of course, I mean, as a Dick and Tim fan, I love that this arc makes very clear that Tim feels his own loyalty is to the symbol, yes, but also that he associates the symbol with Dick first and with Dick's sense of morals, that he trusts Dick, that he sees the costume as something Dick gave him and that's the legacy that he's trying to live up to, to never walk away from the truth, that he thinks the two of them need to be willing to consider the worst of Bruce .... and also the delightful paradox that this isn't loyalty that Dick asked for or wants or welcomes!!

Dick has always taken for granted that Tim was loyal to Bruce, not to Dick; he's not at all happy to hear the opposite. This isn't a heartwarming moment for them but instead a really fraught one, because it's a declaration of Tim's loyalty but it's a declaration of Tim's loyalty that's specifically about not offering unconditional loyalty to Bruce, so Dick feels like he's being invited to be traitors together instead of feeling touched by Tim's trust. Tim's loyalty is something he has to learn to come to terms with rather than something he's happy to have.

And I think that's great!! I love love love these kinds of complicated emotional dynamics (TM), and Bruce Wayne: Murderer is full of them. It's such a fun read.

#THANK YOU FOR THE ASK <33 i rambled for so long sdfdsfs but i really really love this whole arc #it's such a great fight and it does so many interesting things with characterization #it's a story about everybody's very individual relationships with bruce #and all the focus is on the emotional dynamics of WHY they're making particular choices #dick & tim #dick grayson #tim drake #ask tag

[koiir]

⸻ Talk that Talk! ⸻

Drabbles based on lyrics from twices “talk that talk”

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ Pairings; Scaramouche, heizou, Alhaitham x gn!reader

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ Genre/content; fluff, angst + comfort on Alhaithams, not proofread

“A to Z, you are quite sweet But I wanna skip the more important thing”

He hates this, Scaramouche hates it so much how you can’t seem to take a hint as he has tried to get you to notice these small things. You say you aren’t oblivious, but he begs to differ. How do you not notice it? Notice the way he treats you unlike he does with others?

He feels like his head is about to explode as he watches you chat away with another classmate. Stupid. You’re so stupid for not noticing the glances your classmate is giving you…you really are oblivious.

He’s trying to not make it obvious, yet he friends notice the way he eyes daggers at the classmate. They can only snicker seeing Scaramouche so worked up after only calling you a “friend” and nothing more. But they all know his true feelings, they just wonder if he will do anything.

They believe the indigo haired will just watch, yet his next movements leave them to raise an eyebrow.

He can’t deal with this, Scaramouche thinks to himself. He can’t let that classmate of yours who clearly is into you take what he has been longing for. The male makes his way up to you, completely dismissing the classmate.

“Scara?” He feels his heart beating and wants to smirk at the classmate at how easily he has gotten your attention, your eyes now glued on Scaramouche.

“Cmon, i gotta show you something.” He doesn’t even bother to wait for your response before grabbing your wrist. This is new, Scaramouche has never dared to make physical contact like this before. Maybe it’s a part of him that is possessive and wants to make it obvious. Especially to that classmate.

Here’s his chance, Scaramouche can finally get to the finish line of this. To the important part. With you two out of the classroom, the halls are empty as he stands in front of you. He keeps quiet but he knows you have your questions, he blushed looking away from you.

“I like you.”

He sees the way your eyes widen as your mouth is now agape, clearly not having this in mind. You didn’t expect a confession, much less for Scaramouche. He liked you?

“W-what?” You seem to be in a trance as you stare at him, but it’s anything but that as your mind races with thoughts. How? Why? You start to think back about your time being friends with Scaramouche and seeing if you could find any evidence of these feelings.

“Gosh [name] you’re so…stupid. You seriously didn’t know that I liked you?” “No! Absolutely not!”

He sighs out, but he grins as he sees you getting so worked up about not knowing this…and how he keeps insulting you for not realizing it.

“You actually like me?” He knows you have slight doubts, not expecting someone like him to have these types of feelings since he’s also so…. Himself.

“I’m not gonna say it twice, I actually like you idiot.” He wishes you could have been smarter…but it doesn’t change the fact that his heart beats for you and only you. Scaramouche doesn’t know why but he’s feeling rather bold, he pulls you in for a hug. You didn’t expect this….you didn’t even think he would have done something like this.

Baby, you know the answer, yes or yes / Don’t wanna waste time with the push-and-pull

It’s not exactly push and pull, most likely one sided with how heizou try’s to woo you. How long has it been since he’s…been like this for you? Ah, doesn’t really matter—cause it’s clear as day that heizou will never give up.

