#(mostly just in case I'm not sure if it counts or not) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orangez3st · 3 days ago

Text

Coruscant's Bests: Under Pressure

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.14.25: Future | Event Masterlist

↤ Prev [Wolffe × Nico] | ↤ Prev [Fox × Lesiil] | Part 5 of 5

Tags & Warnings: established relationship, star wars swear words (no irl foul language), criminal investigation, graphic description of victim’s body (just bits heh, pun intended), mentions of suicide, mostly conversations, fluff, comfort Character(s): Fox, Lesiil (OC), Wolffe, Nico (OC), BD-6 (Lesiil’s droid), side OC’s (Eisen, Veeli, Titus) Pairing(s): Wolffe × Nico, Fox × Lesiil Word Count: 10.9k A/N: Surprise crossover! For [Wolffe × Nico]’s part, this can be perfectly read as a standalone. But if you're here by [Fox × Lesiil]’s part, this is gonna be a really big spoiler for [Wolffe × Nico]’s story. Go check them out starting here if you're interested! Ah and, the ‘Future’ theme is for [Fox/Lesiil] bcs this is quite a(n unspecified) time skip since the Corrie Butcher case. Mostly this'll be Fox's POV. Also I'm serving a little LesFox fluff 🥹 Additional warning (also a note as to why I don't mark this as NSFW): There's only a pinch of implied sexual acts (worded as “it”) due to the NSFW happening in Wolffe's previous installment. Other than that, the rest of this fic is completely SFW (but do mind the tags above before reading below).

“Ocean spirits give me strength,” Eisen sighs. He pauses for a moment, planting both hands on his hips. “As much as I don't like him, this is straight up grotesque. Poor guy.”

His attention remains fixated on the bloodied pavement where there's a pile of… unrecognizable chunks of someone.

He wouldn't narrate further to himself. Instead, he squeezes his eyes close, his tendrils flicking in discomfort, and turns his body slightly around to face one wall of the tent.

CSF was called in merely seconds after the incident, a flurry of panicked comm calls flooding their emergency line. And one report from police droids on patrol later, the purple Nautolan detective is assigned as lead investigator. Apparently, it turns out to be another high-profile case. Of someone high-profile too, because the body belongs to Shon Vatore, an A-list actor and filmmaker nominated for Osk’arr Awards tonight.

He’d cheer if only the scene wasn't so gnarly.

“Keeping up with the gossip column, Detective?” one of the crime scene analysts strikes up a conversation.

Eisen had ended up walking towards the tent entrance anyway, not wanting to stay a second longer and trample around the area where the body is. “Oh you know me. Always up to date with this kind of thing!” he lightly responds, half-exclaiming. “I’ll be outside if you need me. I can't look at this, sorry. Too much for me.”

He’d been keeping up with the Osk'arr Awards that streamed live while working on some flimsiwork at his desk back at the station. Once he got home, he was just about to sprawl on his worn couch for late night bites with holos and chill when the Inspector rang him. Now his appetite is completely nonexistent.

Coruscant tonight reeks with tragedy and loss. It had been a night of glamour and celebration with all those celebrities attending the awards, but now the entire street where the official after-party was held is closed off and empty. Perimeters are set to prevent the media breathing down their necks. Police officers and on-site investigators, droids and natborns alike, scatter on and about their own businesses.

Before he can march away to help asking the witnesses, his personal commlink beeps of an incoming call. Once reading the name of the caller, he brightens up with a massive toothy grin splitting his face.

“Hey there, partner! What's up?”

“Evening, Eisen. Sorry to disrupt your work,” Lesiil's pleasant voice comes through, and he swears he can hear claps and cheers from the audience somewhere beyond the fourth wall. “Would you mind if I cut to the chase?”

Her urgent tone catches him off guard. “Uh yeah, sure sure.” He moves to a spot on the street that no one walks by. “What's this about?”

“With the ceaseless expression of tearful shock coming from my classmate combined with the Inspector giving me a call, I assume your team needs my help?”

He stares blankly at the pavement before pacing around. “Back up Les, I think I lost you. Inspector called you?”

“Oh, so you weren't told yet, then,” Lesiil is heard mumbling, sounding as confused as he is, before continuing carefully, “Yes, he did. The high-profile case that's taking over the holonews right now?”

“You mean the pile of mangled flesh and bone in white and gold Arrrma’ni? Oh yeah.” As an avid entertainment follower, he of course kept up with the red carpet stills– “Wait, what the heck are you– your help, Les? But you already resigned!”

“Inspector told me that Chief told him to close this case as fast as it was cracked open. I am to provide counsel in this case, so I'm acting consulting detective,” she elaborates calmly, “This case is highly risky to be let simmer too long as it could affect the Motion Picture Academy's public image in the coming future. If we could close this tomorrow, we should.” A pause, her tone growing lighter as she adds, “Chief's words, all that. Not mine.”

“Yeah I'd say this is tragic,” Eisen agrees, taking the information thoroughly to be put into later flimsiwork, “But there's a part of the galaxy that's probably celebrating right now.”

“How do you mean?”

“Right, I forgot you're not into films. You might wanna catch up to it since you're in this case anyway.” He refrains from rolling his eyes due to respect, and that Lesiil had worked with him for a long time. “Might as well brief you about the victim. Shon Vatore, Nic Erlonna’s toxic ex boyfriend. Both A-list actors. Broke up a year ago, made headlines ‘cause they were this dreamy power couple, okay? I shipped them too. But when the truth came out, I couldn't even look at this guy's face anymore. Pantoran charms, but all rotten inside. He was just the worst of the worst.”

“I see,” Lesiil solemnly says, humming. “And this Nic Erlonna? I have heard about her. Fox told me she's in relationship with Commander Wolffe.”

Eisen isn't surprised. “Yeah. You know Wolffe?”

“Of course. He was Railuu’s battalion commander. Good man, that Wolffe.”

“Right? They're so in love. Nicolffe, I mean.”

“It seems so!” She clears her throat. “Well, as much as I'd love to stay on the comm, I have an academic urgency coming up tomorrow so I'm unable to be out there with you. How about you take Beedee in my stead?”

For absolutely not comical purposes Eisen takes a look around cautiously before asking into the commlink, “Isn't that going against Chief's orders?”

“I will handle the consequences. I’m sure there's an alibi I can use since my study in law school is ongoing. This is called going around the rules, Eisen,” Lesiil says, as if she'd already planned this through before comming him, “And BD-6 is as good as me with his scans. Don't forget he's modified specifically as a competent crime scene analyst.” A little pause. “Isn’t that right, Beedee?”

A familiar trill goes through the comm.

Eisen melts a little inside. “I miss Beedee,” he nearly pouts. “Yeah okay, I'll take him down here. But I can't pick him up, I have to stay here.”

“Have one of the officers come by to my apartment, then?”

No. Not since one of the cases they handled together before Lesiil got assigned to the Coruscant Guard where BD-6 was badly damaged by a suspect because these officers couldn't give a shit to watch out for the droid's wellbeing. Eisen’s trust dwindles to their own police officers since then just a little because, well, they're the men of the unit. He needs to work with them. Just not trusting them with Lesiil's droid, is all.

“Ooohh I have a better idea.” He bites his lip to prevent himself from smiling. “And you'll definitely agree with me on this one, Les.”

[STATEMENT] It's been a while since I'm out at night.

Fox glances back and forth, between the binary translation transcript that hovers in one corner of his HUD (a generous modification by Thire) and BD-6, who's clinging to his backplate and the gap between his shoulder bell, the droid’s rectangular head looming over his shoulder. “A while?” he asks.

[STATEMENT] Lesiil goes home from her classes on the dot. Never have an evening out either.

Beneath his helmet, Fox sighs. “Why am I not surprised.”

He parks his speeder a block away due to the set perimeter for the entire street, and now he's forced to reach destination by foot.

Thinking about Lesiil and warm nights shared together – once or twice or perhaps thrice a week if he's not cramped up with senatorial demands and planet-wide security – makes his chest blooming with warmth. They've been together for months now, and everything is looking steady, personal boundaries kept as it is, their relationship tinged with mutual care and love for each other. He's never touched this phase of a relationship before, and overall it always feels special.

And such fact there is, it makes him sometimes turn to relationship advices. To Wolffe. To Bly. Heck, even the holoarticles in the net that's written by evident hopeless romantics who works three part time jobs to survive. It all seems sensible, but it always leaves him uncertain of what he'll do again, and the cycle always goes like that. Lesiil never complains or demands too much, as they, undeniably and excessively, buried under either work or projects.

Fox deliberately snails his pace along the dimmed pavement that's sparse of people yet, blue and purple lights of the planet that never sleeps reflecting on his armor and Beedee’s casings. “You think I should… take her out somewhere?”

Look at him. Now asking a droid for relationship stuff, out of all people.

[STATEMENT] You should, Mister Fox!

He chuckles lowly at the name, keeping his volume out of his helmet low. He'd insisted to omit the mister but the beskar’ad pretended not to listen. “Yeah? Any ideas?”

[QUERY] How about a nice restaurant topside?

Fox gloomily turns his head away from the pavement before him and the droid altogether, as if he could just unhear that statement by doing so. “I don't think I can afford that, Beedee.”

[STATEMENT] I don't think she cares.

He'd been here, but he indulges the beskar'ad anyway. “Yeah?”

[STATEMENT] She only cares how you would just be with her, Mister Fox.

“You're really sure about that.”

[STATEMENT] I am! I know her longer than you, Mister Fox.

Wolffe told him to always please the lady first with his own efforts. Or at least, if they insist and he can't do anything to stop the strong will of a woman.

Like Wolffe's own situation.

Lesiil fails to bring this up, but he pays it no mind. Perhaps the talk will have to come soon; to clear out any possible discomfort and awkwardness, and to provide more clarity and chances for initiation cues.

He's slowed his pace on purpose but once the edge of the perimeter slides into view, Fox picks it up, shifting to speed walks.

“I'll keep that in mind, Beedee. Thank you. Now we've got work to do.”

To make up for wasted time on his accord to talk to his girlfriend's droid wingman about taking her out, BD-6 lets out a small whoop, clinging tighter onto whatever ridge and gap his armor supplies as Fox breaks into a jog towards the central tent.

Until one of the police droids strides in and halt their endeavors.

“Stop.” It raises both hands as if showing it won't cause harm, too. “You are not authorized to be here. Turn the other way and disperse immediately.”

Fox steps forward challengingly. “Former Detective Lesiil Thrace. We're here in her stead. This is her crime scene analyst droid BD-6, whose presence is explicitly requested by the case's lead investigator. Now you go check that again.”

It shifts its attention almost dumbly at Fox's pointing forefinger at it, before stilling on him. He gets a bad feeling about that.

“Non-sentient organic lifeform; detected. Classification: clone. You are not authorized to be here. Please disperse immediately.”

[STATEMENT] This is Marshal Commander CC-1010 of the Coruscant Guard. We have authorization!

Yeah you tell ‘em Beedee. Atta boy.

“Oi! I did let them in, droid!” A familiar voice shouts in a distance, and grows nearer followed by hasty stomps of boots. “I swear whoever handles your control center deserves a proper ear off.”

[EXCLAMATION] Eisen!

A wide grin forms in the face of the purple Nautolan detective as he draws nearer, his towering and muscular stature almost puts Fox in a height disadvantage. With a sharp look to the police perimeter droid and a bat of the hand to shoo it off a couple meters to the side, it's almost comical. Proceeding to shut the narrower perimeter barricade ray shields that acts as the entryway, Eisen ushers them in and smiles again at BD-6. “Hey! Long time no see, little guy!”

They reconvene with a high-five.

[STATEMENT] Good to see you too!

“Commander Fox.” Eisen nods at him, who's been waiting patiently (BD-6 was loud with his trills and happy and Fox didn’t want to interrupt the joyful reunion), and clasps his forearm in greeting. “Thank you for taking Lesiil’s place, sir. Sorry to disrupt whatever your schedule is tonight.”

Fox reins in a shrug, his hands go behind his back. “In need of an outing anyway.” He wished tonight is a patrol night and not spreadsheets. “Just not expecting a murder crime scene.”

Making a way towards the center tent, Eisen beckons them to follow. He raises a finger. “So far the term's only limited to ‘crime scene’ only. No confirmation yet – we just got here and got these set up – whether this is self-inflicted or that somebody else is involved…” The Nautolan huffs a big sigh. “But yeah. Dead body, either way.”

“What's Lesiil got to do with this?” Fox asks. “She's not in CSF anymore.”

It's been burning in his mind. When he picked up BD-6 from her apartment, they didn't have much time for Lesiil to fill him in – just a promise that he'll drop BD-6 tomorrow morning before her classes when he makes rounds and a parting kiss.

“She’s ad hoc consulting detective to this case now. With that brilliant mind and top-of-the-world expertise, our Chief asked for her personally so this case is to be closed as soon as possible.”

I mean… she solved the Corrie Butcher case within one kriffing week.

“Outsource, freelance, third-party sort of thing,” Eisen continues to fill Fox in. “That means she has the power to help us in the investigation, limited to analyzing crime scenes and doing investigations of her own with the lead investigator's permit – that's me. And knowing me and Lesiil's partnership history, I'll just let her do what she does. Convenient.”

Behind his helmet, Fox lets out a noise of impression. Never know they've got something like this.

“The position also enables her to be present in court as a witness to testify and present her findings,” the detective supplies additionally, then switches to mumbling as if to himself, “If this ever gets there.”

Fox has made himself aware of the situation before getting here. BD-6 filled him in during the speeder ride. Osk'arr Awards after-party celebration turned to tragedy and loss when one of the nominees allegedly leapt off the rooftop and went splat on the pavement. Wolffe's girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. And emphasis on ‘allegedly’, because who knows it could've been murder?

Eisen flips over one flap of the massive tent for Fox and BD-6 to peer in. Said splat is… absolutely unrecognizable. There's a patch of blue and white, but the entirety is just… broken limbs, chunks of it, a massive blood splatter, and probably 50 or so bright yellow markers because of just how messy it is.

80 floors, he's heard. What the kriff.

BD-6 taps one leg against his shoulder bell repeatedly as if sensing his freeze response upon the stomach-churning sight.

“I can't take you closer in there, or else we have to put on hazmat suits,” Eisen says.

Fox takes in a deep breath and turns away, though his feet remain glued to the ground. “We can see just fine from here.” He switches off the HUD's zoom-in features and sighs deeply.

“BD-6!” one of the analysts beckons the beskar'ad with an enthusiastic wave of the hand, “Come over here! We need to sterilize you first before you get right into scanning!”

[STATEMENT] Coming!

“Can’t take it, sir?” remarks Eisen, a little too amusedly for Fox's liking. The Nautolan watches him bend down slightly so BD-6 can hop down safely and scurry off to the main scene. “I thought you guys have the stomach for it.”

Fox's helmeted glare intensifies the deadpan gesture itself. “Inspecting a grotesque crime scene isn't exactly in the Coruscant Guard's job description, Detective.”

“Right,” Eisen acknowledges with a small smile, sighing again as he takes the scene one last time. They move away from the tent, falling into a relaxed pace yet remaining cautious. “And to be honest, this is the goriest I've seen in my entire career.”

“Carry on, Detective,” prompts Fox, authority returning back to his cadence. “Anything I should know so I may fill in your consulting detective?”

Eisen sighs, casting a sidelong glance at him. “Not much yet. Witness statements are still pouring in. Once we collect everything I'll send all to Lesiil for her to skim through. Maker knows she loves doing that.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “So. From what we've gathered, Nic and Wolffe made an early exit. She looked pretty shaken. Witnesses saw them coming out of the lift, presumably from the rooftop, where allegedly Shon took the fall from. We're still trying to get security footage.”

The mention of Wolffe's name halts Fox in his steps.

No karking way.

Wolffe hasn't always been known as the nicest in the batch – that's Bly and Rex. Wolffe is blunt and direct with everyone he sees, but never violent. There ain't a single bone in his body that'd harm someone to the point of actually killing them.

But what he knows about Wolffe, protectiveness is his second nature. There's no other man who checks in and bonds with his squad like he is. Maybe he takes too much after his General with all the Jedi's paternal love, but it's the value that latches itself onto Wolffe's very personality. Wolffe could never kill another, especially with vengeful motives, if following the fact that the victim is his girlfriend’s ex. It's petty, and Wolffe would never do it without reason. The worst thing he's done and can do is learning droid mechanics with the sole wish of reprogramming a yapping droid that'd make his ears combust inside out if he ever finds one.

“Words spread, and they're divided into two,” Eisen continues, “One said he ended his own life, the other said Nic pushed him off.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Right?” the other man echoes his genuine disbelief, “I swear, there's only two types of people in the galaxy; Nic stans and Nic haters.”

“She wouldn't do this,” Fox insists, agreeing on Eisen's part. To put it bluntly, it seems obvious the detective does believe this incident is entirely self-inflicted (as obvious that the detective is also a big fan of the entertainment industry). “Based on what I've learned about her.”

Eisen hums. “How much?”

“Enough.”

Actually; a lot. Quite a lot. Wolffe is closest to him, both are each other's confidantes, and Nic Erlonna drops by once or twice to CG Headquarters.

“We need to question Nic, too. Hoping she wouldn't lawyer up. This must've been shocking.”

Fox rolls his shoulders back in newfound determination, turning to Eisen. “What do you want us to do?”

In the detective's hand is a datapad that seems to manifest out of nowhere. What the heck.

“We've found a set of fingerprints on the body… on the not bloody patch of skin, thankfully… and we're trying to match it with our database. Since we've determined our persons of interest are Nic Erlonna and Commander Wolffe as of now, we need to figure out if this is self-inflicted or premeditated murder.”

Eisen fixes a look at him that seems somehow hesitant, almost feeling bad, perhaps at the mention of person of interest followed by Wolffe's name. Perhaps the other man knows how close he is to Wolffe, due to Lesiil's unique connections with them all. Fox challengingly accepts the staring contest, the expression conveyed enough by the blank visor of his crimson helmet.

”And we were thinking… since you and Lesiil are close to him, we'd like you to approach them as soon as possible to gain information for the sake of this case,” the lead investigator settles, “We’ve reached Nic's PA and we'll make sure you'll be hearing something in the morning. Starting now, you have 24 hours.”

“How's mock trial goin’?”

Entering the lobby of the most lavish apartment building in the heart of Coruscant, not only Lesiil was still adorned in formal attire that one would wear in the courtroom, but with the sweetheart smile Fox always adores with every single beat of his heart, too. Yet as soon as he made that comment with the smuggest grin, her shoulders visibly slump.

“Please don't tease me like that, cyare,” she huffs, plopping down next to him on the plush lobby couch. “I have studied all night for the session to be postponed until Zhellday. And I missed Shon Vatore's crime scene last night for absolutely nothing. Can you believe that?”

Yeah, but his heart is melting to the way the Mando'a word for beloved rolls off her tongue flawlessly. He's still lost in how the early morning sun that pierces through the window casts a certain godlike glow onto her being. He doesn't even know what the word godlike is supposed to depict, but he's certain his beloved (even being grumpy) is an accurate depiction.

Lesiil pokes his armored thigh.

“I can,” Fox answers finally, his arm that's been splaying over the back of the couch sliding downwards to drape over her shoulders. “But you got enough sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“And you sure this is okay with your school?”

Uncomfortable with the motion, Lesiil shrugs off his arm and scoots a further back. “It will not hinder me.” She hooks her forefinger with his instead. “Chief sent me a permit letter and I've sent it to administration. We should be doing fine, I have it handled. The concern is unnecessary.”

Fox snorts. “Just asking, Les’ika.” Stars, sometimes he just wants to kiss her into the nearby wall so she'd just kriffing shut up. The last two sentences were unnecessary. “I can't even start small talks with you when all you're doing is slamming my commander’s concerned ass back down?”

Lesiil smiles apologetically. “Forgive me then, Marshal,” she says genuinely without the slightest bite of sarcasm. Then she slightly turns and reaches down, holding up an overnight pac– wait, that's his. “I brought you this.”

As soon as he grabs and unzips the reserve regulation pack he stows at hers, he peers inside and finds his crimson red dress shirt and grey trousers. “Civvies? These are yours?”

“Yours, you silly,” Lesiil laughs quietly, knowing full well he's cracking a joke. “I imagine we'll be doing a lot of talking and sitting down on a plush couch that's fluffier and way pricier than mine that it's going to make you uncomfortable, and I don't want to have your armor digging into the spot where the twin suns of Tatooine don't shine.”

Fox chokes on air and coughs violently into his elbow.

“Commander Fox and Detective Thrace?”

He hurriedly zips his pack close and gathers his discarded helmet. “Ah, that will be us.” His cyare gets to her feet first, patting her formal outerwear down and stepping forward to greet the actress’ personal assistant because kriffing finally. “But for my part, it's Former Detective.”

The red Mikkian lady in business attire reciprocates the gesture with equal professional demeanor, and shakes Lesiil’s hand. “Of course, apologies for that bit.” She shakes Fox's afterward. “Pleased to meet you. And call me Veeli. If you would follow me, please.”

They're led further into the building. Inside, the smell of luxury fragrance grows stronger, something that Fox would always encounter when entering one of the offices that belong to fat-pocketed senators. That, and the light elevator music that's slightly goofy for Fox's taste.

“On behalf of CSF, I would like to apologize for intruding on the muse’s schedule this morning,” Lesiil says in the middle of the silence.

“That's okay,” Veeli replies curtly, her narrow tendrils floating and flicking every once in a while. “She's empty at the moment.”

Fox, stashing himself in the back of the elevator out of habit, has his eyes intent on the ever adding floor indicator. “Is Wolffe up there?”

“He is,” the assistant replies without looking back at him, “He stayed the night to look after her.”

“That's very kind,” Lesiil comments, and the brief conversation ends there when they reach the designated floor. Not penthouse yet, Fox notices. He adjusts his grip on his pack, the weight awkward due to the folded clothes where the vast space provided is supposedly to fit his entire kit and backup body gloves. So where are we going?

His internal question is answered as soon as they're led out, met the two bulky natborn bodyguards that man an entrance that leads to yet another corridor. A private one, based on how it feels homey and seems decorated with personal touches. Holoposters of various films hang on beige-painted walls. Soon he realizes they're all the ones Nic Erlonna have been in. A filmography of sorts, a showcase of glory throughout her career, as if reminding the guests that are entering her home.

Then, another elevator ride. There's only three buttons on the panel. Veeli presses the second one, and the doors shut. No music this time since the ride is short, and once they arrive, Fox is already lost in awe at how massive the open floor plan is. Huge floor-to-ceiling window for a first wall, untinted to let the morning sun in. Zero dust. Squeaky clean marble flooring and expensive-looking rugs.

Kriff. Three floors of dwelling. In this huge ass building. Wolffe you spoiled son of a droid.

Veeli ushers them in and has them settled on the main seating area. “Please wait here for a moment. We'll be right back with you in a few.”

It had been quite a few.

Fox groans as soon as he sees Wolffe bounding down the stairs. “There you kriffing are.”

Wolffe, clad in a set of crisp dark silver shirt and trousers that makes him look ready to grab a random guy off a street to force his health insurance company on and would definitely beat them to a pulp if they refuse, scowls. “We just woke up.”

Fox stands and goes to meet the commander in the middle, saying, “Told you we could hear you.” With a shit-eating grin and typical reunion enthusiasm, they share a little tap to the forehead. “Su’cuy, Wolffe. I'm traumatized as kark now thanks to you.” Fox clasps him on the shoulder before letting go.

Wolffe snorts, mismatched eyes taking a swift once-over at Fox, who's now dressed the same way as him for the sake of comfort, the crimson marshal commander armor stuffed into his pack. “As if you don't do it with your girl.”

“Do what?”

They turn to see Lesiil just pocketing her commlink as she makes her way from around the corner.

Fox scoffs. “Don't play dumb, Les’ika. You heard them going at it too.”

“I prefer playing dumb, actually,” she smiles innocently, studying the presence of the other man and quite visibly brightens up. “Commander Wolffe!” She shakes his offered hand, and Fox can see her almost vibrating with joy. How she's keeping her voice calm, it's a wonder. Royal etiquettes put into work, most likely. “Good to meet you again. I hope I'm not boring to your eyes yet.”

