#and yeah. she has completely stolen by heart and I don’t know how to feel about that

[cuteniaarts]

Behold, my latest and most enamouring new obsession:

Malina, Lady of the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe. As if Red Lotus child OCs weren’t niche enough

[meazalykov]

back to pink

alexia putellas x cosmetologist!reader

summary: you persuade ale to change her hairstyle again

love, comfort, fluff

the sun spills into your studio in soft rays, casting a warm glow over the room as you adjust your station, your hands automatically going through the motions of preparing your tools. 

you've always loved the quiet of the afternoons here. it’s your space, your little sanctuary, and today, it feels even more special with alexia sitting in your chair.

she’s been with you for nearly an hour now, scrolling through her phone, the corners of her lips slightly curled upward in that way that tells you she’s thinking of something amusing. 

your heart flutters every time you catch her looking up at you through the mirror, her soft eyes full of a quiet warmth that only you get to see when she’s completely relaxed. 

your relationship has always been like this, full of easy silences and stolen glances that say more than words ever could.

"so," you say, turning to face her with a comb in hand, "what’s the plan for today? keeping it simple, or are we doing something big?"

alexia leans back in the chair, setting her phone aside as she gives you a thoughtful look. 

"i want a change," she says, her voice carrying that familiar mix of playfulness and seriousness that always keeps you on your toes.

"oh, a change? are we talking drastic?" you ask, moving behind her and running your fingers through her hair, admiring how soft it feels under your touch. thanks to you of course.

it’s natural for you now, this closeness between the two of you. she’s always been comfortable with you, ever since that first appointment years ago.

a grin tugs at your lips as a memory surfaces. "how about we go pink again?" you joke, remembering the bold look she had two years ago, right after the two of you first met. 

alexia had come in for a hair appointment, and you’d convinced her—half-jokingly, half-serious—to try something wild. she had agreed to pink, and you had been in awe of how stunning she looked with it. it was also the day she’d asked you out, and the rest, as they say, is history.

alexia tilts her head back, her grin mirroring yours. "you know... i was actually thinking about that."

you blink, pausing mid-comb. "wait, seriously? you want pink again?"

"yeah," she says, completely nonchalant. "it’s been a while, and i think it could be fun."

"alexia," you laugh, shaking your head, "i was kidding! you really want to go pink again?"

"why not?" she shrugs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "you liked it, didn’t you?"

"you looked incredible," you admit, your mind already racing with the logistics of recreating that look. "but are you sure? i mean, it’s... pink."

"i’m sure," she says, her voice unwavering. "besides, it’ll be our little anniversary surprise."

you tilt your head, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. she always has a way of making even the simplest moments feel special, like this isn’t just about her hair but about the memories you’ve shared. 

"okay, pink it is," you say, setting the comb down and grabbing the dye and developer from your station."

but don’t say i didn’t warn you if people start obsessing over it again."

"let them obsess," she chuckles, leaning back in the chair with a content sigh. "i’m used to it by now."

“don’t get cocky!” you joke. 

you start by sectioning her hair with careful precision, your fingers moving with the kind of practiced ease that comes from years of experience. you've always taken pride in your work, but when it’s alexia in your chair, it feels different—like there’s a personal connection to every strand, every detail.

you mix the dye, the vibrant pink color swirling in the bowl as you stir it to the perfect consistency. as you begin applying it to her hair, your mind drifts back to that first time you met her. 

you had known who she was—alexia putellas, the star of barcelona, the captain everyone admired. but sitting in your chair back then, she wasn’t just the footballer the world knew. she was charming, sweet, and surprisingly easy to talk to. 

by the end of the appointment, she had made the first move, asking you to dinner. you had been so flustered, you nearly dropped the hot curling iron.

"remember the first time i did this?" you ask, your voice soft as you work the dye into her hair.

alexia hums in response, her eyes closed as she relaxes under your touch. "how could i forget? i’ve never seen anyone so flustered."

"hey," you protest lightly, "you’re the one who asked me out! i wasn’t expecting it."

"i know," she murmurs, a smile playing on her lips. "but you said yes."

"of course i did," you say, leaning down slightly to press a quick kiss to the top of her head. 