It feels like a lifetime with him working by your side, he almost views you as a beacon of hope whenever he has you on the same case as him. Yet he can’t deny that you are definitely the better the detective, yet maybe not with this…cause it seems you don’t bat an eye at his tactics as you wave him goodbye. Your grin making his face light up as he only wants more of this.

“Man alive… won’t you ever let that attitude go [name]?” You have your back turned away from heizou, as you roll your eyes. He actually asked you out…yet he played it off as a “catch up day” since you two have been so caught up in work. But with the way he wrapped an arm around you, it was obvious heizou wanted a date. From you.

“No, I probably won’t ever…” you want to say more, but you can’t voice out what you’re thinking in this moment. You don’t exactly know what to feel as you want to shut him down, but you know that isn’t what you truly want. You’re never doubt your thoughts or feelings, so why now?

“Won’t you say anything [name]? Don’t leave me hanging!” Heizou seems to resemble a lost puppy as he looks at you wishing for you to turn around. You know you should, maybe that would help give you your answer. You turn to see him and see the glint in his eyes, you feel your heart pound seeing him like this.

“I… i don’t know.” “What do you mean you don’t know?!”

He’s a little surprised at your answer, since he thought you would give an actual answer instead of an “I don’t know.” He feels a new idea pop into his mind, one that is bound to make you say yes.

“Well….” Heizou backs away from you, at teasing grin making a way onto his face. “You have two choices…” why is he making this so suspenseful? You feel yourself start to become more nervous, but not in that bad way—almost as if you’re awaiting for his next words as you become more giddy. But of course you don’t show it.

“Yes…or yes?” Huh? Oh. He’s asking about the date…you have two choices…yes or yes….

It was such a cliché thing for him to say, not giving you a choice to say “no.” Maybe that’s what you needed, cause you felt like you had the answer you needed. Definitely not because you didn’t want to admit you wanted to go on a date with him…

“So that’s your move heizou?” You now share a grin as you let your facade wash away as you start to feel true to yourself.

“Well to answer your question….yes.” You see the way his grin grows larger yet more pure as he feels himself filled with joy by your answer. It seems his tactic worked as you gave him the choice he had been wanting for so long.

Talk that talk, just one word / Talk that talk, l-o-v-e

He doesn’t know what to do, Alhaitham try’s to think of what to with this situation. It started with you two enjoying the company of the other, it felt almost perfect. To good to be true. And when those three words fell out of your lips, he felt himself become blank. Everything stopping as he took in what you had told him.

“I love you.”

Now as he sits with the emptiness of the library, Alhaitham wonders why the hell he kept quiet. How he had a battle of doubt with his feelings, he just needed the time to think about this. It’s not because it was early to say those words, but he thought if he should say it back. Is he capable of your love?

He feels stupid, so stupid for not talking it out with you. Cause now he has left you to avoid him and he knows he only has himself to blame. Alhaitham knows the answer, he wishes he could have known this earlier. When you spilled your heart to him.

It feels like time has gone slower, he doesn’t bat an eye at anyone as he thinks of the way back to you. And thankfully he is able to find you, your back facing him as alhaitham watches the way your gaze is fixated on the clear view of flowers.

He feels his stiff body now become more relaxed seeing you so peaceful, but h his heart breaks as he watches you notice his presence. It’s evident your hurt as you see him, and Alhaitham wants nothing but to fix that.

You stay still as he walks closer, he just hopes you don’t shut him down.

“Why are you here? Aren’t you busy?” He would expect you to be irritated, but your tone is soft. It’s almost as if you’re nervous to see him especially after what happened.

“I love you [name] and I’m sorry I couldn’t say it when you told me.” He feels like he should say more, he had almost all day to figure out the right words, yet love is difficult. Especially when trying to find the right words.

He knows you find peace whenever he holds you, so he hopes it can help you understand how he truly feels. As he pulls you in for the hug he hears you mumble. You mumble about how you’re sorry, and how you should have waited.

“Don’t say that, you should never hide how you feel. I was stupid for not telling you that I felt the same, I…I just was shocked that you loved me.”

Alhaitham almost felt doubt when he heard you tell him those words, why would you love him? But he should have know that you were honest, you always had done everything for him. Yet he didn’t believe you in that moment, and that is what hurts him most.

You don’t say anything as you feel his heartbeat against you, you have a natural instinct to hold him closer. You know how Alhaitham would get, and you knew he would do anything in his power to replace your pain with joy.

“…i love you okay?” You want to make sure he knows this, because you never want him to doubt your love for him.

“Please remember that.”

And he will. Alhaitham makes that promise to you and himself to always trust your word, because he knows you wouldn’t ever lie to him about.