“Never, Thrace. You're a family friend to the 104th.”

“Then call me Lesiil, Commander.”

“Then it's Wolffe,” the man reciprocates with a kinder and welcome tone, his professionalism returning back just a smidge, “And I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Fox lets out a single dry, humorless laugh. “You apologized to her and not me? What am I, gundark meat?”

“Wolffe?!” a female voice yells from upstairs.

The commander scowls, rolling his eyes, before turning around to the direction of the staircase. “Down here!”

A moment later, a head peeks out at the turn of the stairs, platinum blond hair let loose but not messy. Nic Erlonna the actress. Fox studies her eyes briefly scanning over them three. “Um, what's going on?”

“Urgencies we can't ignore this morning,” Wolffe replies curtly, almost dutifully.

A loud sigh. Nico's head disappears from sight. “Okay, but I don't remember having an appointment this early. I didn't put any makeup on!” she yells again, then her full figure comes into view and descends the staircase at last. “Why wasn't I told about this?”

Clad in a simple t-shirt and what seems to be a cotton jogging trousers, the great actress that won so much award in her entire career looks just like a regular civilian (or in Fox's opinion; more like one of those natborn students that oversleeps after working on a project late into the night). Much to her dismay, apparently.

“Just…” Wolffe sighs. “You're fine.” He turns to both Fox and Lesiil. “The assistant let you in?”

The latter nods. “Yes, she did.”

“I swear, Veeli is now running things on her own. I'm scared for my life.” Nico sidles next to Wolffe and does a double take. “Oh. Commander Fox?” She enthusiastically thrusts out a hand in greeting, which he shakes. “Looking dapper with all that getup, Commander. Almost didn't recognize you.”

Fox merely nods, his hand returning to his side. “Ma'am.”

“How are the boys in your HQ?”

“Good, Ma'am.”

“Sorry I look indecent,” she complains mostly to herself once again, gesturing grandly to herself.

Wolffe sneers, “You're dressed and that's enough. Makeup isn't necessary for now.” The commander then beckons for the other woman who's been watching the interaction with a polite smile and a glint of amusement in storm grey eyes. “This is Detective Lesiil Thrace.”

Lesiil clears her throat. “Former Detective.”

“Yeah, that.” He rolls his eyes, though smiling a little, fondly. “This is Nic Erlonna.”

The blonde’s eyebrows raise sky-high in recognition and awe. “Oh, riiight!” Another introduction handshake, one piece of courtesy that Lesiil enjoys so much. “The famed Lesiil Thrace with all those notorious cases? An honor to meet you in person!” Fox bathes himself in pride for his cyare. Nico's grin fades, as if in realization. “But uh, just to be clear; what are you doing here?”

Lesiil lets out a quiet breath. “If I could put this gently without all these pressing deadlines, I would,” she says, “But this is about last night's incident, Miss Erlonna.”

Nico blinks in realization. “Right,” she mutters almost sadly, brightening up and putting on what Fox observes as a forced, pained smile, as if wishing she could stall this nightmare a little longer. “We can talk about it over breakfast?” she offers, gesturing to the side with an arm, to the direction of the dining room.

“Thank you. That's very kind,” Lesiil says with a polite smile, and the four of them collectively make their way. Fox knows he should just follow Lesiil's cues. She's the one who knows how to be a proper guest in someone else's dwelling – after all, he never does. Calling and leading a breach squad to take in an enemy of the state, that's what he does. That's all he knows.

“The least I could do,” Nico easily replies, and they find seating in the grand eight-person dining table. “But I still can't exactly understand why you're here, Detective.” Her tone is curious, not meaning to jab, Fox observes. “You announced your early retirement from police work, right?”

Fox has just finished seating Lesiil – something he'd learned after a couple of dinner dates, before taking one to her right himself. “That's correct,” his cyare answers.

“So?” Nico prompts again, who's already seated in front of Lesiil.

“I am acting as a consulting detective at the moment,” the former detective enunciates, “Meaning I, representing the CSF Criminal Investigations Department, am here to gather information for my own independent investigation so I can forward it to the police for further processing and guide them to solve the case as fast as possible.”

Nico stares long into Lesiil for a moment, taking every word cautiously, the playful glint earlier in olive green eyes had already dissipated. Nodding, as if thinking to herself. It's quiet for a moment. Wolffe and Fox trade a look, but the other man merely shrugs.

Stars. Even outside the cold confines of either assembly room or war room, they carry their habits to stay quiet when the ones with power are talking. And honestly, it's comforting still, somewhat. Like they can just be themselves still, outside the very institution they were born for.

“Didn't know you have that kinda stuff,” Nico says finally, breaking her mulling just as breakfast is served, the server droid making no audible noise loud enough to break the silence.

Me too, Fox thinks, until last night, apparently.

“It is a piece of information rarely made public and kept close among our peers only,” Lesiil says, picking up her utensils when Nico, as the host, does. Fox follows her movement meticulously. Something he's never done, again, but he's adapting. “And yours is a special, high-profile case, Miss Erlonna. High-profile cases such as this need to be handled delicately, and swiftly, because the pressing demands by the Motion Pictures Academy simply cannot be taken lightly. It would damage their public image, and yours.”

Neither of the four had already dug into their food. It's hearty and tasty, and looks very diet-balanced. The weight of the topic is dawning on them, but seemingly not as much for Nico. She's wolfing down her plate as if the conversation was never about what it is, after all. Like judging the choice of weather today or something.

“So on behalf of the institution and Coruscant Security Force, I hope you will be willing to fully cooperate with us.”

Another moment of silence, but briefer. He had breakfast already at the mess… but I suppose a second helping won't hurt. He looks at Wolffe, who's digging in at last. Yeah, just today. Kriff diet. This is home food.

“Okay,” Nico acknowledges at last, “But… won't that involve you guys reading me the rights to remain silent and call a lawyer or something?”

Lesiil shakes her head. “No. My early retirement no longer leaves me the power to read you your rights, and neither is Commander Fox.”

Yeah, as if he had it. As if he could. He and his unit is the brute force that gets thrown the harshest part of an op, after all. Not the legal part and stuff.

Lesiil continues, “However, with me being here, you are entitled to speak freely. Admit your side of the story very clearly and leave nothing out.” One hand comes from under the table, and it carries out a recording device, setting it on top for everybody to see. “It will be recorded and used in court, with me taking to the witness stand to defend your side of the story as well.”

“Wouldn't that be too excessive?” Wolffe breaks the full-minute tension, arms crossing across his chest, “You have recording already, why would you need to take the stand?”

Fox hesitantly turns. Lesiil trades an unreadable look with him, but he notes of her insistence – her Lorrdian blood better be kept a secret. “Let's just say I am a master at reading nonverbal communications,” Lesiil finally says, offering a smile of reassurance, “I will know whether you tell the truth or not.”

“If you don't,” Fox adds quickly with a firmer tone, eyes studying Nico's attentive demeanor, “Lesiil is allowed to refuse to testify for you.”

“And help the prosecutor build the case instead. Not for your team of lawyers,” Lesiil clarifies, and both of them collectively take the look of concern traded between the other couple. Lesiil lets out a small, quiet sigh, and reassuringly adds, “If this would be taken to the courtroom.”

Wolffe catches on. “So there's no charges against her?”

“Not yet,” Fox shakes his head.

“The victim's family hasn't filed any charges yet,” Lesiil elaborates further, “My CSF contact who is the lead investigator of this case informed me that the victim's family wishes to know the truth first beforehand, and is helping in the investigation as well.”

“Meaning if this takes a darker turn, there's gonna be charges,” adds Fox, having been briefed further by Eisen this morning via comms.

“Their lawyers were present,” Lesiil says again, spilling everything by this point. Nico perks up and is intensely listening again. “The family has spoken to us as such, and will be regarded as such unless something's changed.”

Wolffe lets out a huge sigh, turning to Nico. “His family a whole bunch of assholes too?”

Her eyebrows furrow, almost in doubt. That, or offended. “No, on the contrary. They like me, actually,” she mutters mindfully, “It’s just their son is– was that screwed up…”

After yet another brief look traded to each other they continue their breakfast in silence. Lesiil only eats about half, Fox notices. If they weren't in someone else's house he would've wolfed it down. Food can't go to waste, and this is good and homey.

Lesiil folds her hands on top of the table. “You can start your story whenever you're ready, Miss Erlonna.”

“I…” Nico huffs, nervousness bleeding off her person, “I can begin at the after-party. Is that okay?”

“As long as it remains factual.”

“Don't say anything!” shouts a new voice from the doorway. Veeli the assistant returns, with the usual datapad clutched closely and a new company to their group. The masculine voice earlier belonged to this yellow-skinned Zabrak with tattoos, brown hair slicked back and sharply dressed. They stop at the other end of the table, closest to Nico, and the new guy points a finger at her. “Say you want a lawyer, Nico.”

The actress sighs loudly. “Titus, relax.”

As they plunge into an argument, Fox eyes Wolffe and mouths who the heck is that? clear enough for the other man to answer manager.

“If I may speak,” Lesiil breaks out resolutely, her voice slightly raised among the chatter and almost sternly glowers onto the three. “These are neutral grounds. We are no police.”

The manager, Titus, glares back, his fists clench – Fox flattens his boots against the floor at the ready. “But you represent them, Detective.”

“For my own personal investigation that would help the police solve this case,” Lesiil calmly affirms, then more with a firmer cadence, “Miss Erlonna is pinned down by the media as we speak, and I reckon neither the muse or CSF want their name tainted by being accused of felony crime and unprofessionalism by the public, respectively. I serve as the means to accelerate this case to its final resolution within 24 hours since the incident.”

“And don't start about the Academy,” Nico butts in, voice lowered with apprehension, almost with fear. “My rep's in danger, Titus.”

The manager scrubs both hands down his face. “At least get a lawyer to defend your liability, Nic.”

“No. I wanna speak freely.” The muse turns to the assistant. Wow. The audacity of this lady disregarding any kind of law protection. “Vee, any news about Shon and me?”

“The incident is making rounds in morning holonews channels as we speak,” the Mikkian says, tapping and thumbing away at her datapad, “Viral social media tags. Mentions. Comments. Reactions, hates. It’ll be too much by lunch time.”

Nico gives a bitter smile. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Another moment of sympathizing silence. Fox feels like cartwheeling because what the kark was all that. The manager seems kinda stupid… but he appreciates his insistence as it's supposed to be done.

Lesiil forks a little more of the nerf sausage (It makes Fox proud by watching. No food waste it seems.), before she prompts as politely as possible, “Can we continue?”

Nico turns to the other two, sighing tiredly, and waves a hand. “Just… sit down. I was just getting started before you panicked nunas came in.”

Both newcomers stare with each other before relenting. “Yeah, sorry,” Veeli shrugs, looking down to her datapad instead. Titus takes a seat at the other end of the table, Veeli next to Nico. “What did you talk about?” she asks.

“I was only getting into it,” Nico rolls her eyes. Leaning back to her seat, her plate already clean, she begins with a sigh, “After that Bye Bye Bye by B’SYNC karaoke I headed outside for some fresh air. Some social me-time, as always. It was getting suffocating and I went up to the rooftop.”

“Is the rooftop supposed to be public?” Lesiil straight up asks, easily stepping back into the investigative air waiting for her return.

“It’s preserved for celebs like us to take a breather.”

“But not everyone knows about it,” Titus butts in, his voice uncharacteristically low and solemn after all that loud intervention, “That's why the security was minimal.”

Nico turns to him. “There were no security personnel or whatever, Titus.”

Fox sharply turns to Wolffe, questioningly, the other man nods just subtly in confirmation. Whose stupid idea was that?

The Zabrak’s eyes widen in surprise. “Kriff, really?” One hand flies to his hair, his dark brows crease into a frown. “But there were cameras.”

“My CSF contact who leads this investigation is looking into it as we speak,” Lesiil reassures, turning to Nico again. “Please continue, Miss Erlonna.”

“I was up there. Just thinking,” the muse picks up, “Then Shon came up to me.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh y'know, just the same old. Wanted to get back together, and I refused.” She quietly shakes her head. The entire table is enveloped with a wistful blanket at that moment, knowing what's next. “I just… didn't realize he would take such extreme measures.”

It's not after a full minute where everyone either drinks their water or finishes up their plates or just mulling that Fox begins to feel the silence stretches too long. It feels familiar again; that first orientation command-wide meeting where Lesiil introduced herself and began to present her findings – where she brought up about death. She gave them a moment of silence; to gather, to mourn again in a short pocket of time, before picking it up again. But he now knows behind such thoughtfulness, the gears inside her brain remain whirring and ticking; sprouting out plausible theories, connecting the dots.

It's exactly what he deems as his mirror; her mind is tirelessly working. Running on the clock, racing against time, never resting even in the midst of mind-cracking puzzles. Always finding a way out. Though in regards to strategy, his is far more excellent. He maps through and creates strategies in minutes, while she perhaps could supply every single possible risk to take into consideration. Together – a plan hatched into perfection.

Shame the Coruscant Guard isn't allowed to recruit natborns. Even if it is, he'd think twice before instantly picking Lesiil to take up office in HQ.

And her mind continues working. Always. Even after retiring, it remains complex. Trained, stimulated. Going back to the current situation, as the moment fits, she picks up again, “What exactly did you two talk about before it happened?”

Nico gulps the last of her water before answering, “It's just that I refused. He wanted to be friends. After what he did to me, I just… I couldn't. I don't want to. He was toxic throughout our relationship.” She lets out a wistful sigh, probably also wishing the water was wine. “I'd be an idiot.”

Lesiil prompts her to continue on her own.

“I was just about to leave,” Nico resumes, arms winding around herself to provide some comfort. Wolffe not so quietly drags his chair closer in protectiveness, their shoulders brushing. Nico leans into him. Fox softens at the sight. “Turned my back around and he called me, I turned and saw him already standing on that ledge. Tried to talk it out, even lied that I still loved him because if I'd taken him back he wouldn't do that.” Her voice breaks in reliving the incident. “But well, he did. I tried to grab him too, but he let go of my grip and–” she throws her hands up “–down he went.”

“Mersace fined us for the damage of your dress,” says Veeli a moment later.

“That could be evidence,” Fox says quickly, glancing next to him.

Lesiil meets his gaze, nodding. “I will inform my contact about it.” Her attention sweeps around the table. “We'll handle it. Now to the current problem; how would we know whether you're telling the truth at all, Miss Erlonna?”

Fox's breath hitches. Veeli gasps.

“Oh kark’s sake,” Titus facepalms.

Nico's eyebrows furrow, lips slightly parted conveying her shock, and perhaps offended.

“Are you kidding?!” Wolffe blurts out, his expression hardens directly at Lesiil, almost growling, “I thought you were on our side, Thrace.”

“I will, if there is sufficient documentary evidence. It should be security footage, but we're still looking through it. Even if we get a hold of it when it does show that you tried to save him and not purposefully letting him go,” Lesiil meets his hard tone fairly, but reined with an ample amount of respect, still. She shakes her head. “It won't be enough, because we also need to hear that it happened as you said.”

“Les.”

He'd better step in. The last thing he needs is his cyare embarrassing herself. Exhaling, Lesiil softens when she meets his warning glare.

“Don’t overstep,” he says, drawing the sternest tone he'd usually pull when she worked under him. He gently cocks his head in Nico's direction. “See for yourself. You can tell if she tells the truth.”

“I am aware Miss Erlonna does tell the truth. She's innocent,” she asserts – there’s something about it that makes Fox think this is one of the moments she won't back down. “But the jury won't, if this case gets taken to court and we still lack evidence by then. We're running out of time, that's why we need stronger documentary evidence to build this case where she's innocent.”

“This is not legal consultation!” he scolds, voice slightly raised, “So stop playing prosecutor for now and just lend your ear. Be a friend. An ally. That's why you're here.”

Silence ensues as Lesiil blinks at his outburst, glancing away to escape his scrutiny. No, not escape. More like; utilizing the pause in their bicker so that he could think that perhaps he's been the one embarrassing her at that moment.

Kark. He's not her boss anymore. Why is it easy to forget?

Wolffe lifts an eyebrow at him. Fox what the hell?

I just… He sighs, breaking the other clone’s scrutiny. Sorry.

“Let's just say we're in a focus group discussion for now,” Veeli calmly says, being the first one to speak.

Lesiil puts on a meek, guilty smile. “Apologies. For my insistence and on behalf of the Marshal Commander. I have an ongoing study in law school. I suppose I was carried away.”

One of many things Fox admires about her; where he ducks his way out of tough situations by just carefully making himself invisible, she confronts it with a flawless smile, admits her wrong, and clears presumed mistakes to start over.

Nico is propping her jaw in her palm, low, with elbow on the table. “Yeah?” she drawls, yet not without interest. It's the tone someone uses when they're actually impressed towards something mundane. “That's cool, though.”

“You're laying out the entire game in case anything goes wrong by identifying possible legal loopholes firsthand,” Wolffe joins in, the air around him opposite of Nico. For less than a second his mismatched eyes glares at Fox before returning back to Lesiil with a look of pride. “You're good.”

Lesiil nods in thanks. “It's what a good lawyer would do.”

Kriff he's a shit boyfriend isn't he.

“I wanna recruit her when she graduates,” Nico declares with a sudden burst of energy. She turns to Veeli. “Can I? Do that?”

Fox holds back a sigh. “Let's focus on what we have on our plates first, Ma'am.”

“Yeah,” Titus bitterly agrees. As soon as he turns to Lesiil, he unwinds his folded arms. “But, uh, can you tell us just what's happening currently in your investigation?”

“Right now, generally, everything points to Miss Erlonna,” states the former detective, “You have a connection to the victim. The toxic former relationship and his constant harassment might be a possible motive for you to take him out of the picture, driving your actions – supposed you're guilty of manslaughter – questionable, because there was an option to issue a restraining order against Mr Vatore's harassment. It makes you look guilty for bypassing a lawful protection as such.”

“I just… didn't want to,” Nico mutters, the weight finally sitting on her stomach. She scrubs both hands down her face. “It'd make him look bad. Stupid, I know.”

Fox refrains from saying anything to that. He looks at Wolffe. Subtly, the 104th commander shrugs, his eyes rolling as if yeah she's an idiot I know.

“On another note,” Lesiil continues, not intending to let the progressive answer to Titus's question stalled, “We did find your fingerprints on the victim, Miss Erlonna. This strengthens your presence at the scene of the crime.”

“Around the wrist, right?” Nico enthusiastically clasps her own wrist, fumbling experimentally, mimicking her own grasp that attempted to save the dead guy. “That's where I tried to hold onto him.”

“Yes.” Lesiil’s forefinger curls on her chin in thought. “But such a fact is a double-edged blade, still.”

Wolffe huffs, his look impatient yet knows better than to rush the hassle. “Is there anything we can do at all?”

“Not yet,” Fox answers, the most recent briefing this morning still etched into his mind – every single progress mentioned. “But we're running out of time all the same.”

“He was just this… sick person.” All heads turn to Titus. The manager seems to be always overlooked, but if anyone knows what seems to be lurking in the entertainment industry – rumors and sick threats and conspiracy theories – it's him. His arms are crossed again over his chest, seemingly just resurfaced from his own deep lake of thoughts. As he's supposed to be; to salvage Nico's public image that perhaps has already been broken, bit by bit. He shrugs. “I personally think he was sick or something. Mentally ill.”

“Possibly,” Wolffe contributes without missing a beat, “Obsessive love to the point of this is a thing.”

“You think he'd write a diary or something?” Veeli chimes in, and insightfully adds, “He was into traditional stage plays. He was a poetic kinda guy.”

Fox fishes his comlink out.

“I do think he would,” Lesiil says thoughtfully. Fox glances up, briefly witnessing the storm grey in her eyes brewing maps and connecting the dots, darting here and there as if mapping an imaginary plan, her mind fully at work.

Stars it feels like we're inside her mind. He can't even exaggerate how refreshing it feels. It's nostalgic. It always brings him back to that meeting room where she was first introduced.

“Inspecting the victim's mobile devices. Searching his residence. Residences, if there is more than one.” At last, she sighs, and Fox can hear the weight bleed off her shoulders. “This would take a while.” Then, gently, she says to him, “Tell Eisen about this?”

He doesn't look up, already pulling up the lead investigator’s comm channel. “Way ahead of you, DT.”

“So with her case,” Wolffe points to the woman next to him, “From her side of the story – it's a dead end?”

Lesiil nods. “Unfortunately. As I said, nothing about it can save herself for now.”

That earns hesitant looks traded among the four. With that said, it's as good as trust the process and wait it out.

“Trust me, I too wish my testimony, based on my analysis on nonverbal cues, could suffice in court to clear you out of suspicion and eventually rules the victim's death as suicide.”

“A great day, wasn't it, Beedee?”

[STATEMENT] I miss field work. Thanks for bringing me along, Lesiil!

She smiles fondly, offering a fist bump to the little droid perching on her back. “Of course.” Fishing out the key card to her apartment, Lesiil and BD-6 trades one last glance before entering the premises. “What would I do without you, after all, Beedee?”

The rest of the happy boops is a music to her ears. Homely soft amber warmth greets Lesiil once she steps in, immediately busying to take off her boots and stash it in the wee storeroom. Fox is here. His own white boots is where they usually are when he's home, as are parts of his armor. But… why only parts? Is he not cleaning himself up yet?

Beedee had scurried off earlier all by himself, the familiar weight on her shoulders already gone. She steps out of the little room, the door sliding close. She checks the front door lock mechanisms, locking it for the night. Fox is always home now during Centaxday nights. As she's about to turn and grab a look at the chronometer in the furthest wall of the living area, a pair of strong arms, still covered with familiar GAR body glove, wrap around her waist from behind.

“I'm sorry I was an ass.”

Lesiil melts into the embrace. No ‘welcome home’? she's about to joke, but the way Fox pulls her impossibly closer to his chest as if trying to absorb her under his skin. His dark locks tickling her ear and jaw as he presses his face close into her neck, nuzzling against the collar of her work attire. She always feels safe in his arms, but the way he tightens them around her denotes what she identifies as desperation.

Then it clicks.

She almost forgets about it because of the enthusiasm of going back to field investigative work (even though only involving reviewing available evidence and connecting them, writing up a request for warrant, and traveling to the other side of Coruscant to search for more evidence). It took a whole day, now the chronometer perhaps showing 2200.

She releases a slow breath, placing her hands stop his, that are clinging onto the flap of her jacket. Definitely not letting go anytime soon.

“Is this about when you scolded me this morning, my love?”

Fox hums. “That was uncalled for.” His voice is meek, muffled by her clothes as he nuzzles further into them. “You looked like you were going to stab me or something at the moment. Or cry.”

Lesiil can't help the amused smile threatened to latch onto her lips. “That was a poor observation, cyare,” she chuckles quietly. Slowly peeling his arms a little so she can turn around and meet his eyes – amber brown pools carefully studying every strand that makes up the tapestry of her soul. Eye bags, soft stress lines, a little frown thats’s always present when he's in doubt. He's the worst when it comes to hide his facial expressions, making it all clear for her to read. He doesn't mind. All for her to see. All that is hers to see, to admire, and to love.

“Fox.” She tucks away the locks that fall over his forehead, silver threads of hair among them. It always falls back, sweeping across his skin and kissing his eyelids – a futile attempt that she'd do over and over sgain. “I was never angry to begin with.”

His frown deepens. “I don't believe you.”

Lesiil can't help the chuckle tumbling off her lips. In a disguise to caress his cheeks, her smile grows in satisfaction when she feels the skin under her tender touch warms. “You silly man.”

“That's right.” He lets his head falls into her shoulder, hiding his face into the crook of her neck again. Her heart melts. Always does, when he's particularly clingy. “I'm still yours, right?”

“Please, as if I'm leaving you to your sad and lonely marshal commander duties.”

He sniffs. “That's cruel.”

One of her hands card through his hair in a loving pace, another arm splaying over his built shoulders. “You did nothing wrong,” Lesiil explains, “I admit I was carried away but you ground me, Fox. And I appreciate that, wholeheartedly.”

He hums. “You sure?”

“I am very sure, cyare.”

“But I raised my voice at you.”

