#i’m not even sure what it is about him that’s wormed it’s way into my brain so much??

[starryevermore]

i will go to secret gardens in my mind ✧ tamlin

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pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader

summary: you have always been a wallflower, but to tamlin, you are the finest rose in the garden. 

word count: 7,676

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, unrequited feelings, pining, multi pov, plot twist perchance??, not proofread 

The Spring Court had been rebuilt. What would have been a joyous occasion under any other circumstances, for perhaps any other court, left your family scowling as they looked over the invitation that landed on Rhysand’s desk this morning. An invitation to all courts—to come to Spring and celebrate the burgeoning court. No one, it seemed, wanted to go. It was understandable, of course. After everything that Spring’s High Lord, Tamlin, had put Feyre through—had put your entire family through—it almost felt like walking into a trap. But call you naïve, or perhaps a tad too optimistic for your own good, but you wanted to believe that Tamlin might have truly turned over a new leaf. Sometimes, it took someone losing everything to learn the value of all that they hold dear. No one wanted to go, it seemed, except for you.

Well, and Lucien, but he often fought in Tamlin’s corner. “Tamlin is a far cry from what you remember him as,” he said. “What he did to Feyre was horrible, but he’s trying to make amends. Isn’t the point of the Night Court to offer second chances?”

“We don’t owe that worm a second chance,” Nesta snarled, her eyes narrowing at Lucien. 

“It might be good for Feyre to close this chapter of her life,” Lucien continued. 

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Because you care so much about Feyre’s wellbeing. Remind me, what were you doing while she wasted away in that manor?”

“All I’m saying is, you should consider hearing him out. We all were troubled after Under the Mountain. His actions were, are, shameful, but that doesn’t mean he cannot regret what he did.”

You noticed the tension in Feyre’s shoulders and reached out, placing your hand on top of hers. “You don’t have to go. I just thought it might be fun. We haven’t just gone out in so long.”

Rhysand’s narrowed gaze turned on you. “Then we can go to Rita’s, or take a walk down the Sidra. Hell, I’m sure if we asked Tarquin, we could have a nice trip down to Summer if you’re wanting to go somewhere warm. We don’t have to go all the way to the damned Spring Court for fun.”

A sigh escaped your lips. You rose from your seat, turned to leave. “Forget I said anything.”

Feyre looked up at you. She said your name, standing to follow after you. “If you want to go—”

You waved her off. “It’s alright. I didn’t want to go that bad. I only thought it would be fun, but Rhys is right. We can do something else instead.”

She said your name again, but you ignored her. You understood why she of all people would be apprehensive of going to Spring. Trust and believe, you understood. Tamlin was hardly the most wonderful person in Prythian in your eyes. He let Feyre waste away, he sold you, Nesta, and Elain out to Hybern in a vain attempt to get Feyre back…At every turn, it seemed like he was dead set on humiliating her. But when it was all said and done, he still gave up a kernel of his power to bring back Rhysand. “Be happy, Feyre,” he’d said. It was nothing groundbreaking, it was not even close to an apology for all he’d done, but it seemed like a step in the right direction. 

As you retreated to your room, you didn’t have to look to know you were being followed. Ever since Elain had accepted the mating bond with Lucien, Azriel always trailed so close behind you, he was like a second shadow. When you reached your room, you left the door open, allowing him to slip inside. The door clicked shut behind him. 

You took a seat in the bay window, looking out over the city of Velaris. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

The cushion sank underneath Azriel’s weight. You moved over, avoiding your knees knocking into his. “I just want to know what’s going on in your mind.”

“Does it matter? Rhysand has made his decision clear.”

“Of course it matters. It matters to me.”

It should’ve tugged at your heartstrings to hear him say those words. But all you were reminded of was how Azriel pined after Elain for so long, and for Mor for centuries before that. You were all too aware that you were just the latest object of his affection. “I don’t know. I just…It feels like something is calling for me to go there. Something trying to tug me along until I finally cross over Spring’s border.”

When you spared Azriel a glance, you noted the way his jaw clenched and unclenched. “You should tell Rhys that. He might be more amenable.”

“Rhysand is hardly amenable to anything that isn’t already in his favor.” You shrugged. “It’s not as if I’m Elain, with some vision about why we need to go to Spring. I just…I don’t know. I have a feeling it’s somewhere I should be.”

Azriel looked you over. Perhaps he was trying to ascertain if you’ve lost your mind. And maybe you had. You could hardly explain the feeling, deep in your chest, that pulled you towards the Spring Court. The feeling only intensified when you learned of the invitation to come to Spring’s celebration. “I’ll talk to Rhys for you. He’s been wanting to forge alliances with the other courts. If he’s able to extend a hand to Spring, other courts might be willing to work with him.”

You shrugged again. “Do as you please.”

He reached for your hand. You allowed him to take it. At least you found a modicum of comfort in the gentle squeeze. Azriel’s mouth opened—to say what, you weren’t sure, for a knock sounded against your door. It opened shortly after, Feyre slipping inside. Her eyes fell to your joined hands. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. You pulled away. One of his shadows trailed after you.

“We’re going to Spring,” she said, smiling. But it didn’t reach her eyes. 

You stood up, crossing the room in a few strides, then took Feyre’s hands. “We don’t have to if it’ll cause you pain. I don’t mean to dredge up those terrible memories.”

“I am High Lady. I can set aside those feelings for one night, if it might end in an alliance that will benefit my people. Besides, Lucien might be right. It might do me some good to speak with Tamlin under better circumstances.”

“Are you sure?”

She offered you a smile. “I’m sure.” She squeezed your hands. “You haven’t asked for much since you’ve come here. The least I can do is give you this.”

You shook your head. “No, Feyre, you’ve already gave up so much for our family—”

“Hush. If I didn’t want to do it, you know I wouldn’t.”

“Fine. But the second you’re uncomfortable, we all leave, okay?”

Feyre nodded. “Okay.”

Rhysand was certainly giving you the cold shoulder since Feyre insisted that you all go to the Spring Court, but you could hardly find it in yourself to care. Not when you finally got to trade in the darkness of Night for the blossoming life of Spring. You couldn’t wait to finally leave Night’s borders. You couldn’t quite remember the last time you had the opportunity to leave, save for the war with Hybern. Other than that, though, you had bounced between Rhysand’s many homes, going to whichever place made you least likely to pick a fight with the High Lord. These days, that was primarily the House of Wind, since he had given it to Cassian and Nesta. That, of course, left you with even fewer chances to go out. If you didn’t have an Illyrian to fly you down, you would have to brave the 10,000 stairs. And you were no Valkyrie—you were sure you wouldn’t even make it down a few dozen before throwing in the towel. Of course, you were certain that Azriel would be more than pleased to be at your beck and call. 

After all, he sat on your bed now, watching as you rifled through your dresses, trying to pick something out to wear. 

“You look beautiful in anything,” he said. “Why are you putting so much effort into this?” A hidden question was on the tip of his tongue—Were you trying to impress someone? Perhaps him?

“My mother always said, when you go outside, you look your best because you never know what will happen.”

Azriel stood up, crossing over to your wardrobe. A scarred hand wrapped around yours, stopping you from flicking through the dresses. His voice was husky as he asked, “And what do you think will happen?” 

Your face grew warm. Even if you knew that he was only pursuing you because you were an Archeron, for a male to be so close to you…Well, it was easy to get you flustered. Stuck between Nesta’s vivaciousness and Elain’s sweetness, it was easy for you to fade into the background. When your family was better off, everyone flocked to Elain. After your family became rich again, Elain garnered so many men’s attention. Even Feyre, when your family was its lowest, found herself with someone, if just for the pursuit of pleasure. But you…You were a wallflower through and through. 

“Anything. Nothing,” you said. 

Your breath stilled as Azriel pulled a dress from your wardrobe. It was a beautiful blue tulle dress. Silver stars littered its entire body. There was a tasteful slit up one side. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, you knew there was a matching pair of long, sheer gloves. You had gotten it for Starfall, but found yourself tucking it away in favor of a simpler gown. It, however, wasn’t lost on you that its color complemented Azriel’s cobalt siphons well. 

“You should wear this,” he said. “In case something does happen.”

You found yourself nodding. 

A soft smile crossed his face. It took everything in you to not look away, lest you give him the wrong idea. You may have been a wallflower, but you were not a demure female. “I’ll let you get ready then.”

You nodded again. 

Azriel placed the dress in your hands. You expected him to leave, but he lingered still. His hand grasped yours, pulling it up to meet his lips. He made eye contact with you the entire time, hazel eyes twinkling, before he pulled away. 

When he was finally gone, a sigh escaped your lips. A part of you, you recognized, should have been delighted at Azriel’s attention. He was an attractive male. He had so many qualities that you admired—protective, loyal, kind. But anytime you looked at him, you were reminded of his past history with females. How he pined after Mor for centuries. How he fixated on Elain. In both cases, each made it clear in their own ways that it would never go further. And here you were, certain that you were sending clear signals that you were uninterested, and yet…There he remained. Where was Rhysand, telling him to leave you be? Could you only be left alone if you had a mate?

Perhaps it would be easier, you mused as you changed into the dress, if this tug in your chest was for Azriel. That, by going to Spring, something would happen that would make the bond snap for him. At least if he was your mate, you could convince him to get a home of your own, far away from the busybodies occupying the Inner Circle. At least you would finally feel free enough to breathe on your own. 

You spared a glance in the mirror, satisfied with your hair and makeup, before leaving your room. It shouldn’t have surprised you to see Azriel waiting on the other side of the door, shadows swirling around him. His face brightened as he saw you. An arm was extended toward you. You took it. 

“Beautiful, just as I expected.” Azriel smiled at you. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

All eyes were on the Inner Circle as you entered the manor, but you were too busy looking at everything else. Spring was…Mother, it was more beautiful than anything you had ever seen before. Not even Elain’s gardens held a candle to the beauty housed here. It was difficult to imagine how a Court so ethereal could have been in ruins just months before. It was easier, though, to see how Feyre could fall in love with this land. 

It was even easier, you mused, to fall in love with Spring’s High Lord as he stepped into the Inner Circle’s path. It was the first time you really got a good look at him. When you were taken, you hadn’t dared look at your captors. And when you came out of the Cauldron, you cried so hard you couldn’t see. But the male before you now…Wow. 

“Welcome,” he said, extending a hand to Rhysand. As Rhysand shook it, he turned to Feyre. “Thank you all for coming. I cannot imagine it was an easy decision to make.”

Feyre tilted her head in your direction. “Thank Lucien and my sister. It was their convincing arguments that brought us here.”

Tamlin’s emerald eyes fell to you. Something in your chest tugged harder, but you couldn’t dwell on it as Azriel took a subtle step in front of you. A charming smile passed across the High Lord’s lips. “Well, thank you, too,” he said. “And if I may, I must offer the utmost apologies for everything that transpired the last time our paths crossed. There is no excuse for my actions.”

You tried not to flinch at the mention of the Cauldron. The memory of being submerged as a human, reemerging as a fae…How everything was so different, too intense. It was, perhaps, the darkest part of your life thus far. You prayed it was never so dark again. “It wasn’t all bad,” you found yourself saying. “At least now I can live a long life with my sisters.”

“That is a generous way to think about it,” Tamlin said. He took a step toward you, a hand outstretched. His eyes flicked to Azriel as a growl escaped the Spymaster. Still, he reached for your hand. When you slipped it into his, he lifted it toward his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Something, something akin to joy, swirled inside of you. A tendril of a shadow pulled your hand from Tamlin’s. “Would you be so kind as to share a dance with me?”

“I—” The Inner Circle tensed around you, though you caught Lucien rolling his eyes at their antics. A dance didn’t seem so horrible, but you hated the way Feyre looked so uncomfortable at the prospect. You wished you were a daemati and could see what she was thinking. “Perhaps later. I should like to spend some time mingling.”

Tamlin seemed disappointed, but he still smiled as he said, “Of course. Have fun.”

He nodded at Feyre and Rhysand before disappearing into the crowd. 

“It was like he disappeared the moment he laid eyes on Y/N,” Mor remarked, plucking a glass from a passing waiter’s tray. 

“Don’t,” Feyre warned. She looked at you, her eyes wide with worry. “Don’t fall for his charms. Dance with him if you so wish. But…I don’t know how much I believed him to have changed.” 

“I won’t. I haven’t forgotten what he’s done to you. It will take more than charming smiles and offers for dances to win me over,” you said, turning away from her. Your heart clenched at her distrust. Well, perhaps it wasn’t distrust. To be here, to be in Spring again, must have been extraordinarily difficult for her. But you were her sister. You knew her struggles, her pain, better than most. You weren’t going to throw all that away because Tamlin was kind to you. You weren’t that sort of female. 

A scarred hand caught your wrist before you could slip away into the crowd, perhaps find a nice corner to hide in and people watch. “Would you? Like to dance?” Azriel asked. 

“I see Kallias and Viviane. I would like to say hello.”

You could feel the Inner Circle’s eyes on you as you disappeared into the throng of fae. Though you were no daemati, you could practically hear their collective thoughts: You would be better off with Azriel. But what did they know about you?

Coming here was a mistake. You’d decided so hours ago as you could see various members of the Inner Circle keeping tabs on you from the corner of your eye. Despite hardly making a move from the corner you resided in, save for trips to the refreshment table or conversations with the few friends you had made from other courts, they still hovered. You wondered if it was under Rhysand’s orders, or perhaps Feyre’s. To make sure you didn’t slip away to dance with Tamlin, become the next pretty thing trapped in his gilded cage. 

You sucked your tongue against your teeth as you watched Azriel approach you from across the room, Nesta and Cassian slipping off onto the dance floor. The changing of the guards. Your eyes rolled. Of everyone, Azriel’s presence was the worst. While the others would linger, he would stay by your side, trying to coax conversations out of you or pull you over for a dance. It might have been sweet if you weren’t all too aware that it was a vain effort to keep you from Tamlin. And unlike the others, who would have been merely following orders from the High Lady and Lord, Azriel had his own ulterior motives. 

When you lost sight of Azriel, dancing couples blocking each other’s view of the other, you took the opportunity to slide out a nearby door and into the hall. They would be furious to learn you left—especially when it was because of you that they were even here. But you couldn’t handle the hovering any longer. 

The music from the ballroom soon faded into the background as you walked down the hall, searching for some sanctuary. There were groups of fae lingering around the hallway, but none paid you any mind. It was refreshing, if you were being honest. They had no idea who you were, who your sisters were, of what they had done to save Prythian (or doom this court). You smiled at one couple, wrapped up in each other’s arms, blissfully unaware of all that happened around them. 

You spied an open door and slipped inside. It was far smaller than the ballroom, but still grand. Paintings hung along the walls—a few you recognized to be in Feyre’s style. The thing that caught your eye, though, was the handsome piano in the middle of the room. A smile tugged at your lips. It had been so long since you’d had a chance to play. During your family’s dark years, you of course didn’t have access to any instruments, much less one so expensive. When you arrived in Velaris, straight out of the Cauldron, you had clung to the instrument, letting all of your pain flow out of you until there was nothing left. These days, though, you had strayed away.

You took a seat at the bench and ran your fingers along the ivory keys. You tested a few notes to see if it was still in key, but you didn’t make it very far. 

“Do you play?”

Tamlin stood in the doorframe, watching you curiously. Panic settled in your chest. If the Inner Circle, if Feyre, found out that you were alone with Spring’s High Lord, you knew they would be less than pleased. But that tug in your chest—it pulled harder than it ever had before, and that brought you an odd sort of comfort. 

“Yes.”

“May I hear you play something?”

You eyed him, trying to ascertain if this was some trick. As much as you wanted to believe your family was being overdramatic, you did wonder if they knew something you didn’t. When you sensed no ill motives, you gave a nod. 