A/n; wish I added more characters but I wanted to get something done so might do a part two…

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin scaramouche #genshin heizou #genshin alhaitham #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche imagines #heizou x reader #heizou imagines #heizou fluff #heizou x you #al haitham angst #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #al haitham fluff #scaramouche #heizou #al haitham #genshin scenarios #koiir writes

[huffelpuff210]

Fighter Dark Alpha Tony Stark X Dark Alpha Steve Rogers X Dark Alpha Bucky Barnes X Reader

Fighter

Warning:This is a dark fic may contain violence, Noncon, and other dark elements keep in mind all events and characters are fictional you have been warned!

Dark Alpha Steve Rogers, Dark Alpha Bucky Barnes, Dark Alpha Tony Stark

Not: Please to feel free to leave comments.

Summery: In a world where Alpha’s and Beta’s exist one is rare to come by, Omega’s and what happens when they find a rare Omega who has been in hiding. 

You walked through the market looking over you’re shoulder every now and again a habit you always seemed to have, You seemed to always on edge and on the lookout, You were an Omega, but you were also on suppressants  making sure no Alpha would be able to detect you, 

You refused to be dominated by an Alpha you were a fighter,No Alpha or Beta told you what to do, not if You could help it. You’re father and Brothers made sure of that from constant years of abuse, without it known to them they were preparing you for a fight with any sort of Alpha, You’re mother died after giving birth to you you’re father blamed you for killing her and not being an Omega, after running away from home at the age of seventeen, you knew it was only the beginning of you’re fight for survival, 

As soon as you learned of the suppressants that existed blocking you’re Omega smell you didn’t hesitate to purchase them, sure they were highly illegal but you refused to become a mate to an Alpha who would decide everything for you, tell you how you are supposed to think, and you’re only purpose is to be bred it wasn’t going to happen not if you were going to help it. 

You purchase you’re food from the fruit stand when a smell hit you’re nose, It smelled musky, with a hint of pine, You slowly turn towards the smell and see a man with Dark hair and blue eyes, he had a metal arm, He was looking directly at you smirking, the way he was looking at you sent a shiver up you’re spine, 

You could tell he was an Alpha and that terrified you even more, 

you casually walk out of the market and make you’re way home, looking over you’re shoulder making sure he didn’t follow you, as far as you could tell he didn’t but the way he was smiling at you was making you very uneasy, 

Did he know what you are? 

Could he smell past you’re suppressants? 

All the questions going through you’re mind were making you more and more anxious, You finally made it to you’re apartment locking all the windows and bolt locking the door, shutting all the curtains you were anxious and nervous you just didn’t like the way the man was staring at you. 

Bucky returned home where Steve and Tony were lounging on the couch watching TV, 

“Did you get the food?” Tony asked 

“No but you two are never going to believe what I stumbled on.” He says 

They both look over their shoulder at him, Looking quite puzzled 

“An Omega.” Bucky says with a smirk 

“That’s impossible Omega’s are rare finding one is like 1% chance.” Tony says 

“Well I found one, and she’s on suppressants I could smell her it was there but faint.” Bucky says 

“Well if she’s on those drugs I doubt she’s registered.” Tony says 

Everyone nods 

When you are an Omega you have to register to let the world know of you’re existent so an Alpha can claim you. 

“And here I thought Omega’s didn’t exist anymore.” Steve says with a smirk 

“Shall we go find our Omega?” Tony asked 

Everyone nodded with a smirk

Bucky led them to a run down apartment complex in a bad part of town, They follow him as he pinpoints her apartment on the fire escape, being super-solider enhanced his abilities to smell past everything and smell a further distance. He stops on the third floor where the curtains were closed, 

“She’s smart.” Tony says smirking, 

They can hear you rustling around in the apartment, You’re heart beating about a mile a minute, 

“Something’s got her spooked.” Steve says smirking at Bucky 

That night you couldn’t sleep that night, you felt on edge, You could smell that Alpha all night, You arrived at you’re place of work dead tired, You worked for a law firm crunching numbers, you were very smart and good at you’re job, But You just couldn’t seem to get the look of that Alpha out of you’re head, The way he smirked at you, You were seated at you’re desk when You see two Alpha’s walk in, 

You keep you’re eyes trained on you’re computer thank goodness you were not a receptionist, 

You peek up at them, they looked oddly familiar, One had blonde hair and blue eyes, He had some muscles to him, he was drop dead gorgeous  the other man, He had dark hair a goatee and dark eyes, You looked back down just as the blonde looked you’re way, Not wanting anything to do with these Alpha’s. As you continue you’re work Someone knocks on you’re desk. You slowly look up, It was the two Alpha’s 

#dark avengers #dark alpha bucky barnes #dark alpha steve rogers x omega reader #dark alpha Tony stark #mcu smut #omega reader #dark marvel

[deputyrook]

Impressions- 2/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

(Repost after I accidentally deleted my tumblr 😭)

PART 1.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Can I make it any more obvious?)