“I’m not made of cheap glass, Marshal,” she says a little firmly, delivering a long kiss into his hair. A little greasy from daylong sweat under that helmet, but they're sharing the same predicament – just home after work. “Sometimes all I need is a firmer presence that grounds me. And that's you, Fox.”

Lesiil pulls always slightly. She wants to look at him in the eyes. Nothing more. It gives her joy to see if one thing amuses him, or if another displeases him. Gently, still wrapped inside the safe confines of Fox's arms, she cradles the sides of his scarred face. The long mark across his nose, the faded gash on his left jaw, and the little healed cuts on his eyebrow and the corner of his lips that she enjoys all for herself.

“Please don't sulk. Yes? This sight of you breaks my heart a little.” A soft peck to the scar on the corner of his lip. “I don't want you to be sad because of a small misunderstanding.”

The response is a sweet kiss to the lips. Then two, a little deeper than before. Then three, that makes her smile against his lips. Fox leans his forehead against hers, his gloveless fingers stroking her cheek lovingly. “Shower with me?”

She hums a no. “I’m afraid I still have a little work to do. Eisen is sending me the official report tonight and expecting me to deliver the news.”

“It all went well?” he asks, a little too energized. A smirk slide into his lips and adorns his already handsome, sharp-featured face. “You miss all that?”

“I admit I do. To go back and investigate on site, the entire process of it. Warrant, search, found, bag. Solving the puzzle, connecting the dots. It all felt good.” Smiling, Lesiil presses a long kiss to his lips, delivering her entire heart into the notion, receiving a honey-sweet smile in return. “Thank you for asking, ner al’verde.”

Her commlink beeps. Knowing it's probably what they've been waiting for, her cyare lets go immediately and leans closer to inspect the message together.

“Oh,” Lesiil grins, “Good news to be delivered.”

“It was the search warrants that took so much time, but we worked as fast as we could. We found the victim's mobile devices, various holonotes and holojournals. Every single means where he could possibly write his journal, we skimmed through every single one.”

Under the umbrella of nervousness and anticipation, Nico's hands are fiddling with the hem of her camisole. “That was fast.”

The holo figure of the former detective shifts, and then suddenly there's a little biped droid clinging onto her arm like some bird. She smiles at it in acknowledgment before returning to the holo. “My droid BD-6 processes mobile devices faster. We tend to get results on the spot.” The droid boops its confirmation. “And we did. We found various entries in his journals that spoke of his intention to end his life had you not reciprocated his feelings.”

Wolffe, who's reclined next to her on the bed and out of frame, hums his satisfaction at the revelation. Nico sighs heavily, heavy burden finally cracks and crumbles and vanishes off her chest.

“So…” she begins hesitantly, “So I'm cleared out of suspicion, right?”

All she wants is to jump and scream into the air and perhaps party while blowing off some fireworks as soon as she sees the detective nodding her head.

“Yes, and there weren't any charges to begin with. Just deadlines and media scrutiny, I suppose, Miss Erlonna,” Thrace smiles reassuringly, “Moreover, one of the family members came forward and told us of the victim's intentions. But they were threatened so they kept it a secret. It's crystal clear now that you are not at fault, at all. This is something the victim had brought upon himself.”

Nico lets out another breath of relief, her limbs still trembling from the extremity of it. From the toxic behavior to begin with. Way back to their relationship. Not my fault.

“Though I believe you will run quite a session with your lawyer team. Speaking as a law student myself, they would absolutely have a word with you about not issuing that restraining order in the first place.”

“That wouldn't be able to stop Shon.” She would usually return the slipped joke easily, but first things first. “It wouldn't make much difference. I know him. He was passionate. Guess when it comes to me it turned into a sick obsession that made me wanna barf every damn time.”

“Who knew it would've gone better,” the former detective remarks, “But as of now, you have nothing more to worry about, Miss Erlonna. As I said, the victim's family filed no charges in the first place, they have accepted the truth, and this case is finally closed.”

Gods she feels like crying. Her reputation – saved!

“I can't tell you just how relieved I am, Detective.”

Thrace nods deeply. “I am sure. I feel the same for you, Miss Erlonna. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Both Nico's hands fly to her chest, “No, Detective. Thank you.” A wide smile breaks in her face. “Alright! A celebratory dinner is in order! I'll go run and tell Veeli.”

Wolffe shakes his head – fondly, if that isn't obvious yet, with an extra roll of his eyes. Childlike woman. With no initial intention to step into the holocall, he'd kept himself from peeking in, yet listening off-frame. Yet when the holo shifts again from the corner of his eyes, he decides to abandon his report work the boys sent him and hops off the bed.

“Where's Wolffe?” Fox asks aloud, to which Lesiil shrugs and shakes her head. The shabuir is plainly standing there next to his smart as hell girlfriend, in a t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms looking ready to sleep the night off, and a towel hanging off one shoulder, fresh from shower.

Wolffe smugly steps into the frame, crossing his arms. “What, karkhead?”

Fox mimics his gesture. “Nothing.” His scarred eyebrow, scaringly on the same side of the face as Wolffe's, rises. “You have it down bad for Nic Erlonna, huh?”

“Hm?”

“I wish I could just strangle you right now.”

“The hell are you talking about, Fox?”

The door to the bedroom slides open.

“We know how you two been playing it fak–”

“Commander Fox?”

Wolffe snaps his head up, watching how one hundred facial expressions passing across Nico's fair face spanning from shock and back again to shock as she draws nearer, and eventually gets into the holocall next to him.

“What–” she gestures between the two holo figures, “You two are together?!”

Lesiil, seemingly taking the initially serious call now has turned into a playful one, shrugs, an amused smirk gracing her lips. “Why, I thought that was obvious.”

Wolffe sighs loudly on purpose. “Don’t mind her.” He resists the urge to grab for one butt cheek. “She's a slow one.”

“Am not! I didn't know!” Nico fights back.

“You could've known.”

“Stop embarrassing me!”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“–no, cyare, they show genuine reactions towards each other now. You know, mutual comfort.”

He turns slowly to the holo.

“What?” Nico asks aloud.

Lesiil grins innocently – the sight is familiar with Wolffe. They've hung out together once or twice with the other command boys, after all. “I stated you both have a recently intriguing chemistry,” she declares.

Wolffe releases a breath, looking up to the ceiling. Dank farrik. They've caught on, have they.

“W-what do you mean?”

Force, this woman.

Fox snorts openly, abandoning his formal commander demeanor. “What, you think a master of reading nonverbal communications wouldn't pick up how you two have been faking it for months? Come on.”

“What?!” Nico exclaims, “But we sold!”

“To everyone,” Lesiil says, “But not to me and those who are like me.”

Nico huffs. “Who are you anyway?” Wolffe elbows her warningly. “...If I may ask?”

“That is a secret I will have to carry to the grave. A magician never reveals their secrets, after all.”

Does Wolffe know? No. He doesn't know. It probably won't make any difference if it's spilled anyway, and it's private. Fox seems to know. Very well.

“Yeah, but anyway, what the hell you two,” his vod says, “I bought it, until one of my men showed her and she straight up said ‘no it's fake’. At first glance!”

“You're exaggerating, cyare.”

“That's what you did, Lesii.” Fox turns to him and points an accusing finger in the holo. “Wolffe you son of a droid. You owe me an explanation, or I'm gonna tell Cody. You know how runny his karking mouth is. In exactly 10 minutes, the entire Republic army would know how fake you two were.”

A quiet laugh rumbles off his chest. Seems like we're made. With Lesiil being there as she claims, no way we're getting out of this.

“Ahahaha, oh gods,” Nico laughs awkwardly, sharing his mind, “That was such a long story.”

“Way, way back,” Wolffe agrees.

“Lay it all out,” Fox grins, glancing at Lesiil, who has the same amount of mirth and curiosity sparking in her eyes. “We've got all night.”

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @ladylucksrogue @msmeredithrose @filamentlights @heidnspeak

A/N: I can't say thanks enough for you enjoying their journey so far! It ends here for now. Who knows there'll be next? 🫵🏼🫶🏼💓

#clonexocweek #clonexocweek2025 #clonexocweek2025 day 5 #commander fox x oc #commander wolffe x oc #fox x oc #wolffe x oc #fox x lesiil | z3st #wolffe x nico | z3st #crime investigation #read “tags & warnings” above for more #star wars #clone wars #tcw #star wars fanfiction #x oc #star wars x oc

21 notes · View notes

britneyshakespeare · 8 months ago

Text

i finished the merry wives of windsor today btw. 4 shakespeare plays left to go

#tales from diana #i'm in a pickle bc i've been burning through the remainders in the last year or so in a way that makes me... melancholic #i didnt hate merry wives even though i wasn't looking forward to it for a very long time bc i knew it was mostly prose #im neither a big falstaff fan (im sorry) not do i get the most charm from shakespeare from his prose #but admittedly it was still rather enjoyable as a comedy. you dont get a lot of fake cuckoldry plots from shakespeare specifically #not in comedy certainly! so i enjoyed the trickery of it #not the worst shakespeare play as far as pure entertainment value at all. nothing's as boring as henry viii #that one was a big disappointment #i have one play in each category left (counting the romances as their own category) (and counting kinsmen as his work)#coriolanus. king john. measure for measure actually! and two noble kinsmen #i know a lot about measure for measure already i just have never read it in full. twelfth night was like that as a reading experience too #i wasn't in a rush to get to it but in the case of measure. i wanted to get merry wives out of the way first #and leave my last pure comedy to be something i would almost certainly enjoy more #now im kind of in a pickle bc i feel the ecstasy of being tempted to just finish the complete plays already #but i also wanna pace myself and read other things #i kinda have this idea of what if i saved the last 4 to read in 2025? but we're not even halfway through 2024 #i dont have that kinda patience #maybe ill reread some old favorites in the meantime or something. idk #i dont think i mentioned it on here but i got the rsc complete works second edition from 2022 #last month! bc my riverside is in delicate condition. but i switched back between the two when reading merry wives #i just couldnt help it. i miss my mother. it's always going to be the most personally comfortable book for me to read from #i read the majority of these plays in that volume. that book TAUGHT ME to read shakespeare #but i need to be strong and i also enjoy comparative literary studies and a more recent book has a lot to offer #im yammering on to myself incoherently im sure nobody really cares what im saying. even i dont! ok goodbye goodnight

3 notes · View notes

mourning-again-in-america · 1 year ago

Text

@centrally-unplanned said: As someone who doesn't follow law too closely I individually hear a lot about his decisions being unsupported and ill-considered, sort of a "just isn't that good at the law" compared to Alito's "he sure has some hot takes", but as someone who only reads opinions as-needed for other non-legal topics I ofc don't hold that opinion myself, just things you hear. I see the distinction you are drawing, which makes sense!

first of all, i am, how you say, crossfaded right now, second of all, i have barely read any of his opinions, third of all, i am extremely not a lawyer, fourth of all i am a known ~will baude simp and he might be characterized as such wrt thomas tho i would not say so. furthermore, some qualifications i would like to make: I am not trying to defend his opinions in the criminal justice sphere, I think he's overreacting to a trend among the Dems that was dead for 20-30 years, was temporarily resurrected, and appears to have been quashed (see: "victimology"); this especially goes for capital cases, I disagree with him on the necessary and proper marijuana case Randy Barnett argued, I also think that he overreaches when he posits the powers of the Presidency (esp the exclusive and *non-overridable* powers of the Presidency) via Article II and welcome much more scholarship on this before various aspects of this are set in stone (see state secrets cases and many many others), as well as the qualifications on the other post, and so many more and yet furthermore, I reject argumentum ad Bostock, textualism before original public meaning and original legal meaning before "original public meaning", and I'm anti-Borkian on the 9th amendment, and probably so many other things AND YET.

i think that he has done a real service to law by demonstrating how one can try to struggle and do originalism. if it had been just him, or just scalia, people would have dismissed it as eccentrism, an odd quirk. but with *both* of them on the court, duelling and concurring to their heart's content, people took it seriously! and now we see gorsuch, kavanaugh, and barrett are each trying to show to the country that *we can do it*. we can *actually* live under constitutional government. i especially appreciate him disagreeing very publicly with the supposedly settled precedent of the Slaughterhouse Cases. i also think that contrasting New York etc. v. Bruen (authored by Thomas) with Dobbs (Alito), one sees a much sharper view of how to provide a determinate view of ascertaining rights, rights supported by text and the history of the founding etc., and less susceptible to the critique by libs that originalism is just "yadda yadda i got five votes, here's some bullshit that's sorta related that happened in the past, here's some social conservative moralizing, fuck you!". There's some more that I could go on, but I'm not sure what would be relevant to you (or any readers of this blog).

If I could offer some hypotheses as to why I think such a belief may have been propagated (and may Allah forgive me for attempting "realism" and possible assertions of bad faith), although this is a bit before my time, I believe a lot of people who are more Democrat inclined were burned hard by Bush v. Gore, and the concurrence by Rehnquist, joined by Scalia and Thomas only rubbed salt on that by suggesting (quite rightfully imo, but thankfully cabined in Moore v. Harper (2023)) that a state legislature could declare by law how that state shall delegate its electors to the Electoral College before the election, superseding the voters, and *possibly* (but now no longer as per Moore v Harper) superseding a state's constitution and the state courts (I shall refrain from speaking as to whether there could be any such emotion from the confirmation hearing and Anita Bryant). Also, I don't think that people really "got" what Alito's deal was like at his confirmation, or until possibly even a decade later when it became so obvious that Alito wasn't just a wingnut libertarian, he was a cranky sonofabitch much further to the right than John Roberts, who I have heard the media focused their fire on much more, allegedly (source: insinuations on FedSoc podcasts) because of his view on the amendments to the Voting RIghts Act during his time in the Reagan admin (I personally think there's a quite humorous analogy between the initial reactions to Gorsuch vs Kavanaugh, Josh Blackman iirc has said that Kav probably wouldn't have gotten in had not the Senate majority leadership felt it had to go "nuclear" for Gorsuch). Also, a lot of my evidence for my respect for Justice Thomas comes from the questions that he would ask during oral arguments, which he only began doing recently, because of, I believe, first the change in argumentative procedure during the remote COVID days, and then the outcry from the general listening public that his questions were much more than welcome -- and I separately respect him for his reason why he didn't ask questions much before: he didn't like interrupting people for his own purposes.

Even beyond this, I have *much* hatred for Alito, who I have never seen an opinion I've liked from, and from listening to 2+ years of oral arguments, I have *very rarely* heard an argument where Alito asked better questions/made better use of his time than Thomas, and based on a frankly very limited sample of opinions and shadow docket stuff, I don't think I've ever found Thomas saying something or agreeing with something that Alito didn't also agree with, when I found it outrageous. Also, Alito just generally strikes me as at least a bit of a political hack (a very broad umbrella that also covers Kagan, Roberts, Kavanaugh, Barrett, and maybe Thomas, Jackson, and Sotomayor, and maybe maybe Gorsuch). Also also, he seems to have very little to say about abstract issues that aren't also political (this being something I quite respect the *actual* originalists, such as they are (Thomas and Gorsuch imo), for), see the previously referred to opinion about the govt acq'd entity that is Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac as a point for Thomas. Also also also, as sort of argued above, his opinion in Dobbs is just so *meh* if not straightforwardly disappointing in Dobbs compared to Bruen. Alsox3.5, I think that he brings "turnabout is fair play" to a harmful level of "tu quoque -- it seems that if you've ever been a hypocrite in a way that he disagrees with, you may be forced, just for that reason, to suffer his wrath! But *really*, putting aside my terrible fears that eventually Alito & Barrett can get the votes endorsing *truly* theocratic rule (and putting aside as well that I think that this has a 0.25-1%ish likelihood of happening, maybe up to 5% if strategical political assassinations are normalized), my vociferous objection to Alito comes from a comment of his during oral argument in either SEC v Cochran or Axon v FTC, where he suggested that the eventual winner, trying to get the ability to challenge the constitutionality of the administrative so-called "judge" (if i'm remembering the cases right) via their allegedly unconstitutional removal restrictions in a federal district court before submitting to/requiring finalization of possibly interminable agency process, could have gotten what they were looking for via a writ of mandamus, which is supposed to be *extraordinary relief* to correct an injury under *clearly established law* (the supposed "clearly established law" that Alito suggested was Seila Law, which was itself suggested as being a drasting break from how things have been, and I think, having not read that opinion, it was not necessarily settled how the decision should impact the SEC and FTC esp given Humphrey's Executor). I could dismiss this as a one-off comment, were he not also similarly arguing on the shadow docket (stays, injunctions, etc.) in either motions granted or the newly-so-called "dissentals" (dissents from denials of X where X may be an injunction, a grant of certiorari, etc.), in a similar way, for such hasty new application of very strong changes to the law, and i have not heard a good theory or explanation for this -- in fact, when i've heard will baude forced to take a position on these things, iirc he has described it as "not great", and I have heard very little/no discussion of this from my feed of FedSoc's YT channel!

To prevent it very simply, I think that Thomas offers a vision of judging that, while ofc susceptible to critique and improvement (like all human reasoning), in my view, offers analytical tools that can be used regardless of partisanship and my main issue with him is that I don't think he goes far enough -- I really cannot wait to hear his ideas on the original meaning of the 14th amendment. Alito, however, what does he have to offer? Fear of being a chump? Advanced game theory? I do not expect to weep if he is easily forgotten.

#and also this is mostly considering his opinions post ~2013 and only to the extent i'm aware of them #i'm not sure if you're following Steve Vladeck on twt but in addition to him being more leftish than me (ish) he has a *very* understandabl #issue with what counts for mandamus in the DC circuit which is where a lot of Gitmo litigation goes to die like many of the attempts to #try to cure many of the defects in the al-Nashiri case (which ive covered here b4) & some other similar cases. so he's kind of ~triggered #with regard to the supreme court's orders list. (again all of this is just IMO from listening to him for more than 200 hours)#also also also also i think the way Alito presented the case in his opinion in Glacier Northern v Teamsters & his reasoning therein are bot #quite wrong and quite bad even though there's at least a 20% chance if not 40% chance i agree with him entirely in the ultimate judgment`#those who were not witnesses to me composing this live may not realize quite how fucked up i was when writing this but may it be noted #that this took me probably an hour to write up

0 notes

sanguineterrain · 6 months ago

Text

in the buff | jason todd

Summary: The one where you learn firsthand that Jason Todd sleeps in the nude.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings/tags: best friend jason, awkwardness, nudity, reader hardcore thirsting over jaytodd, love confessions, humor (attempts at it, anyway), silliness. inspired by this post!

the divider

There's been a huge (blessed) development in the drug ring case that you and Jason are working on. You can hardly sleep now.

Normally, you'd call or text Jason, even though he's usually already in the know. It's possible that you just like having an excuse to call him, but who can confirm such a thing?

But it's late, probably too late to call, considering Jason doesn't answer his phone unless it's pinged directly to his helmet after a certain time, courtesy of his family being "a buncha jackasses" (his words, obviously).

But maybe it's not too late for a visit. After all, Jason patrols late, and has insane insomnia. He very well could be awake at this late hour. And he's never minded you dropping by before.

In truth, you haven't seen Jason in a few days and you feel restless now when you go longer than a day without seeing each other. You're not quite sure why that is.

So here you are, disabling the window alarm on Jason's apartment. Partly for a case, partly for your own benefit.

It takes a few minutes but you manage to open the window without anyone calling the police or whacking you with a broom. You slide open the window mostly soundlessly. Then you wait. The room remains dark and quiet.

You're pretty proud of yourself actually. It's not that you're green when it comes to spycraft, but you're certainly no Batman.

Still, you've managed to sneak into Jason's apartment without waking him. The Red Hood. You peek in to check if he's really asleep.

And he is, dark hair stark against the white pillow. It sticks out in messy tufts. You can't see past Jason's neck and his freckled arms, illuminated by the orange streetlight outside. You put your laptop bag on the floor.

He's sleeping on his stomach, facing away from you, but you're very endeared by how he's curled up under his sheet, hands tucked under his pillow. If you went really close to his face, you could count his eyelashes. Jason has such pretty eyelashes.

That's a perfectly normal thought to have about your best friend, right? Boys have pretty eyelashes. You're just making an observation.

You're bewildered by how cold the room is, surprised that Jason can withstand such a temperature. Maybe it's a Pit thing.

You watch him for a moment longer. Guilt pools in your gut. Are you really going to wake him when he's probably just gone to bed in the last hour? It takes Jason so long to fall asleep, you know that.

...

No, you should let him sleep. You can work on the case in the morning.

You bend down to get your laptop bag. In that time, the light flicks on.

You flinch, turn around, and find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Said gun is held by an extremely naked Jason Todd.

"Oh my God!" you say at the same time Jason realizes his mistake.

"What the fuck!" he shouts, grabbing a pillow to cover himself.

But not before you get an eyeful of your best friend's, er, weaponry.

"Why are you naked?" you shout, gaze darting everywhere. Good Lord, it's seared into your retinas. You're never getting the image of Jason's dick out of your brain.

"Why are you in my apartment?" Jason snaps back.

"No, my question is way more urgent," you say.

"No the hell it's not! You broke in! I'm allowed to be naked in my apartment!"

"Okay. Alright. I came because there's been a development in our case. I thought we could work on it together but when I realized you were asleep for real, I decided to leave."

Jason rolls his eyes. "You know I'm a light sleeper. I just went to bed. I was up late.”

Realization strikes you. Could it be...?

"Oh my God. Do you have someone here?" you ask, voice sinking to a whisper.

"I have you here," Jason says irritably.

"No, like—" You make a hole with one hand and stick a finger into it. "Y'know..."

"Jesus, no!" Jason's face twists in disgust. "C'mon!"

"Okay, chill out, Jay-Jay. It'd be fine if you did. I can keep a secret," you say, shrugging. People have sex. You know that. You've never thought about Jason having sex, but you suppose it's possible. Why not? Just because you've never had sex and you always hoped that Jason would be your first doesn't mean that he would. If he's moved on in his life, then you should too.

Jason scoffs. "Yeah, okay. You think anybody would get into bed with a headcase like me?"

Hope rekindles. You're not behind. Jason's right there with you, virginity firmly intact.

He puts the safety back on the gun, squishing the pillow against himself with his elbow. You watch in fascination at his multitasking. Jason starts to turn around to put the gun behind the headboard before clearly thinking twice about mooning you.

"So... why are you naked?" you ask, respectfully keeping your eyes north of the equator.

"If you must know, I sleep in the nude. Now turn around."

You don't turn around. "In the nude?"

Jason's eye twitches. "Yes, nude. It's better for your body and it's more comfortable and I don't—"

You pull a face. "Who says in the nude? How old are you, a hundred?"

"That's what you're harping on?" Jason asks. "You broke into my apartment!"

You hold up a finger. "I didn't break in, I disarmed the alarm like you taught me."

"Yeah, which was only for emergencies. This isn't an emergency. Now turn around!"

So you turn around. You hear the pillow fall and the image returns. You recite the alphabet backwards. When that doesn't work, you think about the time you helped Jason on a mission in the sewers and couldn't get the smell out of your suit for a week.

Yeah, that'll do it. You shudder.

"Can't believe you just broke in," he mumbles. "Raised in a fuckin' barn, swear to God."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm truly, honestly sorry, Jaybee. From the bottom of my heart. Can I look now?"

"If you dare."

"Are you decent?" you ask.

"Too easy of a joke," he says. "Yeah, the jewels are covered."

You turn slowly. Jason's got red (ha) boxers on, so you turn all the way.

Huh. Well.

You've never really thought much about what Jason's got going on underneath his armor. Certainly, you've assumed that he's got a good physique and a lot of stamina, considering what he does. You've always assumed that. But Jason's Jason. Your best friend, Jason. Your best friend, Jason, who came back really tall, yeah, and with a deep voice and a super pretty face...

Well, anyway. He's Jason. That's all.

But now? Now you get to look in depth, and... whoa.

Jason's broad, stocky, heavily muscled with a soft layer of fat on top. His arms are huge, hands proportionally big. His pecs are full with pink nipples the same shade as his lips. That's a fact you're never forgetting. Your belly flutters.

Okay, what the fuck! No. This is peak creepy behavior, leering at your best friend like this, even if he does have shoulders you could sink your teeth into and thighs you'd happily get crushed between. No! Bad.