"who could say no to you?"

the dyeing process is methodical, almost therapeutic in its routine. you make sure every section is coated evenly, massaging the color in with gentle hands, knowing exactly how long to let it sit. 

time passes in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the occasional hum of your tools and the quiet rustle of fabric as alexia shifts in the chair.

when the dye has set, you rinse her hair, feeling the softness return as the pink starts to emerge. it’s vibrant, bold, and so uniquely her. 

once her hair is clean, you blow-dry it with a round brush, giving it volume and soft waves that cascade down her back. 

finally, you step back, admiring your work.

"all done," you say, turning her chair around to face the mirror.

alexia’s eyes widen as she stares at herself in the reflection. she runs her fingers through the pink strands, her smile growing wider with each second. 

"wow..." she breathes, her voice filled with awe. "it’s perfect."

"you’re obsessed," you tease, watching her admire her new look with a gleam in her eye.

"can you blame me?" she grins, twisting a curl around her finger. "it’s brighter than last time."

before you can say anything more, the door to your studio swings open, and you hear familiar voices fill the room. 

mapi and ingrid stroll in, their conversation cutting off the second they see alexia.

"what the—" mapi gasps, her eyes immediately zeroing in on alexia’s hair. "are you serious? you did it again?"

ingrid steps closer, her face lighting up with admiration. 

"you look amazing," she says, her voice soft with awe. "the pink is perfect on you."

alexia laughs, clearly enjoying the reaction. "thanks," she says, running a hand through her hair, showing it off. 

"but it’s a secret. you can’t tell anyone on the team yet."

"oh, we won’t," mapi grins, her eyes flicking to you with a mischievous glint. 

"but i have to say, y/n you outdid yourself this time."

"what can i say? she’s got good taste," you reply with a wink, though you feel a surge of pride at their compliments.

alexia chuckles, still gazing at herself in the mirror, clearly enamored with the pink. "i love it," 

she murmurs, her voice softening as she turns to look at you. "thank you, amor."

you step closer, your heart fluttering at the affectionate term. "always happy to help," you say, reaching out to smooth a stray curl behind her ear. 

"but seriously, you look incredible."

she stands up from the chair, taking a moment to admire her reflection one last time before turning back to you. "you’re incredible," she murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "and now... i can’t wait for our anniversary. this is going to be a surprise no one sees coming."

you smile against her lips, your heart full. "i can't wait either." 

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[thisischaostragic]

i have been holding space for the Agatha finale (i’m in queer media) and am pleased to report that my feelings about it have shifted quite significantly. follow me, my friends, to a more or less coherent, very long text post at the end

primary thing: this show is very much about motherhood. idk why that didn’t totally register for me in the first half given how often they mentioned Nicky, but realizing this changed my analysis a ton. Billy doesn’t just remind Agatha of Nicky — Agatha loves Billy like a son. (i know “like a son” is an oversimplification, but I’m sticking with it for this post.)

with that, my thoughts on Agatha’s arc almost completely flipped. when Rio shows up in E8 and says she has to take Billy, Agatha is revisiting her deepest wound all over again. her reaction is harsh, but it’s not some long-simmering revenge plan or a calculated effort to hurt Rio. Agatha is literally just reacting to the fact that, after all of the almost-reconciliation, the love of her life is taking her son again. i think she was trying to get Rio to fight for her or to say the trade was too high a price and bend the rules. Agatha was trying to get Death to act only as her lover, and looks devastated when Rio actually walks away instead.

and so, when Agatha goes to the morgue trial and says that “sometimes, boys die,” she’s continuing that realization that Rio isn’t personally chasing her down and causing her grief. sometimes, death just… happens. and “out of Death, life” is largely about Agatha realizing that Rio did bend the rules for Nicky, but also doubles down on the Nicky and Billy parallels. both of Agatha’s sons were literally borne of Death and living on stolen time. loss is inevitable.

i think Agatha genuinely believed that Rio could have kept Nicky alive and chose not to. we know that Agatha blamed herself for Nicky dying (“the truth is too awful”). so Agatha, who was taught by her own mother that nobody would ever actually love her for who she is, probably thought that the love of her life just… didn’t love her as much as she thought she did. going back to E1, i think “you don’t have a heart” is equal parts about Nicky as it is about Agatha herself. her main takeaway is that everyone will betray her, even when they claim to love her, and so she hides behind power and a god awful reputation so that she can keep everyone at arm’s length and never get hurt again.

ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY: when Billy is about to die, Agatha almost retreats back into the version of herself she became after Nicky died, but she doesn’t. she turns around and faces the pain head-on.

and I want to take a second to appreciate how immensely hard that would be. Agatha spent centuries killing people so she could be powerful enough to stay numb. Agatha spent all of that time pushing away the love of her life, who still loves her, who still sees her fully, and who Agatha is clearly still desperate to return to. Agatha realizes, probably to absurd amounts of despair, that she was wrong about all of it. and she still turns around.

it’s not about Agatha randomly sacrificing herself for a last minute villain kind-of-redemption. it’s about Agatha breaking the cycle she’s trapped herself in for an unfathomably long time, admitting that she knows Rio couldn’t change the outcome, and acknowledging that, yeah, she actually does love this kid.

and honestly?? i don’t think Agatha becoming a ghost counts as killing her. she’s literally still around, doing stuff, picking up brooches (👀 Rio wya), and getting a second chance at… not motherhood, exactly, but caring for a child. (and a queer child! and the idea of Agatha, who has been queer since the *1600s*, getting to tell this gay kid over and over again that there’s nothing innately wrong with him makes me actually sob.)

HOWEVER! i maintain some criticisms. i think Jen deserved to have an actual fight with the doctor who bound her. (the oops! it was Agatha All Along twist was… complicated. i have mixed feelings. essay for another day, but i wanted Jen to have rage time that everyone was just cheering for.)

i needed Death lore. how is she physically with Agatha so often if, as Agatha states, 120 people die every minute? is she Death the cosmic entity, or are green witches sort of responsible for decay on earth?

some of the plot elements were severely under-developed, and frustratingly, the vast majority of the underdeveloped plotlines had to do with Agatha/Rio’s romantic relationship, Agatha’s mother, and Agatha’s reasons for killing people. (the fact that they said she’s a siphon in interviews and not once on the show will never stop baffling me lmao.) i find it very frustrating that a LARGE chunk of the underdeveloped stuff relates back to Agatha’s queerness in some way.

however… i am willing to be generous about some of that, because i find it difficult to believe that this *extremely queer* creative team actually just disregarded major queer plot elements. i am far more inclined to believe that they were operating under a hostile corporation and pushing as far as they could, and in that case, they did a fucking phenomenal job.

i genuinely think that the way they landed the show opens the door for them to… dare I say it? … give Agatha/Rio a happy ending?? ghost Agatha literally need only show up to Rio’s house or cave or dimension or whatever and be like “heyyyyy, yeah that kiss was forgiveness and also i’m solid enough to use my hands now” and it would be believable. the fact that it would take them only 15 seconds to give us two fucked up lesbians having their version of happily ever after is actually pretty cool

anyway, this is an abridged summary of how my feelings abt the Agatha All Along finale went from like a 4/10 rating to an 8/10.

[httpsdana]

you can do one with cubarsi where he and the reader are friends with benefits for a while and the reader is insecure because she thinks he doesn't want to date her

Hidden Feelings~Pau Cubarsi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

i hope you enjoy this one <3

request from here

master list

players/drivers I write for

y/n had always liked her own space, her room, her world, her own little corner of the universe. But recently, that space has been shared with Pau, in ways that blur the lines of friendship.

The first time it happened, they both had laughed it off, chalking it up to a moment of weakness. But one night turned into two, two into countless more, and before they knew it, they were locked in a cycle of stolen kisses and hushed whispers in the dark.

And now, here he is, sitting on the edge of y/n's bed, scrolling through his phone. She watched him intensely, every inch of him as familiar as the lines on her palms. Brown hair that always seems to fall perfectly over his forehead, and those green eyes that seem to hold the entire forest within them. He’s sweet and kind, the type of boy who never fails to make her feel seen, and yet…

Lately, something feels off.

He used to text her more, stay the night more often. But now, his visits are shorter, his texts more sparse and infrequent. The laughter they shared has been replaced by a silence that gnaws at y/n, feeding her insecurities.