As you pressed down on the keys, it felt like everything melted away around you. There was no inter-court politics to be wary of. No Shadowsingers following close on your heels. No sisters whose heart would surely break if she knew you were letting him in. Just you and the music that flowed out. 

“That was beautiful,” he said as the final note rang through the room. He took a few steps closer to you. Tamlin extended a hand. “I wish, though, that I could still hear it while we danced. If you would like to, that is.”

You stared at his outstretched hand. 

“Just say the word if you don’t wish to. I know you didn’t dance out there, but I thought, perhaps, without all those eagle eyes watching you—”

You took his hand. “I’m not the best dancer.”

“That’s alright. Neither am I.”

Tamlin was a right liar, he was. As he spun you around the room, you clumsily just missing his feet, you knew he was a liar. But the awkward dance made you laugh, harder than you had in a long time. The tug in your chest pulled more than it ever had before. 

“If this is you at your worst, I would hate to see how skilled you would be after a few lessons,” you teased. 

“We could take lessons together,” Tamlin suggested. The thought made your smile grow, though you weren’t entirely sure why. “Maybe after tonight, your High Lord will let you visit more often.”

“Perhaps—” you began to say. 

“That will never happen.”

Shadows swirled around you, tugging you out of Tamlin’s arms. You gasped, a chill running down your spine. Large wings kept Tamlin out of your view. When you tried to look around Azriel, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place. 

“Did he do something to you?” Azriel asked. 

“What? No!”

“You just disappeared. Everyone’s in a panic. Feyre looked ready to kill, Nesta ready to hide the body. We didn’t know what happened to you. We didn’t know if you were hurt or—” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at Tamlin. “—or worse.”

“I’m fine! I’m not some damsel in distress—”

“Of course not. But you have to understand—”

“No! You have to understand that you are not my knight in shining armor, Azriel! I am not so stupid to just waltz headfirst into danger. If I ever found myself in such a position, I would have screamed or called out for Rhysand and prayed he was listening. I do not need saving, especially not—” You caught Tamlin’s eye over Azriel’s shoulder. Something snapped into place, a golden thread tying you to him. “—especially not with my mate.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. Hurt, maybe? Or anger? “He can’t be—”

“He is. He is the reason I felt the calling to come to Spring, Az. He’s my mate, and you have to respect that.”

Behind you, you heard a flurry of footsteps as the room quickly filled. Your eyes squeezed shut. Fuck. Was it not enough to have to deal with Azriel? Did everyone else have to come, too? 

Feyre’s voice rang through the room. “Y/N, come here, please.”

“I should be allowed to make the choice to come, shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what the Night Court is all about?” You looked at her, a solitary tear dropping down your face. “What? Are choices not allowed when it goes against your wishes?”

“Please,” she repeated, her hand reaching out for you. 

Tamlin stepped around Azriel, stood by your side. “I would not hurt her, Feyre. I have given you every reason to distrust me, to hate me, but I wouldn’t do anything to her.”

Feyre closed the distance between the two of you, Rhysand hot on her heels. She snarled at Tamlin, “I have every reason to not believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“I understand—”

Her finger jabbed at his chest. “Don’t. Don’t you dare give me any honeyed words or false promises about how Y/N—my sister—being your mate changes things. A skunk still stinks even when it hasn’t sprayed.”

“Feyre, please, can’t we just talk this through—” you tried. This was going horribly wrong. You hadn’t imagined any of this would happen just by following the tugging in your chest. A mate, you might have suspected. But all of this—

Her head snapped toward you. Her eyes glazed over as Rhysand spoke into her mind. When they cleared, she spoke with the authority of a High Lady but with none of the love of a sister.“You said we could leave if I became uncomfortable. I would like to leave,” Feyre said. “Rhys, please, get her out of here.”

Rhysand’s hands were on you, winnowing you away, before you could even dare to make your protests. But you didn’t miss the pain in Tamlin’s beautiful emerald eyes. 

Feyre had made a terrible mistake. Since that horrible, awful ball, you were moved into the River House so she and Rhys could keep an eye on you. While you might not have been able to leave the House of Wind without an Illyrian to fly you down or otherwise brave the 10,000 steps, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try to go. At least here, they could make sure you remained in place. Anyone who wished to see you, save for Spring’s Cauldron damned High Lord, could. They just needed to make are that something horrible wouldn’t happen. 

But you hadn’t left your room in weeks. They would send food up to you, but would find only small bites taken out of it when they came for the next meal. You had said scarcely a single word. The only time you would move from your bed was to take a bath, where you would sit for hours still. Once, Feyre had gone to check on you, to make sure that you hadn’t hurt yourself, and found you staring at the bubbled water, unblinking. You hadn’t even realized she was there.

The only person you seemed to respond to was Azriel. He would go to your room, crawl in your bed, and play with your hair. Sometimes, Feyre would linger in the doorway, watching you and him. Azriel would talk to you, try and convince you to leave your room. You would only cry.

And now, Feyre paced the length of Rhys’s office, chewing on the corner of a fingernail. Rhys sat at his desk, his face leaned against his palm. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t know how to make this better. She, she’s wasting away in there.”

Rhys let out a sigh. “There is an obvious solution to the problem, though not the preferred one.”

Feyre spun on her heel, narrowing her eyes at her mate. “You know perfectly well that I can’t just let her be with Tamlin. It would be safer sending her into a viper’s den.”

He rose and crossed the room, took her hands in his own. “You don’t mean that. You and Tamlin were not right for each other, especially after everything that happened Under the Mountain. You no longer wanted the same things as him. Was his actions wrongful? Of course. He could have tried to help you, but you also pushed him away. It was doomed from the start.”

“And I should let her go into a doomed relationship with him?” Feyre poked her finger at Rhys’s chest. “She is too good for that. She deserves a better mate.”

“I agree. But the Mother found reason to bind their souls together. You once thought I was something straight out of a nightmare, but look how far we’ve come.”

“I recall you hating Tamlin for everything he did to me.”

“And I do. I still do.” A sigh escaped Rhys’s lips. “But I also look at Y/N and remember having to leave you behind in Spring. I remember collapsing in Mor’s arms, begging for just a chance with you. I was a shell of myself then. I worry that if we keep them apart, we’ll lose her either way.”

Feyre turned away. She looked toward the door. For a flicker of a moment, she wished she could go back to that horrible cottage, when she was still a human. Even if survival was a struggle at best, she didn’t have to worry about your sweet soul being taken advantage of. 

“Send a letter to Tamlin,” she finally said. “Tell him he is welcome to come here. If Y/N so wishes to leave with him, she may. But make clear, if a single hair on her head is harmed, if we receive a single word that she is being treated as anything less than what she deserves, it will constitute an act of war.” 

Tamlin stared up at the River House. He had moved faster than he had ever moved before when the invitation to come to the Night Court was extended. So fast, he realized with a glance at his feet, he forgot to put on shoes before winnowing away. He hoped you wouldn’t mind. Ever since Rhysand had winnowed you out from under his nose, he had been a mess. If Tamlin thought losing Feyre was him at his lowest, it paled in comparison to losing you. Worse yet, he had the previous experience to know he couldn’t give into his desperate impulses and expect everything to go smoothly. No, he had to tread carefully. 

Still, he found himself sending you letters over the last few weeks. Tamlin never received a response, but he never expected one. He wasn’t sure how well you were being surveilled, if the Inner Circle were taking active steps to keep you from contacting him. But he hoped his words brought you some modicum of comfort. 

The door swung open before he had a chance to knock. Rhysand looked him over. “You didn’t have time to at least make yourself presentable?”

“I thought if I took too much time, the invitation would be rescinded.”

Rhysand’s brow raised. “I wasn’t aware you could have such intelligent thoughts. You know, since you had sided with Hybern so readily in the beginning.”

Tamlin bit back a snarl. It would not end well to pick a fight with Night’s High Lord. He knew good and well he was out-powered, and he was sure that Feyre’s threat should also extend to any threat her own mate faced. Instead, he said as diplomatically as he could manage, “It was a terrible mistake, but one I would make again if it would give me a chance to live a long life with my mate, should she so have me.”

Feyre appeared, pushing Rhysand out of the doorway. She, too, scrutinized his appearance, nose wrinkling at the sight of him, but at least had the courtesy to say nothing about it. “You came quickly.”

Somewhere in the distance, Tamlin could hear Cassian chortle and mutter something about “that’s what she said.” 

“I did not know how long this invitation of hospitality might remain open.” Tamlin searched Feyre’s eyes, searching for a sign of your wellbeing. “Is she alright?”

Tamlin watched as Feyre swallowed, her hands subtly shaking. She had always cared deeply about her sisters, perhaps you more than Nesta or Elain. Where Nesta could hold her own and Elain was sweet enough to charm any potential suitor, she worried that you were too quiet for your own good. Too willing to slip into the shadows and be forgotten. 

“She has hardly eaten since that night. We…We have fixed dinner. We thought she might be more amenable if you brought a plate to her room?”

“Of course, of course,” Tamlin said. Feyre moved out of the threshold, motioning for him to step inside. He did. “Has she…?”

“She hasn’t said a word. She just sits and stares. I thought females were able to suppress the bond. I don’t understand why she is so afflicted.”

Tamlin suppressed an eye roll. He had to play nice, at least until he could see you again. Until he could find out if you wished to be his mate. “You took her choice away, Feyre,” he bit out, weighing his words carefully. “Anyone would be heartbroken by such a betrayal. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Rhysand snarled, but Tamlin ignored him. He maintained eye contract with Feyre until she looked away, gesturing to the dining room. “Take a plate to her room. Just up the stairs, third door on the right.”

He gave a curt nod and did as directed. Every step weighed him down. Tamlin was grateful, at least, for the plate in his hand, to distract him from the sinking feeling in his chest. Neither you nor him had closed off the bond. Tamlin felt every bit of your anguish and he had done everything he could to send comfort down the bond. Every day, he prayed to the Mother that it helped you. Now, as he stood on the other side of your door, he wasn’t sure it did.

The door was ever so slightly ajar. Tamlin pushed it open. The sight nearly made him fall to his knees. You were laying in bed, back to him, staring out the large window overlooking the gardens. If it wasn’t for a subtle rise and fall of your chest, he might have thought you dead. Tamlin stepped inside, walking around your bed, until he faced you. He set the plate on your nightstand and knelt in front of you. 

“Have my dreams begun to torment me, too?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“No,” Tamlin whispered back. He reached out, cupping your face in his hand. His thumb run over the swell of your cheek. “I am here. I am real. Feyre allowed me to come.”

“I cannot even trust my subconscious now,” you said. You rolled over onto your back and stared up at the ceiling. Your comforter moved with you, revealing the papers you kept clutched against your chest. Your eyes fell shut. 

Tamlin sat on the edge of your bed. He reached over and brushed your hair from your face. “Open your eyes, please. I am here. Feyre had Rhysand send me a letter, inviting me here. I can show you if you like?”

An eye opened. “I doubt you could. Everyone knows that written word in dreams hardly makes sense.”

He pulled the letter tucked away in his pocket. Carefully unfolding it, he pressed it into your hands. Your other eye opened. Slowly, you sat up, dropping the other letters—his letters—from your grip. Your eyes scanned over the page, once, twice, three times. Slowly, you looked up, as if seeing him for the first time. 

“You’re here?”

“I am.”

“Feyre allowed it?”

“She did.”

Your hand moved to your mouth. You chewed on your thumbnail. “She would hate me if I left.”

“She would not. And, even if she did, that is her burden to bear. Feyre cannot keep you sheltered here anymore than I could her.” Tamlin grabbed the plate and held it out to you. “Could you eat first, before we talk about this? Please?”

You stared at the plate for a long, silent more. Tamlin nearly thought you hadn’t heard him. He was ready to ask again, the words on the tip of his tongue, when you looked up at him. “Could we go to the gardens to eat?” 

“Of course.” 

Tamlin extended a hand to you. You slipped yours into his grasp. Joy soured through him. He bit back his smile as he helped you to your feet. His hands were quick to move to your waist, steadying you as you swayed. How long had you been laying there, in that bed? Had you even left it? A part of him, a territorial part he worked hard to keep at bay, had half a mind to scold Feyre for waiting this long. He, of course, would be a hypocrite if he did. But you also deserved someone in your corner. 

Slowly, the two of you moved out of your room and down the stairs. At the creak in the wooden steps, all conversation in the dining room ceased. There was a scrape of a chair. Feyre appeared in the doorway as you reached the bottom step. You didn’t make eye contact with your sister as you turned for the exit. 

“Y/N wished to eat in the gardens,” Tamlin said and followed after you. He did not wait for Feyre’s response. 

You stared at Tamlin, chewing on the bread that Elain had made. He made no protest when you plopped yourself on the dirt path. He only sat across from you and watched as you slowly ate your food. It nearly made you sick, if you were honest. You hadn’t experienced this level of hunger since you were human. You remembered when Feyre would bring food home, how you would have to eat slowly so you wouldn’t vomit it all up. There was something about such extreme hunger that it almost felt like food couldn’t save you from the gnawing pain. 

“I still do not quite believe you’re really here,” you said. 

“I can promise you, I am.” Tamlin reached for your hand, and you allowed him to take it. His thumb stroked over your knuckles. “I have missed you. If I wasn’t concerned that an unprompted arrival would have waged a war no court could surely handle, I would have come sooner.”

“It was not right what they did…” You trailed off. 

Tamlin’s emerald green eyes twinkled with curiosity. “But?” he prompted. 

“I am not sure I can find it in my heart to leave them,” you said. His face dropped. His hand started to pull away, but you tightened your grip. “Feyre and Nesta are still here. While Feyre may have given the order to take me away, she is my sister. She sacrificed so much for our family. I feel like I would be throwing it all back in her face to go to Spring with you. At least when Elain left, she was going with Lucien to Day. People she could trust, you know. I worry that if I leave with you, she would never see me again.”

He straightened. “I would never keep you from your sister. Any of them. I have done little to prove such, but I have learned from my mistakes with Feyre. I have grown, am still growing, from them.”

“Not because of you,” you corrected. “You know how she feels about you. Even if I extend an invitation to her, she still may never come. And she may never extend one back. I could never forgive myself if I damaged our relationship so.”

Tamlin’s eyes searched yours. For what, you couldn’t be certain. 

“If she does so, she would be the one to damage the relationship. I have hurt her greatly, I understand. But, if she chooses to plant herself between you and I, that is her choice to make and her consequences to bear.” He reached over, cradling your face in his hand. “You are a grown female. If this is a mistake of its own, then it is your mistake to make. She cannot keep you here any better than I tried to keep her in Spring.”

You looked away. You pushed the plate away and began to rise. Tamlin followed after you. As you began to walk down the path, he trailed after you. He kept a distance between you, far enough that he wasn’t on your heels but close enough that he could be at your side in a few long strides. 

In your heart, you knew he was right. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal, no matter how hard you tried. After everything Feyre has done, after all she has suffered, staying with her was the least you could do. Yet, why would you sacrifice your happiness for hers when she was so quick to rip it from you without even listening to what you had to say? You could not yet forget  the cold look in her eyes as she ordered Rhysand to winnow you away. She was not your sister then. She was anything but. 

“Come to Spring,” Tamlin said from behind you. You paused in your step. You did not turn, but you listened. “It does not have to be permanent. Come to Spring, see if this is worth it. If you decide that it is not, then I will not stop you from returning here. I will respect whatever choice you make, but I would appreciate it if you could give us a fair shot. That is all I ask of you, I swear it.”

You turned. You looked past Tamlin at the River House. You were certain that Feyre and Rhysand were trying to listen in on the conversation. You were sure they were waiting for your answer. But, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care what they thought. After all, they hadn’t cared to ask if you even wanted Tamlin as a mate. 