...You look some more. He's covered in scars. This is the first time you've seen his autopsy scar in person. It's white, noticeable but healed, like most of his scars. There's a dusting of dark hair from his chest to his belly button. It thickens as it dips beneath his—

Mm, nope. Not thinking about that again.

"Hello-o."

Your eyes dart back to his face.

"Are you listening to me?" he asks, forehead crinkled.

"What? Yes. Sorry. Yes." Your cheeks burn.

Something crosses Jason's face, too quick for you to read. But then his expression stones over. He glances at the dresser across from the bed.

"If you gimme a sec, I'll put a shirt on so y'won't have to look at all this," he says, gesturing roughly to his body.

You blink, lost in Jasonland. "Huh?"

"I know the scars are pretty gnarly. Lemme find a shirt."

Jason goes to the dresser and digs through the top drawer. His wide back is strung tight with tension, you can tell. You hurry to him, blocking the drawer with your arm. Jason looks at you, brows rising.

"Can I help you?" he asks.

"Um."

Words. You remember words, don't you?

"You..."

You haven't been physically close to Jason in a long time. He smells like soap and detergent and is all-encompassing. Your brain feels like slush. Don't stare at his pecs.

"I didn't—I'm not grossed out by your scars, Jason," you finally manage to say.

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Sure. You're just grossed out by everything else about me." He sighs wearily, like he's practiced this speech every night in the mirror. "Look, it's fine. I know I'm really—"

"No, it's not fine! I can't bear having you think I'm repulsed by your body, Jason. That's just not true," you say.

"Well, you were starin' pretty hard, so—"

"But it wasn't—I wasn't staring in disgust, I was—I..."

Jason crosses his arms. His pecs are pushed up as he does so. His stomach looks so soft. But you know he's strong. Way stronger than you. Strong enough to wield his strength against you, if you wanted him to. Strong enough to be gentle with you, too.

You wonder if he's still ticklish.

"You're doin' it again!" Jason says, and this time he really does look hurt. Fuck. Fuck! You're a shitty best friend.

"No!" You lock eyes with him. "No, no! I mean, yes, I was looking at you. But I wasn't looking in a bad, judgy way. I was, uh, taking in your physique. Because you have a... a very nice body. I've never seen you without clothes so I was looking at you. Sorry."

Yeah, you'll just go die in a hole after this.

Jason squints at you for a long moment. You start to shift in place. Sweat beads on your forehead. You lick your lips, hoping Jason can hear your honesty.

"Are you messin' with me?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, why would I—"

"You're really telling me that you find this," Jason gestures to his body, "Good looking?"

This is worse than any physical torture. You'd prefer Batman beating you up on a roof to being here.

You rub your temple, cheeks aflame. "Oh my God. Yes, Jason, you're a good looking guy. Can we move on?"

"No, 'cause I think you're lyin', and I don't like it. You're always honest with me."

"I am being honest," you say, suddenly more annoyed than anything. Because what the fuck? "Are you kidding me? There's a whole forum dedicated to the Red Hood and how much people want you to step on them. And that's without seeing your face! I have eyes, Jason, of course I find you attractive."

And that should be the end of it. Jason's already slack-jawed like a dead fish. But no, you keep going.

"You make me nervous and I thought I had a lid on it because we knew each other as kids but it's becoming clear that I very much don't, and that probably has to do with the fact that you're the only guy I've been close to, and I never got over you. And now I'm gonna go drown myself in the Hudson. Good night."

You go to slip out the window. Maybe it'll shut on your head and knock you out. That would be a divine gift.

It doesn't, though. The universe isn't so kind. Instead, Jason catches your arm and keeps you rooted to your spot. His hand is cold. You wonder if the rest of him is warm.

"Wait, wait. Just hang on."

You groan. "Dude, I'm fucking mortified over the last five minutes. Please let me keep some of my dignity," you say without looking at him.

"Now when have I ever done that?" You can hear the smile in his voice.

And suddenly, the miserable reality of never being more than friends with Jason Todd comes crashing down. It's too late. You've always been too late.

You sag in his grip.

"We can just forget this ever happened," you say quietly. "Chalk it up to idiocy."

"Mm, yeah, we could. 'Cept I don't think you're an idiot. And I want you to hear what I have t'say first. Will ya look at me?"

Mopily, you look at him. His hand drops.

"I—"

"You've never slept naked," you say before he can get a word out. "That's new. Otherwise, I would've known, and then I would've used the door."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Can I speak?"

You cross your arms. "Yeah, okay."

"First of all, I don't think it's necessary for me to disclose that I sleep in the nude." You open your mouth to argue. "But I know it was a mistake. I'm not mad about that. Okay?"

You nod. "Okay."

"I won't lie and say I'm not surprised at your... reaction. I don't really... I've never... I'm not Dick or Bruce, y'know? I wasn't told my whole life what a handsome boy I am. And dying and returning didn't really help with that stuff either."

"I think you're handsome, Jason," you say quietly. "Honest."

He coughs and looks away, a tiny blush on his cheeks. "Yeah, uh, think you've made that pretty clear. For the record, I think you're really beautiful. Always thought so."

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean... yeah."

"You're just saying that 'cause I saw your vein cane," you say, grinning.

"Don't call it that."

"How about—"

"No."

You're both quiet.

"How 'bout pork swor—"

"No!"

You smile, eyes squinty. Jason glares.

"Don't nickname my thing," he says.

You nod solemnly. "You're right. It's your thing. You should choose its name."

He shakes his head. "Sucha weirdo."

"Hey, I've never been with a guy. I don't know the rules of thing-naming."

Jason tilts his head. "Never?"

"Never."

"Why?"

You shrug. "Never found anyone I liked enough, I guess. I've pretty much had my heart set on you, Jason."

His face softens. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, uh, me too," he says. "You're it for me, honey. I just never... I mean, really, I never thought it would actually happen with you. Not then, not now."

"Huh. You really should've flashed me earlier. We could've sped things up exponentially."

"Yeah, why didn't I think of that," Jason says dryly.

"Dunno! We all know you're more than a pretty face."

His face reddens. You grin.

"Are you shy?" you ask, dancing on your toes.

"No. Shut up."

"You're shy! I make Jason Todd shy! Oh, this is wonderful. I should break into your apartment regularly."

"It's just new for me!" he says. "Lea' me alone."

You cozy up to him, confidence renewed by the mutual confession. You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason looks at you, hands slowly coming to rest on your waist. The rest of him is warm.

"Just teasing you, Jaybee," you say.

"Hmm." He slowly nudges your cheek with his nose. "Like y'always do?"

"Like I always do," you say sweetly. "But for the record, if we ever share a bed in the future, you're gonna have to keep the soldier in his tent."

Jason lets go of you, exasperated. "Oh, for—y'know what? Your visitation privileges are revoked. Get outta my apartment."

You put on the saddest face you can muster. "You're kicking me out? Into the cold?"

"It's eighty degrees."

You sigh loudly. "Okay, fine. Date tomorrow?"

"Seriously?" Jason asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Seriously! Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"You really wanna date me?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life."

Jason's relief is palpable and bittersweet. You'll spend the rest of your days letting him know just how spectacular he and his pectorals are.

"Okay," he says, shy again. You don't tease him this time.

"Great!" You close the distance between you and peck him on the cheek. His blinks in surprise.

"I'll give you a proper kiss on our date," you say, winking. "Bye, Jasey-Daisy."

"Bye, honey. Don't break into anyone else's apartment on your way home."

"Never," you say, climbing out the window. "You're the only one for me, Toddy!"

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x yn #jason todd x yn #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #red hood fanfic #humor #fluff

1K notes · View notes

kaelio · 2 months ago

Text

Hello everyone, I'm here today to engage in the absolutely thankless task of defending the hell out of this sentence getting commuted.

First things first:

I am not a prison abolitionist (this is important)

This former judge is one of the worst scumbags alive. Basically, he sent kids to juvie/prison in return for kickbacks.

So why did I want his sentence commuted? Oh, me? I didn't.

But this was part of a package of commutations requested by prison abolitionists. Yes, they asked for this, even spent hundreds of thousands on advertisements to demand it. Basically, Biden commuted the sentences of 1,500 people who were on "compassionate release", meaning they were already living at home. This is mostly just really old/sick people.

Biden didn't commute this guy's sentence as such, he commuted the sentences of a type of person out on compassionate release and didn't take the judge out of the pile. He didn't say, "except, not him".

This judge (scumbag) served 13 of his 16 years, but in 2020 was sent home because he was in such poor health it was assumed Covid would kill him. He's been at home ever since.

Now, this is important. This man cannot commit this offense again. He's not a judge any more! So recidivism is impossible. He cannot re-offend. So, in his case, prison can't be for rehabilitation or in any way to make sure he doesn't do it again. He can't! Never could have. The only real reason he was there was to punish him, which is fine. Personally, I'm fine with prisons being solely for punishment. But are you? Is that what you've been saying? Has that been your stance, that prisons are to punish people?

"But this guy was especially bad." Oh, so... mercy for people who didn't do really bad things? Then you're not getting any of these commutations. Because if you were in federal prison for long enough to qualify to be out on compassionate release, you did something really bad! Biden also pardoned everyone in federal prison for non-violent marijuana charges and you could count the number of people on your fingers because you don't actually get sent to federal prison over minor drug crimes.

Let's make it clear: "Mercy and leniency, but only for people who I define as innocent" means.... no mercy and no leniency. And you can be on board with that. You can be vengeful or a revanchist or bitter and brutal at heart; you're totally allowed. But then don't pretend you're not! In fact, that's the heart of Trumpism: there are those for whom laws should protect but not bind, and for others laws which should bind but not protect. (Or, as Óscar Benavides put it: "For my friends, everything; for my enemies, the law.") If your stance is just "good things for people I like and agree with, and bad things for those I don't" then you just have a different sense of who should be punished or die. But your thinking is fundamentally the same. Have you had a consistent stance about vigilante killing lately? Let me ask, who's allowed to decide among the populace who may live and who must die?

It's very unlikely anyone will ever again be as generous and compassionate as Biden has been with his powers. Because when he is, when he actually does it, when he's kind down to his very soul, you fucking hate it. That's what 2024 was; the revealed preferences election. You didn't want to pay people a living wage to deliver your burrito, you don't actually want people let out of jail, and you think capital punishment is fine as long as the executioner was hot.

811 notes · View notes

flw3rrr · 7 months ago

Note

Could you please do one where the reader is Javis sister and she barley survived the tornado five years early. She’s married to Tyler now and something goes wrong during a chase and the reader ends up getting severely hurt and Tyler and Javi risk everything to save her. She’s unresponsive but ends up being okay

Promise me

Tyler owens x fem!reader

Warnings: slight Swearing, injured reader, Angst, Fluff, No mentions of Y/n, flashbacks to trauma

word count: 2k

A/N: Tysm for this request! I hope this goes to your Liking and please feel free to request more💖

Have a request? feel free to send me it in my inbox!

The only thing you could hear was your bother. Javi was screaming your name in the distance as you laid on the grass, your vision almost a blur as you stared at the gray sky above you. Everything felt slow and calm, as if everything was alright. But nothing was alright, barely surviving an EF5 with harsh winds throwing you around at a failed attempt to capture data of the tornado.

Not even noticing or feeling the intense pain within your lower body, just staring at the sky as if it were comforting you. In a blur, Javi stood above you, looking almost horrified as he looked over your body. immediately taking notice, a wood peace of a fence went through your right leg. "Stay awake, alright?" Shaking you slightly to keep your brain still aware. The rest of his words were muffled, not minding as you felt something pulling you above.

The last thing you heard from Javi was him yelling at you in a panic to try to stay awake more and wait for the paramedics to come rescue you before your vision went black in the most peaceful way you ever felt.

Five years later

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror at the gas station, letting the cold water run over your hands as you cleaned them thoroughly, getting rid of any germs you had on your hands for just being in the bathroom. Your wedding ring getting more shiny as the water ran through it. Bringing a smile to your face just five years ago, you were on the edge of death and now a happily married woman to none other than Tyler Owens. The tornado wrangler.

A knock broke your train of thought as Lily spoke from behind the door. "Are you almost done? Some of us have to use the bathroom too, yknow?!" Quickly drying your hands before opening the door to meet Lily. "Yeah, I'm done now. Sorry, I was just in my own world for a quick second." letting out a little laugh.

Patting your shoulder as Lily closes the door shut quickly with the sound of the lock turning. Turning away and approaching Dexter, who stood in the aisle looking at the batteries. "Need extras?" You asked, crossing your arms.

Along with Dexter and Dani, you helped them a bit with navigation, but mostly you hung out in the truck with Tyler, Boone, and Javi. Having to take it easy since the injury that took place on your leg left you weak and needed an easier job.

Having such love for this job made you never want to quit at all. As soon as you were discharged from the hospital, you wanted to go back out, but with ears full from Javi and other friends, you waited. Three years later, you still were getting the strength you had on your leg. It was hard as the years went by as Javi went on to continue to storm chase, then some time in the military. But it was all worth it as you met Tyler, who brought more happiness to your life and as well some new friends.

"Not really, but I'm getting some of these just in case you'll never know when something happens." Dexter's voice pulls you out of your thoughts once more. "Ah well, you're right on that one; you can never be sure." Giving a warm smile before hearing a voice behind speaking up. "Be sure of what?" Tyler's voice was heard as his hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him lovingly.

Just at the sound of his voice, it already has you a blushing mess, it doesn't matter if both of you are married; you'd never get over it. He always treated you fairly and kindly and with respect, and you gave the same in return.

Looking up at him with a big smile and back to Dexter. "He was just telling me he's getting extra batteries just in case, y'know?" Tyler let out a laugh with a shake of his head. "always thinking ahead, which I greatly appreciate. In fact, today is supposed to be easy. With the stats we are seeing, it should be at least something tiny." Now walking out of the building with Tyler and approaching Javi, Dani, and Boone, who was checking the camera storage.

"How you feelin'?" Javi asked as you approached him by the truck. Javi has always worried for you since the injury and always double checks if you're sure you'd like to continue on. It always made you smile though; Javi was the best brother you could ask for, and you'd never wished to replace him ever.

"I am feeling good, Javi; no need to worry about me. I don't need two people to keep checking up on me every second." Tyler also always asked you if you wanted to join and go through, and it made you always feel like the safest person on earth.

Just earning a small nod from him before Tyler spoke once to the whole group, announcing one minute left before heading out. Crossing your arms, you looked at the sky. The wind was not strong, but it made your stomach turn, feeling a sense of unease and worry. Taking deep breaths to desperately fight the flashbacks, closing your eyes and trying to focus on the sound of your breaths before a hand sat on your shoulder, taking you back to reality.

Looking over your eyes met Tyler once more; his face looked concerned for you and worried. "Is everything alright, sweetheart?" His voice even carried the sound of concern. Giving him a slight smile as you turn to fully meet him, placing your hands on each side of him and holding onto him. "Of course I'm fine, Tyler. Don't worry about me." Giving a reassuring squeeze before he spoke up.

"But I'm supposed to worry about you; that's my job as your husband. Don't forget that." letting out a slight chuckle and a smile to boost the mood between one another. A chuckle escaped past your lips. Your head landing on his chest, hiding your smirk from his comment. "I could never forget Tyler... I love you too much to ever forget that," a soft smile placed on your lips.

His face lowered down to meet your's to place a soft and quick kiss against your lips. Both of you taking in the moment just the two of you as the wind slowly picked up. "Not to bother your guy's little moment, but uh, it's time to get goin'." Lilly's voice spoke, breaking the moment.

Getting in the back of the truck with Javi as Tyler sat in the driver seat and Boone in the passenger. You usually preferred the back when you felt uneasy, giving a sense of comfort. Just as Tyler started to drive, talking to the viewers through the camera, you and Javi kept an eye on the wind speeds and closely monitored, giving every piece of information to everyone.

Javi looked away for a couple of minutes to talk to the camera, joining in the fun as you kept a close eye on the monitor. The winds picked up speed, the sky got darker, and then rain began to pour down harshly. Glancing up, you look at the funnel slowly forming, doing the math and analyzing the size. This wouldn't be some EF1…

"Woah, do you guys see that now that is a good one?" Tyler spoke to the viewers once more as Boone turned to show it forming. Your body froze, unable to move. Every thought and memory came back in a flash quickly.

"Javi, I need to get this data; it's the most important one I can ever get." You spoke loudly, trying to be heard over the high winds, clutching the computer in your arms tightly. "But you'll get yourself killed; it's not worth it!" Javi yelled, trying to get you back in the van to safety.

Just as you turned back, it was too late, as the large EF5 looked as if it wasn't moving. With a great chance, it was approaching your way.

Coming back to your senses once again as Javi looks at you with worry. "Are you alright? What's the matter?" Both of his hands on your shoulder, Tyler looking at you through the little mirror, as Boone just kept the camera away from you for privacy. Quickly showing your brother the wind speed and then pointing to the almost formed tornado and speaking only five words. "We need to leave now."

But it was too late; it had already formed into a massive EF5. With no little time, Tyler quickly started to drive. Your eyes locked on the tornado in fear. "I can't see shit!" Tyler yelled through the loud rain.

"Just drive go go go!" Boone yelled. Then everything went slow for the second time in your life. The sudden calm feeling you enjoyed and overwhelmed you. You take notice of everyone's expressions. Javi was petrified as his right hand gripped on your arm. Tyler's eyes shut, hands gripping the wheel, his wedding ring shining brightly. And Boone was holding onto the camera dearly.

Then it went back to normal with a sound of a crash, then darkness once more. Perhaps it was how you were meant to go? Or someone above was cradling you in their arms, offering comfort and safety; whatever it was, it felt as if it were a dream.

It only felt as if this comfort lasted a second. The sound of a constant beeping rang through your ears. A feeling of a rough blanket beneath your fingers as you slowly moved them. Then a comforting hand laid on your forehead, slowly stroking your hair. A deep breath leaves from you before your eyes slowly flutter open.

It took time for your eyes to focus as the bright lights lit the hospital room, and the first face you met is with Tyler; he had a cut on his face going over his nose. His smile grew as you made eye contact. "Hey there.." He softly spoke, his hand still slowly stroking your hair. "What.." Your voice hurt, throat was dry, and you had a lot of head pain. He shushed you quietly before placing a loving kiss on your forehead before speaking.

"The truck flipped over... and a lot of crazy things happened. but you were the most injured. Some brain damage and bleeding. but nothing too bad." His face frowned as he gave you the story of what had happened that day.

"How long..?" You slowly leaned up with the help of Tyler and a couple of tears.

"Three weeks." Those words shocked you; it only felt like you were out for a mere second. Taking a good look around the room, you looked and saw flowers and a comfy blanket at the bottom of the bed. "Javi and the others?" You turned your head with a wince.

Tyler gave a kiss to your hand before he took a seat beside the bed. "They are all alright, I promise you. They even visited you, but you won't remember since you were out," letting out a soft laugh. You gave him one in return, which sounded heavenly to him; not hearing your laugh in three weeks was a nightmare for him. not knowing if you'd ever wake up.

Tyler looked at you with such love; his hand never let go of yours. placing one kiss upon your hand once more before speaking. "Can you promise me something?" His eyes looked at you, silently begging you to hear his question, giving him a slight nod. "Promise me that anytime from now on you will always tell me when something feels wrong or you feel uneasy, please." Reading his face, your injury left him tired, eye bags under his eyes, almost as if he waited those three weeks for you to wake up. Placing your hand on his cheek softly, caressing with your thumb before speaking up. "I promise"

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens #twisters #tyler owens twisters #tyler owens imagine #request #requests open #requests are welcome

1K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?

A/N: Thank you for your request! I've been very much feeling post-Prison/ later seasons Spencer recently, so I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: mostly fluff, implied age-gap, slight mentor/mentee dynamic.

Your first year in the BAU would've been tough had it not been for Doctor Spencer Reid.

It was tough still, but without him, you don't think you'd have been able to handle much of it. He'd been your mentor through each case, taking you under his wing when he wasn't on academic leave, teaching his criminology courses at the FBI Academy.

Those weeks were the hardest, and you found yourself moping about in the office, texting him once or twice a trip for advice.

On one particularly hard case, he'd come back into the office after you'd text. Not to consult on the case, but just to drop you off a chamomile tea and a pastry to brighten your day that little bit.

When he was back, your days were great. He knew so much, and you learnt so much from him so quickly, eagerly consuming his every word. You were so eager to please him that you often forgot others around the two of you.

“Spencer, if you're done fawning after Y/N we have a case to work on,” Emily gently chastised the man as he pulled out your chair for you, ready to sit down to hear the details of your next crime.

“Oh, Emily, thank you, but it's okay. Doctor Reid was just being considerate, I'm sure he'd have done it for anyone.” The shared glances around the room were filled with glib secrecy, but no-one commented further, leaving you slightly baffled.

Those shared looks between the other members of your team had become more common as of late, with each one more worrisome than the next. There was something unsettling about being the only one out of the loop, and as the newest member of the team, and the youngest, it often felt disheartening.

“Y/N, don't worry. Being the youngest member of any team is tough, but you're smart and you're holding your own.” With a pat to your head he walked away, lifting the weight off your shoulders slightly but not fully. You needed to get to the bottom of the BAU's non-verbal communications, and you needed answers.

Your first technique was interrogation. Surely one of them would break and tell you if you laid out your thoughts and feelings clearly.

Surely not, you found, as each member casually and softly blew you off.

“Y/N, you just need to think carefully about how certain members of the team act towards you. How familiar they are. How overly familiar they are.” Tara had at least told you that much, bit it had left you just as confused as the radio silence from the others.

“Everyone has behaved very professionally with me. You've all been very welcoming up to this point, which I appreciate greatly.”

“I wouldn't count gifting you flowers for your first successful case as the most professional act, Y/N,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “But I suppose that is just up to interpretation.

Doctor Reid had sent you flowers after you finished your first case. But there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. You'd both worked on the geographical profile on that case, and together had figured out the species of flower the unsub was using was only cultivated on one local flower orchard. It had cracked the case open and you'd found your unsub hours later.

So the flowers were an extension of that small joint success. That was all.

Your second attempt at figuring out what was going on was observation.

Partially taking Tara’s advice, you tried your best to track the moments when each of the weary looks would come your way.

Overwhelmingly, they seemed to be directed towards Doctor Reid whenever the two of you interacted.

You had to gently inform him of this, before it interrupted both of your abilities to work.

“Doctor Reid, do you know why Emily and Rossi are both currently watching us from between the blinds in their offices?” You whispered to the man, leaning in close to his ear. You were quite sure he didn't know, but a question seemed as good a way as any to broach the topic.

“I do, yes. It's best if you ignore them.”

His nonchalance in the matter shocked you, so sure you were that this would be news to him. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

“Why are they staring at us?” You finally managed to force the words out in a small squeak, forcing his eyes back to yours.

“Don't worry about it for now, I'll handle it.” He smiled down as you, and the bright gesture washed away more of the tension you'd been feeling in the office. You smiled back at him as he rose from his desk chair and carried himself to the stairs. You giggled when he winked down at you, just as you noticed Emily frantically hurrying away from her office window as Spencer knocked on her door.

As much as he told you to not worry about it all though, you really couldn't help yourself. You found yourself growing more clumsy under the watchful eyes of your entire team, galling more times than you'd care to admit into Doctor Reid's arms. He always caught you, though, and you were thankful you never did yourself serious injury.

You finally got the answers you'd craved out on a case about a month into your struggles.

There was something slightly unsettling about the way the female Sheriff was paying attention to Doctor Reid, and it made you uncomfortable. Your mouth ran dry when she touched his arm, but a small part of you warmed up again when he shrugged her off. Until, at least, you heard him explain why.

“I'm sorry, I'm a germophobe, so I'd really prefer you not touch me.” His voice was calm and steady; it really didn't seem like he was lying.

“You're not pulling my leg? I'm sorry if I came on too strong, but-”

“Why would I pull your leg, I said I don't like physical touch?”

“Well, there was that young girl earlier, Y/N was it? You had your hand on her back as you walked in, so I didn't think…”

The woman had made a good point, and you crept closer to the edge of the door to hear Doctor Reid - Spencer's response.