She's scared. Scared that he’s getting bored, that maybe this whole thing meant nothing to him, that he’s ready to move on.

y/n catches herself looking away from him, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Everything okay?” Pau’s voice breaks through her thoughts. He’s looking at her now, his phone forgotten.

“Yeah, fine,” she replies, though she knows it’s far from the truth.

But Pau isn’t convinced. He sets his phone aside and moves closer to her. “You sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” y/n attempts a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“You’ve just been… different lately.” she whispered

“Different?” His brows furrow, genuinely confused.

“Yeah,” she sighs, looking down at her hands. “Like, distant. I don’t know, maybe I’m just overthinking it.”

Pau tilts her chin up so she's forced to meet his gaze. “Hey, talk to me.”

The concern in his eyes almost makes her crumble, but she's held it in this long, and she's not sure how to let it all out without breaking completely.

“I just…” she takes a deep breath. “I’ve been scared, Pau. That this, whatever we have, doesn’t mean as much to you as it does to me.”

His eyes widen slightly, as if her words have hit him harder than she intended. For a moment, the room is silent, save for the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

Finally, Pau takes her hands in his. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Well, I do.” her voice is softer now, almost fragile. “And it’s terrifying.”

Pau’s grip tightens on y/n's hands. “I’ve been distant because… because I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that I’m scared too.”

y/n blinks, unsure if she heard him right. “Scared? Of what?”

“Of messing this up. Of losing you,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But not because I don’t care. Because I do. More than I thought possible.”

y/n's breath catches in her throat, his words slowly sinking in. “You do?”

Pau nods, his green eyes sincere. “I’ve been falling for you, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I thought maybe if I distanced myself, it would be easier… but it’s not. It’s impossible, actually.”

A tear slips down her cheek, but this time, it’s not from sadness or fear. It’s from the overwhelming relief of hearing the words she's longed for.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t important to me,” Pau continues, brushing the tear away with his thumb. “But I need you to know that you are. You always have been.”

y/n lets out a shaky breath, her heart swelling with emotion. “I’ve been falling for you too, Pau. And I’ve been so scared of losing you because of it.”

He smiles softly, the kind that makes her heart flutter. “You’re not going to lose me. Not now, not ever.”

And then, without another word, he leans in, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that feels different from all the others. This one isn’t rushed or uncertain—it’s tender, filled with all the hidden feelings that have been building between the two.

When they finally pull away, he rests his forehead against hers, his arms wrapping around her body in a way that makes her feel safe, secure.

“We’ll figure this out,” he murmurs. “Together.”

“Together,” she echoes, a smile tugging at her lips.

For the first time in weeks, the weight on her chest lifts, replaced by a warmth that spreads through her as Pau holds her close. The fear, the insecurities—they’re still there, but now, they’re overshadowed by something stronger, something real.

And in that moment, she knows that whatever comes next, they’ll face it together.

[weemssapphic]

can I request a Larissa/r where Marilyn is r's best friend and larissa thinks they're dating and gets a biiiit jealous. then later, r gets to show her just how much they actually love her :)

hello :) you absolutely can! I loved this idea and loved writing it, I had so much fun brainstorming for it. I was debating adding smut to it but it just didn't feel natural and I liked it better this way, I hope that's okay <3

special thanks to @eveymay for the song rec later in this fic <3

so pull me tight and close your eyes

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Words: ~4.5k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: jealous Larissa, hurt/comfort, light angst, fluff, slow dancing

Larissa strides into the teacher’s lounge, closing the door gently behind her. She looks stunning, as usual, her red lips curling into a warm smile as her eyes meet yours - your mouth goes dry. Marilyn is speaking to you but you aren’t listening, her words fading into the background as you return Larissa’s smile, then quickly avert your gaze in a vain attempt to conceal the faint blush that is creeping up your cheeks.

You try to tune back into Marilyn’s monologue - she somehow hasn’t noticed that you’ve gotten distracted and you almost feel bad, given how enthusiastically she’s talking. You start to nod along as she clues you into her Rave’N planning, trying not to stare at Larissa as she passes by you.

“So, you’re chaperoning, right?” Marilyn places her hands on your thighs and leans towards you, pouting and batting her eyelashes. “Please say yes, no one wants to chaperone this year.”