“One chance,” you said. “One chance, and if I decide to that I would rather a relationship with Feyre, you must not follow.”

“I promise, whatever you decide in the end, I shall respect it.”

Feyre watched as you gripped Tamlin’s arm, an apologetic smile on your lips. She had a million things she wished to say to you—a hundred warnings, a few hundred thousand promises to have her door open to you if you ever want to come back, and an acceptance to the offer to visit Spring in a month’s time. Instead of saying any of those things, she mouthed a goodbye while Tamlin winnowed you away. 

Rhys’s hand fell to her shoulders, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. Somewhere in the distance, she could see Nesta and Cassian hovering. Elain and Lucien busied themselves with clearing the dishes. 

“She’ll be alright,” Rhys said. “He is not so stupid as to make the same mistakes again.”

Feyre hummed. “Is this where you say it's different with mates?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen too many awful mated couples to say that with any ounce of sincerity. But, I will say, he does seem different with her.”

“And if he isn’t,” Nesta said, stepping toward her, “he will pay tenfold for any pain he causes her.”

Feyre nearly laughed as she watched Cassian nod enthusiastically to Nesta’s threat as he bounced Nyx on his hip. She could only hope that you knew how protected you were—that you had the entirety of the Night Court to support you should trouble ever make its way to you. But any laughter she had, any words she wanted to say, died in her throat as shadows flooded the River House. 

Azriel. 

Shit. Rhys had sent him off on a mission a few days prior. Azriel had been reluctant to go—one of the few times she was certain that Azriel would fight her mate to the death on an issue. But it was Feyre’s promise to keep you safe in the River House that gave him leave to go. She had forgotten that when she had the letter sent to Tamlin, when she bid you goodbye. You were gone now and, worse, you hadn’t said goodbye to him. 

“Where. Is. She.”

Feyre turned, looking at Azriel’s towering form darkening the doorway. His wings were flared out behind him, beating furiously as his shadows continued to search the home for any sign of you.

“She has gone to Spring, with Tamlin.”

Azriel growled. His nostrils flared. The shadows began to swirl around Feyre. Rhys took a step in front of her, ready to block any attack sent her way. Would Azriel attack her? Why would he be so upset about not being able to say goodbye to you? She knew he pined after you, but she thought it was like Mor and Elain. Something one-sided. Had she missed something? 

“It was her choice, brother,” Rhys said. “We are welcome to visit her whenever we so please. If you would like, we can go now, just so you may have a chance to talk to her.”

“If I go to Spring, I’m bringing her straight here. This is where she belongs. Not with that swine of a High Lord.”

“She has every right to choose to be with her mate—”

“No!” Azriel snapped. “I am her mate!”

It felt like time froze. Everyone stared at the Shadowsinger. Even Elain and Lucien came out from the kitchen, concern about his antics. Feyre blinked. No, that couldn’t be. Tamlin was your mate. You had felt the bond with him, and he you. 

“Triads are a thing of legend,” Rhys said slowly. “They haven’t existed in millennia…Cauldron, no one has ever been sure they were ever truly real. You aren’t suggesting…”

“All I know is that the bond snapped when I found her crying after Nyx’s birth, so certain she’d lose her sister, brother-in-law, and nephew in one fell swoop that all three of you surviving overwhelmed her. It snapped as I held her, trying to reassure her that all was right. That no one would hurt her or her family.” Azriel took a step toward them, glowering. “You have sent my mate into a lion’s den. Lesser males have killed for lesser slights.”

“Azriel, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” Feyre tried. 

But he was already gone—wings rustling against the wind as he flew away. To where, she couldn’t say for certain. 

#tamlin imagine #tamlin x reader #tamlin x fem!reader #tamlin x female rader #tamlin x you #tamlin x y/n #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin fan fiction #tamlin fanfic #tamlin fan fic #tamlin fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

[hallowclave]

What a whimsical looking young man I wonder if he has received any job offers recently

Original photo

#my art #project sekai #rui kamishiro #if u saw this get posted before: no u didn’t #forgot to schedule the post for the morning incident 60 dead 600 injured. #i feel obligated 2 say I actually post abt pjsk on my main (apotelesmaa) frequently (I have brain worms) #& I only post on this blog once in a blue moon and it’s usually not serious art atp #so do not expect anything. #curtain call. what an event. love rui he’s such a good character. I hope he explodes. #he is so full of love and so bad at recognizing his emotions and problems. #‘I don’t have any emotional hang ups about anything’ says the guy who has so many emotional hang ups #rationalizing pulling back as safety measures instead of fearing abandonment/concern of hurting tsukasa (or others) again -> #rationalizing accepting asahi’s job offer because it’s the best for his future even if it’s not the best for himself #also tbh I think to some degree u could argue accepting the job offer was his way of getting ahead of being abandoned #not that it would happen and not that he’d recognize that to begin with #negative self awareness king! he is not processing his emotions at all! #would love for him to mention the job offer in a future event. even just offhandedly. shaking him by the shoulders. talk to ur friends moron #me when I’m in a not recognizing what I’m feeling and how it effects me competition and my opponent is rui kamishiro from hit game pjsk #etc etc. anyways. #once again falling into the ‘sure whatever this can go on the art blog’ category #in that I used simultaneously too much effort and very little in creating it #once again: [hope you’re hungry. for NOTHING] dot jpeg. as is typical here at hallowclave dot tumblr dot com.

[ectoplasmer]

hello tumblr good evening i am going absolutely mental over tkb tonight for no apparent reason

#he’s just. :( #i wanna give him a hug i think he would give good hugs (with a bit of convincing of course) #i’ve spent the past hour or so thinking about his canonical characterization and popular fanon characterization and. aaaaaaa #i’m not even sure what it is about him that’s wormed it’s way into my brain so much?? #i know he didn’t get very much characterization from what we did see of him (especially in the anime) #but i still love the traits that were shown of him in the manga and how the fandom has utilized them #i still think he’d be a bit of a snark like yb but <3 it’s a lovable kind of snark y’know #i also think he’d be a bit more laid back but more calculated than yb… i really like that depiction as well #i love a lot of depictions of him. am i allowed to just say i love him even if there’s no one concrete way he is characterized?? #because i do regardless #i could go on a whole ramble about how i love the caring aspects some people give him #but i think i’ve talked too much already so >_< #just know that’s infesting my brain. constantly #honeyshipping

[bumblinv]

Hii, saw your request were open!

This might not even make sense, because I don't even know if the na'vi have this too

But some hc to human reader getting their period earlier than expected and the sully kids + tsireya, aonung and roxto reaction to weird human biology

Thanks alot and stay healthy!!

--- sex ed. class ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

platonic!various x gn!human!reader

!! in my hc, fem na'vi doesn't menstruate !!

teaching your na’vi friends, who doesn’t menstruate, the beautiful world of human biology

part 1! part 2

"so, your... thing bleeds every month?"

you nod

"are you stupid?

"i'm sorry?"

ao'nung clicks his tongue, looking at you with disbelieve. "that means you're doing something, only Eywa knows what, to yourself. and you’re doing it so badly that it bleeds-"

you hit him on the head, "no! what are you even thinking?"

"no, but seriously" neteyam looks at you with concern, "forgive me for watching you, but this morning i saw you wash your blanket that’s literally soaked with blood"

your face starts to heat up, "that means the cloth i use wasn't enough-"

"3 pieces of cloth to soak your blood. and it wasn't even enough?" tsireya's voice filled with worry, "are you sure you're okay? we could ask my mother to patch you up" 

"reya, im fine-"

"no you're not! you came to her for painkillers this morning, to mend your stomach cramps!"

"its probably tape worms"

"no shit", rotxo snickers

"or just a real bad constipation"

"rotxo, ao’nung please” kiri rolls her eyes, tired of their stupidity. “they clearly said that the bleeding comes from their other below"

not long after lo'ak snaps his head towards you, mouth agape. "holy shit. i think i know what's going on", then quickly moves closer to you. his face just a few inches from yours, his terrified look terrifies you

"my mother experienced the same things as you, when we were about to have tuk. stomach hurting, below bleeding- "

"no. fucking. way” rotxo clasps his mouth, “are you about to give birth?"

"what?"

ao’nung’s jaw dropped. “who knocked you up?” 

“that’s it i’m taking you to the tsahik” 

“STOP” 

your friends went quiet. 

they could only stare at your flushed face as your breathing went erratic. 

you gulp, trying to calm yourself down. you close your eyes, inhaling a good amount of oxygent to fill your lungs and letting your mind go blank. then, you could open your mouth again

"as you all know, female bodies bear children in their uterus, yes?"

they all nod

"good. now the uterus, in human bodies specifically, would prepare for pregnancy every month-"

"so you need to get pregnant every month?"

"shut up rotxo"

"wait a minute" kiri cuts you off, "you’re not pregnant, but you’re currently bleeding. so the bleeding occurs when the pregnancy doesn’t happen?"

"yup. because i'm not pregnant, my womb's lining shreds out"

their terrified screams deafens you

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar x you #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #kiri #kiri x reader #aonung #aonung x reader #tsireya #tsireya x reader #rotxo #rotxo x reader

[webslingingslasher]

Could you write something kinda similar to what you wrote before? Like with insecure reader but it's like the opposite, maybe her not being intimate with Peter yet because guys usually dump her after they hook up with her?

iiiiiii, dunno about this one :(

It’s not like you're a virgin. 

If you were, it would make sense to be a little scared. Or maybe it was anxiety. 

However, Peter Parker was a good guy. He held your hand like it was his job, called when he said he would, he’s close to all your friends, even adapting some to his own group. He asked to kiss you the first time he did, not expecting it but hoping. He always paid for your dates, even when you try to strong arm him into not doing it. 

Peter was a good guy. A really, really good guy. 

So why do you hurt him time and time again when he tries to take it to another step?

You could see the confusion filtering through, he used to be good at hiding it but more and more the poker face is fading and you can read the real emotion. 

If you have sex with him, you could lose him. 

If you don’t have sex with him, you could lose him.  

You were set to lose no matter what. 

It was getting harder to say no, this time you had to force yourself to pull away and gasp for air. 

“Um- movie?” 

Peter closes his eyes against the pillow, he’s fighting the tightness in his jeans poorly. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Making out with Peter is really, really fun. Everything about Peter was fun, that’s why you don’t want to lose him. 

You don’t want to look back, he’s laying down and you’re sitting up trying to find a movie to hide the truth behind. 

Peter’s had enough on his end. 

“Uh, baby?” 

“Yes?” Don’t look back. 

He knows you’re not a virgin. 

“Can we talk?” 

“About?” You search for a movie harder. Don’t look back. 

Peter pauses, he’s not sure how to word it. 

“Do you… Are you… Is…” Frustrated, he huffs, “what would the next step in our relationship be?” He needs to know, do you both have different versions of the next step? He thought sex would be a no brainer, but it seems like you don’t want to do it with him. 

Sex. 

Sex would be the next step, you know that and so does he. But if you say it will he expect it? 

Don’t look back.

A nonchalant shrug, “sex, I guess.” 

He’s tired of looking at the back of your head.

“Can you look at me, please?” 

No. 

“Yeah,” you turn. 

Peter looks soft, almost sad. He’s always thought you were good at reading each other, he doesn’t know what you’re thinking. 

“Are we on different pages?” 

Your head tilts, “what do you mean?” 

His turn to sit up, “I’m ready to have sex and I thought you were too. But it feels like you always worm your way out of it, and that’s fine cause if you’re not ready then I’m not either.” 

Either, either, either. 

He’s in this with you. 

“Every time I’ve had sex they always leave after. I don’t want you to leave.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, “babe, I’ve got like, thirty shirts in your closet. I’m not going anywhere, and if never having sex is my only way to prove it, I’ll do it.” 

You raise your eyebrows, “really, you could go without sex forever?” 

He shrugs, “eh, I mean, I really like you, and sex is fun but you can’t miss what you don’t have. I don’t know what it would be like to have sex with you, but I know how much it feels to miss you.” 

Is this how love is supposed to feel? 

It’s getting really hard saying no, and if he says it, he means it. You’ve learned that by now. 

You check your phone, if he’s still here in the morning then he’s your forever. 

“Well, I also don’t know what sex feels like with you.” 

You move in closer, “but, I’d like to find out.” 

Peter’s eyes lit up, it’s not about getting to bone you, it’s about the trust you have for him. Even you can read his look that well. He leans in to kiss you, his words whispered against your lips. 

“I’ll make breakfast.” 

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker smut #tasm!peter smut #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #my writing #frat!peter

[nyoomerr]

A drabble about Bingge realizing his children’s beloved Head Imperial Tutor has the same soul as the ‘nice Shizun’ from that other world he once visited could be fun.

“Local man must compete with his own children for the attention of their very cute teacher!”

ahhh i love scenarios like this!! pitting bingge against his own kids is always so fun lol, hope you enjoy!

---

When Luo Binghe manages to find him, he isn’t even looking properly. He’s still spending his free time trying to find a way back into that weird mirror dimension, not scouring his world for anyone. After all, why would he look here? He already knows exactly where the Shen Qingqiu of his own world is; every bloody, rotten part of that body and soul is accounted for. Luo Binghe wants the other Shen Qingqiu, the one he’d gotten only a taste of, the one that had been so unfairly given to his doppelganger.

Perhaps, Luo Binghe thinks, watching through the doorway into the classroom his younger children use for self-study, he should have bothered to spend a bit more time looking at home before trying to force himself back into the mirror world.

“Ah, what are these tears?” One of the tutors is asking, tutting as if in disapproval even as he so gently wipes the face of one of Luo Binghe’s children. “You’re getting much better with your arithmetic, there’s no need to cry over a mistake now.”

The child hiccups, her little hands coming up to pull on the tutor’s robes, clearly trying to worm her way into his lap so she can wipe her face on his shoulder instead of on the perfectly fine handkerchief the tutor is trying to use.

Luo Binghe doesn’t even know which daughter of his that is. He doesn’t know who this tutor is, either, and yet -

The tutor raises his free hand up to pat soothingly at the child’s hair. He doesn’t try to unhook her hands from his robes, or stop her from shoving herself persistently closer to his person; he only pets her hair and wipes her face and tuts at her.

And yet somehow, Luo Binghe thinks, I’m sure that’s him.

It doesn’t make a great deal of sense to find this soul in a body unrelated to Shen Qingqiu, but at the same time it makes a whole world of sense to think of this kind teacher as someone entirely different from the cruel master Luo Binghe had grown up under.

Luo Binghe steps into the room properly, releasing the hold he’d been keeping on his qi to keep it held close to his body. The tutor looks up at the doorway, and frustratingly, the look of indulgence he’d been wearing just moments ago closes up. He stands and bows in unison with the other tutors in the room, and Luo Binghe flicks his hand dismissively so they know to ignore him and return to his duties.

The tutor - the kind Shizun’s soul - stands from his bow but does not immediately return to helping the girl he’d been working with. He only watches Luo Binghe a bit warily, clearly aware of Luo Binghe’s rapt attention on him, and continues to absently pat the hair of Luo Binghe’s daughter. The girl herself doesn’t seem to mind, as she’s managed to get close enough to the tutor to shove her face in his stomach and nuzzle in there, perfectly content and no longer crying. 

Well, no matter; if this man is already aware of Luo Binghe’s attention, no need to hide it further. Luo Binghe approaches without hesitation. 

“And what tutor has brought this Lord’s child to tears?” Luo Binghe asks after having reached the table that this tutor and child had been working at. He knows perfectly well that this man was not the cause of his daughter’s tears; he wants to know how he’ll respond anyway.

“This lowly one is Shen Yuan, my Lord,” Shen Yuan dutifully replies, and though he bows deeply he does not raise his hands from Luo Binghe’s daughter. “My most sincere apologies; I will accept punishment.”