Word count: 3498

WARNINGS: Gaslightling, corruption, stockholm syndrome, some drug use (painkillers), blackmail, power imbalance, abusive dynamics, overt threatening, general Saw-levels of horror.

this fic is kind of goofy, because I'm writing it for fun and not taking it super seriously! enjoy 💕

“Mark didn’t hit on you, did he?” Kerry asks over the phone, a note of disgust in her voice, “If he did, I’ll kick his ass. Though… you didn't exactly look uncomfortable when you fell into his arms yesterday. Am I wrong?”

Sometimes, you wondered how Kerry could be so oblivious.

You swallow a handful of painkillers before you answer her, washing them down with a swig of stale soda that’s been sitting out on your counter. 

“He's, what, ten years older than us?” You ask, setting down the can and playing with the cord of your telephone.

“That’s not an answer,” Kerry teases, “And he’s early forties, I think. Hey, I won’t stop you. I'll sure as hell judge you, but I won't stop you.”

The events of the prior evening feel surreal now, in the morning light of the next day. Detective Mark Hoffman hasn’t contacted you, and if you didn’t have his phone number saved in your cell, you would have thought the entire car ride had been a bad dream. 

You can’t help but second guess yourself now- had he ever actually admitted to being an accomplice? What if he was just a defensive asshole, and you’d misinterpreted everything again? The doubts creep in, now that your visions have been chased away, back into hiding in the recesses of your mind.

“Not interested,” you mutter. “I wasn’t feeling great last night, you know that. I barely remember getting home.”

Kerry’s tone sobers at that, and you hear her sigh. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I know you don’t like doing that, but we were completely out of leads.”

“And you still are,” you note, “I didn’t dream of anything useful last night, by the way. Total void.” If you’re lucky, you’ll never have another vision about the Jigsaw murders, though you suspect you’ve been plunged headfirst into the thick of it.

The painkillers will keep the flashes at bay, at least for now. The rest will come to you, jumbled and nonsensical, when it’s least convenient.

“Not entirely. But how are you feeling?” Kerry asks. She’s never been the best at heart-to-hearts, or at fielding your psychic nonsense, but you can hear the genuine concern in her voice for you. You wish you could tell her- the killer she hunts is right there, in the office across the hall, she could be in danger- but with the potential risk to both her and you, it’s just not worth it. 

Not unless you manage to get your hands on some hard evidence of Hoffman’s involvement. 

Years of dealing with a surrealist-nightmare-kaleidoscope for a brain had forced you to become patient. You could bide your time and wait carefully until an opportunity to steal some actual proof arose. Until then, you just had to keep breathing.

“Helloooo? Are you there?” Kerry’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry Ally. You know how I get. I called in sick today, but I’m alright. I promise. Nothing some rest and relaxation can’t fix,” you try to smile, but you can’t hide the exhaustion in your voice. 

“Good,” she says, resolute, “I won’t ask you to come in again. Not unless something else comes to you. But I won’t believe he’s dead. Not yet.” It doesn’t take psychic abilities to know she’s talking about Eric Matthews, nor to feel the regret she carries with her, punctuating her words.

“And you shouldn’t. You know my hit rate on alive-versus-dead isn’t always the best.” Kerry hums in consideration at your words, and after you both say your goodbyes to one another, you hang up the receiver of the phone.

Once again, you’re left in the silence of your lonely apartment- save for your cat, who brushes up against your leg with a purr. He reminds you so easily that it’s not just your life on the line, here. Would Jigsaw ever try to test a cat...? Reaching down to scratch behind his ears, you try to consider your next steps carefully.

But all it does is make your head hurt. You pluck an ice pack from your freezer and lay down on your sofa, holding it to your head with a soft groan.

You must fall back asleep at some point, because you’re woken up from a dreamless sleep by the ringing of your phone. You check your home phone, and then, realizing it’s not the culprit, rifle through your bag for your cell.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone as you flip it open, blinking awake.

“What, were you asleep? It’s the middle of the day,” Hoffman says.

“I called in sick. Got in pretty late last night, and I didn’t sleep the best,” You deadpan. Without being right next to him, it’s easier to keep your cool and not get flustered.

“We should talk. Let’s get dinner,” he says, “Six-o-clock. You know Eve’s Diner? On Newhaven street- with the neon sign?”