“Yeah, of course I will.” You roll your eyes and grin, laughing at your best friend’s antics - she smiles victoriously, as if she didn’t already know you’d say yes.

Then she leans even closer and lowers her voice conspiratorially: “Have you thought about taking a date?”

“What?” You shake your head, giggling - Marilyn knows you better than anyone, and she knows you’ve been hopelessly single for years now. “You know I’m not seeing anyone. Who would I even take?”

Marilyn soaks in your puzzled expression and chuckles. “You know.” She raises an eyebrow and glances over towards the coffee machine with a smirk on her face. You follow her gaze and your blush immediately returns - Larissa’s back is to you as she waits for her coffee to brew. 

“Marilyn…” you whine quietly. “I don’t - I’m not…” You sigh, sucking your bottom lip nervously between your teeth. “Fine, yes, I like her. Happy? But I can’t ask my boss out. What if she says no?”

The redhead chuckles. “There’s no way she’d say no. I’ve seen the way she looks at you when your back is turned. She has the same yearning written all over her face that you do.”

“Does not.” You pout, but your heart is beginning to pound in your chest - could Larissa really like you back? You’ve been pining over her since you started at Nevermore over a year ago, surely you would’ve noticed…

“Does too,” Marilyn teases. “At least ask her to dance with you or something.”

Your eyes widen in fear. “Oh God, Marilyn, I can’t ask her to dance with me. I don’t even know how to dance. You know how clumsy I am - what if I trip her? She’ll hate me if I make her faceplant in front of the entire school.” Complete and utter mortification rises up within you at the mere thought.

“Relax. Deep breaths.” Marilyn grips your shoulders and gives them a reassuring squeeze. She grins brightly. “I can teach you.”

“I-I don’t know…” Your attention is stolen by a certain towering blonde who walks past you towards the door of the teacher’s lounge, coffee mug in hand. She doesn’t spare you another glance this time, and your heart sinks a bit - you can’t believe your crush has gotten so strong that this makes you sad. You turn back to Marilyn with a sigh. “Yeah, sure. I guess.”

She squeals in delight. “Perfect! How about we meet in Mr. Browning’s old classroom tomorrow at 7? No one’s using it right now so we can clear aside all the desks.”