Luo Binghe hums, satisfied. Good, he thinks, he’s already loyal to me. Very good.

Before he can say anything else, though, the girl buried in Shen Yuan’s robes shouts, “No!”

When Shen Yuan stands again, Luo Binghe can see his daughter peeking out, her face half turned away from Shen Yuan to glare up at Luo Binghe. 

“No?” Luo Binghe asks.

“No!” She shouts again. Her demonic huadian flares, and Luo Binghe raises his brows - this girl really dares issue such a threat to her father, knowing who her father is?

Shen Yuan, seeming to catch the very same thing, quickly moves the hand that had been in her hair to cover up her demonic huadian. This does not stop the girl herself from talking.

“If you try to punish Shen-ge, I’ll stab you!”

“Ah, wait -” Shen Yuan protests, pressing the girl further into him as if that will hide her away. He glances nervously at Luo Binghe, expression a bit pinched, and then -

“Who’s threatening Shen-ge?!” Comes a cry from across the room.

“Someone’s threatening Shen-ge?!”

“Lord Luo is threatening Shen-ge!!”

Suddenly, it seems like half the children in the room are gathered up in Shen Yuan’s robes, clinging to him and glaring at Luo Binghe as Shen Yuan frantically tries to soothe them with head pats and hushed whispers of Ah, don’t yell at him, anyone else is okay, but don’t yell at him!

Luo Binghe watches, amused and irritated and hungry all at once. Clearly, this Shen Yuan is already a treasure of his palace, and he hadn’t even known it - his own children have found this man before he himself did. 

Well, Luo Binghe thinks, watching Shen Yuan fluster more and more the longer Luo Binghe stays quietly watching the commotion, they may have him first, but I will be sure to have him last.

#ty for the prompt! #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #binggeyuan #bingyuan #fic drabble

[deadsetobsessions]

As the girl who came up with the Triplet! Tim AU PLEASSEEEEE continue it!!!!! I NEED to see Bruce who thought he had one robin finding out he actually has three separate completely different ones

I gotchu lmfao I think I’ll get to Bruce later? I’m really happy you liked it omg like that idea is so good

——

Their plan was perfect! It would have been perfect, had it not been for Dick Grayson and his nosy face!

Batman might not have known his identity, but Dick Grayson did. He promised to keep it from Batman, but Tim hadn’t exactly thought about his secret identity when he showed up to harass the man into being Robin again.

And now, they’re paying for it.

Tim leaned back and crossed his arms as he watched Dick cradle his head in his hands, looking half a short breath away from a mental breakdown.

“Are you telling me… there’s three of you?”

“Yes, Dick.” Tim sighed, having answered this exact question ten times in the past two minutes.

Dick lifted his head, wide eyes looking a little feverish… no, looking a little manic.

“Tim. Your name is Tim, right? I’m not-”

“Yes, my name is Tim. Technically, so are the others. But the one here with us is Lionel.”

“No, wait, Tim, you understand how this is- insane, right? It’s not even remotely in the realm of mentally healthy.” Dick paused. “Wait, are you skipping school right now?!?”

“Has anyone ever told you your priorities are screwed up, Dick?” Lionel-Tim walked back into the room, hands full of snacks and, most importantly, Dick’s emergency marshmallow bag. Dick turned to Lionel, eyes full of guilt, and grabbed the bag of marshmallows like a dehydrated man in the middle of a desert who’s only couple of feet away from an oasis that he’s been looking for for days.

“Oh my god. I’ve had three younger brothers and I thought they were all the same kid!” Dick wailed, grabbing a handful of marshmallows and stress cramming it into his mouth. Tim threw him a disgusted look.

“To be fair, we made sure to train to act like each other from a really early age,” Tim said, snatching the bag of chips that Lionel chucked at his head. His snack laden triplet plonked himself on the plush spinning chair, shoving a hand inside the bag of gummy worms and cramming it down his throat as he spun around.

“I can’t believe I’ve never even checked up on you at your place!! If I did, I would have noticed it way earlier!”

“Probably not,” Lionel mumbled through his mouthful of colorful gummy worms. “You only caught us because Tim got beat half to death by an edgy crime lord teenager.”

Dick hunched into himself, a myriad of complicated emotions- largely, guilt and fury and heartbreak- wormed its way past his face. Tim glared and threw a chip at his triplet.

“It’s fine, Dick. Lionel’s just being an asshole. We’re taking care of it. Revenge prank.” Tim explained.

“He wouldn’t have caught us and you know it.” Lionel grumbled.

“I’ll help.” Dick mumbled dejectedly.

“You’ll have to get in line, Wing,” Tim went back to his laptop. “My thirds got first dibs, and I’m not planning on staying still either. I’m gonna mess with Jason’s slush funds.”

“He’s got a stash of cash locked up in the fourth safe house, but that’s not interesting. Look!” Lionel proudly displayed a duffle bag- from where he got it from, Dick had no clue- and unzipped it to show batteries, lightbulbs, and random bits and bobs.

“What is that?” Dick asked.

“That’s the second lightbulb in his bathroom light! This is the left battery in his TV remote! And this is half of his back up boot laces. I took all of his 10 mm sockets! And the specialized socket he got for his bike! And this,” Lionel grinned, lifting up a piece of fabric. “Is his pillow case!”

“Niceee.” Tim whistled. He tossed a piece of tech at Lionel. “Sneak back into his house and put that in between his pillows. It’ll keep both sides uncomfortably warm.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Is… this revenge for almost killing you?” Dick asked.

“It’s either this or complete and total financial ruin, social death, and then actual death.” Tim tapped away at his laptop.

“You’re kind of scary, you know that?”

“We know!” Lionel chirped.

“Base, come in.”

“Base,” Tim quickly replied, laser focused on Archy’s call. Lionel and Dick quieted.

“Hood’s lurking outside the school like a creep,” Archy muttered into the comm, papers rustling behind him.

Dick tensed, upset making itself visible once more.

“You still have the container I gave you this morning in your pocket?”

“Yes.”

Tim smirked in a way that made Dick suddenly have a horrible need to shake and lecture him on the moralities of not becoming a villain. “It’s glitter. Purple and pinks.”

“…Ah.”

“Godspeed, Archy!” Lionel chirped again, sounding slightly more demented.

A moment of silence before-

“Oof!” A puff. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, mister!”

On the other end of the comm, the gruff voice of a beefy teenager spluttered, “What- why do you- egh- my mouth! The glitter went into- pleh, pleh! What the fuck, kid?!”

“I’m so sorry! It was supposed to be for a project! I worked so hard to mix the colors right! Wait, stay still, mister! I’ll help!”

Archy, eyes wide and innocent, patted some more glitter onto the vigilante.

“No, stop! Stop! You’re getting it on my bike!”

“It’s a pretty color- oh hey, this is open-”

“No! That’s the fuel tank!”

“Oh! Whoops! Sorry!”

As chaos spread on the other side of the comms, Tim and Lionel burst into cackles. Dick choked on the marshmallows, helplessly shaking with laughter.

Lionel whacked at Dick’s back, hysterically giggling.

“That’s- that’s Archy?”

“Archy pretending to be Lionel pretending to be me yeah. I hope he got glitter in the fuel tank.” Tim grinned.

“Want me to patrol tonight to see if he got the glitter out of his bike?”

Lionel jabbed his pointy elbows onto Dick’s shoulders. “Absolutely. Distract him, too! I gotta mess with his safe houses. He’ll never feel comfortable in a safe house ever again.”

“Don’t go overboard, Lionel.” Tim looked up. “But also, I changed his WiFi passwords to 123456, so do with that what you will.”

Lionel grinned. Dick mustered up a smile in response, pushing the guilt away. He had a lot to make up to his little brothers, and if terrorizing Jason was how he was going to accomplish that… well, Dick’s not feeling too nice about Jason right now.

——

Batman squinted suspiciously at a humming Nightwing.

“Something happen?” He managed to ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, I got some nice pictures.”

“…I see.”

Batman, regardless of what his history might suggest, knew how to pick his battles. This? This thing that brought Nightwing’s murder smile? This was one battle he was willing to walk away from.

“Hey, B, you ever think about adopting more kids?”

Batman choked and promptly grappled away. Nightwing cackled.

“You can’t escape the question!”

Batman ran faster.

#Batman #nightwing: maybe i can adopt this time #nightwing being nightwing #nightwing #tim drake is a triplet au #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Jason getting effectively glitterbombed

[shiny-jr]

from IGNIHYDE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This seems a little more low-key than Diasomnia, but the obsession is there if you squint. It’s just way more low-key than the previous group. For some reason I feel like I maybe wrote Ortho a little off? Not sure. Feel free to tell me your thoughts.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore

The break ends quickly. Too quickly. Before you know it, you’re back in front of the mountain of unread letters that appears even more ominous than before now that you could guess what sort of dark contents they may hold. 

For your own peace of mind, you’ve decided to read only two and then take a pause right after. 

The first of which was just a simple long white envelope. That’s it. There was nothing that stood out about it, no special seal or stamp. It was just the generic type of encasing that made it look like it was some sort of bill instead of a letter containing what was bound to be a message that unsettled you in some way, shape, or form. 

When you removed the letter, you was surprised to see that it wasn’t handwritten, it had been typed and printed out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who this was from. 

Player, 

I messed everything up.

I don’t even see a point to doing this, writing this for you. I mean, if I were you, I’d never want to see my no-good miserable face ever again. I’d go to every length just to avoid even speaking to me again, and to spite them I’d never even show myself around again. But–– Ortho was making a letter and brought my keyboard to my lap. He said it was worth a shot, and if anything, it could be used as an apology so... sorry.

Any sorry would sound half-assed, considering what happened. It’s not like it matters, since I’m sure you wouldn’t read this. I imagine you would figure out it’s from me, and proceed to tear it up, burn it, whatever. And honestly? Valid. At this point, I’m sort of using it as a vent. Usually, I’d be telling Ortho all this, but all these thoughts I’m having would only bum him out and he’s depressed enough as it is. 

You know what sucks besides all of this? The fact that I genuinely tried. I actually tried to be a help for once, and like it always ends, my attempt to help screwed it up even more. Maybe if I had kept my mouth shut and minded my own business while holing myself up in my room like I always do, things wouldn’t have turned out this bad. If I just did what I was good at, which is nothing, Ortho and I might’ve avoided the shitstorm. Everyone else is currently throwing pity parties and plotting these super over elaborate schemes to try and interact with you by luring you out of the Ramshackle place. 

Ortho’s been coming up with plans too with other guys from the dorms that are just so desperate for your attention. It’s sad to watch, pathetic too, but I don’t have the heart to tell him not to bother with it. And me, I know better. If I were in your position and I saw all these attempts, it would definitely make me extra bitter and just hate everyone even more. Oh, I just remembered something worth mentioning. You may not believe me, I mean, I wouldn’t believe a single word coming from me, but I wasn’t actually going to hurt Grim. You though? Before I knew who you were? Yeah. Don’t get it twisted though, I was just doing it to fix everything until the whole truth got leaked not too long after.

Call me stupid, I guess. When I first saw how others revered you like how a bunch of creepy basement-dwellers look at a pretty perfect idol on a shiny bright stage, it was a major red flag. I wanted nothing to do with you. But when you started worming yourself into my life and I started getting attached, well, that made me a creep too for liking you. Red flags be damned. What can I say? Your presence even through Yuu, made me feel like I mattered, which is something I don’t experience a lot. 

You’d never know it, but I took risks just to be in the same room as your avatar. 

Missing special events on games, losing the chance to catch a concert live on screen, even ditching group calls with teammates and friends... All of that was utterly worthless if I got at least a solid sixty seconds by you. 

Unlike everyone else, I know better than to just show up at your doorstep and beg for forgiveness like some misguided puppy. Malleus and co. have been making sure you’re not disturbed, guarding you like a pack of guard dogs or something, preventing anyone from embarrassing themselves and messing up any further. Ortho said I should at least try to call you, I think he just wants to hear your voice. But why bother? 

Don’t get it wrong, I’m not just letting everything go just like that. As much as I’d like to, and I know it’s probably the “healthy” and “good” thing to do, I don’t want to. I’m not good, you know that already. I’ll keep in the background this time, and try not to mess up again. Although no guarantees, because with my lousy luck, I know something will inevitably go wrong. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you. I wouldn’t want to make the mental image you have of me in your mind even worse, if its even remotely possible for it to somehow get worse. I just can’t let go. Even if you looked at me like trash, avoided me like the plague, or straight up tell me ‘I hate you’ to my face, I still won’t let go. 

And, well, all I can really think of right now besides you, is Ortho. Even if I can’t show my disgraced presence to you anymore, I still hope you’ll see Ortho. At least if Ortho could explain to you that he was acting on my plan, he might get lucky and be next to you again. Maybe. Hard maybe. 

But me? No, I don’t ever deserve to be anywhere near you anymore. For now, I’ll go back to how things were way back... when your vessel hadn’t yet had the misfortune of meeting me and I just watched your every move from monitors like some sort of loser schmuck. 

I think I’ll just imagine how things would be if I hadn’t doomed all my chances. If I had a chance... maybe I would’ve actually worked up the gall to sit next to you, or even look at you, or, hell, talk to you. At least, I’ll always remember when you used your avatar to look at me and it didn’t feel bad... like, almost like you didn’t see me as some lame nobody. That must’ve been my mind just playing tricks on me though, right? There’s no way that happened... 

Enough of this mushy stuff though. I’m sick of it. 

Just throw this in the fire without a second glance. 

Idia Shroud 

In order to get this over as quickly as possible, you decided to continue without taking a breather. The quicker you finished reading them, the better, that way, you wouldn’t even give your mind any time to fully process what you were reading before overwhelming your vision with more lines and lines of words until they became blurred together. 

You wouldn’t stop, because if you stopped, that would be allowing your mind the opportunity to spiral out of control. You needed a distraction. 

This wasn’t exactly the good type of distraction either, it was more like adding gasoline to the fire, but part of you had to know what they would say. No matter what feelings you held, the curiosity outweighed it. 

The second letter is identical to the first, a simple long white envelope with no particularly interesting details about it other than the fact that it had zero stains and no wrinkles on it. It was pristine and clean, not even a drop of ink on it. The insides of the envelope itself were blue, with small white lines on it, but upon closer inspection it became obvious that they weren’t just stripes, they were skull symbols so tiny that it was hardly noticeable. 

Of course, as you expected, the letter inside was not handwritten. It was folded so precisely into thirds, and unfolding it displayed the typed and printed words neatly stacked in indented paragraphs. 

Greetings, Player, 

First, I want to apologize sincerely. 

Secondly, I want to tell you how much I have missed you, and my brother has missed you as well! I don’t believe I can fully comprehend how you are felling at the current moment, and I cannot even accurately guess to what emotions you are experiencing. In my attempt to alleviate the situation, I’ve been running millions of simulations of possible alternative futures in order to take the best route where things might return to a semblance of normalcy. 

Well, a new normal, now that you’re here! However... when each simulation yields a result, I can’t help but feel as if something is wrong. That’s when I realized there was a key component that was off. It was you, or rather, Yuu. We know of Yuu and their mannerisms and opinions, but that isn’t really you. Yuu is a vessel, and extension, that’s partially based off yourself. 

So none of us know the true you. At least, not yet! I’m hoping to change that. Just when I think I’m beginning to understand you, things like this happen. But, that’s what makes you so exciting! There’s always some unforeseen detail and amazing new aspect of yourself to learn about. Once I get a proper grasp on what you’re truly like, I can use that new knowledge to make you happy, just as you made me and my brother always smile!  But also, I want to use it to make it up to you. Honestly, I’m scared that you’ll hate me. In the simulations I ran that gave inaccurate results due to those missing components, nearly all the results had a bad ending... 