Your stomach drops. It didn’t seem like he was just asking you out politely. When was the last time you got dinner with a man, anyway? His tone is so casual that it makes you want to squirm.

“Yeah, I know the place. It's pretty close by, right?” At least in public, he wouldn’t be able to do anything overtly threatening to you. It didn’t seem like there was any use in arguing with him, or telling him you weren’t feeling up to it. He knows your address, and he apparently knows Jigsaw. That's enough to secure your compliance.

“Good. I’ll see you there, then.” And he hangs up the phone.

Your head throbs, but it’s lessened in severity since the morning. You consider taking another batch of painkillers, but decide against it. If you’re meeting Hoffman for dinner, it might be better to stay sharp.

—

The sight of Mark Hoffman, sitting in a diner booth, would be almost comical if it wasn’t so nerve-wracking. He’s stirring some sugar into his coffee, hunched against the wall, his hair smoothed back neatly and his police badge hanging around his neck. He looks tired, you think, but otherwise like a normal, upstanding member of society- if not one slightly too large and too dour for the diner table he’s seated at.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him. 

He nods toward you in recognition, before leaning back in the seat. Mark looks at you, up and down, in silent surveyance. You stare back, studying him in return. Both of you size each other up, like the other is the dangerous one.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” He says, “And after some more thought, I’m not convinced. For all I know, maybe you’re workin’ with John Kramer. That seems more likely than you being psychic.”

Ah. You’ve gotten this reaction before. When someone, with time and consideration, doubles back to doubt your abilities. You couldn’t exactly blame him for that. Particularly for skeptics, it’s a hard pill to swallow that you have access to senses that they don’t.

Being accused of being a serial killer was new territory, however.

“I’m not working with Jigsaw,” you sputter, keeping your voice quiet. The diner isn’t too busy, and you’re seated in a corner away from other patrons, but it’s still public enough that you want to be careful. “Shouldn’t you know I’m not?”

He squints at you, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying or not. 

“You tell me. You said there were four. Jigsaw, Amanda, myself- according to you- and so who’s the fourth? If it’s not you.” He sounds impatient. You blink at him, trying to process where he’s coming from. And then, it hits you. He doesn’t know. 

For a second, you consider trying to play it off like you are the fourth apprentice. Maybe then, he’d trust you more directly with information that you could use against him. But then, you re-evaluate. Lying to a mass murderer was probably a bad idea. Lying to a cop was arguably worse.

“Well, it’s not me. But yeah, there’s at leastfour involved that I picked up on. Four main...signatures,” You pause, before continuing. “So that’s why you want me to tell you about what I sense. Even you don’t know what he’s planning, or everyone who’s involved.”

“I’ve been on this case since the beginning. Of course I wanna know. Especially since you’re out here accusing me,” He remarks, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, “Kerry didn’t act any different toward me this morning. Good. Keeping your theories to yourself was smart.”

“Yes, lest you start actually convincing me you’re not Jigsaw, let me not forget how you threatened me last night,” You mumble, crossing your arms in front of your chest protectively.

“You pouting about it?” He asks, teasing, a smirk just barely edging onto his face, “C’mon. Show me your trick. How do you do it?” He beckons you closer, and you find yourself leaning in across the table. Like you’re sharing a secret with him. 

“It’s not like I’m getting visions of the future, per se,” You try to explain, “It’s more like... hyper intuition. I get emotions, mostly. It’s an extreme version of empathy. Sometimes I get flashes of imagery from the past, present, and future, but it’s usually mixed up so I can’t tell which is which. Mainly, I just trust my gut. Which isn’t often wrong- but my interpretation of what I’m seeing can be off. Has been.”

“Hyper-intuition, huh?” He says, mulling it over, “Tell me something else about me, then. Prove it.”

You swallow uncomfortably. “I uh, need to be touching you.”

Mark raises his eyebrows at you. Before he can say anything mocking, the waitress comes by, filling both of your coffee cups. She takes your orders quickly, as though picking up on the vibe that you both want to be left alone. When she leaves, Mark spreads his hands in a gesture as if to say, do your thing, then.

Gently, you reach out and take his hands in yours. Rough, calloused, and strong. You try not to think about it as you close your eyes, and allow the gate to open for the second time in two days.

The chattering in the diner fades away into the background as your intuition takes hold, clouding out your other five senses like the moon passing over the sun in a total eclipse. First, there’s just darkness. Even the sensation of Mark’s skin against yours fading to a dull buzz. Then, sensations begin to spawn, bubbling up from somewhere else.

From the man seated across from you, you think.