“Sheriff, if we're done here, do you think I could get back to my job?” You were almost disappointed in the change of topic, but you weren't all that sad to see the Sheriff remove herself from the room. Slipping in behind her you decided to test the new theory that had slipped into your mind in the last minutes.

You called out to him to grab his attention as you walked into the room but before he had the chance to turn and greet you, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your body down against his, enveloping him in a back hug.

It was quite possibly the most familiar position you'd been in with him, but really it wasn't all that different from your usual proximity.

Unlike when the Sheriff casually brushed against him, he didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, but instead melted into your touch, looking up at you with a large grin.

You stood shocked for a minute before grinning back.

“Spencer, I think I know why everyone has been watching us for the last few weeks.” You said, causing his eyes to panic slightly as he acknowledged your words.

“The, uh, the Sheriff was just in here talking about a development either some of the DNA test results-” He desperately tried to change the subject, but you were locked in now, spinning his chair around to face you more as you came eye-to-eye with him.

“I know why the Sheriff was in here, Spencer, I heard it all.”

“It's not what you think,” you paused for a moment as your brow furrowed, trying to figure out if you'd somehow caught the wrong end of the stick.

“So our coworkers haven't been waiting for you to ask me out, having noticed large changes in your body language and attitude around me?”

“It's….exactly as you think.” His face was flushed with pink and your heart skipped a beat at the man in front of you. But you still had some questions.

“And you knew, but you didn't say anything to me despite the fact that I bought it up multiple times?”

“I'm…I'm not good with words," he frowned

“Are you good with dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're going to take me on a date when we get back to Quantico. After giving it some thought, Doctor Reid, it seems I've become quite enamoured of you.” You dropped into his lap then, sitting there like a cat pleased to take up residence on its owners legs. He stuttered for a few seconds but then found his voice again, face lighting up.

“Spencer. Please, Y/N, call me Spencer.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

6K notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 9 months ago

Text

freedom felt like summer | joel miller

Summary | Weeks of flirting back and forth with your neighbour Joel all comes to a head when he makes sure every inch of you in covered in suncream.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.6K

Warnings | Explicit - reader wears a bikini and uses sun cream but is otherwise a blank slate. Alcohol consumption. Swearing, flirting, and dirty talk. Explicit smut - oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected PiV smut, creampie. No outbreak au and no use of y/n.

Authors Note | We've had a slither of sun in the UK and this is what happens. Big thanks to @undercoverpena for the shorts idea ;) I hope you enjoy! If you do, please consider reblogging, leaving comments or leaving a tip via my Ko-Fi.

Divider by the wonderful @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

There’s nothing quite like an Austin summer. Hot sun beating down, but with the new pool your parents had built when you’d moved out and their fully stocked fridge of soda and ice, it wasn’t too bad at all.

They’d gone on their annual holiday, two weeks in Mexico, which meant you had two weeks of lounging by the pool, soaking up the sun and bleeding them for their food and drinks. No responsibilities, is what you’d told yourself, laptop shut and job applications waiting, whilst you soaked the sun into your skin and made margaritas too strong once the clock struck 1pm.

The heat across your skin had dried the chlorine water quickly, coconut scented suncream slathered across every inch you could reach, not worrying about your back because it was pressed against the back of the lounger. You’re just started to drift off, eyes closing behind your sunglasses, when a voice jolts you.

“You manage to reach your back with that?”

There’s a small smirk that flashes across your mouth, quickly bitten away by your teeth as you sit up and turn around a little, looking over to the fence where Joel Miller is leaning over, pointing to the bottle of suncream on the small table next to you.

“Hard to reach there when it’s just me,” You shrug, “But it’s okay, it’s not getting any of the sun anyhow.”

He shakes his head and makes a tsk sound with his tongue against his teeth, “Don’t mean you shouldn’t try and cover it,” He says, sounding more like your dad than you’d care to admit, “The sun ain’t gonna look at that lounger and think it can’t burn you.”

“Well, I'm here on my own,” You offer, “Unless you’re gonna volunteer to smear it on my back, Miller, I'm gonna have to risk it.”

You can see him thinking over the fence, wondering if this is a good idea, much like he’s been thinking since you came home - degree done, jobs waiting - he’d flirted with you at your dad’s cookout in honour of you graduating, swapped numbers with you the day your parents left for vacation ‘in case you needed him’, and has spent the last week making any excuse to peek his head over the fence and talk to you, specifically when you’re out in your bikini, mostly when you’re dripping wet from coming out of the pool.

He holds his finger up and then disappears from view, only to come back seconds later through the gate at the bottom of your garden that connects your land with his. Your dad had been weary of it at first, but as soon as he’d met Joel, they’d hit it off, and now the gate is used more than the front door when they want to drink together.

He’s dressed simply, a pair of jeans and a worn t-shirt. Too stifling for you, you think, but you know he’s spent most of his life on building sites, so he must be used to the heat of the sun on his skin. Joel comes to a stop near the small table, but instead of picking up the bottle of cream, he opts for the half-empty glass of margarita you’d made not too long ago. He takes a sip and makes a face, which makes you laugh.

“Never understand how you women like this stuff.”

Setting the glass down, he picks up the bottle of cream and flips the lid, motioning for you to sit up, which you do, turning on the lounger so your back is facing him. The bottle of cream is really on its last legs, coming to the very end, so you can hear the bottle express more air than cream the first time he squeezes it. You hear him rubbing his hands together and then feel him step a little closer to your back.

“Ready?” He asks, voice low, to which you nod your head.

Then his hands are on you and it’s better than you ever had thought. They’re rough against your skin, but the way they’re gliding across your back is gentle. His hands drag the cream down your spine to the band of your bikini top, before he’s working it into your skin, all the way up to the nape of your neck. You can feel your head tipping forward, struggling to stifle a groan when you feel him gently shift one of the straps of your top down so he can bring the cream up and over your shoulders, his hand big enough that his fingers brush your collarbone. He repeats his actions on the other side, making sure to bring the straps back up when he’s done, then he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“All done.”

“You’re a professional at that, Miller,” You praise, “Spend a lot of time rubbing suncream into girls backs, do you?”

“All the time.” Is his dry response as you move to lay back down.

When you turn your head, he’s already walking away.

“You can stay,” You offer, “If you’ve got nothing else to do.”

He stands still for a second before he turns over his shoulder, “Let me change and then I’ll come back.”

He’s doing this on purpose, you think, as you watch him glide under the water again, head dipping up as his arms work him down the pool where he comes to a stop, taking wet hands to slick his hair back from his forehead.

“You ever thought of having your own built?” You ask, sipping from the fresh margarita you’d made.

He shakes his head, “Thought about it a fair bit when Sarah was younger but now it would be wasted on me,” He explains, “Besides, I can always come and use yours,” You watch him bend his knees a little in the water so his chest is submerged, “Kinda hot out there, why don’t you come in a cool off.”

Joel has a point, even though it’s mid-afternoon now, the heat is still just as strong as it was when it was midday, so you drag yourself as carefully as you can manage off the lounger and plop yourself down on the side of the pool, dipping your legs in as Joel swims over. You expect him to stop, but he doesn’t, just puts his big palms on your upper thighs and spreads your legs wide, settling himself between them. You lean back, palms against the warm stone behind you, and push your sunglasses onto your head so he can see your eyes.

“Finally gonna make your move, huh?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Somethin’ like that.”

His palms are dragging up your thighs, resting on the band of your bikini bottoms, looking up at you like he’s waiting for permission, which you gladly give with a nod of your head. His fingers are hooking into the waistband and dragging down, you lift your hips to make it easier for him, and watch as he steps back in the water to drag them down your legs, leaving them forgotten on the side of the pool as he spreads your thighs wide. You’re not even think about the neighbours on the other side as you watch him, eyes focused on your bare cunt in front of him.

“Like what you see, Miller?” You ask, with a smirk, reaching your hand down your body, using two fingers to gently spread your folds in front of his face, dragging one up the length of your pussy to play with your clit.

You swear he growls at you, big hand gripping your wrist to drag your hand away from your core. He steps back between your thighs and uses the hand not gripping your wrist to push you back a little. Then his mouth is pressing hot kisses to your thighs, working up and across your tummy, back down the other side until you’re squirming and ready to beg.

You can feel the back of his knuckles drag up and down the folds of your cunt, “You gonna be wet if I touch you?” He asks, tone low.

“Why don’t you find out.”

So he does, using a single finger to dip between your folds, dragging down gently until he’s pressing it into your cunt, easy because you are in fact already dripping for him. You feel him work his finger in and out of you, before he’s adding a second and curling them up inside you at just the right angle to have your head tipping back and a moan dropping from your mouth.

“Gotta be quiet, Darlin’,” Joel speaks, “Do you want next door knowin’ what you’re up to?”

You’re about to come back with some smart retort when he leans forward and uses the tip of his tongue to flick gently against your clit, making it all the more harder to keep your moans at bay. Joel continues the light flick of his tongue against you whilst his fingers more in and out of your cunt, until he switches things up and wraps his lips around your clit, suckling it into his mouth whilst his fingers remain buried deep inside you, curling up in a ‘come hither’ motion to caress that perfect spot inside you.

Your hands fly to his hair, tangling deep in his chocolate curls, keeping his face flush to where he’s working you towards the edge.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel,” You breathe out, “Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna come.”

At your words, he doubles down, moving his fingers faster inside of you, sucking at your clit with more vigour. He pushes you over the edge easily, easier than anyone ever has before, legs shaking, skin alight, a silent scream sent forth to the sky as his mouth works you through it. Your body feels like jelly when he finally pulls away from you, but there’s enough energy left through your body that you can pull your legs from the water and get up onto your knees.

“Get out of the water, cowboy,” You murmur, bending down to press your lips to Joel’s, tasting yourself on his mouth, “I wanna fuck.”

You push yourself back from him, shuffling back to let him pull himself out of the water. His swim shorts are wet, rivulets of water dripping into pools at his feet, but all your eyes can really focus on is the outline of his cock through his wet shorts. He’s hard and from what you can tell, he’s big. It makes your mouth water, makes you want to wrap your lips around it, but it seems like he has other ideas for you. He’s dragging you up from your knees, walking you over to the low patio chairs, where he sits himself down on one and promptly drags you onto his lap, your thighs wide as they straddle him in the chair.

Your naked pussy is dragging against the wet bulge of his jeans, his hands moving your hips as you lean down again to kiss him, the endless flirting and build up over the last few weeks finally coming to a head as you let your tongue run against his, his hands lifting your hips a little so he can reach between the two of you to pull his shorts down just enough to free his cock.

You can feel the thick line of him running through your folds, wide head of his cock brushing against your clit as he moves, making you moan into his mouth just as he pulls away.

“You wanna sit on it?” He asks lowly, hands moving back to grip your bare ass, spreading you wide.

“I do.”

“Go on then, darlin’,” He speaks, “Show me what you’re made of.”

He helps raise your hips, letting you reach between the two of you to grip his cock, lining him up with your seeping entrance, sinking down just enough to let the tip of his cock notch into you. You lean your forehead against his, both damp with sweat, and revel in the fact that his mouth drops open in a sigh of pleasure just at the same time as yours does. You ease yourself down onto his cock a little more, letting the slight burn and stretch of him easing in, inch by inch, set your skin aflame.

You still once you’ve sunk down fully onto him, letting yourself get used to his length nestled inside you. You feel your cunt fluttering around him, and you know he can feel it too, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip when you start lifting yourself off him and sink back down.

“Shit, baby,” He breathes, leaning up to catch your mouth with his briefly, “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

He makes you smile when he says things like that, it makes you bold, makes you lift up on him, almost all the way, and then sink back down, but harder and faster than before. As you move, Joel lets go of his grip on your ass and brings them to your bikini top, slipping the straps down, then pulling the material over your tits. He leans down, sucking a nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it until it’s a stiff peak, switching sides to give the same attention to the other.

Once he’s given enough attention to your tits, he takes your hips in his hands, guiding your movements from bouncing to grinding, his cock sitting right within the depths of you as you move backwards and forwards on him. Joel brings a hand between you, using his thumb to draw rough circles over your clit.

“I need to feel you,” He breathes against your skin, “Need to feel you come on my cock.”

“Just…” You breathe right back, “Don’t stop, keep doing that, I’m right there.”

Joel leans up, mouth hot against the skin of your neck as he starts to suck at your skin, tip of his cock brushing just perfectly against that spot inside you as the familiar feeling at your spine builds and builds until it’s crashing over you. You bury your head in his neck, damp with sweat and the remnants of pool water, letting out the quietest moan you can manage as your pussy pulls tight around his length and you feel yourself gush against him, his thumb continuing to work you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You gotta tell me where,” He mutters urgently, “I’m close baby, where do you want me.”

“Inside,” You beg against his skin, realising it was muffled, you turn your head and speak again, “Inside me Joel, please.”

It only takes a few more deep grinds of your hips before he’s gripping your hips tight to keep you still, spilling inside you, warmth spreading through your cunt and as groans your name quietly, so as not to alert the neighbours as to what they just missed in your backyard.

He pulls you close, arms wrapping around your lower back, both of you catching your breath for a moment. You press a kiss to his chest, nuzzling your face into his warm skin as his softening cock slips from your tight heats. You can feel the trickle of his cum down your inner thigh, but make no effort to move, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you.

“Same time tomorrow?” You mumble against his skin.

“Same time tomorrow, baby.”

2K notes · View notes

littlegrapejuice · 1 month ago

Text

Flatline | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando parties a bit too hard and needs to be patched up. Luckily, he can count on a pretty nurse.

Author's Note: I'M BACK MFS🙂‍↕️ it's been a while haha but enjoy this lil lando fic that was inspired by the song Flatline by 5sos!! Also happy new year hehe, hope everyone is doing good and i wish y'all the best for 2025🫶🏻

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

King’s Day 2024. Amsterdam, Netherlands.

Amongst all the drivers, people would’ve thought Max Verstappen the most prone to be sighted in public while celebrating his country on its national day. However, the one that was currently trending on social media was Lando Norris. Pictures as well as videos were being posted, reposted, and commented on every second. No one had expected Lando to spend the weekend away in the Netherlands in between two grand prix. But here he was, partying on a boat and even DJ-ing along with his good friend Martin Garrix.

Lando didn’t know whether people just didn’t care about him – seeing as the Netherlands were the home of one of the greatest drivers of the current generation – or if people actually didn’t know him. In any case, he was glad not to be disturbed by fans – even though he loved them – and be able to enjoy the day the same way everyone else was doing it: by partying, dancing, singing, and drinking.

Obviously, Lando was planning to be careful as he knew that his PR team would have his head if he did something stupid during his two-week break. But still, he was having fun like a typical twenty-four year old. He was having the time of his life. Dutch people definitely knew how to party on their national day, that’s for sure.

…..

A few hours later however, what everyone hadn’t been expecting was for Lando to end the day with bandages all over his face. As the surprise of him being in the Netherlands settled down after a while, pictures and videos stopped circulating around. Until fans all over the world were met with images of Lando with a bloody nose, a smile still on his face. People had no idea what had happened. No context had been given, only the speculation of Lando having drunk and partied too hard that he had hurt himself.

Fortunately for him, Lando had been able to count on you. Being a friend of a friend, you loosely knew Martin but had never really exchanged more than a few words with him. However, he was currently glad that the invitation to his boat party had managed to reach you as you were qualified to take care of Lando’s battle wound – his words. Being a nurse, and the only one with some medical knowledge on the boat, you had quickly reacted when people had started panicking after seeing Lando’s face starting to bleed.

To be honest, people had overreacted a bit. Because when you approached Lando to see the extent of the damage, you realised it was only a cut albeit the consequence of some glass. So although he wasn’t hurt very badly, you still suggested bringing him into the hospital where you worked. Obviously, Lando had refused at first as he pretended that everything was fine. He was. But just to be sure, you needed to give him a general check-up in a clean location as a random boat in Amsterdam wasn’t exactly the most hygienic place to patch someone up.

So after Martin also agreed to the idea, Lando had no choice but to listen to his friend and go with you. The Dutch told Lando that he would come get him later as he needed to bring his DJ equipment back home – he promised to be ready to give him a ride back from the hospital later on as he knew that Lando had a flight the next day. This is thus how you found yourself in a cab with none other than Formula One driver Lando Norris on the way to your workplace. Truth be told, you hadn’t expected to go there today. But you knew it was part of your job to be able to help anyone in need even if you were on your day off.

The ride had mostly been silent. Lando had been on his phone, probably texting a few people about his whereabouts, while you were focused on the next steps to do when you’d be arriving at the hospital. You were pleasantly surprised when Lando paid the driver without a second thought and told him to keep the change.

“I could’ve paid, you know. Thanks,” you told him as you entered the building.

“You’re taking care of me on what definitely seemed like your day off, so that’s the least I can do for you.” Lando smiled at you and even with the bandages around his face, he was still very good-looking.

“Still, I appreciate it. You can go wait in this room if that’s okay?” He nodded and you finished explaining what would happen next. “I just need to inform my manager I’m here, get some stuff for a small check-up, and then I’m all yours. I won’t be long.”

“Sounds perfect”, Lando replied with a grin.

True to your words, you were back in the room where you’d left the Brit less than ten minutes later. He noticed that you’d changed into your uniform – which you’d been lucky to have a spare here as your usual one was at your flat – and enjoyed the view of observing you in your element. Working in the medical field was your calling, and you didn’t see yourself anywhere else.

First, you removed the bandages that you’d wrapped around Lando’s face earlier before you cleaned up the small wound – properly this time, with adequate material. As Lando winced when you disinfected it, you apologised.

“Does it hurt much?” You asked.

“Not really”, he shrugged. “Just uncomfortable I guess.”

“Hmm, okay”, you nodded. “Tell me if there’s anything else at any point.”

Quickly finishing up, you were soon enough putting a band-aid on Lando’s nose. You debated offering to put a silly one originally designed for kids, but decided otherwise as you didn’t want to look weird for suggesting it. However, the driver had noticed your eyes drifting to them when you’d hesitated in which one to take, so he spoke up:

“You think you could actually give me one of those”, he wondered with a smile before adding. “The cute ones, there.”

When you saw that he was pointing at the Disney ones, you stiffled a laugh. You hadn’t expected him to directly ask for one himself, but you were kinda glad that he did. Amongst the different characters present, your choice was easily made.

“I guess that the Cars one caught your eye?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if you were right.

“Bingo!” He laughed. “I’ll admit that Frozen was tempting but I gotta stay true to my roots.”

“Fair enough”, you chuckled. “Your job ain’t really much to do with building ice castles, or I’ve done my research wrong.”

“You looked me up?” Lando asked, the surprise obvious in his tone.

“Well, yeah?” You answered with a ‘duh’ tone as you gently put the Cars band-aid over the plain one you’d previously applied. “Even though the whole country supports Max and not many people care about the other drivers, I gotta know about the competition.”

“You think I’m competition to Max?”

“Of course! Anyone is: as long as Max isn’t the only driver racing on track, he has competition.”

Your explanation made Lando’s grin widen as he was glad to be considered in the same league as the Max Verstappen, especially by someone who lived in the Netherlands. To you, any other driver that had managed to be a part of the twenty that raced in Formula One was a good one – Lando included.

“He does have three more championship titles than me though”, Lando stated. “And God knows how many wins.”

“He’s had a good car for years,” you pointed out. “Your time will come, don’t worry. I can feel the papaya greatness for this year – though if I ever wear orange, it’s for Max.”

Not knowing what to reply to your words, Lando simply nodded while you put away the box of band-aids. You thought about the final steps of your check-up, and turned back to face the driver.

“Okay, so I’ll just put this on your finger to see your heart rate and then I’ll make you do a breathalyser if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, no problem. Do your job, don’t worry.”

“Great, thanks.” You carefully clipped the pulse oximeter on Lando’s finger before stepping away. “I'll be right back in a minute.”

“Take your time,” Lando replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When you left the room, the Brit let out the biggest sigh of his life. Oh God, he thought. It seemed like you hadn’t realised how close you’d been to Lando as you were only focused on doing your job, but he hadn’t been able to take his eyes away from you. He really hoped you hadn’t noticed anything, as the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable at your workplace. Get a grip, Lando told himself while waiting for you to be back. Don’t fuck this up if you want a chance.

You came back into the room shortly after, a box in your hands – which Lando assumed to be the breathalyser. He knew he had drunk enough that he wouldn’t be allowed to drive, but he hoped he had sobered up enough after his trip to the hospital. After unboxing the breathalyser, you got close to Lando again and explained to him what he’d have to do.

“Nothing too complicated, don't worry. You’ll just have to exhale into this.” You showed him the object. “And I’ll tell you when to stop. Then, you’ll be good to go!”

Lando nodded in reply, even though he hadn’t really paid attention to the actual words you’d said. He had been more focused on your face and the way you’d gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. He almost wished he’d been the one to do it, and he wondered if it was the remains of alcohol in his blood making him think that. He also wondered if he would still be attracted to you if he had met you while stone cold sober. But when you gave him a soft reassuring smile as you told him to be ready to blow into the breathalyser, he knew he would find you gorgeous no matter his state of mind.

What he didn’t know though, is if it was the alcohol or his attraction to you that was making his heart faster – both, to be honest. The result was the same: the machine was showing his heart rate quickening and Lando could perfectly hear it echoing in his head, which made his eyes widen at the thought that you would hear it too. Lando’s heart rate was actually the least of your worries as you were focused on the current task of measuring the level of alcohol in his blood, but it became the most important barely two seconds later when you heard the continuing beep that usually meant the lack of heartbeat.

“Your heart is going flatline!” You exclaimed in shock as you tried to quickly assess how Lando looked in order to find the cause. “Oh my God… oh my God, what the fuck is happening?!”

And while you were panicking, Lando realised that he had made a grave mistake. See, as he still wasn’t back to his normal state of mind, the driver thought that it was a wonderful idea to just remove the pulse oximeter from his finger so that you wouldn’t have noticed his heart rate speeding. But of course, you had immediately noticed the lack of constant beep from the machine and were currently still stressing – breathalyser completely forgotten.

Seeing your panicked state, Lando was now feeling extremely guilty and decided to come clean.

“I’m fine!” He was almost shouting. Hearing his voice made you stop in your tracks, and you looked at him with worry in your eyes. “Sorry”, he apologised. “I accidentally removed the thing, please calm down. I’m not dead.”

“Oh”, you could only answer. You felt awkward now. “That’s good, then.” You scratched your neck and nervously laughed. “It’s weird, it shouldn’t come off that easily unless it’s forcibly removed. Sorry if I gave you one that wasn’t properly working.”

And this was his last straw. Lando was now feeling even guiltier at your words, as you were going to blame yourself for using seemingly faulty equipment.

“Please don’t be mad, but… I-actually-removed-it-myself”, he said as quickly as he could.

“What?” You questioned with a tilt of your head.

“I removed the heart thingy myself because I didn’t want you to hear my heart rate.”

“Lando, that’s my job?”

“Yeah, but like…” He didn’t know what else to say, except for the truth – thank the alcohol for giving him the confidence to utter the next words. “I was just thinking about you, and you were looking super pretty while explaining stuff, and I wasn’t really paying attention to be honest, but then I felt like my heartbeat was going really fast, and you’d hear it, and you’d think I’m like weird, and–”

“Oh God, Lando calm down!” You put your hands on his shoulders so that he would look at you instead of the floor, and meeting your eyes silenced him. “You’re good, don’t explain yourself. I know that you’re not completely sober yet so your mind might make you do weird things. I’m just glad you’re alright and not suddenly a victim of a heart attack.”

“I don’t want you to see me as a crazy drunk guy right now!” He retorted, trying to clear his name. “Even sober, I’d think the same. Maybe not do the same stupid shit though…” He muttered the last sentence.

Silence now filled the room as you removed your hands from Lando and put them in your pockets before sighing. You tried to assess the situation and process his words. You’d had your fair share of people complimenting you in your workplace so Lando’s feelings weren’t that unusual, but it was still rare to end up in this type of situation. You thought for a minute about what to do while Lando stayed quiet. He was scared of dumb words leaving his mouth, so he didn’t want to take any more risks.

“Tell you what”, you caught his attention. “We finish this up, I clear you free to go, and maybe we can start over when you’re not my patient anymore. Sounds good?”