I don’t want that. I want to have a ‘normal’ way with you and Idia! A good normal! Like where we might all have movie nights in the Ignihyde dorm with freshly popped popcorn and candies as snacks, or study days when we read over notes and help each other out, maybe you might even be able to convince Idia to leave his room so we can all share lunch in the cafeteria like a group of friends would typically do! That’s what I want! I don’t think I could stand knowing I made you cry or was the cause of your pain. I never hurt you, right? At least not physically. 

Believe me, I had made attempts to meet you. But those in Diasomnia won’t allow it. I was tempted to charge up the technomantic beam installed within my form, but realizing it wasn’t necessary, I didn’t. Idia was right when he didn’t make an effort to even join me, and Malleus Draconia with his own have realized it too. You aren’t ready yet. Even if I’m more than prepared to see you, I can’t rush you. So, I left this letter in their hands, hoping it reached you. If not, there’s no worries. I’ve prepared a dozen more printed copies and if that fails, I’ve created a digital copy! 

Since I couldn’t tell you in person, I’ll tell you through paper... 

I’d like to invite you to formally meet me. I’m even prepared to surprise Idia with this! That’ll cheer him up for sure. You always made him happy, so us properly meeting you would be a dream come true for us both! 

If you’d like to do something upon meeting us, I’ve organized multiple activities for us to participate in. The other first years have reached out and expressed their own desires to make up for the mistakes they made. So, I met with them a few days ago to make plans you might enjoy! These plans are still in the preparation phase, so I can’t reveal them quite yet, but soon I will! 

Anyways, I just wanted to make you aware of this. And I want to say ‘I’m sorry’ even though it feels minuscule to what I’m only guessing must be the strong emotions you feel toward what occurred. But I wanted to let you know that I always want to be your friend, and I always will be, even if you don’t really like me anymore. Friends are supposed to be there for each other, right? So I’ll be there for you now. Remember, I’m a high-tech being, I can be of great use to you if you want! Even if you’d rather just use me as a tool, I would be happy. If you want someone obliterated to ashes or are just looking to answers as to what the weather might be, I would gladly help you with that and so much more! 

And it’s not only me that could be useful to you, my brother can too! Although he probably won’t say it, he depends on you a lot. You’re like a battery to him, you give him the energy he needs. If you’d let him, let us both, we’d be there for you in a zeptosecond! 

There’s one thing I know for certain. You’re the common variable needed for our happiness, no matter the scenario or result, you are a requirement. And I’m certain we can bring you happiness as well. Myself, my brother, and everyone that treasures you, can bring you joy if you allow it. All I want is to see you happy, and everyone else happy as well. So will you please at least consider seeing us again? Soon? Please? 

Hoping to see you soon. 

From your friend, 

Ortho Shroud  

#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #twst imposter au #I didn't ask to get isekaied #we just got a letter wonder who it’s from #idia shroud #yandere idia shroud #twst idia #ortho shroud #twst ortho #yandere ortho shroud #ignihyde

[obbystars]

It hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you.

NOTES: dividers by @cafekitsune !!

( Written before 2.2 / Kinda short tbh / Boothill may be OOC / not really angst as it turns into fluff tbh / I blame this / title was chosen because I was listening to the song at the time / GN!Reader )

It took a while for Boothill to even get used to this new life, or new body. Every time he looked at himself, he’s reminded of what was stolen from him. For a time, he hated his body. He sometimes wished he stayed dead. He feels so cold. He didn’t… He never wanted this, though as time passed, he grew accustomed to it. He eventually accepted it, but it never stopped those thoughts from worming their way back into his head.

He doesn’t quite feel… human. Nothing about him truly felt human.

“Boothill? You still there?” The voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

The gentle beating of a heart entered his ears. He felt warm. He felt a warm hand gently rubbing his face. Another hand was playing with a few strands of his hair before it was now gently brushing it. He opened his eyes, finding himself in an all too familiar room. One he had always looked forward to going back to once he finally had time to spare.

And underneath him? His favorite person, of course. Someone he always looked forward to seeing again, to spending more time with. He looks up at you, and you took note of his expression.

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head, burying his face into your chest and closing his eyes again, “No, no ya didn’t... Don’t worry ‘bout it,”

His arms were wrapped securely around your waist, trapping you in bed with him. You wiggled around in his grip for a bit to get a bit comfortable, resulting in you having to move him further up. His face was now in the crook of your neck.

Was he crushing you? Surely if he was, you would’ve said something or even tried to nudge him away. Were you cold? He hoped not… You did sometimes push him off of you because he was too cold. Sometimes he wishes he could provide you the warmth you always give him, but it’s not like he can feel it anywhere else other than his face. He hated that.

“You okay?” You questioned, your voice snapping him back to reality.

His answer was only a faint hum this time. He feels your hand brush his hair again, and you swear you can just feel him melt under your touch. It surprised you sometimes. A brash, flamboyant Galaxy Ranger, always full of energy and ready for the next journey across the stars almost turning into mush once your hands meet him. It was something you picked up on very quickly, and it didn’t take as long for you to realize why he reacts this way.

“Does it bother you?”

Your hands stop moving through the white strands, “Does what bother me?”

“This… My body. Does it-”

“No. Not at all,” you suddenly cut in, “You get cold sometimes, but that doesn’t bother me. Why do you ask?”

“…it’s nothin’,”

You turn your head to face him, nuzzling him knowing he can feel you there, “Well… It definitely is something, but… Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears,”

He can feel you gently press a kiss on his head, and another, and another, and another. The only place where he can feel you, and you were practically showering him with small kisses.

He feels warm, especially when he’s with you. Maybe that’s why he always looks forward to moments like this with you because for once, even if it’s just for a moment, he feels human.

ehhh, this felt better in my head but oh well, I just really wanted to write Boothill

I don’t regularly post fics or hcs like this but maybe I’ll make a silly side blog for it if I do find myself wanting to write so much more for Boothill ( I literally love him so much )

#it was gonna be a frank sinatra lyric but it turned into laufey #i love laufey #the frank sinatra one was gonna be and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you #it sounded nice #honkai star rail boothill #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #boothill #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #hsr x reader

[majosullivan]

Nevermore Dashboard Simulator

🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow

Can we all agree to stop making jokes about each other’s deaths? Making light of someone’s death even as a joke is really gross

🪦 deadgirlwalking Follow

No I was murdered so I can reclaim it

85,958 notes

⏳ dream-within-a-dream Follow

Okay but can someone tell me how posts here are getting so many notes? There’s like around 100 people at the academy and I’m frequently seeing posts with well over 1,000 notes. Like, it would be one thing if these posts were years old but some of them are from 2 days ago. Did I just miss the memo and everyone here has at least 10+ accounts, like WHERE are you guys coming from?

👻 hourofsecrecy Follow

Can the spirits not show their appreciation for people’s commentery? Can the creatures of the night not find humour in wits and gists of others? What is the difference from the newly departed and the Unseen Ones?

⏳ dream-within-a-dream Follow

Absolutely horrific answer, thank you for your time

26,496 notes

🪱 conqueror-of-worms Follow

Tell me why it’s around eight in the morning and the first thing I see while heading to the dining hall is Lenore PINING Annabel Lee AGAINST A WALL

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

🪱 conqueror-of-worms Follow

Care to clarify who the hell you were referring to in this post?

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

Yes

3,270 notes

🎈 floatinghoax Follow

After everything the afterlife could have been, you’re telling me that I have to go to SCHOOL and have CLASSES that start at 9AM? Truly tempted to walk straight into the wasteland, there’s only so much a second chance at life is worth

#not to mention with have fucking ROOMMATES #this academy is MASSIVE #you’re telling me there isn’t enough room for single rooms in this place?

7,984 notes

🥀 wilted-rose Follow

I’m curious, who do you guys think you could take in their spectre forms?

🥀 wilted-rose Follow

IN A FIGHT

69,285 notes

🎶 decomposingmusic Follow

You’re not about to manifest your spectre, you’re just dehydrated

🩰 ghosting-giselle Follow

out of the way gay boy i’m boutta separate myself from my remaining moral ties and embrace the abilites of my spiritual form

🩰 ghosting-giselle Follow

nures rom

173,032 notes

🌙 voyage-to-the-moon Follow

do you think the Deans wake up every day, take one look at us before telling Ms. Poppet ‘PUT THOSE BEASTS IN SITUATIONS!’

2,396 notes

🌃 eveningstar Follow

Does anyone know if Duke and Pluto (the two boys friends with Lenore) are an item or not? Cause any time I’ve seen them interact, Duke has consistently referred to Pluto as Mon Minou (my kitten in french) and I’m not sure if the two of them are together or if they’re just…Like That

🌃 eveningstar Follow

UPDATE: SO IT TURNS OUT PLUTO DIDN’T KNOW WHAT MON MINOU MEANT AND FOUND OUT THROUGH MY POST. HIM AND DUKE HAVE BEEN BICKERING ABOUT IT ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE DORM ROOMS

🌃 eveningstar Follow

Despite what you would think would occur from this development, none of this has answered by original question

#I was just curious if these two were gay or just European #by all accounts they might be both

6,974 notes

🍋 gives-you-lemons Follow

I think I’m about half with through the manor right now? Honestly this lesson is going much better than I expected!

🍋 gives-you-lemons Follow

RATS RATS RATS RATS RATS RATS R&)26?83@/$

5,052 notes

☔️ dew-dropped-nights Follow

[about to be eaten by one of the monsters in the Teraphobia trial] okay but do you think I’m cute? Be honest

4,824 notes

🪐 eureka Follow

Do you think that Annabel Lee and Lenore have ever explored each others bodies

🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow

Can you fucking not do this? Not only are they real people, they’re our classmates and clearly can’t stand each other. Stuff like this is weird and gross

🔮 sorcery-sorcery-sorcery Follow

I bet they fucked nasty up at the widow’s watch

🥂 drinking-into-the-grave Follow

This is actually how Lenore won the Mystery Manor lesson

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

Sometimes that butch pussy gets you acting unwise

🏵️ pendulum-in-the-pit Follow

THAT

WHAT

🪦 deadgirlwalking Follow

What’s not clicking

29,496 notes

#nevermore #webtoon nevermore #nevermore webtoon #dashboard simulator #fake tumblr post #fake tumblr dash #white raven #lennabel #lenore x annabel lee #annabel lee x lenore

[bg-brainrot]

Would You Still Love Me? (Astarion x Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: When you ask the question, 'would you still love me if I were a worm?' Astarion's response surprises you in more ways than one.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, silly goofy mood, act 3 unascended Astarion

Word count: ~1.7k

--

You’re chatting with Astarion over dinner at the Elfsong when a question strikes you. It’s an odd one, and you’re not sure if you should ask it. Your curiosity builds as you consider Astarion’s possible answers though and, by the next lull in conversation, you can’t help yourself.

“Astarion?” you ask, spearing a potato on your plate.

The vampire swirls his wine glass, watching the red liquid fall into place before answering, “Yes, dear?” 

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?” The question spills out of you, sounding even sillier than it did in your head.

Your lover blinks at you, as if he couldn’t possibly have heard that properly. But when your expression doesn’t change, your eye contact doesn’t drop, no admission of jest is to be seen, he finally says, “Darling, what kind of ludicrous question is that?”

“Well, would you?” you counter, pointing at him with your fork before popping the potato in your mouth.

His face grows pensive as he thinks. It’s a few seconds later before he asks a follow up question, “What type of worm?”

You finish chewing as you think of the worms you know. Not many admittedly– life in the city meant that free patches of earth are few and far between. So you answer the only worm that truly comes to mind, “The earthworm kind.”

“And I would know that it’s you?” he asks, leaning forward now. It seems like he’s invested in the question now, despite his initial reaction.

You nod, as if that’s a given. “Yes, you saw me transform.”

“Hells, I was hoping I could pretend not to know,” he says with a smirk. 

“Wicked man,” you retort, shooting him a responding smile.

Astarion’s face looks thoughtful again as he considers the developing situation. “Could I turn you back?”

Now you shake your head vehemently. What use was the exercise if magic would fix you? “No, nothing could turn me back. I’m simply a worm from now on.”

“Hmm, and are you certain that you would love me?” He raises an eyebrow at you in challenge, as if he’s cornered you in your own mischievous little game.

“Of course,” you answer immediately. “I don’t think my little worm brain would be able to think of much else.”

“How sweet… I think,” he says, cocking his head. You suppose it is, though you had meant it as fact. “Well then, one final question, if you would?”

You nod, gesturing for him to continue with your fork. “Go ahead, I’m an open book. Or worm, in this case.”

“How long do worms live?”

You blink, having not expected such a question from him– and truthfully also due to not knowing the answer. “I don’t know. Maybe Halsin would?”

Astarion locates the druid, sitting a few tables away talking to Wyll and Karlach. He raises his voice to be overheard in the din of the tavern. “Halsin, be a dear, how long do earthworms live?”

“A fantastic question, Astarion!” The druid’s voice carries easily with excitement. “It truly depends on the conditions of the worm, but anywhere from a few years up to eight years.”

You balk at that fact. A worm can live how long?

“I’m happy to tell you all about ideal soil conditions–”

Astarion cuts the man off with a loud, “Thank you!” Then he turns back to you. “Well, there you have it.”

“Have what?” you ask in response, confused at the turn in conversation.

“You would live at most eight years. I’m immortal, my love. I think I can manage less than a decade of loving a worm,” he says, rolling his eyes at you.

You’re not sure how to take the casual way that he speaks of your impending wormy death, but you find it oddly comforting to know that he would in fact still love you. You honestly hadn't expected that. “So you’d keep me around? Made sure I stayed healthy and safe?”

He nods, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Naturally.”

You can’t help but laugh at the idea of him keeping you as a pet worm. It seems almost unbelievable. “You wouldn’t throw me into the nearest patch of dirt? Or worse yet, let a bird take me?”

“Gods below, dear,” Astarion responds, aghast, putting a hand over his heart as if he’s been truly, deeply offended. “I would never.” Then he gets a far off look in his eyes and adds, “Well, maybe never. I suppose it depends on if I needed you as bait. But I’m certain I would be able to rescue you after the fact.”

“I would allow it,” you say, with a short nod. “If you’re using me as bait, it’s likely for good reason.”

"And after you pass? I would miss you terribly of course," he says solemnly, with his most maudlin, tragic expression.

"You'd better. And I expect the best soil for my burial," you say, pointing your fork at him threateningly.

“Of course, darling,” he says, only the hint of his smile visible from behind his wine glass. He takes a sip and looks at you again. “Now, why would you ask such a thing?”

You shrug, entirely convinced it was just a passing thought. But, as you poke and prod at your food, you find yourself answering, “I don’t know. What if, before this all ends, something happens to me. I already come with my own scars and problems, gods know how much worse it can get.”

Astarion stares at you over his wine glass, processing what you've just said before responding, "My love, believe it or not, I'm a vampire. I have 'scars and problems' of my own. If you think that anything could happen to you that I wouldn't be able to handle, you'd be sorely mistaken."

You hadn't expected him to say such words so sincerely, and you find yourself a bit taken aback. You love each other, you'd said as much on the night Astarion had been freed from Cazador, but it still feels a bit intimidating to know how deep that love could run. Apparently earthworm deep.

The idea that this man, who would rather bathe in blood than touch an inch of dirt, would continue to love you? Well, despite the inane premise, you find the warmth in your heart to feel very real.

"What about you, darling?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. "If I were to become a worm, what would you do?"

You answer quickly, "Easy. I would still love you, probably keep you on my person, and offer you blood or other sustenance when you need it."

Astarion looks at you aghast. "Sweet hells, do not put me in your pocket."