“Strawberries,” you murmur, the taste of fresh, wild berries being the first thing that comes to you, sweet and tart, “I think they were picked wild, by mindful fingers. Yours are older, but never as gentle. Her small hands were always more careful than yours, never crushing the berries like you did.”

It’s a kind, well-loved memory -you assume- the impression coming in easy and unambiguous. The next is more muddled.

“Ah- pain. There’s noise, it’s discordant and loud,” You wince, squeezing Mark’s hands. You tilt your head, trying to make out the source, but all you get is scraps of yelling, fighting, shivering hands, the smell of rain. 

It melts then, into that feeling again. The deep, unending well of misery. Loss, in its purest form. Utter loneliness, vast like an unending ocean.

“It’s like the sun went out,” you whisper, voice cracking. Your heart is breaking. The depth of your pain is nearly unbearable, and it makes you want to pull back and disconnect. “It’s like all the light’s been snuffed from this world. Alone.”

“Yeah,” Mark’s voice confirms, calm, quiet and sombre, “You know why that is, don’t you?”

You frown, hands trembling. The smell of blood rises, pungent and sickening. Blood, blood, so much blood. It smells so strong that you can taste it. Then something else- formaldehyde. The words leave your mouth before you can register what they mean.

“He took her from me,” You murmur hoarsely, a pure conduit for the feeling. Dimly, you’re aware of hands squeezing yours back, too tight.

Then, the rage. The despair. An energy trapped, like a feral animal in an enclosure. Desperate to make things right again, to make the world right, with no way to do it that makes sense.

Trapped, trapped, trapped. Starving. Alone again.

You’re lost in the feeling before Mark’s voice pulls you back.

“He deserved what he got,” he says, and you’re redirected. The sun is still gone, the world is still cold. Justice is a fleeting concept, a principle that isn’t achieved until you make it happen.

The world is so cold without the sun, but he died screaming for taking her. That’s justice enough. 

And then, a finality- a sense of purpose.

"They all deserve it," you say.

You open your eyes, and let go of his hands. Hoffman’s expression is hard to read as you settle back in the booth. The despair still lingers over you, like a chill that’s seeped into your bones.

“That your thought, or mine?” He asks finally. “You must have felt a lot of it over the years. Other people’s pain.��

“Sure,” you reply, “Everyone’s got it. Life isn’t fair.”

“Not unless you make it fair,” Mark counters, “You can’t tell me he didn’t deserve to die like that for what he did.”

“Can you just tell me?” You ask quietly, “So I can get the full picture, no missing pieces of the puzzle. The loss...was your sister? He killed her?”

Mark thinks about it for a second. He looks like he’s going to refuse you, not responding for so long that you wonder if he’s deliberately ignoring you. 

Your food arrives before he answers, the waitress bringing your plates and setting them down in front of you both. Mark's ordered a cheeseburger and fries, the all-American classic diner food; you a club sandwich, though your appetite has evaporated since you've arrived here. And after yesterday, it was barely present to begin with.

Then finally, after you both have started to eat, he speaks.

“My sister’s ex-boyfriend murdered her. Seth Baxter. A sick, abusive fuck. He was convicted, got life in jail. Took a couple of years, but he finally went away for it. Well, he filed an appeal. His new lawyer said that the jury was tainted by the evidence of his history of domestic assaults on women, that the evidence was improperly admitted and ‘prejudicial’ to his case. After five years, the case was successfully appealed... and he went free,” A feeling of disgust and rage twists in you, and you can’t tell whether it’s Hoffman’s or yours.

“So you...”

“Jigsaw killed him,” Mark answers, “Cut him in half. He was already dating someone new when he was picked up. Tell me that's not fair.”

The words hang in the air, and you take them in. You’re starting to learn to read Mark’s face better, you think, because you can detect just a hint of smugness in his expression. You try to determine how you feel about this, but your feelings are still all tangled up in Hoffman’s. Extricating them is difficult.

“So he deserved it,” You say finally, “Jigsaw’s not just a vigilante. He kidnaps people who are- who are addicted to drugs, or who only hurt themselves, and he makes them play in these sick games. It's not right,” You can’t believe you’re arguing the philosophy of Jigsaw with one of the murderers himself. It seems unbelievable.

Mark actually rolls his eyes at you.

“It’s either people who deserve it, or people who don’t deserve their lives to begin with,” He murmurs, “think about it.”

Then you remember the feeling you’d gotten before, at the police station. The deep, dark depths of satisfaction. A kind of beast in the heart, ugly and hungry and grinning. The thought that you might have inadvertently given it some purchase in your own mind freaks you the hell out.

“Easy for you to say,” you whisper, the fear keeping your voice barely audible, “You like watching people hurt.”