Still not trusting his words, Lando simply nodded. You then kept going with the last steps of your check-up before announcing to Lando that he was discharged. He had surprisingly sobered up quicker than you would’ve thought – maybe because of the heart rate incident – and his alcohol level wasn’t as high as you’d imagined it to be.

You walked him back to the entrance hall and asked him if Martin was here to get him. He briefly checked his phone and noticed a couple texts from the Dutch that were notifying him of his arrival in a few minutes. You therefore decided to wait with Lando, having all the time in the world – it was still your day off and you knew that the hospital wasn’t understaffed today, so there was no need for you to stay and give a hand.

As you were waiting in an excruciatingly awkward silence, Lando chose to man up and clear the previous situation up.

“I still think you’re beautiful,” he stated. “And I’d love to get to know you,” he added. “I know I’m not fully sober yet, but I’m almost there and my thoughts haven’t changed.”

“That’s good to know”.

“Good as in positive for me to shoot my shot?” Lando wondered with a nervous smile.

“You can try, I think your chances of success are pretty high right now.”

“Great.” His grin widened, and you couldn’t help thinking about how he was currently the beautiful one. “So, can we go out together one day? I know this great restaurant that my wonderful local friends told me about.”

“That’d be my pleasure”, you replied.

“When do you finish work?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.

“I’m actually done…” You feigned to analyse the time on your watch. “Right now. What a coincidence!”

“Coincidence indeed”, Lando agreed. He then took out his phone and gave it to you. “I’ll text you the location?”

“Sure”, you nodded. “Maybe not a full meal tonight, but I’m still down for a drink and snacks.”

“Works for me. Raincheck for a proper date then?”

“Come back for it once you have a race win under your belt”, you challenged.

“Deal”, he accepted. “I have really good motivation.”

“Tell you what, you can also get a wish if it’s the next race that you win.”

“A wish? Anything?” You nodded and Lando thought about ideas. “Kiss on the first date?”

“Alright, you’re on!” You sealed the deal with a handshake, a playful glint in your eyes.

Merely a couple seconds later, Martin was pulling up in front of the hospital which was yours and Lando’s cue to go your separate ways before meeting soon again.

…..

A week later following your semi-date with Lando, you were now watching him celebrate his first win on the top step of the podium in Miami. You couldn’t be prouder of him, and your first thought was to text him as soon as you saw him go back to his garage. You hoped that he’d have access to his phone soon enough and quickly drafted a message to congratulate him. Right before you sent it, your wish – and eventually his in the process – seemed to have been granted.

Flying back to you next weekend before imola

I’m expecting a welcome kiss👀

You chuckled at his texts, a blush appearing on your cheeks as you thought about how he was still serious about you, and deleted your initial message before sending a new one.

Wouldn’t have it any other way

Congratulations race winner! Can’t wait for the next ones, I knew your time was coming🧡

If Lando never imagined that being hurt could lead to him bagging a pretty nurse and getting his first Formula One win, he was now thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get a small wound before each race if it meant that you would take care of him and that he’d be lifting the winner’s trophy afterwards.

..........

Hope y'all liked this ^^ idk if it's common knowledge on here but I'm a HUGE 5sos fan and when i recently heard flatline after a while, i knew i had to write smth f1 related for this song (esp the chorus)

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated if you enjoy my writing<3 it means a lot to me and i love knowing what people think - apart from my bestie who's often my #1 fan haha

See you next time, take care🤍

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you

580 notes · View notes

sombrashe · 26 days ago

Text

viral twitter selfie reader x rapper thanos

twitter has always been your go to app when it came to selfies. instagram always felt to formal and facebook felt lame to be honest. so the perfect middle ground for you was twitter

it took a while but eventually you gained a small following. mostly just friends and occasionally a fan of your pictures. you continued posting like normal until some afternoon you gained notification after notification

once you finally got home from work you look through your profile and find out one of your selfies went viral. some basic one of you in bed with your hair swimming around you. you were freshly ready for bed and looking oh so tired.

you attempt to find the reason for your vitality. you chalk it up to a one time thing. you're on break when you phone starts blowing up. this time you're follower count shot straight into the hundred thousands. looking through you notice all your pictures gaining attention and you still have no clue how it happened.

you continue posting like normal and relish in the positive comments and questions about your outfits. every negative comment is quickly overshadowed by another positive one. you're replying to a few messages when you get a dm notification.

ThanosWorld Hey señorita, you got a banging bod

vintagezodiacsign oh wow thanks, have fun being blocked <3

ThanosWorld No wait. I'm sorry. I really like that pic you have where you're in bed

vintagezodiacsign thank you.

ThanosWorld I'm a rapper in Seoul. I have a EP coming out and want to use that pic for the cover. I'll pay

vintagezodiacsign uh huh, sure

ThanosWorld I'm serious. I can send you something rn. How much do you want?

vintagezodiacsign a thousand

vintagezodiacsign my cash app is in my bio

you sit there rolling your eyes. you don't actually expect anything but then your phone buzzes. heat washes over you as you open the notification to five thousand dollars sitting in your cash app.

vintagezodiacsign you're joking

vintagezodiacsign im not sending it back

vintagezodiacsign in case you're trying to scam me

ThanosWorld So can I use it? I'll give you 10% of the royalties from each sale

vintagezodiacsign make it 25%

ThanosWorld Deal. I'll be in touch gorgeous 🫰🏼

#squid game #squid game x reader #thanos #thanos x reader #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #player 230 #player 230 x reader #thanosworld writes

318 notes · View notes

eclipsedechoesofmywords · 3 months ago

Text

"Pick One Moment"

[Spencer Reid x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: A rough case in Dayton, Ohio brings unexpected emotions to the surface for you, forcing you to confront feelings you'd been hiding for years—feelings for Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, moment of awkwardness

Word Count: 2.0k words

A/N: just based on the lyric 'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you...I love you' from the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra because it's been stuck in my head. I've been planning to write Spence for a while but I've been intimidated.

Staying professional in Dayton, Ohio proved to be a challenge.

It had been a rough case, but what case wasn't, right? Just have to wrap this one up and you can go back to your house and dog.

Okay, fine, this wasn't like most cases at all, not to you anyway. This one had hit particularly close to home. And you didn't like that one bit.

This made you more short-tempered than usual, even snapping at a witness. After a lengthy lecture from Hotch, I mean from the look on his face you would think you had insulted him, he had 'benched' you by having you go through old files that might be related to the UnSub.

Hey, at least you got to do it with Spencer.

After working with him for so many years, you grew quite fond of him. Too fond maybe.

You stared at him going through files with a speed that should not have been human. 20,000 words at a minute, and you thought you were a fast reader.

"Got anything yet, Boy Genius?" you asked, flipping the page of your own file.

He looked up at you. God those eyes...

"No. This one isn't even related to it." he dropped the file on the table.

"Didn't you read the entire thing?"

"Yes," he replied, "It was interesting."

"You find everything interesting."

"Not true," he protested.

You rubbed your eyes, sighing. "Sure, Spence."

He tilted his head at you, a look of concern on his face. Adorable.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You considered lying, you had been doing that the entire time you had arrived in Dayton after all, but decided against it. "Not really."

"Is it about your family? I thought this case might bring up some bad memories."

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he had gotten it. "Yeah, something like that."

"Can I help?"

"Can you make memories go poof?"

He actually seemed to ponder it. "No. I'm not sure why you would want to."

"You never wish that you could just forget the bad stuff?" You knew what he had been through, you had seen quite a bit of it.

His brows furrowed. "I don't like the idea of forgetting anything. I mean, Mom forgets enough so I remember for her too."

You realized your mistake and winced. "Spence... God, sorry."

"It's okay," he reassured you. "You're remembering a dark time in your life, it can be overwhelming. Also explains you snapping at the witness, with your nerves on edge."

"Yeah?" You grinned. "It was going to be Morgan but the asshole left before I could. So collateral damage."

He laughed. "He's outside if you want to insult him now. I don't want to be collateral damage too."

"You? Never."

"Never?"

"Never," you repeated.

Oh, how you loved his lopsided grins. "Thank you."

"Always." If you could pick one moment to live in forever, it probably would've been that one.

Minus JJ coming through the door right then. "We got something."

You wanted to throw a file at her. Instead, you get up with a heavy sigh. The sooner you get this done the better, you had to remember that.

~~~

The BAU was heading back to Washington tomorrow, so you could leave this far far behind. Finally. This case taking up two weeks of your life was enough.

You sat at a cafe next to the hotel where you were staying. It was a cozy little place with a mostly brown interior and warm lighting. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air.

You sipped your drink, feeling the cup's warmth in your hands. You had been coming here for the past few days and you had to admit, you would miss this place.

Just then, the door opened, and in walked someone you recognized, glancing around the room before spotting you. With a smile, Spencer made his way over, pulling out a chair across from you.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

You smiled back, gesturing to the seat. "Not at all."

He sat down and looked around. "So this is where you disappear to?"

You hummed in confirmation. "it's a nice place to think."

He stared at you for a while before nodding thoughtfully.

"What?" you sipped your coffee.

"Just... Are you feeling better?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, UnSubs behind bars. What more could I want?"

"Closure," he replied quietly.

You pressed your lips together tightly. "It's fine Spence. I'm alright with it."

"I don't think you are."

"Spencer," you said, a hint of warning in your voice, "You want to help, I get it. But not with this. Okay?"

It was an unspoken thing, the way Spencer always seemed to know when you needed space and when you needed someone to push just a little. He respected your boundaries, but there were moments—like this one—when his concern slipped through the cracks.

He sat across from you in that quiet cafe, watching you. You couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to speak or if he was just giving you the time to process, as he always did.

It had been a rough case, yes, but that wasn’t why you were still here, staring into your coffee like it held all the answers.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his. He was still staring at you, quietly, as if he could see past your walls.

"Spence," you said, your voice quieter than you intended, "I’m fine. Really."

He didn’t respond immediately. His hand rested on the edge of the table, and you could see him fiddling with his fingers. That subtle nervousness he only ever seemed to show when he wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed to say something.

"I don't believe you," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve seen you too many times to believe that everything’s okay, especially when it’s not. You’ve been holding it in, and I know that—"

"Spencer—" you started, but you were too late. He was already talking over you, his voice getting faster.

"Please. I just want to make sure you're alright, okay?" He sighed, his eyes briefly darting away before looking back at you. “I just... I care about you."

Everything felt very... loud. Too loud.

He looked at you expectantly, almost uncertain. Maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to make the first move.

You cleared your throat. God, you really hated moments like this, when everything inside you seemed to tremble at the prospect of just being honest.

His hand shifted on the table, and before you could stop it, you had reached out to touch his fingers. It was the smallest of gestures—barely noticeable—but it was enough.

For a long moment, you simply looked at each other, the conversation hanging in the air. There was so much unspoken between you, so much left unsaid. Maybe that was the problem.

Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out of you, quicker than you could catch them. "I love you."

Spencer's face went completely still, his eyes wide as he processed your confession.

You had not meant to say that. You didn’t. It was an accident. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to put that kind of pressure on this, on him, on whatever this was.

But the words had slipped out anyway. You stared at him, feeling the heat rise in your face, hoping the ground would swallow you up.

"Sorry-God, I'm sorry," you quickly got up and rushed out of the cafe.

He just sits there. Frozen.

If you could pick one moment to rewind, it would be this one.

Oh, you fucked up big time.

~~~

You had never been more ready to get home, but unfortunately, there was an hour and thirty minutes on the private plane. With him.

Usually, you would spend an entire flight, after a case well done, talking to Spence. But after yesterday? But not this time. Maybe not ever.

You could feel Spencer’s presence beside you, but he was quiet. So quiet. Not the usual playful banter, no sudden bursts of random trivia or observations. It was almost like he was giving you space... or maybe he was just too uncomfortable to say anything.

Your eyes flickered to him once, twice, each time hoping for some indication of what he was thinking. He was staring out the window, a far-off look in his eyes, his fingers curled loosely around a book in his lap. For a moment, you almost felt the pull to apologize again, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel obligated to comfort you. You had put your foot in it already. Now, it was time to ride this out and pray it didn't become permanently awkward.

But Spencer, as always, was unpredictable.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice quiet, but it still carried across the cabin, cutting through the engine's hum.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your lap. Had you been that obvious?

"I wasn’t going to," you said, a little too defensively.

He didn’t respond right away. You could feel him looking at you, the weight of his gaze making you want to curl into yourself.

“You know I care about you, right?” He said it so gently, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to take it.

You felt your chest tighten. Care about you. Those words. He was still speaking, still looking at you, but it was hard to focus on his words because everything was spinning around that one sentence.

"I do," you replied. You had to stop yourself from saying more—there was more you wanted to say, needed to say—but you couldn’t. Not yet. Not until you figured out where your head was at, where you both were at.

Spencer shifted in his seat. He didn’t look hurt, but there was something in the way he held himself. Maybe he was just holding back, afraid to push too hard, afraid of what that push might break.

You finally took a breath and turned to face him. He was still watching you, his expression a mix of concern and... something else. It was the something else that had you questioning everything.

"You don’t have to say anything," you added quickly, "I just...said something stupid. I didn’t mean to make things weird."

Spencer didn’t break his gaze, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Not his usual goofy grin, but something softer. More real. Something... intimate.

"It’s not weird," he said, his voice still quiet, "You’re not the only one who gets nervous around here, you know."

You blinked at him, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

His smile flickered, a small laugh escaping him before he adjusted his posture and leaned back in his seat. He seemed less tense, more at ease, "I’m just saying... I’ve had my own share of... feelings. I just didn’t know how to... deal with them."

Your breath caught in your throat. Spencer had feelings? For you?

The question hovered between you like an unspoken truth, but it seemed too risky to ask outright. Instead, you glanced down at your hands, the heat rising in your face.

And then, finally, you said something else, the words coming out quieter than you intended: "Do you think... we can just... forget it happened?"

You almost expected him to shrug it off, to offer a playful remark about how awkward it was or how maybe you'd both laugh about it someday. But he didn’t do that.

"No," he said softly. "I think maybe... we should talk about it. When we’re ready."

Your heart fluttered. Was this... was this him telling you he was ready? That maybe he wanted to figure it out too? Or was this Spencer, as usual, just giving you a window to process everything at your own pace?

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything. But you couldn’t deny the weight of his words, the connection that had always been there and that seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together.

"I’m not great at talking about feelings," you admitted, looking over at him sheepishly.

Spencer chuckled softly, a breath of amusement. "Yeah, I’ve noticed."

You gave him a sidelong glance, your lips twitching into a reluctant grin. “Smartass.”

"Hey, you started it," he teased, finally breaking the tension just a little. "And I’ll finish it. But not right now. I think... we both need time to think."

You nodded slowly. He was right. You both needed time. The last thing either of you needed was to make rash decisions while emotions were still running high.

"You’re not mad?" You asked it before you could stop yourself, the doubt creeping in.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Spencer’s face was open and sincere.

"I don’t know. I just..." You didn’t finish your sentence. What was there to say? How could you explain the mess of emotions you were still trying to sort out?

He reached out across the seat, almost as if he was testing the waters, and placed a hand gently on yours. The touch was brief, but it sent a spark of warmth through you.

"I’m not mad," he said again, more firmly this time. "Not for that."

You were both quiet for the rest of the flight, but the silence between you felt different—more like an understanding, like a promise that when the time was right, you’d figure it out together.

It wasn't the one moment you would pick to stay in forever, but it was a moment you didn't mind being in for the rest of the flight.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #bau team #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #x reader

456 notes · View notes

birdiewritessometimes · 4 months ago

Note

Hiii!!! Could I please request something with Hotch where the reader works at the bau assisting with caseload but she just has like a mostly professional relationship with him but then when hotch takes Jack trick or treating they accidentally end up in her neighborhood and Jack insists on going up to her house?? I’m so obsessed with him like having to come to terms with his attraction to her🩷🩷 no worries if this isn’t your vibe but much love anyway!

Trick or Treat

A/N: Hiii! This was so cute, it was totally my vibe! I hope you like it and thank you so much for requesting! I'm sorry if it's alittle short tho <3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Themes/warnings: Fluff

Word count: 900-ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

The stress was weighing down on Aaron Hotchner, it was Halloween, he knew Jack was waiting for him at home to go trick or treating. He was stuck in his office, trying to finish the reports from his latest case as quickly as possible. As he was reading through a report, he heard the familiar clicking of your heels as you neared the door to his office. A soft knock was heard on the open office door, as he looked up, he saw you there, a stack of reports in your arms.

“Please go home to Jack, Hotch, I’ll take care of the rest.” You said, a small smile on your face. He let out a tired sigh, closing the report he was reading.

“Are you sure? I did promise him to take him trick or treating.” He said as he surveyed you standing in his doorway. He would never admit it to himself, but you were beautiful as you stood there, the light from the bull pen illuminating you from behind, creating a halo of light around your silhouette.

“Of course! Take him trick or treating, I’ll read through these and file them.” You said as you now walked into his office, grabbing the reports that laid on his desk. Hotch rose from his seat, grabbing his coat before stopping in front of you.

“Thank you, y/n, really.” He said, a small smile on his tired face, before he left the office. You were left alone in his office, and you lingered for a moment, a smile on your face, before you went back to yours to sort the reports. It took you a couple of hours to read through and file the teams reports before you could make your way home. When you got home, you turned the light on your porch on, placed the big bowl of candy you had bough by the door and went to get more comfortable. You took a quick shower and changed into a pair of comfortable silk pyjamas, opting for comfort and style considering it was Halloween and it was inevitable that you needed to open your door. You poured a glass of wine and made yourself comfortable on your couch, putting on a movie. The doorbell rang a few times, kids trick or treating, and you saw some creative costumes. You were in the middle of the movie as the doorbell rang yet again. Placing your glass on the table and pausing the movie you went to the door and opened it.

“Trick or treat!” Came the small voice of none other that Jack, your boss’ son. He was dressed in a suit and tie; he looked remarkably like his dad. Your eyes travelled from Jack to his dad who stood there speechless. His eyes travelled over your form as you stood there, smiling at his son. He couldn’t deny it this time that you were absolutely beautiful, your hair was down, you were in your pyjamas and Aaron couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding on your night off. You crouched down to look Jack in the eyes.

“Who are you dressed as Jack?” You said, an amused smile on your face as you placed quite a lot of candy in his bag.

“I’m daddy!” He said, proudly making you chuckle, you could hear Aaron chuckle as well.

“Well, you’re just as handsome.” You said with a wink before you rose to your full height again, now coming face to face with your boss, whom you just called handsome. Jack turned around to his dad, happiness in his face.

“Did you hear that, daddy! I told you we needed to go to miss y/n’s house.” He said excitedly making you rise an eyebrow at the man before you. Aaron let out an embarrassed chuckle as he met your eyes.

“He insisted that we went to your house since we were in the neighbourhood.” Aaron said, a small smile on his handsome face.

“I’m sorry if we bothered you.” He then added, feeling slightly guilty to have interrupted your night, when you had helped him out just hours before.

“Nonsense! This was a really nice surprise.” You said, a soft smile on your face. Hotch’s heart did a leap when you directed that smile to his son, who was beaming up at you. You really were beautiful. He couldn’t stop the thought, like he usually did around the office. He couldn’t repress his attraction to you, not now when you were standing here in front of looking so soft and gentle, it was like you didn’t even witness the gruesome things your job entailed.

“You look beautiful.” He’d let it slip before he could control himself. He felt like ice water washed over him at his slip. Jack looked up at him with wide eyes and so did you, before your face broke out in a smile.

“Thank you.” You said, still smiling. You made some more small talk before Jack insisted on continuing, not wanting all the good candy to run out. With a smile you closed your door as Aaron and Jack started to make their way to your neighbours.

“Miss y/n is really pretty.” Jack said, in an honest way only a child knows. Aaron let out a chuckle.

“She is.” He confirmed, dreading the next time he needed to go into the office, needing to repress his attraction to you again.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #fan fiction #criminal minds fanfiction

466 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 5 months ago

Text

Commander

prompt: ( requested ) being on opposite sides of the Rings eventually sends your husband back into your arms, and between your legs. haha, nice.

pairing: Elrond x female!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 4.6k+

note: it is NOT said (that i've heard) that Elrond wears his father's cloak - that's just author being sentimental.

warnings: not edited, some obvious angst, mostly hurt and comfort, romance, established relationship, small relationship angst, smut, is this a Commander kink? i'm not sure. small spoilers, sibling reader.

bonus

The trees of Lindon glimmered gold and winked in the sunlight as vibrant veins of restored Light flowed through them all. It was a gorgeous sight; one you were happy to bask in after nearly losing it to the dark depths of evil corrupting Middle-earth. The only reason you had this glorious sight of twinkling beauty was because you had alined yourself with Galadriel and Celebrimbor about the distribution and use of the Elven Rings of Power - though you did not wish to claim one.

You merely desired the salvation of your people on this Middle-earth the Valar gifted The Children of Ilúvatar.

In order to support the Rings, you had to oppose the only person you had ever loved unconditionally, and nothing hurt like that. Despite the pain, disruption, turmoil, the angst it put you and Elrond through, you did not waver in your opinion - but he did not relent in his stance, either.

That was usually a quality you adored in your husband; how stubborn, strong, enduring, passionate, educated, and unrelenting he was. Yet for this, you were beyond frustrated.

You remembered the look of utter betrayal in his eyes when he stormed away the day the Rings were all claimed by Círdan, Gil-Galad, and Galadriel. He couldn't look at you, on those stairs, opposing him and defending the Rings. So, he fled the scene - unable to hide how displeased, unhappy, and horrified he felt.

After that, the two of you began to bicker over simple, common, mundane, marital situations; he instigated fights, prolonged arguments, even lit purposeful fires to force you into verbal altercations. You argued endlessly, needlessly, heatedly about things that voices didn't need raised for. Tension followed you everywhere, filled every room, and after just a few nights... Elrond decided he couldn't sleep in your shared chambers any longer.

You had returned from duty to find him sending several cases of his personal belongings away, freezing when he realized you had caught him. He looked akin to a startled animal. "I did not mean for you to see this," he offered stiffly as if embarrassed, "I-I thought you were on patrol."

"I was switched to the nightshift," you explained meekly, watching servants stream from the room with their arms full of his desired effects. "W-What's going on? What're you doing?"

Elrond sighed, unable to meet your eyes for several long minutes. Then, he licked his lips, nodded, and told you, "I just figured, considering the state of affairs, we'd benefit - "

"Our marriage isn't an 'affair', Elrond!" You snapped, tears filling your eyes. "We're just in a strange state, couples are allowed to disagree, there's a lot unknown - "

"I can't stay here anymore, love, and watch how much I'm hurting you," his head shook. "You think you're silent, but I hear your weeping. I know you avoid coming to bed because I'm there first. You used to pin my robes in the morning, and now, I'm lucky if I even catch a glimpse of your skirt as you rush out the door as I wake. We're not happy anymore, Y/N..."

You froze, lungs shriveling into nothing, shock pumping into your system. "Yo-You're not happy?" You stuttered, stumbling back a couple steps as if he had brandished a sword.

Elrond just stared at you, asking, "Are you? Truly?"

"Generally, yes! I am certainly not so unhappy that I want us apart! This is just a difficult position we're in, but we will get past it, Elrond, we always do!"

"This isn't just a difficult position," he snapped, shocking you back another single step. "We're at odds, starshine, and I hate to admit it. But this is bigger than us, than our love - this is fundamental - "

"And about more than us! Yes! That's what I'm thinking of, Elrond, our people!"

"And what of Sauron? What of his influence upon the Rings!?"

"What of the good they've done? What of the connection?"

"What do you mean - "

"Galadriel!" You snapped. "The obvious connection the Ring amplifies within her! There is a grave new sense she and the other Ringer Bearers have. She can use this Ring to-to-to sense evil, perhaps even see ahead of the enemy! It might be his influence, but aren't we stronger? Stronger than him, together?"

"Those who wear the Rings - "

"You speak of your former mentor, the Elven High King, and your greatest friend. Which of them will you predict to fall?"