"And why not? I would be extremely careful, and then I would never lose you," you respond, explaining yourself logically. "Besides, even as a worm, who knows what kind of trouble you'd get yourself into."

"I should be saying that to you," he says, placing his wine glass on the table, serious now. "I can't believe you would put me in danger like that. I fully expect you to place me somewhere nice, like the lawn of some pampered Upper City noble."

You think about his proposition for a second before shaking your head. "But then I couldn't take care of you. What if you get stepped on?"

Astarion considers your counterargument with narrowed eyes. “Ugh, fine. I shall stay in your pocket. But I expect you to clean it regularly. And I demand that you get a new lining for it. Silk, preferably.”

“Easy enough to do,” you say, nodding along. “You would be most comfortable worm this side of the Chionthar.”

At that, the man looks pleased, picks his wine glass back up, and reclines back in his seat. “Good. And, for what it’s worth, I'm sure you would make a very cute worm.”

You’re not sure if that’s meant to be a compliment or an insult, but you suspect it’s the former. “Thank you,” you say, smiling at your lover. “You would make a dashing worm yourself.”

“Are you both expecting to turn into worms any time soon?” you hear from behind you. You turn around to see Halsin standing tall over you. His tone is friendly, warm as he continues, “I would be happy to take care of either of you.”

You can’t help the blush of embarrassment that comes over your face. You’re also not sure how to take the words. Is he asking to adopt you both, as worms? Gods, how did you end up here… So you look back to Astarion who is now shooting you a look that says, Now look what you’ve done.

“Err, no Halsin. It was just an odd little conversation we were having. Sorry to cause you any confusion.”

“No need to apologize, my friend,” he replies. “Though if you ever do need help, you know where to find me.” He gives you both an affectionate smile before heading off. 

While it’s nice to know that others would care enough to take care of you as a worm, you’d meant the question to be solely for Astarion. You’re left burying your face in your hands to hide your shame.

“So, darling… what did we learn?”

“To never ask Halsin about earthworms,” you mumble through your fingers.

Astarion gives you a ‘tsk’ before responding. “No, my dear. If either of us turns into a worm, we must hide that fact from Halsin." He scrunches his nose in distaste before continuing, "I refuse to live in whatever healthy soil he’s found for us.”

You snort at Astarion’s conclusion, but still find yourself agreeing. “Fair enough. Better yet, let’s try to keep ourselves at the very least bipedal.” The two of you share a laugh, but in the back of your mind you’re already thinking of your next question. I wonder if he would still love me if I were a mimic? I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

#astarion x tav #astarion #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #would you still love me if i was a worm? #there's no right answer ofc

[iamnotoriginalphil]

A Helping Hand (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You accidentally drag Melissa into a ruse in order to stop your friends from setting you up on any more blind dates

Words: 7.2k

Warnings: some self esteem issues, mentions of an age gap

“Trust me. This time I’ve found you the perfect date,” Carter said, pulling up outside Abbott.

“Not necessary,” you replied.

The last perfect date he’d set you up on had been a disaster. Not that you’d particularly wanted to go on the date to begin with. Your friends kept trying to solve your perpetual singledom, but what you hadn’t told them was you were holding out while working up the courage to ask out the one person you really wanted to.

“Why?” he asked, turning to look at you.

“Because…” You were about to regret the words that came out of your mouth, “I’m already seeing someone.”

“Who?” he asked, leaning towards you.

A loud banging came from the window. You jumped, turning to look behind you. Red hair shone in the morning sunlight and green eyes were peering in, looking less than pleased.

“Oi, you coming? The news will be on soon,” Melissa called through the glass at you.

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” you called back.

When you turned back around, Carter’s eyes had widened, flicking from you to her back to you. You froze.

“Is that her?” he asked.

“What?” you scoffed, “no. Look, I have to go.”

His hand shot you, grabbing your wrist.

“That’s who you’re seeing?” he demanded.

“Fine. It’s her. But it’s really new so don’t… tell anyone,” you whispered, “please don’t make a big deal about this.”

“She’s hot,” he said, looking over your shoulder.

You turned too. Melissa was still there, arms crossed, scowling at the car. You sighed, turning back to Carter.

“I have to go. But don’t you dare mention this to anyone. I don’t need you lot messing this up before it’s even something,” you hissed at him.

“Sure, sure,” he said, gently ruffling your hair, “go see your girl.”

You sighed, stepping out of the car. You slammed the car door shut with a little more aggression than you usually would use but you were tired and you didn’t even realise the can of worms you’d opened with a little white lie.

“You okay?” Melissa asked, falling into step beside you.

A car horn sounded behind you. You glared over your shoulder at Carter who was grinning at you.

“Fine,” you said, “just dickhead friends.”

The news helped calm you down and by lunch you’d forgotten all about your lie to Carter. Sitting by her at lunch, you were reminded of the way she made your heart beat faster and your breath catch. Her voice was enough to steal your attention and the way she’d laugh enchanted you. You’d do anything to make her laugh like that.

“Hey, is there something wrong with your car?” she asked, leaning back to talk to you at the table next to hers.

“It’s in the shop,” you replied, “the engine was making a funky noise and it got so loud I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

“Who was that in the car that made you so mad?” she asked.

“Just my friend Carter. Apparently I’m now a charity case that my friends have put on a roster of car pooling,” you said.

The way she looked at you had you shifting in your seat.

“What?” you asked.

“You ain’t a charity case,” she said.

“Okay.” You weren’t sure what she was trying to say.

She nodded , turning back to her lunch. Nothing had made sense, and you still had no idea what she was getting at but the conversation was closed. You nodded to yourself, biting into the leftovers you’d been eating before.

After school, a significant amount of time after the dismissal bell had rung, you stepped out into the evening air, tightening your coat around your body. Carter lent forward on the horn, grinning at you as you hurried down the steps.

“Yeah yeah,” you muttered, sliding into the car.

“Isn’t that your girlfriend?”

You blinked, trying to figure out what he was talking about. You turned, finding Melissa striding towards the car, looking ready to breathe fire. It crashed back into you, the lie you’d told and how fucked you were about to be. She tore the door open.

“Come on,” she said to you.

“What?” You were looking up at her and she was staring down at you and it was like the world was dropping out beneath you.

“Come on.”

She grabbed your arm, hauling you out of the car. You barely had time to grab your bag from the floor mat. She lent forward, looking in at Carter as if he’d done something to personally offend her. That wasn’t something anyone would dare to do at Abbott.

“She won’t be needing your charity anymore,” she said before slamming the door.

Her hand curled around your elbow, marching you off towards one of the last cars left in the lot. She wasn’t explaining anything. Carter wasn’t leaving. Nothing made sense.

“Melissa, what are you doing?” you asked as she stopped to unlock the car.

“You’re no one’s charity case,” she said, “I can give you a lift.”

“So, what? I go from being my friends’ charity case to yours? I don’t see how this changes anything,” you said.

She pulled the door open for you, waiting with an expectant eyebrow raised. You sighed, taking your spot in her passenger seat. In the reflection of her rearview mirror you saw Carter approach, groaning at whatever was about to happen. They talked, Melissa’s eyes finding yours in the mirror before saying something to Carter.

She was looking at you oddly as she slid into the driver’s seat some minutes later. You were desperate to know what had been said, knowing it wouldn’t be good for you.

“Your friend asked me to come to a barbecue this weekend,” she said, staring the car, “as your new girlfriend.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. She dragged one away from you, forcing you to look at her. She hadn’t pulled out of her spot, sitting there in the idling car while you tried to tamp down your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” you said, slightly muffled from the one hand still doing its best to hide you from view.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

“I just.” You sighed, “my friends keep setting me up on blind dates and no matter how often I tell them I’m not interested they keep doing it. So when Carter suggested I go on another one I told him I couldn’t because I’m already seeing someone and then you turned up. He asked if it was you and I… figured he’d never actually meet you so it didn’t matter. I’m sorry, I’ll tell him I lied to get him off my back.”

She pulled out of the parking lot, still not looking at you. Guilt curdled in your stomach and you didn’t know what else to say. Your head hung and you weren’t sure what to do. Maybe apologise more. Grovel for forgiveness. Melissa was not a woman to be caught up in bullshit she didn’t agree to and you’d done just that.

“I said I’d bring mac and cheese,” she said.

Your head snapped up. She still wasn’t looking at you, focusing on the road ahead, which given the driving was a good thing. Her lips curled up and you felt your cheeks heat.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, voice small, fingers twisting in your lap.

“Do you want to go on more blind dates?” she asked.

“Not even a little bit,” you replied.

Her eyes flashed over to you then back to the road.

“You better tell me your address or you’ll never get home,” she said.

You directed her to your apartment building, not sure what else to say. She pulled up to the curb, looking up at it with a small wrinkle to her nose. Her approval was clearly lacking and that made your stomach twist again.

“Seriously Melissa,” you said as the silence stretched, “you don’t have to do this. I’ll just tell him.”

“What time should I pick you up tomorrow?” she asked.

And that was the last you talked of coming clean to your friends. She picked you up for the rest of the week as you waited for your car to be fixed, and dropped you off each night. And on Saturday, the day your friend Jenny was hosting a barbecue for Jared’s birthday, she knocked on your door rather than just sending you a one word text to get your attention.

“Hi,” you breathed out, seeing her there on the other side of your door.

Her hair was tied up, jeans and a tank top encasing her body. Casual Melissa was so very delicious, and for the afternoon she was going to be yours. It made no sense. None at all.

“How long do you think this thing’s gonna be?” she asked, pushing past into your apartment.

You followed her, watching her look over the room, eyes lingering on photos and little keepsakes. She picked up one frame, a small smile curling her lips before her expression was wiped clean.

“We don’t have to stay long,” you said, “whenever you want to go feel free to.”

“I’d never leave my girl alone,” she replied, placing the frame down again.

“Right. And I am sorry about this. Really.” You hoped she could hear the earnestness in your voice.

“Stop.” She held a hand up to you, “I’m doing this, aren’t I? If you keep apologising I’m gonna think you don’t want me to.”

“You’re being very kind,” you said, “thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, hon,” she said, “you’re my good deed for the month.”

You gave a weak laugh, picking up your container of watermelon and the cake you’d spent the previous night baking. She took them from your hands before you could ask for help. Locking the door behind you, keeping your face averted, you refused to let her see the impulse to swoon. In less than a week she’d treated you better than past girlfriends ever had.

You settled in the passenger seat, the cake resting on your lap, the wrapped present at your feet. Melissa merged into traffic, taking you closer to the party. You could feel your anxiety rising, not sure how this was going to go. Your friends and Melissa together in the same room, one believing she was your new girlfriend, the other pretending in order to help you… do what? Save face? Not go on any more awful blind dates? Use as blackmail material later down the road?

“I can hear you thinking,” she said, flicking on her indicator.

“Sorry,” you said.

“I’m not gonna give the game away,” she said, “stop worrying.”

“I just… I know you won’t,” you replied.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Why are you doing this? I’m not Barbra, you don’t… we’re not friends like that,” you said.

“Aren’t we?” She turned her head slightly, not quite towards you but not away from you.

“Are we?” You didn’t know that answer.

“Just accept the help, hon,” she sighed, and you didn’t know what the emotion in her voice was.

“Thanks Melissa,” you whispered.

She pulled up outside Jenny’s house, the balloons tied to the letterbox swaying in the air. You looked up at it, your anxiety spiking again. A warm hand landed on your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze.

“C’mon, hon,” Melissa said, “the sooner we go in the sooner you’ll see it’s all fine.”

“Right. Yeah. You’re right,” you said.

She didn’t hold your hand as you walked up to the door, nor did she try to touch you in any intentional way. She stood close enough for you to feel her warmth, but not so close that she was crowding you.

“Ready?” you asked.

Instead of answering, she adjusted her hold on both the mac and cheese she brought and the food you’d made and lent past you, knocking on the door. It took only a moment before the door was pulled open. Jenny was laughing at someone over her shoulder, before turning to look at you.

“Hey,” she said, pulling you into a hug.

You went, still feeling tense. Her eyes turned towards Melissa, interest entering her gaze. They swept over her before turning back to you.

“Is this her?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. Jenny this is Melissa,” you said, turning to her, “Mel, this is my friend Jenny.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Jenny said.

“Yeah, you too. Where can I put this?” she asked, holding the food out to her.

“Oh, the kitchen is this way,” she said, turning on her heels to stride back into the house.

You shared a glance with Melissa before following Jenny inside. She helped Melissa place the containers of food down, looking out of the open door pointed at the backyard. Your friends were gathered, most already with some kind of drink in hand, Carter behind the grill, ominous smoke rising into the sky. Music was playing faintly and there were balloons all over the place.

“You work at Abbott too, right?” Jenny asked.

“Ya,” Melissa said and you realised that involving someone with severe trust issues of anyone she didn’t know was maybe not the best idea.

“She teaches second grade,” you said, “one of the best teachers we have.”

Her head snapped towards you, something unreadable crossing over her face before disappearing. Jenny was watching with interest and you knew you had to do better if you wanted your friends to think you weren’t perpetually single.

“Where’s Jared?” you asked, hoping to distract her from whatever was going on with you and Melissa.

“Outside,” she said, “so Melissa-“

You grabbed Melissa’s arm, tugging her towards the door before Jenny could say anything else. Out of her sight, you let her arm go, stepping down onto the grass. The air smelt of smoke and grass and summer, of days long since gone and days yet to come. You took a deep breath.

“Hey,” Carter said, jogging up to you.

“Hi,” you said, “I brought Melissa.”

“Great to see you again.” He was grinning at the two of you.

You rolled your eyes, shoving past him. Melissa followed you, right on the periphery of your vision, there but not close. Maybe that was a problem. If you were newly in a relationship would there be that much distance between you? Could you reach out and bridge the gap? You weren’t sure you could.

“Hey Jared, happy birthday.”

You thrust out the present in your hands to your friend. Tall and handsome, his charisma had meant he’d done well in life and love. In comparison, you were a hot mess. And yet growing up in neighbouring houses meant you had a friend for life it seemed.

“Thanks,” he said, a lazy smile spreading over his face, “is this the woman who’s finally taken you off the market?”

“This is Melissa,” you said, turning to look at her.

Her green eyes were narrowed and she’d crossed her arms, looking less than friendly. You sighed. You might have seen the softer side of Melissa Schemmenti but she was hardly showcasing it with your friends.

“Congrats on finally being good enough with this one,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “she’s a picky one.”

“Is she?” she raised an eyebrow.

“She has turned down every single person we’ve set her up with for three years,” he said.

“Has she?” She was looking at you with too much interest.

Hopefully she wasn’t putting two and two together. Three years ago you’d started working at Abbott and for three years all your dates were with people who weren’t her. You felt your cheeks heat up and you looked away.

“Glad to see someone broke the curse,” Jared laughed, letting you go, “get drinks. We have all kinds of stuff.”

You wandered off, waving to your friends, Melissa keeping step with you. The cooler was full of ice, drinks nestled inside. You reached down, passing her one of the bottles of beer before taking a soda for yourself. It shouldn’t have been hot watching her open the bottle, but it wasn’t often someone could do it without a bottle opener.

“Three years huh?” she asked after taking a drink from the bottle.

“My friends mean well but they have no idea what I’m looking for in a partner,” you replied with a small shrug.

“That’s a long time to not have one good date,” she said.

You shrugged again, not sure what to say. You weren’t about to admit the real reason was standing in front of you. You weren’t delusional enough to think she’d appreciate it or, god forbid, return your feelings. She could do better than you.

“Holy shit, y’all have to try this mac and cheese,” Henry called out, “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Melissa looked towards them. You chuckled, looking down at your feet scuffing in the grass.

“What?” she asked.