Mark doesn’t deny it- maybe he sees no use in doing so, when you already know better. He looks at you coldly, calculating.

“Does it matter?” He says, “Keep your word, and you won’t be on the receiving end.”

You take a sip of your water nervously, looking around the diner. Though still not exceptionally busy, you’ve both nearly finished your food (well, Mark has, you've picked away at yours), and more people are trickling in the door. If you continue to talk here, it may become more difficult to avoid being overheard.

Wouldn’t that be a good thing, for you?

“Let’s finish up,” Mark says, as though he’s been reading your mind, “We can meet up again later. I'm going to ask you more about this mystery fourth person. So keep your eyes open," he pauses, and huffs. "Or closed, I guess."

"And Kerry will be fine?" You ask, insistently, "She's a good person, Hoffman."

"Is she?" He challenges, "she wasn't exactly discreet with Matthews. And she knew he was dirty. As far as I can tell, you're her only friend."

"Oh, and you didn't know?" You snap back, defensive, "If she deserves to be tested, we all do."

Mark stands, putting on his coat. "Yeah. Or most, at least." He replies in agreement.

"Come on," he adds, his hand on the small of your back again. You can't tell if it's meant to be possessive, threatening, or whether he's done it without even thinking about it. Perhaps surprisingly, it doesn't feel as uncomfortable this time around. "I'll walk you home. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

--

A worm has been planted in your mind, and it feeds.

Over the next week, you feel more torn than you think you've ever felt in your life. Mark Hoffman's words bore into your mind, repeating over and over, with the echos of his pain piercing through you in random intervals. You flit between feeling angry at the situation you're in, and wanting to go to Kerry and lay it all out on the table, to a strange feeling of camaraderie with Mark Hoffman.

It's a downside you've always had to reading someone, and inviting them in- you feel connected with them, permanently. Once you see through their eyes, and feel what they feel, it's hard for you to just pull away again. A piece of them remains.

It was like you were being tested yourself. By connecting with the worst possible person, you were pushing yourself- how strained could the connection be, how adverse to your own interest, while you still feel like you're on the same side?

You lie awake at night, replaying your conversation with Mark in your mind. Thinking of all the hurt you'd ever felt, yours and everyone's, echoing forever.

Needless to say- you weren't doing great. And the fact that you weren't sleeping well didn't help.

Dreams came frequently after that shared dinner with Mark Hoffman. You dreamt alternately of horrible panic, the feeling of being trapped, and physical pain that makes you wake up sobbing. So many images form in your mind that it's hard to keep track- scalpels, keys, case files, teeth, distorted statues, the smell of antiseptic.

You text it all to Mark as it comes to you. Anyone looking at your text log would think you were both insane.

But still, you tell him your dreams, and he listens. You theorize about the fourth person together, like you're trying to solve the case. You trade tidbits, make suggestions, and rule out others.

You kind of... like texting him.

---

[2:33AM - Outgoing] Just woke up with the image of a blonde woman in my head. I don't know who she is.

[2:37AM - Incoming] could be jill tuck. ex-wife.

[2:39AM - Incoming] Photo Message

[2:42AM - Outgoing] Nope, sorry. Not her.

[2:45AM - Incoming] i thought maybe she was the 4th

[2:47AM - Outgoing] Blonde woman didn't feel like the 4th. Looked like a scientist of some kind? Idk. Wearing a white lab coat.

[2:49AM - Outgoing] I also got a red room with a bunch of pictures. Like Polaroids maybe? Hung up I think. Not sure if it was connected to the blonde woman.

[2:50AM - Incoming] that ones a red herring. already happened

[2:52AM - Outgoing] Ugh

[2:56AM - Outgoing] How long is this going to last?

[2:57AM - Incoming] what

[2:59AM - Outgoing] You keeping me as your pet psychic

[3:00AM - Incoming] you think i'm planning to stop?

[3:01AM - Incoming] you'd better get used to me.

[3:02AM - Incoming] remember. delete these.

[3:04AM - Outgoing] Yeah, yeah. Do you ever sleep?

[3:05AM - Incoming] when i'm not being woken up by txts

[3:08AM - Incoming] lets meet this weekend

[3:08AM - Incoming] I want to show you something

--

--

(author's note: the true dynamic is emerging! and yes, I had to go on a little sidebar on how seth baxter's sentence could have actually been reversed. i'm a prosecutor, I can't help myself.)

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @thebrideofcaliban

NEXT CHAPTER

#mark hoffman #slasher fic #saw franchise #slasher x reader #saw movies #sawposting #costas mandylor #detective hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x oc #my writing #sorry again for the repost

[dearestones]

His Eyes Focused On You (L x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW, nothing too explicit, established relationship, etc. 