"After Galadriel’s already fallen prey - "

"But she is the wiser, the stronger for it! She is thrice as determined before! Why must these Rings divide us, Elrond? Why can we not simply say we leave all politics at the door when we are together?"

Sadly, slowly, he shuffled closer and reached out to caress your cheek. "I love you, my star," he reminded, "but in knowing your stance, I cannot allow us to continue being so destructive to each other. Support the Rings, my love," he lowered his forehead to yours, "but I cannot stand at your side while you do so... Not when I know of Sauron's influence..."

You pulled back, sniffling down the tears that surfaced to nod with a sarcastic smile. "I thought when we took our vows of matrimony, we'd hold true... But I can see, you do not intend to see us through this bog."

"That's where you're wrong," he snarled, stepping closer to hold both of your upper arms and jostle you slightly, "don't you see? Don't you understand? We need the space or we'll keep hurting one another, and I don't know if there's a way for us to heal after that. As of now, we stand a chance, but only if we curate distance - so we need to proceed individually as we need best."

His reasoning was logical, but you were beyond hurt by his departure. Perhaps it was for the best; especially when the High King decided to send a scouting party after Sauron, anointing Elrond as Commander, and upon the news, you panicked. Like, fully broke down in worried tears, alone. Yet you did not go to him, you did not speak out, you just accepted the High King's command and gathered in the courtyard with any other loved ones wishing the company safe travels.

Yet Elrond just looked at you sadly and lifted his hand in parting before turning to lead his comrades out of Lindon.

You shed a single tear as High King Gil-galad was felt at your flank, slowly entering your peripheral. "They have passed out of my sight," you informed him, voice trembling.

"I know of the strife between you and Commander Elrond..." the King trailed off, "But I would like to commend you for remaining a pillar in your belief. These Rings," he showed his, "are a power and force we do not yet understand in full."

"Perhaps, in time," you agreed, sniffling. "If you would excuse me, my King."

He agreed, letting you go; and all you could do was return to your chambers and throw yourself into your pillows for a good cry. After a single day or moping, you got up and got back to work; working with the other trusted advisors to devise battle strategies, evacuation plans, and whatever else you could do preemptively. You didn't know how long Elrond was gone for because after leaving your chambers, you scarcely saw him - something you suspect was on purpose. All you knew was that he was gone and you missed him.

"Sister!"

You looked up when Tinnriel, or Tinnie, rushed into the council room. "What's wrong?" You asked in alarm, straightening up to take her in arms.

"I-I saw - I saw Elrond - he's on his way here - "

"Slow down," you pleaded.

"Something's wrong!" She sneered at you, pushing your arms down. "I've been telling you for weeks! But you do not listen! To myself or your husband!"

"Oh, not this again, Tinnie, I've told you - "

"That it is paranoia, yes, I've heard you, but you and Elrond are at odds! That's not my paranoia! You two never feud, he's been gone days and now returns, looking worse for wear!"

"High King, I apologize for my sister's interruption - "

"She's not wrong," Gil-galad muttered, making you pause.

"My King?"

"You are not wrong, Tinnie," He addressed your sister, finding her eyes and holding her hostage by a single look, "for I have felt the darkness, too. There is something amiss, I will agree, but..."

"It is the Rings!" She insisted.

"Oh, not this again!" You snarled, seizing her upper arm. "Out! Now! You will still your tongue before the King!"

"High King!" You heard Elrond calling, rushing down the hall you were surging up. He spoke your name, "Where are you going?"

"To have a word - "

"This is much more important. Trust me, please! With me, now!" He breezed past you, but caught your free arm in his hold - pulling you after him and forcing you to release Tinnie. "High King," Elrond addressed as he lead you back into the room, your younger sister lingering in the doorway to listen, "the Orcs are not in Mordor."

"Elrond, our reports - "

"We've encountered them!" Elrond cut you off, making you silence yourself out of sheer curiosity; not accustomed to seeing him so disheveled and manic... So authoritative. "A legion of them are headed for Eregion." He pulled out Nenya, showing the King, "My wife and Galadriel were right! They were right! You must send the army to Eregion this moment."

Your head bowed in disappointment, wishing beyond wishful thought that you had been gifted with foresight - then you could've seen this, withheld the Elven Armies from marching to Mordor, been better prepared. Elrond noted your silence first, ready to question you, when the High King stiffly informed, "That will not be possible. I have reason to believe that Sauron is the architect of all this."

Choosing his words carefully, Elrond argued slightly, "High King, Eregion is the very jewel of Elvendom. If it were to fall, it would be a mortal blow for all in Middle-earth. You must send aid!"

"Our armies cannot defeat both Adar and Sauron. Not alone."

Something clicked in your mind, straightening up and taking hold of Elrond's arm. You bowed your head in agreement, "Of course, High King, we understand. Allow me the day to catch my husband up on recent events, we might reconvene later - "

"I shall send for you when a decision has been made," Gil-galad waved off, you all but shoving Elrond from the room; almost tripping over Tinnie.

"Go, go, go, just go," you muttered to the two in Sindarin, releasing Elrond's arm - surprise coloring your features when he snatched your hand into his. Yet you did not comment. At the end of the hall, you halted them both, being aware of the stationed guards, keeping your voice low, "Tinnie, go attend to the rest of Commander Elrond's company. I imagine they'll need food, rest, perhaps aid?"

"Camnir was shot with an arrow..." Elrond muttered, "But Galadriel healed him."

"How?" Tinnie squeaked.

"Nenya... I saw it myself..."

You sighed, "Tinnie, please?"

She nodded, "Shall I speak to them?"

"They will want to give their account, please take record for the King," you instructed, Elrond's hand tightening in yours almost unconsciously.

"What're you going to do?"

"Speak with my husband," you sighed.

"No, I mean... If you and Galadriel were right, if the Orcs are marching on Eregion... What're you going to do?"

"We have much to discuss before a decision can be made," Elrond told her, tone hardened, "now, please, Tinnie, go."

Tinnie noticed the darker, deeper baritone to his voice and instantly nodded and scurried away towards the front gates. "How far back did you leave your company?" You asked softly, watching the last of Tinnie's skirts sweep around the corner.

"Far enough. Come," he directed, turning to start down the pathway; leading you towards the quarters you once shared. Yet before you could enter, you reared back; yanking his hand, his concerned expression turning down in gentle aggravation. "What's the matter?" He asked.

"You don't live here anymore."

Elrond heaved a great sigh, turning to you, "Truly? You wish to do this now?"

"For weeks, you've picked arguments. You've been combative, irritable, spiteful. You... You chose a ring over me - "

"That's not true - "

"How would you phrase it then!?"

"I chose ethics! Morality! You chose a Ring of Power, not just a ring!" He barked at you, both cracking under the pressure the Ring had subjected your marriage to.

"And look where it lead! You come storming in, declaring Galadriel and I are right to the High King, and now... Now it sounds as if you still defend your decision!"

"I do."

You shook off his grip, "Then perhaps we might find somewhere more neutral to discuss matters?"

Elrond heaved a sigh, "What's wrong with our rooms - your rooms? What's wrong with your rooms?"

"Exactly that, they're mine. Not ours. It seems, no matter where I look, I am reminded that my husband didn't love me enough - "

"Don't you ever say that again!" Elrond snarled, leering over you; back to a bannister, bending you back slightly as you refused to back down - keeping him in front of you. He was heaving for breath, body trembling; proximity allowing you to count the pores clogged by dirt, blood, and grime. "You may hold all the anger you wish, but never accuse me of something so heinous, impossible, untrue. So unfathomable."

"Then prove me wrong!" You fired back, shoving at his abdomen to force him back a step so you could righten yourself off the bannister. "You proved to me your anger, now prove your love! Your remorse! Show me an apology, do not just say it! You looked at me with such hate, Elrond, and you left our rooms, you left me - over a matter of opinion! Do you know what that felt like? What pain that caused? You swore to me - "

"I know what our vows were!" He snapped, tears tinging his eyes red; the air hot between your mouths as you both seethed in anger. "I know what we promised, but never did I think Sauron would return, let alone offer such threat!"

"I am beginning to think you are angry about something else! Is it Galadriel - "

"It's me!"

You were startled into silence, his voice echoing down the hall as his facial expression turned angry. Elrond turned from you to pace himself in a semi-circle, and for whatever reason, you softly questioned, "Where's your cloak?"

"What?" Elrond scoffed, having created distance that you closed to lay your hand on his bicep.

"Your father's cloak, Elrond, where is it?"

"I do not know - I don't..." His head shook, looking annoyed with himself. So, you sighed and nodded, dropped your hand to his and laced your fingers together before leading him into your quarters. "Don't - "

"Just come in," you nudged his shoulder, encouraging him into the room as you shut the doors and drew all curtains to keep your conversation private. You locked the main doors.

"You rearranged?" He noted, stalking around the room; slotting himself between furniture as he silently judged it all.

"Just trying something new, I can't sleep most nights and need something to occupy my mind," you explained, shutting the balcony doors, too. With a sigh, you spun on the spot and implored, "What did you mean, Elrond, when I questioned what you were angry about and said it's you? Please, talk to me. We did not talk about Nenya, and now..." You sighed deeply.

Elrond seemingly remembered he still had the Ring, looking at it in his flat palm with what you could only describe as terror. His eyes lifted to yours, asking, "Do you have a chain?"

With a nod, you ventured to your personal jewelry box and located a glittering braided chain; approaching him to gently drop it in a coiled pile beside Nenya. His hand shook, hating the feeling of the Ring... So, you gently took his hand to steady it and asked, "Tell me what you meant."

Elrond watched you thread the Ring onto the chain. "You're right, thinking my anger is sourced elsewhere... It's not Galadriel, per se - though, I am angry, for varying reasons. But it's me - I'm angry at myself."

"Why?"

"I did not see..."

You lifted the two ends of the chain slowly to his chest, but when he flinched, you reminded, "Galadriel entrusted it to you, nobody else should keep it." He nodded in acceptance, so, you lifted the necklace again, asking, "What didn't you see, Elrond?"

"Halbrand... While in Eregion, making the Rings, he helped Lord Celebrimbor and I, it was... He was there the whole time... So very present, innocent - feigning a King of Men - "

"Halbrand is Sauron."

"He is," Elrond confirmed, "and I did not see it."

"You are angry Sauron the Deceiver deceived you!?" You gaped, hooking the chain and retracting your arms. "Elrond, do you hear yourself? You are victim, none of you knew!"

"But the Rings - they work! You were right!"

"Elrond - "

"It's why I'm angry," he admitted, "because the Rings work, I've seen it, but also because I did not see Sauron for who he was."

"None of us did," you whispered, seeing the struggle behind his eyes.

"I couldn't protect them, either."

"Who?"

"Well, now, none of us - but Lord Celebrimbor and Galadriel specifically; they were with us, with Sauron. I..." He sighed deeply, "I did not see, now we all suffer - "

"We do not suffer, we are fighting back," you cut him off now, his sad eyes finding yours. "And you, our Commander, because you alone feel responsible for our entire salvation. You will lead us, Elrond," his head shook in refusal, making you insist, "no, listen - hear my words. You will lead our people, command legions of Elves, because you have proven strong and determined enough. Since you realized the truth of Sauron, you have fought tooth and nail for the rest of us - even me, you fought me - to see the truth. We have all been blinded, deceived, and now, we all must fight, but trust that the Rings... With the darkness they bring, they must also bring light - it is not just Sauron alone in them, but you all. Which means, in the grandest scheme, all your good overpowers Sauron's bad - proven by the Light of the Valar returning. By Camnir's rescue."

"I fought..." He whispered, reaching for your face - neither of you moving away, wanting the comfort, "At a time my words were needed most. And now, it's too late."

"It's never too late, Elrond, or have you not been paying attention?" You chortled lightly, sighing as you pet over his tunic; manicured nails gently fiddling with Nenya in admiration as it glimmered in the candlelight. "I... Had an idea I want your opinion on. Born of the High King's decision to send he army to Morodor..."

He nodded, stepping closer so his hand fully caressed your cheek and slid to hold the back of your neck. "Speak it," he whispered, "tell your Commander."

You could not repress the shiver of attraction even if you tried. He leered over you, holding you tenderly, close, pressing you closer as his eyes dared you to lose your train of thought. "We seek help... From the Dwarves, from Prince Durin," you whispered, "for they hold Sauron's Rings, they will need our aid in time - we just need theirs first."

"You would have me go above our King?"

"I would have you lead us, Commander."

Elrond smirked slightly, free arm coiling around your waist to hoist you into his embrace. "Something sounds as if you... Like this new position of mine?"

"It suits you - authority, I mean."

"Oh?"

"Being decisive," you listed as Elrond moved forward, walking you backward, "assertive, argumentative... It's a good look."

"Then are you ready to listen to your Commander?"

"At once, sir."

He paused you, lips hovering over yours; demanding of your ears only, "Strip."

"My Lord - "

"Aht," he tutted, pulling back; leaving you cemented in place.

"Commander," you amended, watching him nod subtly. Slowly, your hands lifted to start unlacing your corset; his eyes dark and concentrated, watching each movement you made. Elrond stood with his shoulders squared, hands clasped in front of him, feet spread apart; ensuring you were operating to his level of completion.

"All of it," he told you when down to your small clothes; pausing your venture onto the bed behind you.

So, you stripped those off, too. He nodded in approval, watching you teasingly turn to crawl onto the bed and settle in the middle of the mattress - facing him. Elrond's eyes locked with yours, only straying when your legs slowly spread to reveal your sweetest point for his viewing pleasure. His shoulders heaved upward as he drew in breath, lifting his chin, eyes darting around to note the speckling of honey collecting between your legs.

"Touch yourself," Elrond demanded, reaching for his weapons belt and unhooking it.

"Where, Commander?"

He smirked and simply repeated, "Touch. Yourself. If you can't take direction..."

You didn't question him again, watching him slowly unlatch the belts and hooks of his uniform; deft fingers rubbing through your wetness as others came up to pinch your nipple and roll the bud. Elrond shed his boots, discarding them to the side; tunics yanked from his bare torso, leaving the glittering jewelry around his neck. A moan escaped as you dipped your fingers within your cunt as Elrond ripped his trousers open - then paused. He admired the sight of you splayed out, both hands at work, watching him undress.

In Sindarin, Elrond questioned, "Are we still at odds, my starlight?"

You whined, replying, "If you're not inside me in the next minute, Commander, we will be."

Elrond chuckled and shucked his trousers from his hips, down his thighs, then stepping out of them. "Do you forgive me, my star?"

"Nothing to forgive."

"Don't feed me that," he reprimanded, stepping up to mount the bed; his own hand beginning to fondle his reddening cock, stroking himself to straining life. "I have wronged you and your Commander intends to show he is remorseful. Tell him how."

"Move back in," you pleaded, reaching for him as he allowed himself to hover over you, "and do not leave me - not again."

His breath exhaled against your lips, settling to lay against you while a single leg bent to secure his hips on yours. "Never," Elrond agreed, "but I'll need to hear you say it."

"Is that a command?"

Elrond smirked and lined himself up to notch his cockhead at your cunt's mouth; sinking in as he answered, "Of course, it is." You gasped and slapped a hand up to hold his flushing neck, mouth wide at the familiar sting; public hair grinding together as his balls pinned between you, cock fully sheathed. "You've been given a command, my star," he grunted in your ear, "don't disappoint your Commander now."

Like all Elves, your ears had increased sensitivity; creating a legion of goose flesh to shoot across your flesh. Without breath, you affirmed in his ear, "I-I forgive you - fuck - I forgive you, my love. Don't leave me," you whimpered, "and I forgive you."

"What side do you remain?"

You whined, "Yours, yours, my husband, I remain on your side, Commander."

"And will you obey your Commander?"

"Until the end," you nodded, his lips finally findings yours. A sharp whimper ripped from your lungs as Elrond retracted his hips, thrusting into you at his own set, even pace; lips messily sliding against each other from tongues and spit. "You were gone too long," you managed to whisper.

"We won't be apart that long again," he grit, grunting as he held your thigh in a bruising-grip, "I swear it - "

"You can't - "

"I swear it," he gnashed your bottom lip between his teeth, making you gasp in pain and shock before moaning when he suckled at the mark. Softly, he released your lips, whispering, "I promise, we won't be. We go together from now on."

Nenya dangled between you, tracing around your chest from his aggressive thrusting; you agreeing with a nod, "Together."

"Now," Elrond grunted, "'M not gonna last, pet, gonna need you t'cum with me - together."

"Yes, Commander," you moaned, seeing the way his eyes fluttered; cheeks, neck, and ears blushing bright as his orgasm mounted, trying in vain to hold back. Seeing the almost involuntary reaction your words caused, your hand found Elrond's cheek and directed his eyes to yours, encouraging, "I'm so close, Commander, you make me feel so good, so full, it's been so long - too long! I'm right there, my love, my Commander, please - "

"Ah," Elrond hissed through his teeth, "yes, love, I'm there, too; right there, right there - "

"Cum in me... That's a command, Commander," you demanded in his ear, and it was all that was wrote. Elrond bucked wildly his last few thrusts, pinning you to the mattress; your own orgasm triggered by the flooding of warmth filling your too-empty womb.

"O-Oh," he stuttered, humping into you in languid thrusts before slowing to a shivering halt. You watched Elrond try to regulate his breathing, wrapping your arms around him in an instant to bring him in close; resting him on your chest while your one arm wrapped around him, the other threading into his curls. "I love you," he whispered into your flesh.

"I love you, too," you affirmed. Then, while toying with the sweat-curled ringlets of his hair, you mused softly, "You need a cut."

"You told me for years to grow it out, now you want me to cut it?"

"No, I don't want you to; I just know, you prefer a cleaner crop."

"I've... Grown fond of the look."

You smirked, "That is relieving to hear."

Elrond sighed and slowly lifted off you; only enough to help maneuver you so he didn't have to pullout of your cunt but could still hold you as the big spoon. "So... Prince Durin, is it?" He asked in your ear.

You smirked, "Why not? He is a friend, his father wields a Ring of Power... He would more incentive to help than others. And the Dwarves are formidable in battle, it could help turn the tides, by uniting the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. Elf, Dwarf, Man..."

"What alliance of Men would - "

"We do not speak of Men, we speak of Prince Durin," you reminded him; his face nuzzling into your neck. "I think you should go in person. To plead the severity of our situation, how dire the need for aid is. To convey our desperation."

"The High King - "

"Leave him to me," you insisted, holding his arms around you. "I know we just agreed to not part ways, but you need to parlay with Prince Durin and I will keep Gil-galad at bay. When Durin agrees to march to our aid in Eregion, we march our remaining forces against Adar and meet the Dwarves on the field."

"It sounds good..."

"But?"

"Is it possible?"

"We will have to work in tandem, but I would assume the King would not argue asking for aid. I'll inform him of your departure and intention after you've left."

His arms tightened, "We can speak of it more later. I just want to feel you in my arms - it's been too long."

"You will hear no such complaints from me."

After a moment, where you both spent it resettling and nuzzling into the peaceful silence, Elrond asked, "Do you... Do you think one of the company managed to find and grab my cloak?"

In amusement, you replied, "Oh, I'm sure."

"And that Tinnie would have it?"

"Knowing her, by now, surely," you mused, reaching up to pet his cheek; requesting, "now, I have gone too long without the feeling of you beside me and wish to rest."

"As you command, my love."

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

794 notes · View notes

parfaitblogs · 5 months ago

Text

september rain ❀ s. reid x reader

in which lightning and thunder is a little less scary with spencer reid.

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: fluff (comfort) tags: thunderstorm. established relationship. word count: 1k a/n: we r going into storm season in aus. obviously that means obligatory spencer reid fanfic?? sry this is me headcanoning that you have a fear of storms :/ if you don't just pretend. this is sooo simple and not revolutionary LOL hope u enjoy anyways!! as always talk to me if u did!!

You were ninety-nine percent sure the creaking your ears were picking up came from the window frames bending from the sheer force of the wind. And you were mostly certain that the prickle on your skin was from an unexpected leak in the ceiling after a tree had fallen into the building. Not your imagination.

Neither could be true. For the windows were not bending even slightly, and there is no tree tall enough to have fallen through the apartment above you.

That didn't really soothe your fear.

You were curled up on the couch under a blanket, a silent film playing — Nosferatu, ironically so — that you weren't really paying attention to. Your eyes were instead fixated on the only source of light the room had — a warm glowing lamp in the corner by the bookcase adorning too many books to count.

Spencer was not home yet.

He was on his way. You knew that much. The first crack of thunder had ripped through the sky and you were calling him almost immediately. Then... hanging up by the first ring, feeling pathetic for calling your — very busy — boyfriend, just because you were scared.

He had called you back immediately, and because he knew you so well, he was asking if you needed him home because of the storm. Your heart had swelled, and you had mumbled a thousand yes's into the phone, until he was promising he'd be on his way as soon as he finished the case report he was working on.

Despite the slight comfort him being on his way brought you, you were still shaking, your heart was still thumping uncomfortably in your chest, and your knuckles were still white from your petulant clutching of the blanket around you.

You could only faintly hear the click of the front door lock over the deafening rain, but you turned regardless, eyes softening at the sight of your boyfriend entering the apartment. His hair stuck to his forehead; clothes to his body. He was soaking wet, but you were standing on wobbly legs and heading towards him for solace regardless.

He placed his messenger bag down by the door, opting to deal with the damp leather later. His eyebrows had furrowed when you had opened your arms.

"I'm drenched," he said, side stepping away from your attempt of a hug. "You do not want to hug me right now, honey."

"I do," you protested, voice wavering from the tightness in your throat.

"Let me go dry off, then you can hug me forever and never let me go, okay?" he offered instead, watching you come to terms with his idea, and nod your head.

So, he did just that. Allowing you to follow him around like a lost puppy the entire time, blanket dragging along the flooring of your apartment as you kept it wrapped firmly around your shoulders.

You sat in the middle of your bed, watching him almost too carefully as he picked out his towel from your ensuite, starting with drying his hair in a way that had your face scrunching up.

When he caught the look, he asked, "What?" in a sort of amused, laughing way.

"You're ruining your curls," you said.

"The rain already ruined them," he replied. "I'll fix them when the storm passes and I can shower."

"This is why I hate storms."

"Because it ruins my hair?"

"No, but that's definitely going on the list," you huffed, folding your arms across your chest — he laughed at that. "You literally can't do anything! You can't shower, you can't cook, the power goes out, it's loud, you can't go outside because what if you get struck by lightning? And also the rain. Which is cold, by the way... where are you going?"

"To get clothes," he explained, then being completely unsurprised by the fact that you were leaving your safe haven atop the bed to trail after him. "I was coming back."

"Two seconds is all it takes for a storm to take me out," you said. "Then you'll feel really bad."

"The storm is not going to take you out," he replied within a sigh, peeling his wet button up off his body.

"It could."

"The main cause of death during storms is drowning. The apartment is not flooded. Neither is the street," he was almost nurturing with his tone, unfazed by your locked in stare on the towel he was drying his body with — you weren't really staring at him, simply zoning out on whatever was in front of you as he spoke. "The second is debris flying from the wind, which is nowhere near harsh enough for anything to be flying around. Let alone at this height. The third is a lightning strike, which is impossible when you're indoors because this building has lightning protection."

He spent the time he took debunking all the possible death scenarios to finish drying himself off and changing, and by the time he had stopped speaking he was standing in front of you. Still seemingly unconvinced due to your inner anxieties, your face was painted with a disagreeing frown, that his shoulders slumped at the sight of.

"They're still scary," you mumbled, and he nodded his head, arms looping around your body and pulling you into him. His skin was still cold, but it was a welcome comfort nonetheless.

"I know they are," he decided to say, instead of attempting to deny all your worries with logic again. The two of you stood there, in your closet, for minutes. His hand found your hair, entangling within it, chin resting on your shoulder. With his face buried into the crook of your neck, he mumbled, "There's ice cream in the freezer. Movie?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, so he broke the hug with a step back, lips tugging into a smile at the now less worried expression on your face.

"But we have to eat with wooden spoons," you said as he led you out, hand clasped firmly in yours for your own peace of mind.

"Why?"

"Metal attracts lightning," you mumbled, watching his shoulders shake with more laughter.

"No, honey, it doesn't. That's a myth," he said.