“They’re never going to want to get rid of you now,” you said, “damn you and you’re mouth watering cooking.”

“My what?”

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. She raised her own in response, waiting for an answer.

“Oh come on. You know you’re crazy good at cooking. You brag about it at least three times a week over lunch,” you said, “modesty isn’t a good look on you.”

She laughed, the kind that you desired to hear over and over again. Head thrown back, lips curling up into a beautiful smile, you stared at her doing your best not to have your feelings show all over your face. She nudged you with her shoulder, the laughter dying but her eyes sparkling.

“Jenny said you made this.”

Henry was there, holding the plate of mac and cheese, cheeks bulging from how much he’d put in his mouth. You snorted but you knew what was coming.

“If you break up with her,” he said, turning to you, “we’re taking her side.”

You snorted, “yeah, good luck with that.”

“Seriously,” he said, turning back to Melissa, “how do you do it? This is like the perfect consistency. And the flavour profile is off the charts. Do you do catering?”

“She’s a teacher, Henry. Chill out,” you said, “and I know for a fact Caroline won’t want mac and cheese at the reception. They’re getting married next year.”

That last part was for Melissa. She was growing more incredulous as the conversation continued. She stepped just half a step closer to you, her body warmth once again brushing against you. A small sigh left your lips, shoulders relaxing just a touch more.

“You ain’t getting my secret ingredient,” Melissa said, “but I’m sure I could be convinced to make it again for youse one day.”

“Convince her,” Henry said to you.

You watched him walk away, slapping Jenny’s hand away when she tried to steal some of it.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” you said, turning to look at her.

“Do what?” she asked.

“Pretend like you’re going to be around forever,” you replied, “you never have to come to another one of these things.”

“Hon, let me decide if I’ll be back. You just worry your pretty little head about having a fun time with your friends,” she said.

Warmth bloomed in your chest. Her hand slid into yours, palm brushing against palm until her fingers tangled with yours. Your heart skipped a beat, the touch of skin against skin making you feel breathless. Her smile softened, hand tightening.

“Go have fun, sweetheart,” she said, gently pushing you towards the group gathering close by.

You kept half an eye on her as you joined your friends, tracking her movements through the afternoon. She mostly kept close to the grill, and after a few false starts, seemed to charm your friends. Watching her, it only cemented that you’d made the right choice on having a crush on her, as if you’d have any chance not to.

“I like her,” Jenny said, “and you obviously do too.”

She nudged you and Jared laughed.

“Well, yeah, I’m dating her,” you said, doing your best not to trip on the word.

“And you look at her like she’s even better than her mac and cheese,” Jared said.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“You’re the definition of heart eyes,” she said, “when you look at her you get all melty and soft.”

“I do not,” you protested.

“You so do,” she laughed, “you get that dopey smile whenever you look at her.”

“And you look at her a lot,” Jared said.

You didn’t know how to refute the claim without giving the whole game away. You sighed, eyes flicking up, as they had all day, to find Melissa. She was already watching you, those green eyes shining when they met yours.

“See? That’s the expression,” Jenny crowed.

“Lucky for you, short stack,” Jared said, resting his arm around your shoulders, “she seems just as besotted with you.”

Now that was going a step too far.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Be nice,” you said, ducking out from under his arm.

Inside the house, away from the prying questions and and knowing looks, you could breath easier. You locked yourself away in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror over the sink. Your fingers clenched, thoughts racing. On the one hand it was good that you were selling the lie to your friends, on the other you hadn’t meant to show your actual feelings and didn’t want it getting back to Melissa. She’d know. Of course she’d know.

Cold water splashed up on your face and you put your game face back on. If you could keep it under wraps during school hours you could keep it under wraps now. You patted your face dry and slipped back into the house proper.

“So what’s your intentions with our girl?”

You paused just out of sight, listening in. Your friends, bless their hearts, were doing their whole Spanish Inquisition act and you couldn’t pretend like you weren’t interested in seeing how she smacked them down. There was no doubt in your mind she wouldn’t put up with their inane questions.

“I want to make her happy,” she replied and you could see the way she would be shooting them a look telling them how idiotic she found the question. As if her answer was obvious.

“Good answer,” Henry said.

“Could be practiced,” Jared said.

“Rehearsed even,” Carter said.

“Why her?” Jenny asked.

“What?” You could hear the offence settling into her voice.

“Why choose her?” Jenny asked, “and be careful. There is a right answer.”

You internally groaned, leaning against the wall. More than once someone had decided you weren’t worth it after going through this process. That the scrutiny wasn’t worth it. Melissa had to bring her A game if she was going to get through it.

“Why wouldn’t I choose her?” Melissa asked.

“She works too much,” Henry said.

“She eats too much sugar,” Jared said.

“She’s a mess,” Carter said.

“So why her?” Jenny asked.

“You say she works too much. I say she’s passionate. I haven’t seen such a talented young teacher in a long time. And yes, she eats like a kid with too much money let loose in a candy store. But she’ll share it with anyone she thinks needs it to the point where she’ll go without. And she’s not a mess. She’s doing the best she can and she’s doing it pretty damn well. I don’t know if youse don’t see her clearly enough but if that’s the only way you see her then it’s pathetic that youse call yourself her friends. I ain’t never seen someone who makes life brighter than she does. She is kind and talented and she cares so much it’s made her physically sick before. If youse think there is any reason I wouldn’t choose her, you’re wrong. So don’t give me stupid excuses to not want her. It won’t work. I’ve been choosing her longer than you know.”

It felt as if your knees were going to give out beneath you. You trembled, pressing back against the wall, doing your best to not slide down it. Your breathing, where you’d been holding it to listen to her, was now ragged. You had to pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, forcing yourself to push the tears back.

No one had ever said anything like that about you before.

“You didn’t even mention how hot she is,” Jared said.

You pressed your hand to your lips to keep the wet laugh from making a sound.

“Her being hot is just an extra benefit. I’m not with her because she’s hot. I’m with her because she’s the sun,” Melissa said, scoffing at your friend.

Your mouth fell open. You had no idea Melissa could have been so poetic, especially without giving her a heads up that this might happen. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest and you had no idea how you were going to face her now. You ached, deep within you, to reach out to her, to press yourself to her, to bury your face in her neck until you weren’t sure where you ended and she began. Curling your arms around your body, you held on, desperate to keep yourself from falling apart.

“Good enough for ya?” Melissa asked into the silence left behind in the wake of her words.

There was a general grumbled agreement before footsteps began to sound again. You wiped the vulnerable skin under your eyes, brushing away the tears. You steeled yourself, straightening your spine, clenching your jaw. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the kitchen again.

“There you are,” Jenny called, sticking candles into the cake you’d made for Jared.

Melissa was still there, looking out the door into the backyard. You sidled up to her, shoulder brushing against shoulder. She looked down at you and you couldn’t begin to unpack the expression on her face.

“You okay?” You asked, lowering your voice to keep Jenny from hearing.

“Perfect, hon,” she replied.

Her arm curled around your waist, so warm, making you only want to press yourself against her more. Your head fell on her shoulder, resting there, scared it would be too much for her and yet not able to stop yourself from seeking out her touch.

“Come on, you two,” Jenny said, “we got cake to eat.”

Melissa’s hand slid back into yours, and as you sang happy birthday to your friend, you felt your heart in your throat and your body yearning for her. As Jared lent forward to blow out the candles, she looked down at you, smiling softly, eyes sparkling down at you. You found yourself leaning towards her, drawn in by her gravity. She let your hand go, arm sliding around your waist, hand now resting on your hip, burning through the denim of your jeans. Your breath hitched and her eyes flicked down to your lips, her own pulling up in a small smirk.

You had no idea what to do with the way she was looking at you.

“Melissa,” Jenny said, stealing her attention, breaking whatever spell was woven over the two of you, “have you had any of our girl’s baking yet?”

“I made her a tiramisu for her last birthday,” you called to her.

“You made that? Shit, hon, I thought you’d bought it,” she said.

Had you revealed too much? No. No, you couldn’t have.

“Course I made it,” you replied with a small shrug, “no big deal.”

Something in her softened.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Her lips pressed to your temple, soft and addictive and your breath caught in your chest. Your skin tingled with electricity and if you could bottle a single moment of your life it would be that one to revisit any time you wanted. It would feed you for the rest of your life.

There was a collective aw from your friends. Your cheeks heated and you had to look away, scared they’d see too much. That Melissa would see too much. Her arm tightened around you and you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Do you want some cake?” Melissa asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, cheeks still hot enough to fry an egg on.

You took a slice from Jenny, waiting to see Melissa’s reaction before taking your own bite. Her eyes slid closed and she made a noise so filthy you thought you were going to have a heart attack. It sent a shot of pleasure right between your legs and you felt your eyes widened as you looked at her. Her eyes blinked open, hooded and seductive, and you had to swallow past the lump in your throat.

“I’m going to marry you just to have access to this cake for the rest of my life,” she said, voice husky.

You laughed, a little uncomfortable even while the thought was pleasant. Being Melissa Schemmenti’s wife. It was one of those fantasies you tried not to indulge in too much. You shoved a forkful of your own cake into your mouth to keep from saying anything stupid in response.

“I wanna open presents,” Jared whined, mouth half full of cake.

Jenny laughed, shoving him over to the table of nicely wrapped gifts. He tore through wrapping paper, uncaring of the mess he was making. Melissa was still holding you, but was focused on him, no longer making you feel as if you were about to faint from the pressure of her gaze. Your head lent against her shoulder again, watching Jared holding up the awful sweatshirt you’d bought him with the president’s face on it. He was grinning at you before pulling it on despite the warmth and the sun.

“I look so hot,” he said, looking down at himself.

“You look sweaty,” Harry said, shoving at him.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you wish you had this sweet piece of ass,” he replied.

“I’ll keep my own piece of ass thank you,” he said, “she at least knows how to shower.”

“How about we don’t call women pieces of ass?” Jenny suggested.

“Sorry, Jen,” he said, “but you know what I mean.”

“And I hate it,” she said.

You laughed, pressing your face into Melissa’s shoulder to muffle it. You felt her nose brush against your temple, her own chuckle soft. Warmth bloomed through your chest, embers of fire floating through your bloodstream. You pressed more to her, hoping it would stop you from doing something stupid, like press your lips to the skin under your face. Her lips brushed your temple and you felt yourself freeze.

Cold water splashed against your stomach. You shriek, flinging yourself out of Melissa’s arms. Jared had levelled a water gun at you, huge and intimidating, the box it had come from lying at his feet. He lifted it and you ran backwards, cursing at him as you took refuge in the kitchen. Melissa was following you, looking no more like she wanted to be soaked than you did. But still, you were laughing as you looked out the window at them, the shiver of your wet shirt barely noticed while you watched the boys battling it out in the grass.

“You alright, hon?” Melissa asked.

You looked over, finding her leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes travelling over your body. Your cheeks heated again.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“You’re going to get sick if you stay in those wet clothes,” she said and you knew she didn’t mean it to sound like such an invitation.

“I’ll be fine,” you brushed off, turning away to keep her from seeing the moment of longing on your face.

Warm hands settled on your hips, pulling you back against a soft body and all thoughts fled from your head. You lent back against her, unconscious of your actions and yet desperate for it. Her breath ghosted against the shell of your ear.

“Let me take you home to change,” she said, “Ava doesn’t have the money for a sub if you get a cold.”

Of course. Of course it was about work. Even if a shiver went down your spine and a whimper threatened fall from your lips. You’d never felt such a deep well of want for another person before.

“Okay,” you whispered.

She gave your hips a squeeze before letting you go, stepping back. Thoughts flooded back in, the throb between your legs making you feel shaky. You tottered over to the door.

“Hey, assholes, we’re heading off,” you called to the boys, Jenny standing by the door as if daring the boys to try and soak her.

The chorus of complaints made you smile, shaking your head with such fondness it almost hurt. Jenny gave you a tight hug, ignoring how wet your shirt was, leaving a wet patch on her own. Jared lifted you off your feet, swinging you in a circle. You were laughing and holding on for dear life but his strength was everything. Henry have you a one arms hug, the other holding the water pistol, trying to fight off Carter. He grabbed your face with both hands, kissing you with a loud smack on your forehead.

You turned back to wave from the door before your hand was sliding into Melissa’s again and you were being led out the front door. Settling into her car, you let out a sigh, one that spoke of happiness and contentment. You lent back in your seat, the smile on your face wide, all encompassing, until the muscles in your cheek began to hurt.

“Thank you,” you said, “that was a really good afternoon.”

“Your friends are interesting,” Melissa said, pulling out onto the road.

“They mean well,” you said, “sorry if they… I dunno. Made you uncomfortable or something.”

“They didn’t,” she assured you.

“You don’t have to lie. I heard them grilling you,” you said, not quite able to look at her. You hadn’t planned on bringing it up, but the words spilled from your lips without permission.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable, hon,” she said but her voice was tight.

You sighed, shuffling in your seat until you were looking at her. Her hands had tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles growing white. You wanted to reach out to her but didn’t know how, not without making her unhappy with you.

“You answered really well,” you said, hoping it would calm her.

Her eyes flicked to you then back to the road, hands tightening. Still she said nothing. Your fingers twisted together in your lap, anxiety building again. The nice afternoon was being washed away, the calm you’d felt as you’d climbed into the car nothing but a memory.

“Melissa,” you said, hoping the words would come as you spoke.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she snapped before you could say anything more.

“I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable. And I’m sorry for eavesdropping,” you said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I could have stopped them and not… heard.”

“It’s fine,” she said, grip tightening even further, “we’re going to ignore it ever happened.”

“But what you said was so nice. I know you were only saying it so they’d believe we were together but… no one’s ever said anything like that about me,” you said, disappointment making your heart sink.

“What do you mean I only said that for them?” she asked, voice tight.

“Well, you were selling it, right? Helping convince them of the stupid lie I told Carter. Weren’t you?” You didn’t know what she was getting at.

Her head turned towards you again before back to the road.

“Hon.” You’d do anything to stop her sounding that way, like she was in pain.

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“I don’t suppose you do,” she sighed.

The silence that settled over you wasn’t comfortable. It made your skin itch and you wanted to do something to fix it. To make everything better.

“You called me the sun,” you whispered.

Her foot slammed down on the break. You jerked forward, the seatbelt cutting into you. You took a sharp inhalation, hand massaging your chest. Turning towards her, you found her already staring back at you. You stopped breathing.

“Because you are the sun, hon. To me, at least. And I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it. You need to know. You light up a room when you walk in and you’re so fucking bright. Sometimes I can’t even look at you,” burst from her, “fuck, hon, when you look at me like that I can’t think.”

“What?” You couldn’t be sure you weren’t dreaming.

“I didn’t agreed to this whole stupid thing for you,” she said, “I did it because I wanted to know what it would feel like to be yours. I was being selfish.”

“Melissa,” you breathed, overcome with the strength of your emotions.

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare. We’re going to forget this ever happened. We’re never going to talk about it. This is done,” she said, beginning to drive again.

You sat in silence, not sure how to tell her that was the opposite of what you wanted. If you never said anything then you’d never have everything you wanted. You were watching her, taking note of the way she was pointedly not looking at you.

She pulled up outside your apartment building. She sat there, still not looking at you, while you looked to her. She glanced over to you then back out the windscreen, face stoic and unfeeling.

“Go on,” she said, “what are you waiting for? An invitation?”

You continued looking at her until she huffed and turned to look at you too.

“I’ve never gone on more than a first date with anyone in three years because three years ago I met you,” you said, ignoring the disgruntled look on her face, “and since that moment I knew.”

“Knew what?” she asked.

“There wouldn’t be anyone else for me. You were it. Everything I ever wanted.”

“Don’t you fucking make fun of me,” she spat.