Anonymous Request: i was wondering if i could request something about nsfw interaction with L x reader in an established relationship:“ why are you looking at me like that? ”  thank you so much 😊 

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It’s a tangle of limbs and half muttered phrases, all of it crooned or muttered in throes of passion. There's bedsheets and pillows, the fragrance of pastries and the stagnant air that accompanies hotel rooms. As you're swept up in the rising heat of frantic touches and lingering kisses, you can barely keep your eyes open, wanting to savor the moment of pure vulnerability.

Your bed partner, all toned muscle and soft grunts, is holding you tightly, almost too tight. The pressure is comforting, making you believe that this is real.

It has to be real.

"Are you okay?"

You can't help but ask, as your back arches off the bed, your chest meeting his eager mouth. His tongue laves around your sensitive skin and his hands, soft finger pads and calloused palms exploring every inch of your body.

At your question, he pauses and his dark eyes meet yours. 

Before you had become close to him, intimate in a way that you knew was afforded to few people, you didn't peg him for the type of person to want to get physical with another human being. Of course, you knew that most people had needs. You just assumed that based on his line of work and his preference for privacy, you thought that he would use other means to satisfy his primal urges. And if toys or other sources of stimulation weren't enough, then you supposed that he must have sought carnal satisfaction through sex workers.

For the most part, you were right. As a detective on the move, it was imperative for him to remain loose and detached from others. Sex workers, escorts, and the like could be bribed into silence. Machines and toys could be bought anonymously online. However, months of close relations and intimate conversation had culminated into the slow and steady crescendo of you and your beloved partner finally settling into each other's arms in an erotic dance that had you swaying your hips and falling neatly into his arms. 

Over and over again. 

Was it purely all physical? 

You hoped that this relationship meant something to him. Many days were spent poring over his investigations and most nights were spent in each other’s arms. He loved talking, you knew that, but he also liked observing you. Watching you. Making note of your likes and dislikes, what made you tick, what made you smile that special smile of yours that made him proud. 

In turn, you did the same. 

You could never fool yourself into thinking that you truly knew every aspect of him, but when you were close together like this, with both your hips moving against each other in unison, sweet friction inciting the embers of passion, you thought you could finally see the man underneath the facade of a cold, analytical character. You had never doubted that he was human, but you never knew that he could lower his defenses to reveal that he was warm to the touch and that his heart beat fast under your touches. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again, insistently this time. One of your hands lands on his bicep while the other cups his cheek. It’s intimate, too close to tender and leagues away from pure carnal intent. Often, the both of you would incite foreplay through banter, build up the tension with lingering touches and innuendo and then finally consummate your union. However, it was rare for soft touches that conveyed nothing more than affection and the trust that you had for him. 

L, your lover, trusted you enough that you wouldn’t kill him in his sleep. 

But L, the world’s greatest detective, only looked to you for help whenever he needed insight on one of his cases. 

Having resigned yourself to the fact that this relationship was never going to be in your favor, you would not be surprised if L had decided to shrug away your soothing touches and continued to bring the both of you to completion. You would not lie: you ached for the sweet release of bliss, but you were content to remain connected as is, bodies intertwined and your sweat dripping and pooling together underneath your bodies and soaking into the sheets. 

Yet, just when you were about to release L and to urge your hips to move against his, you felt your heart flutter with warmth when he interlaced his fingers with your fingers that caressed his cheek. For a brief moment, his dark eyed gaze kept you entranced, the look in his eyes seemingly expressionless, but the intensity stemming from a passion that you had never seen him display so brazenly before. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” It comes out as a whisper, barely louder than your moans as he leans closer to you, his every movement brushing against your most sensitive parts of you. There’s a broken, jagged edge to his tone, like a porcelain vase that had been broken and sanded down to prevent injury. Scars that never healed right. 

L continues to hold your gaze and the grip that he has on your body seems to tighten and grow even warmer.

You’re lightheaded, but still very much aware of your surroundings and of course, L. 

“It’s because I love you,” you whisper without any hint of irony or shame. Perhaps if you weren’t naked and swept up in his arms, maybe you might have thought twice about admitting such a thing, but in that moment, you wanted to be true to yourself. 

“I love you,” you say again. 

L holds you close, his dark eyed gaze never waving before you notice that the lines of his lips have softened and that one corner had lifted into a soft smile. Bending down, he presses a kiss–too chaste for this situation, but so very telling of his true desires–to your temple before he continues his ministrations from before, careful to keep his pace steady and his eyes focused on you. 

It didn’t matter if he didn’t say it back. 

His actions spoke otherwise. 

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DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST

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