"Whatever."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort

696 notes · View notes

desireangel · 5 months ago

Text

Dark Cherry [4] | Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: MDNI 18+!! canon divergence!!! I fucked the timeline and nigly bits bc this was an impulse fic ok soooo it was mostly unplanned, almost smut, angst, let the grovelling happen babyyy, unedited, mention of alys x aemond but not in a good way :((, infidelity, talk of sex, guilt, mentions of Aegon x reader, hmmm I ramble, little vulnerable Aemond, bad language, let me know if I've missed anything!

Author's note: y'all I was never done with that man like there's no easy out for him :llll. Anyways I wrote most of this instead of studying which I needed to do. Perhaps I'll have my hand at another idea I'm cooking before part 5 but I'm alsoooo unsure about how keen we are to keep this one going - like is it getting too much??? either way, I enjoy writing this. and idk how to shut up, clearly, because I love that internal mind talk shit. Drop your thoughts in my inbox or PM me because I love to yap!!! xoxo, kisses!!! <3

Masterlist

He was a fool. A spoiled, arrogant and entitled fool. You often thought about whether Aemond actually recognised the effect of his actions on anyone else. It was always ‘I did it for us’ or ‘I did it because I had to do it’.

So after your confrontation the day before, it had surprised you that Aemond had truly believed he was forgiven. Maybe it shouldn’t have. You had, after all, sat beside him and laughed with him. Shared a moment as if things were better. But it was nothing more than a lighthearted acknowledgement that whatever game was being played was entirely ridiculous yet you could feel how something had changed. There was a newfound intensity between the two of you and Aemond had clearly understood that he had made a mistake

But that wouldn't be enough for forgiveness. Things would never really be the same. You will never forget. The nameless woman had made a home in your unconscious mind and everything would remind you of the woman your husband had chosen to take to bed over you. She was beautiful, she was experienced and free of burden. Based on that alone a part of you could see why she could have been a better choice–a part of you that ached and pained ceaselessly.

And you weren’t sure you could carry on as if Aemond hadn’t thrown your entire world into the pits of ruin. Because that is exactly what he may as well have done. All you had was your marriage to him–a fact that was as painful as it was true. If it all fell apart because of him only you would suffer from it.

Your name, your family’s name. A Lady born to a house of remarkably lowly nobility with little more than your marriage to the prince. A charity case marriage to tell the realm’s people that the Crown was not so prejudiced as to be above uniting with the likes of your house. That the Lannisters and Baratheons were important but they were not everything. A fabrication only made necessary to cover up the fact that it was a lie–the Targaryens (and even the Hightowers as you had come to realise) really did believe they were of better blood.

A failure to fulfil your duty to the Targaryen crown as Prince Aemond’s wife would destroy your family name. And you would have no prospect of happiness after it. What else did you have aside from this?

Aemond would never understand that. Because not only was he a man but he was a prince. A privilege, a safety and a security he had inherited through birth.

Aside from the pressures of society, he had hurt you. Badly.

Despite your own confliction about it, you did have love for Aemond–how could you not? Love came from many things and while yours may have come from your dependance on his word, on the duty he performed to be your protector as he was to the Crown and its subjects, on his polite affections as limited as they were, it still found its way into your heart. Perhaps it was foolish to allow it entry into your existence when you had already known that there was no love to come from Aemond.

It didn’t change anything. Betrayed your trust, taken you for granted and destroyed the sanctity of a husband’s loyalty as if he were as dishonourable as any other Lord.

You would never say it out loud but it had broken your heart. And heartache is a consuming, suffocating and painful thing to feel. A constant lump in your throat, something always weighing your chest down, a disastrous, aching discomfort in your belly. Tears had stained your pillow at night and dried by the morning, the fabric of the linen acquiring the same unphased facade that you would wear as you plastered on a mask of ignorance so that you could continue to live through your day.

All because you had wanted him. Aemond, who was doomed to disappoint and destroy merely because that is all that princes do.

For him to have mistaken your truce–the end to the back and forth game that had been wreaking havoc in its wake-as forgiveness was infuriating. He had no idea.

Well, maybe he did. Now that he had seen you with another just as you had seen him. And you recognised your own experience in the moment he had realised what was happening.

Aemond’s call to breakfast made you want to laugh. But you had turned him down for afternoon tea just the day before only to be found swallowing his brother’s seed. You winced at the shamefulness of your thought, muttering a quick prayer for the sake of your piety whether it was genuine or not.

He was seated lazily in the chair he favoured, an array of food spread across the table. There was a book in his hand. The same one he had taken from you the last time you had shared your morning meal together. Aemond had a smirk playing on his lips.

You cleared your throat, curtsying before sitting down at the other end of the table to him and with as much distance between you as you could muster. “Good morrow, my Prince,”

“Formalities, I see,” He looked at you through his lashes. It was odd seeing him so relaxed, the tension that was always in his shoulders had been lost and there was a playful glint to his eye. You wanted to smack it out. “I believed we were past titles and distance for the sake of propriety, my sweet. As well as rigid greetings.”

All you responded with was a stare.

Dropping the book to his side, Aemond sighed and leaned forward, pouring tea into a cup. He stood, taking a couple steps forward to hand it to you. “We have fixed-”

“We have fixed nothing.”

“I am trying to turn a new leaf,” he commanded. You took the cup and saucer from his hand, the warm waft of vanilla and rose giving you a slight reprieve from the threat that rolled off his tongue. “If you do not recall, dear wife, I as well have every reason to resent you. The image of you sucking on my useless brother’s cock is not one I can easily bare. Yet I have chosen to let it be. I could have easily decided otherwise.”

“That would make you a hypocrite.” You glanced at him over the rim of your teacup.

“It does not matter much if I am a hypocrite, does it?” Aemond sat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t bothered with the food in front of him, focused solely on you. “I hardly see how that would change anything.”

You squirmed under the intensity of his stare, picking up a cherry from the bowl of fruits and rolling the stem between your fingers. “It matters to me. Certainly, it matters for your reputation among the smallfolk. Nobody cares for a selfish prince, my dear.”

Aemond hummed, smirking at the venom you spat at him. You noticed the coin that he rolled between his fingers, nimble and thoughtless as if it were like breathing. Not so much a nervous habit but a thoughtful one.

He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy your confidence. It was refreshing. But there was a dip in his gut at the thought that there was no hope for the two of you. Aemond, ever logical, knew he had no one else to blame but himself with his lack of foresight and failure to see beyond the now and here.

Because Aemond had not even considered how things would go on should you not forgive him. He had assumed that you would if not merely on the basis that there was little lost from a relationship that hardly existed in the first place. You had love for him and he was so convinced that such a thing would be impossible that he didn’t consider that it would cause you heartache beyond slighted offence and jealousy.

A violet eye lingered on the cherry that remained between your fingers. Aemond was good at putting on an act. He thought for a moment that he would rather take lashes to his back than have you know that he had no idea how to love someone properly. A part of him was persuaded that he was incapable of being a good lover. The lashes seemed like a blissful gift compared to the self-loathing that simmered in his belly at the probability that he had ruined any chance your marriage had of recovery.

It crossed his mind that it was his ignorance towards you right from the beginning that had damned your relationship.

Either way, it did not help that you had turned to his brother for intimacy. Aemond felt his blood scorch whenever that invaded his mind. He wanted to crumble the walls of this fortress when he wondered if Aegon had enjoyed your womanhood. Jealousy did motivate him well, he realised, and Aemond had the murderous urge to feed Aegon to Vhagar.

Nonetheless, he feigned amusement. “It seems as if you care for one.”

You ate the cherry. It was sweet and rich. All you replied with was an upturn of your chin as you gracefully held a small embroidered towel to your lips.

“So I am not forgiven?” Aemond had to break the silence before it cut him open. “Are we not even?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you held back a surprised laugh. “You never apologised. Not that it would make any difference.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“Of course you are not forgiven,” you sighed. The tea cup hit the table with a clang. Your disdain for his actions and his ignorance gave you an unfettered confidence around him which you weren’t accustomed to. It made it very difficult to control yourself. “And no, we are not even, my Prince. And since you have brought it to my attention, I am of half a mind to find Aegon and offer him a meal between my thighs. You see, I have often wondered how it would feel and I expect that our King would be happy to indulge my… curiosities.”

Aemond sneered, a silent one that was more visible in his intake of a breath, the curl of his lips and the hardening of his eye. Bullseye.

It took him less than a couple seconds to be on his knees in front of where you sat, a strong hand tightly gripping each side of your thighs over the thick fabrics of your dress. He had shoved the table aside, unphased as tea spilled and fruits and cheeses toppled to the floor. Something in the look of bewilderment on your face had Aemond ready to both grin at your clueless innocence and frown at your shock.

Aemond didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that you had given up on expecting such pleasures from him. He was your husband; nothing about what he was clearly intending on doing to you should surprise you. Cursing himself to perdition would not be enough for how he has failed you.

“I feel obliged to remind you that we had agreed,” he grazed his nose across your knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes, jaw clenched tight as he all but growled his words. “That there will be no more of this foolishness. Not from you and not from me.”

It was an onslaught of different things that had rendered you still and silent. The way Aemond looked at you like you were the only satiating force for his eternal hunger, the wordless mixture of desire and anger in how his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, the desperation in his voice, strained by the fear that you would. Or was it the overwhelming feeling that Aemond was finally taking some accountability and that maybe he recognised not what his actions were but the meaning that they carried?

For a moment Aemond just looked at you, conflicted and fragmented and unguarded. The sight of him like this reminded you of a vulnerable child. But it didn’t last long before the menacing, cautionary glint was back in his eye, his posture becoming rigid as shuffled the fabrics of your skirts.

A new kind of anxiety overcame you. Not like the insignificant nervousness you had felt that night when you had wandered into his chambers or used his leg to make yourself peak and not like the clueless apprehension with Aegon. It formed a ball in your chest and made it hard to breathe.

There was no chance he would ever admit it but you could see Aemond’s vulnerability and desperation within the hardened facade he had perfected. He wanted nothing more than to seem strong and powerful at all times, worthy of acclaim and reverence. But here he was, willing to stay on his knees and worship you forever, all under the pretence of rageful infatuation.

It was too hot. Even with the cool of the shadows cast by the dark net curtains that only let in enough daylight to see clearly and not enough to cause Aemond irritation from sensitivity in his eye, it was so warm you worried you would have to rip the sleeves off of your dress.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Aemond let out a soft, dark groan, running his fingers across the expanse of your legs over your stockings, your skirts already bunched at your hips. Skin burning at his touch, you couldn’t help the way you whined and squeezed your thighs together, squirming under the intensity of his gaze.

His voice was heavy with the burden of lust and regret. “I will be better. In all the ways that I have failed you and more. Your forgiveness, I realise, is not as easily granted as I presumed but I will show you that I am worthy of it.”

There was a moment of weakness in your mind before you caught yourself. You didn’t quite believe him. It had clearly been too easy for him to give you empty promises and there was no reason why things would be different now.

It was odd. Seeing Aemond weak like this.

What would it mean if you let him continue? It was clearly different this time. You couldn’t put it into words exactly but there was a rawness, a blitz of different emotions that set things ablaze and made you want to both weep and mewl for him.

You couldn’t spare a thought about why it was different. Aemond was right there, a weaponised Prince on his knees for you, a lowly Lady with nothing more to offer him than yourself. Since when did you hold all this power over him?

That night in his bedchambers and last night when you had shared a laugh despite everything that had unfolded felt detached in a way. When you had allowed yourself release over his leg it was simply that. A way to ease the tension he had put in your body and a way to leave him wanting.

Aemond’s eye swam with a tenderness you had not seen from him. He continued to look up at you waiting to gauge your response. It was a slight nod of your head which had his hands tearing at the soft fabric of your stockings, his lips instantly meeting the skin of your knees before you had the chance to even gasp. All the while, he kept his eye on you as if his heart would cease to beat if he could not watch the way you reacted to him.

It became increasingly harder to breathe. There were so many thoughts, so many sensations that you struggled to put it all together. Your flushed with anticipation, your cunt throbbed at the wet plushness of his lips on your hot skin and your hips squirmed at what was to come.

Your mind, however, flashed with the image of Aemond, exactly as he was now, between another woman’s thighs. A woman who didn’t flinch at the unfamiliar touch, who didn’t jerk away at the foreign feeling of being pleasured. You wondered if he would be so angered at the prospect of another man’s mouth on her womanhood, if her skin felt softer or more rough on his lips and if he looked at her with the same heated need.

It made you feel sick.

Aemond let himself enjoy the way your thighs tensed, pulling your smallclothes off of you as much as carefully as he could under the restriction of your skirts. There was an urge to rip the entire dress off but he knew it would be a step too far. He couldn’t help the low sounds that left him, sounds he couldn’t recognise. The expanse of your thighs and the sight of your flushed, hot cunt in front of him made his mouth water with a hunger that would have shocked him had he not been so distracted by your scent.

Without complete vision, Aemond had learned to train his sense of touch, taste, smell and hearing to make up for the disadvantage he was stuck with. They were always slightly heightened compared to those who never needed the compensation of senses but in the cloud of desire and lust, he was sensitive.

You whined at the way his tongue glided over your skin, biting down hard but not hard enough to be painful on the flesh of your upper thigh so close to where you needed to feel him. But Aemond was always remarkably patient and he merely made way to your other leg, repeating his ministrations and licking you from your knee to where he bit you at your thigh.

The haze that had possessed you made you lose track of your thoughts so easily. Still, they fought their way to the forefront of your mind at every chance they could and you were reminded of her.

Aemond’s mind was overwhelmed by you. There was no power in the realm that could make him think of anything else, not with the way you were trembling under his feathered touch and making such beautiful sounds for him, and not when he desired for anyone else apart from you.

A heavy breath of shame and excitement tumbled out of you at how lewdly he dragged the tip of his nose across your thigh, pressing it into the flesh that sat above your slick, aching cunt and inhaling. You clenched around nothing, your clit twitching at the sound of Aemond’s unabashed groan.

He grasped at your hips and your legs, his fingers burying into your flesh and tugging as if there would never be enough of you in his hands. It would have driven you into a similarly desperate state had things been different.

The prince between your thighs was a sight to behold. Aemond’s skin was flushed pink, his eyepatch slightly out of place and his hair tousled from the way your legs clenched and unclenched against his head. He was almost drooling, mumbling about how good you smelled and how perfect and pretty your cunt was for him. His cock had never been so hard, constricted by the stiff leather of his training attires.

Aemond enjoyed being a tease but there was only so much he could handle himself. While he wanted you to crave for him the way he was craving you so unbearably, Aemond needed to taste you. He needed to make you feel the blinding pleasure he should have been giving you at every chance he had since the night you were married. He needed to show you the ways of unbridled human desire and to show you all the ways your body could come undone and fall apart only to feel completely whole and fulfilled.

There was no changing the past but Aemond would make up for how completely inattentive he had been. He would show you all the more fervently. When Aemond placed an open mouthed kiss just above your slit, letting a string of his spit glide off of his tongue onto your sensitive pussy, you shuddered.

All at once your mind was once again taken over by unsavoury thoughts. It had your eyes welling with tears, a familiar lump lodging in your throat, threatening to come out in a devastated sob. There was a ringing in your ears and you were back at Aemond’s door, peeking in only to see him giving that woman the same touch he was giving you right now. He had seemed so enthralled by her and the way she must have tasted. It was as if he’d been there before, indulging in her with so much passion it rivalled how eagerly touched you in this moment.

Did her smell fill his veins with fire as yours was? Did her scent alone make his cock as painfully hard as yours did? Did her cunt drip for him the way yours did? Was the hunger in his eye shining for her too?

It was terrifying to consider.

Aemond would spend hours here, he had decided. His duties for the day could be damned to the hells for all he cared. There was a rumbling in his chest for what he saw in front of him, inviting him to indulge and filling his mind with senseless ardour. Aemond let himself enjoy just the scent of you, his eye fluttering shut and his nose gently resting above your folds as he breathed you in, caressing your thighs softly with his hands. As if he were starved for years, Aemond salivated and with no patience left within him, he brought his lips downwards to meet the precious cunt he had been dreaming of.

With a whimper that you couldn’t hold back, you jerked away from him. Aemond pulled away in surprise, his gaze full of confusion and lust and insecurity. “Wait, my love—“

You had slipped free of his grasp, a strangled cry escaping no matter how hard you tried to keep it in. There was one tear that slipped free, followed by countless more and you couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to see that he was hurt before scrambling away from him.

She was stuck in your mind. The memory of Aemond’s little trysts with her replaying behind your eyes no matter how hard you tried to shut it out. It was clear that there was nothing you could do to get ahold of yourself because everytime you looked at him, so enthralled in you and your sex, she was there.

Laughing at you in the back of your mind, as if she had taken residence in a permanent place in your head, enjoying the state of despair and madness she and Aemond had led you to.

But she couldn’t be in your head. Not really. Not in the way it felt she was.

You barely glanced back at Aemond through your tears, struggling to even your breathing and calm the rapid beating of your heart. He hadn’t moved much; just simply stayed there frowning at the space that you had once occupied on the chair.

There was nothing he could do to change things. Aemond knew that as well as you did. But there was a pain in your heart at the way he looked so defeated, so guilty that it almost seemed like he would melt into a puddle of remorse. A far stretch from the usual stoic warrior that you had known him as.

“My prince, I–” you swallowed, your voice catching when he looked up at you with a wide eye and furrowed eyebrows. For a moment you remembered that he had no right - but he was trying, was he not? “I cannot continue with this knowing that you had touched her like this. It angers me and it upsets me and it pains me to think of it but ‘tis beyond my control.”

He stayed silent, observing the way you hid yourself from him and struggled to meet his gaze. There was a sullen look to you, one you had not entered with and it stuck needles in his flesh to think that he had been the cause of it. Aemond’s entire body felt hot and he was itching to tear off his leathers. He wished the gods would strike him down as he was for hurting you so.

You had turned away, disappearing from his quarters swiftly. You would never forget the image of how you had left him there–it was both satisfying and devastating.

Aemond, still on his knees for the ghost of you, his expression tortured and his shoulders tensed. It was a pathetic sight, should anyone stumble upon it, but you considered it beautiful. Beautiful in a lethal, catastrophic manner. Not unlike himself; a weaponised source of destruction who had a tendency to bring torment upon those he loved.

The rest of your day had been spent alone in your chambers. You hadn’t cried so much over any of it until now. The tears and sobs that you had held inside of yourself for weeks had forced themselves out, along with the emotions you had pushed down until you could no longer.

Aemond had a certain control while you were sitting in that seat, skirts bunched to your stomach and quivering for him to have his way. Regardless, the power was still yours and you knew that it was Aemond who was wrapped tightly around your finger at that moment. He would have listened to anything you had said–done anything you had told him to do.

Perhaps you had become too stubborn in your anger to have let yourself feel anything else. A retributive anger; one that sprouted from the lack of love that existed in your marriage and reached a climax at Aemond’s brazen adultery. And it only grew stronger in whatever back and forth Aemond had encouraged by dangling his whore in front of your face.

Whatever it was, you were feeling so much more now than you had before.

Or perhaps it was because you could see that Aemond was remorseful. He would never yet admit it but you knew from the way he had behaved since you had visited him in his bed. It was no act of redemption and definitely no apology but it was impossible to ignore the change in him. You had never seen Aemond the way you had seen him this morning.

Vulnerable, gentle, tormented.

A knock on your door had you sniffling and wiping away any tear stains that may have lingered on your cheeks. You had stopped crying for some time but the need to wallow and lament had stayed. When you called out to ask, the guard at your door notified you of the Dowager Queen’s presence.

Oh, seven hells.

There was really no chance you could refuse her so you merely let her in and called a servant to bring some refreshments. Queen Alicent sat herself down but remained tense, carefully watching you as you took a place beside her.

“Have you been crying?” Her concern was comforting. “I believe I know why.”

You straightened, not meeting the eye of the woman who reached a tender hand to your knee. Hiding behind a forced smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “I am certain the entirety of the Red Keep knows, Your Grace.”

“It has been known for some time,” Alicent was gentle, her cautionary gaze telling you that she was apprehensive about bringing her son’s misadventures up. You held your breath. “Since the first time he had summoned that Alys woman-”

“Alys? Is that her name?”

“You do not know?” There was a tense silence. Alicent couldn’t meet your gaze, pity swimming across her features. Aemond was her son and there were many things that she had let her sons get away with but her heart pained at the broken quiver in your voice.

Alicent had noticed the change in Aemond since the night that you had found him with Alys. The second time. He had never paid much attention to you aside from what appearances required yet Alicent knew her son far more than he would be willing to accept. She had known that there was something in his heart for you, no matter how small and no matter how it dwindled until set alight.

Aemond had done the wrong thing. She had no doubts about that. Alicent would have words with him once she figured out what to say to him. But he was her son and there were certain misdoings that she knew she had to defend them through. To protect his marriage, his image and his happiness. The Queen Dowager cleared her throat and reached for your hand, eyebrows furrowing at the way you stared down at your lap, the anguish you felt in your heart written clearly across your face.

“I understand that you are hurting, my dear. Although my husband remained faithful to me until his death and I cannot quite imagine the pain in your heart–I see how you have love for my son, even if you nor him have known it, I do understand,” Alicent took a breath, closing her eyes. “This is the way of men. And princes–”

“Please, Your Grace, I mean this with utmost respect for you but I do not wish to hear your excuses,” you whispered. There was a prickly, breathless worry that had settled in your gut. What did you not know? Was this Alys someone who mattered? “But I would like to know what you are withholding from me about this woman. I believe I deserve that at the very least.”

Alicent stared at you for a moment, examining you. She could drive her son further into the ground with what she was about to say. “Aemond had a paramour–at least it was rumoured, he never spoke of such things with me. Alys Rivers, a wetnurse and servant woman from Harrenhal.”

“A paramour?”

“It was before you were married,” Alicent was quick to clarify. “I had assumed that Aemond wanted nothing more to do with her when she left–at his order, I believe. Some say she was a witch. Perhaps she enchanted him.”

You couldn’t look at her. She was more than just a whore? Had he lied to you right from the beginning? Bile rose up in your throat. There was a thrum in your ears, the sound of your own heartbeat and you feared that you would be sick from the drop in your gut.

“Did he love her? Could he still?”

Alicent sucked in a breath. “I do not know, my child.”

All you could do was nod pathetically. Alicent was a woman of great strength and dedication; you had once wished to be much like her one day. But as you sat beside her now, you wished she had been a liar and a cheat and a meddling gossip. That you could find a way to fault her words but you could tell it caused her great difficulty to speak of Aemond’s actions honestly.

Ever poised and elegant, Alicent only leaned forward to you, her posture straight as a needle and her touch soft as linen. “I did not mean to upset you further. I only meant to speak with you about returning to Courtly activities, with the other Ladies and Helaena has been asking for you. And the Ladies speak–”

“They speak terribly of me,” you scoffed, allowing a humourless laugh. “I understand, Your Grace. I will return to spending my days in company other than my own.”

Alicent hated to pry but she felt that she must, now that she had dealt her cards against Aemond’s fate. “Perhaps you should speak with Aemond. He cares for you deeply. It would be a shame for your union to fall apart over such misunderstandings.”

If not for formality, you would have rolled your eyes. Again, you simply nodded, your mind reeling back to the woman that Alicent had given a name to. You would ask Aemond about her. It would be the less damning option rather than turning to Aegon once more but the idea of speaking to Aemond about a woman he may once have loved still made you want to crawl underneath the sheets of your bed and disappear.

You thought of the woman who you had seen through the crack in the door and wished you had taken extra care in looking at her. There was little you could recall other than the darkness and length of her hair, the paleness of her skin and the perfection in her curves as she pleasured Aemond and as he did the same for her.

As if she was familiar with all the things that made him weak. All the things that made Aemond weak. How she had touched him like she was an expert in his body. And you thought of Aemond, bare and comfortable with her. Aemond with his sapphire glimmering under the lamplight instead of an eye, a rawness and trust that you had never seen of him until that night.

He trusted her.

Alys Rivers.

.....................................................

Tagging: @padfooteyes @thedyingwriter @mamawiggers1980 @queenofshinigamis @ewanmitchellfanatic @nurtargaryen

430 notes · View notes