“Mel…”

You final bridged the gap, reaching out to her, fingers soft as they touched her wrist. She jerked back from you and it was like having your heart torn out from your chest. You were so close to having what you wanted.

“Melissa,” you said, trying again, “I want you so much it hurts. It’s like this physical ache in my heart. I look at you and it throbs like an open wound. You might think I’m the sun, but you’re the very earth beneath my feet. Solid and grounding and life giving. You’re the air I breath. I think about you all the time. To the point where I can’t sleep at night. I’m sorry. I know I’m being really intense. But you need to know how much I’m not making fun of you. I never would. Not like this.”

You’d been watching her face so closely, desperate to know what she was thinking. From anger to disbelief into something that was almost fear. Your hand landed on her wrist again, holding on now, desperate for her not to pull away again. You needed her to listen to you, to really understand what you were saying.

“What are you saying?” she whispered.

“I am hopeless and completely in love with you, Melissa,” you said, “but I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

She let out a long shaky breath, staring at you as if trying to work out where the lie was. You tightened your grip on her wrist. Her eyes shot down to it then back to you.

“You’re in love with me? Even when I’m so much older? When I can’t offer you anything?” she demanded.

“You can offer yourself and that’s really all I want,” you replied, “it’s all I’ve wanted for three years.”

Her hand rose, hovering over your cheek, before curling around the back of your neck and pulling you in. You whimpered into her mouth, lips sliding along lips. It wasn’t elegant and it wasn’t graceful, but it made your heart pound. She sighed, kissing you harder, as if trying to chase away the voices in her own head. You were swimming in want; wanting her closer, wanting more, wanting everything. Her fingers buried themselves in your hair, holding you there as her tongue sought out yours, making your head spin.

When she drew back, you were gasping for breath. Her lips were kiss stung and her eyes were bright. You surged forward, kissing her again, uncaring of the seatbelt and the centre console and awkward angle. You needed her like you needed air. She was your air. She was your everything.

She was always going to be your everything.

“Hon,” she mumbled against your lips, “wait a moment.”

You froze before reeling back. You never wanted her to ever be uncomfortable with you. You never wanted her to feel pressure or forced into anything.

Her fingers were still buried in the hair at the nape of your neck. She tugged on it and a shudder went through your body. Her eyes were smouldering and when her tongue ran along her bottom lip you groaned, loud in the enclosed space. She chuckled, tugging on your hair again.

“Let me take you out tonight,” she said, voice husky and you could hear how she was holding herself back, “please.”

“Like on a date?” you asked, breathless and desperate, thighs pressing together as you squirmed in your seat.

“Exactly like on a date,” she replied.

“Yeah.” You nodded, “yeah I’d like that.”

“Good.”

She lent forward, lips pressing to yours again. You whined into her mouth, not able to stop yourself. You wanted her so much it was making you lose all control. She pulled back again, sitting back, removing her hands from you. You tried to pull her back but she pushed you into your seat, making you almost cry out from your need for her.

“Go make yourself pretty for me, hon,” she said, eyes darkening when they swept over your body thrumming with desire, “I’ll pick you up tonight.”

“You don’t want to come up?” you asked, knowing how desperate you sounded.

“I do, but I won’t.” Disappointment plummeted through your body, “when I have you I’m taking my time to explore every inch of your body. I want to know everything that turns you on. We don’t have time for that before our date. Go on.”

“You’ll really come pick me up?” you asked, surprised you could still form coherent sentences after her declaration.

“Nothing could stop me,” she said, smiling at you with such wickedness it had your thighs clenching again.

You stumbled from the car, looking back at her. She was watching you, not even pretending not to. You waved to her from the door of your building, heart thundering, anticipation building, desire thrumming. She raised her own hand to you and you had to clench on the door handle lest you flung yourself back into the car and into her lap.

You had a date to go get ready for.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine #melissa schemmenti

[ectoplasmer]

recent brainrot. private investigator ryou

#THERE’S A REASON sort of #there have been two fics that I have read where he was either a pi or detective #and like. i am. in love even more so than i was #I DUNNO THE WRITERS JUST FIND A WAY TO CHARACTERIZE HIM IN SUCH A GOOD WAY AND SGDKDHSKD #i’ve had brain worms over it for the past like two weeks #send help #i read both fics forever ago but. it’s just been infesting my mind recently #i like thinking he’d be really good at observing and connecting things #(prodding specifically at his mbti being infp which could point towards a fi-si loop like i get sometimes) #full blown cork board red strings post-it notes etc #i think he’d be the type to pick up cold cases just to try and solve them himself #i’m not even sure what about this idea makes me so happy but just. agahsgajsh i like the idea a lot I guess <33 #ryou is good in all depictions and forms. i love him <333 #ALSO you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn’t be interested in forensics. on god #he’s so weird and a nerd and lowkey off putting sometimes and i love that about him #anyway. beloved <3 #spookyshipping

[moonstruckme]

hiiiiii🩷 It’s P 😊😊I was just wondering if I could request something a little bit self indulgent 🫠

Just a small thing about Remus comforting r for being anxious about having to start wearing glasses and being a bit embarrassed to wear them 🩷🩷🩷🩷

me from now on : 🤓🤓

have a lovely day 💋💋💋

Hi P! Thanks for requesting lovely <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 763 words

You’re trying not to squint at the menu behind the barista, but an ache blooms in your temples anyway. You give up, looking away. You and Remus are still a few places back in the line. You’ll read it once you get closer. 

“What’re you thinking, dove?” 

“Hm?” You glance up at your boyfriend, but he’s staring at the menu. 

“What’re you thinking of getting?” he clarifies, his quiet voice barely reaching you over the chatter of conversation and whirring of machinery behind the counter. 

“Oh. I’m not sure,” you answer honestly, “what’re you thinking?” 

“I’m sort of intrigued by the orange clove latte, but the dark chocolate and mint one sounds good too.” 

“Mm, yeah.” You turn back towards the menu, your voice wavering with uncertainty. “Those both look good.” 

“Dove.” 

“Mhm?” You look at Remus again, and this time he’s looking back. 

“Where are your glasses?” 

You hesitate a second before patting the side of your bag soundly, feeling the bulge of your glasses case within. “I’ve got them,” you say. 

“You don’t want to wear them?” he implores. There’s a funny squint to his eyes, not entirely unlike your own. More teasing. “I doubt you can read the menu from all the way back here, sweetheart. Why don’t you put them on?” 

You grimace but don’t argue, digging for them in your bag and sliding them onto the bridge of your nose. The relief is instant, but so is the self-consciousness. You feel as though the difference in your appearance must be glaring. That when people look at you, your glasses must be all they can see. 

Remus senses your unease, slipping his hand into yours. He worms his fingers between your own. 

“I could tell you were having one of your headaches,” he murmurs, and now the details of his expression are startlingly clear. Every line of it is shaped by a tender, aching fondness. “You get a bit of tension right,” he brings his other hand to your face, running his thumb over the skin just above your brow, “here. It goes away when you put them on.” 

It’s both touching and embarrassing to be so thoroughly known. You rest your head on Remus’ bicep, cheeks warming. He doesn’t comment on it. 

By the time you get to the front of the line, you both know what you want, and afterwards you step to the side to wait for your drinks. 

Remus is watching you, a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

“What?” you ask.

“Sorry, nothing.” He shakes his head. “You just look really cute in your glasses, you know?” 

You scoff. A cynical exhale that sounds more like a snort. Remus’ eyebrows go up. “You don’t have to say that,” you tell him. 

“I don’t feel like I have to,” he defends himself. “It’s fairly obvious. Don’t you like them?” 

You’re somehow even more aware of them than you were five seconds ago, touching your finger to the bridge to push the frames up an extra millimeter. “It’s like having an intruder on my face,” you joke lightly. 

Remus chuckles, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze. “You’re just not used to them,” he promises. “As someone who’s seen your face both with and without and loves it very much, I can testify that they don’t interfere with the general effect. You’re still lovely.” 

Neither of you can quite look at each other as he says it, though when you lean into his side a bit in thanks, he leans back. 

The barista calls out your order, and you both pick up your drinks, claiming a table by the window. 

“I’m shackled to iced coffee for the rest of my days,” you grouse, sipping your drink from a straw. “Hot drinks are too inconvenient, with the way they fog up my glasses.” 

“You always want iced ones,” Remus points out. 

You shrug like well yeah, but that’s not the point, and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly. They slip closed as he sips from his own cup. He’d gone with the odder one, orange and clove, and he seems uncertain about the taste, letting it sit on his tongue for a bit. 

“Interesting,” he decides. “Want to try?” 

You reach for the cup curiously. He passes it to you, and you blow on it out of instinct, immediately penalized when your vision is obscured. 

“Ugh.” You pull your face back from the cup, trying to see through your foggy lenses. “So annoying.” 

Even through the mist, you can see Remus’ lips curve in a smile. “Adorable.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x self insert #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin one shot #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[signedkoko]

Hello! I just found your blog and oh my god I’m obsessed and I’ve read everything

Can I request some fluffy lucifer and Lilith x fem reader who’s really sweet and ultra feminine? Like 9/10 she’s always wearing a dress or a skirt long or short doesn’t matter, loves doing her makeup and doing her hair? and puts hella effort into her appearance on the daily not for her husband and wife but just for herself and because she can?

Lucifer X Reader X Lilith [Comfort]

In which you're as feminine as they come, and both Lucifer and Lilith adore that trait in you.

Lilith likes having you around, because since Charlie grew up theres been a bit of a hole of girl time in her schedule

Being able to give you advice and go to only the best spas in hell, leaving Lucifer behind to enjoy some company time

One of the best parts is when you do her makeup, she always does yours because she was trained from her dancer days, but when you do hers its so gentle

Telling her the purpose of each tool even if she's heard it a million times, each colour and shade, and the small peck you give her when you're done

Lilith is especially amazing with hair, and after helping you doll yourself up for the day its nice to get a good thirty minutes in just stroking through your well maintained hair and decide what'd frame your outfit best

Sometimes when she does your lipstick, she puts it on her and kisses it onto you to give it what she calls 'a faded makeout session look'

Well, it looks good, so who are you to complain

On the other hand, Lucifer is big on fashion and always makes sure he looks like he is making a statement, so he always bring syou back clothes which he has a tailor fix to your exact curve

He always tries to match with you but Lilith tells him off because she doesnt want you to match whatever santa clause aesthetic he has going on

The public loves you, marked as the newest and hottest addition tot heir relationship, which they encourage and tell you about

Lilith will bring you to her magazine shoots and insist only you can style her makeup and hair, though unfortunately they always draw the line at clothes

She thinks you'd dress her better than whatever they do

Charlie is also happy you wormed your way into their hearts, because you are a lot less intensive than her biological parents, and she appreciates how much you visit her

When you suggest Charlie join you and Lilith for some getaways, they both love the idea, so now you get some mothers to daughter time

Author's Note - Back to writing I am actually writing from the airport atm because I am heading back home for christmas! I will have a ton of time to write during that time, since I have now wrapped up my exams. Lucky me! I am 3 pina coladas in and ready for takeoff 🛫

Ayyways, thank you for requesting these two, I actually love poly with them so much and there is not enough of it out there (I would know, I read it all), so I hope I met your expectations 🖤

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #lilith #lilith x reader #lucifer #lucifer x reader

[reiding-writing]

congrats on 1000 followers!! I love your fics sm <333

could I request early seasons!spencer x bau!reader with prompts 12&19 from the general dialogue list?

maybe some inexperienced!reader and fluff??

A MUTUAL SECRET [CLIMACTERIC]

12. “You can’t tell anyone. Seriously. Even them.”

19. “I think about you all the time.”

WARNINGS: N/A

s1!spencer reid x gn!reader || fluff || 1.0k || climacteric event!!

a/n: tyy <333 this was so cute to write man 😭

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ event masterlist!!

Oh to think that you’d managed to worm your way into a relationship with Spencer Reid.

More like he’d wormed himself into a relationship with you.

First it was him making an extra coffee and sitting it on your desk. Then it was waiting for you before leaving the office so you could get the metro together. Then it was inviting you over for movie nights and getting tickets for the philharmonic orchestra.

And then all of a sudden you were going out for dinner and he’d bought you flowers and then you were kissing under your porch canopy.

It was a lot.

It was the first real relationship you’d ever had. The first serious relationship. A relationship that involved full transparency and trust and vulnerability that you’d never shared with somebody before.

“Can we uh, talk for a second?” You dump your go-bag on your hotel bed, watching as he does the same for his own. You’d managed to pair up pretty inconspicuously, the hotels were usually doubled up for simplicity reasons, and you and Spencer being so close even before you got together allowed you to snatch him as your roommate with no suspicion from any of your teammates.

“Yeah, are- are you alright?” Spencer furrows his eyebrows in concern, walking around his bed towards yours, rubbing his hand deftly over your left bicep. “Is something wrong?”

“No no it’s nothing like that,” You shake your head quickly, bringing up your right hand to rest on the curve of his neck. “I just wanted to speak about something with you,”

“Okay…” He gives you a small nod, offering no resistance as you guide him to sit on the edge of the bed with you, your hands sliding down his arms to hold his.

“So,” You give his hands a soft squeeze as you start, trying to shatter the growing anxiety in his irises before it can wash over his entire face. “I really like you Spencer, and these last few months have arguably been the best of my life, even with all the crazy shit we go through at work,”

You laugh toward the end of your sentence, and it’s contagious enough for a smile to break out onto his face as well, but that small well of anxiousness still lingered behind his gaze, anticipating the turn of the conversation. “But..?”

“But nothing,” You let go of one of his hands to cup the side of his face, your thumb rubbing over his cheek. “I look forward to where this relationship is headed,”

“Okay- uh- me too…” He nods slowly against your palm, bringing his hand up to cover your own. “So, what is this about then..?”

“I know we’re profilers, and no one really listens to the ‘don’t profile your team’ rule, but uh, I’m not sure that I’m ready to them that were… together yet,”

“Oh- right yeah- that’s- that’s it? That’s all?” You can see his eyes visibly relax at your confession, like he’s physically relived it’s not something worse.

“You’re not- upset? Angry?”

“Why would I be?” He turns his head further into your hand. “Our relationship is about me and you, not the team,” He laughs softly against your palm, one that you reciprocate with a soft smile.

“Good- good okay…” You laugh softly with a short nod. “I’ve been uh thinking about how to bring it up to you, a lot, I think about you a lot in general though, like most of the time actually—”

“I think about you all the time,” Spencer’s confession cuts off your own, and you both stare at each other blankly for a few seconds before bursting into a shared fit of quiet giggles.

It was like the two of you were a pair of teenagers in your first ever relationship. To be fair it was your first ever relationship. For the both of you.

“Seriously though—” Once your giggles subsided you tugged him closer to you, resting your foreheads together. “You can’t tell anyone, seriously, even them okay? Not until we’ve got this properly figured out,”

“Sounds good to me,” he nods against you gently, bumping your noses together. “I still get to keep you either way,”

“I’m all yours Doc,” You link your arms around his neck, leaning forward like you’re going in for a kiss and swerving at the last second to bury your head into his shoulder and pull him down until you’re both laying flat across the mattress of your twin-sized hotel bed.

“I think this bed is a little small to support the both of us-” Spencer laughs as he turns onto his side, anchoring his hand over your waist. “why don’t we—”

“—push them together?”

“Push them together?”

The two of you sound like synched metronomes with how perfectly you match suggestions, and it’s enough to send you both into another fit of giggles as you nod enthusiastically at your shared idea.

“Okay, you get this one and i’ll get the other one,” Spencer sits up with pointed fingers as he lays out your plan, and the giggling for continues right up until you’re both tucked up under the sheets like two desperately in love peas in a pod.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #mgg #climacteric 🪶