You nod and give her a hesitant smile - you have no idea what you’ve just agreed to, but you hope it will help you win Larissa over (and save the both of you from the embarrassment of your own clumsiness).

~~~

Larissa had decided to take a trip to the teacher’s lounge during her midday break. She has an espresso machine in her quarters, attached to her office - it’s way more convenient and much quicker than getting coffee in the lounge. But sometimes she finds herself enjoying a bit of socializing with her beloved staff - and sometimes you’re there, and she would never pass up an opportunity to see you. Perhaps one day she’ll even gather up the courage to ask you out, but for now she’s contented herself with stealing glances at you, her heart skipping a beat when you catch her looking and beam back at her.

She spots you as soon as she opens the door - you glance up at her from your seat at a table in the center of the room and smile, and it’s like Larissa’s world has stopped spinning for a moment as butterflies begin to flutter madly about in her stomach. Then you look away, at Marilyn who is talking animatedly, and the butterflies turn into a strange, nagging feeling - Larissa realizes she’s been staring for far too long and strides over to the coffee machine.

The din in the teacher’s lounge is too loud for her to eavesdrop on your conversation, no matter how hard she tries - she sighs in defeat, resigning herself to watching you out of the corner of her eye when she’s sure you aren’t looking.

Coffee is dripping slowly into her mug and Larissa glances over at you once again. Marilyn’s hands are on your thighs, high enough for Larissa to quirk an eyebrow and purse her lips. Then Marilyn leans in as if she’s about to kiss you - Larissa feels her blood begin to boil. She has half a mind to tell the two of you (mostly Marilyn) off for PDA in the workplace, but she manages to reign in her emotions and restrain herself. Her gaze drops to her coffee mug - it’s full now. There’s a hollow pit in her stomach - she tries to convince herself it’s due to how unprofessional Marilyn is acting, but she knows it’s because she wishes that were her instead - her hands creeping up your thighs, her lips inches away from yours.

She lifts her mug in a white-knuckled grip and makes her way back to the door. Coming here was a bad idea - she should have stayed in her office. It takes all her strength, but she doesn’t spare you another glance. If she did, she might have shot daggers through Marilyn’s head with her eyes - but she must remain professional.

If there’s one thing Larissa Weems is good at, it’s distracting herself: she throws herself into her work for the rest of the day, and the next, keeping her mind busy with emails and phone calls and meetings. After all, it’s just a silly crush, and she will not let this affect her work - Larissa has a school to run, after all.

The following evening, Larissa is heading back to her office after a last minute trip to the Mayor’s office when she hears noises from Mr. Browning’s old classroom. She stops in her tracks and furrows her brows - no one should be in there. The only people who have a master key are herself, the janitor, and… Marilyn. She’d given Marilyn a key to make her preparations for this year’s Rave’N a bit less complicated.

Larissa growls in frustration and steps up to the door, ready to rip Marilyn a new one. She stops with her hand on the handle, asking herself where this sudden aggression came from, and she feels a little guilty when her mind drifts to you. You probably wouldn’t be happy with her if your girlfriend were to be reprimanded. 

Deep breaths, Larissa reminds herself - she isn’t even sure if Marilyn really is your girlfriend. The possibility, however, brings a fresh wave of anger out in Larissa and curiosity gets the better of her as she peers through the little window in the door.

What she sees confirms her worst fears, and her stomach drops. Soft music is playing from a phone on the teacher’s desk, all of the tables and chairs are pushed to the far side of the room. Marilyn is standing at the center of the classroom - you’re there beside her. Or, to be more precise, you’re pressed against her, your arms around her neck as she guides you through the room by your hips, dancing to the tune of the song that's playing. 

Larissa can’t see your face but she can hear your laughter - oh, how that sound is music to her ears - and she flinches away from the door as if burned. It’s only a matter of seconds before she finds herself storming off, rushing through the halls of Nevermore until she’s reached the sanctuary that is her office, banging and locking the door behind her. She leans back against the door, slamming her head back against it as she rapidly blinks away tears. She feels ridiculous and stupid. 

Who cares if her stupid crush has a stupid girlfriend. Only, she cares - a lot more than she’d like to admit. 

~~~

“Okay, let’s set the scene,” Marilyn says, after you’ve spent the past ten minutes heaving desks out of the way to create a makeshift dance floor. You roll your eyes as she starts to play Adele through her phone’s speakers.

“How romantic,” you mumble, and your best friend smirks at you. 

“Get over here,” she coos teasingly, opening her arms. You step forward and she pulls you in, settling her hands on your waist. Your arms dangle awkwardly at your sides and Marilyn huffs.

“Are you just going to limply hang there in Larissa’s arms?”

“Yes,” you deadpan - now it’s Marilyn’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Now hold me like you mean it. Hold me like I’m the 6’3 blonde principal of your wet dreams.”

Your mouth drops open and you smack Marilyn on the arm, causing her to laugh.

“Please? At least try to take this seriously. I thought you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Larissa. It’s a Friday night - I could be back in my quarters watching reruns of The Bachelorette.”

You giggle - then you sigh. She has a point. “No, I don’t. You’re right. Sorry.” Lifting your arms, you dangle them awkwardly over Marilyn’s shoulders, and she starts to sway with you. 

“Wait-” you stutter out, and Marilyn gives you a confused look. “What if I can’t even reach around Larissa’s neck?”

Your eyes are wide and Marilyn’s shoulders begin to shake with laughter - you can’t help but laugh at yourself.

“There are different ways you can hold each other. We’ll practice them, okay?”

You nod, relieved. Marilyn always knows how to set your mind at ease - it’s one of the reasons you’ve become so close. You find yourself relaxing in her arms, closing your eyes as you picture that it’s Larissa whose body you’re pressed against. It’s a difficult feat - at 5’1, Marilyn isn’t exactly a body double for the principal. But you’ve always had an overactive imagination and you allow yourself to get carried away, picturing Larissa’s hands on your waist, her lips inching towards yours, her breath fanning across your face-

A shriek is pulled from your throat as your foot bumps into Marilyn’s and the two of you topple over. You try to catch yourself but fail, managing to pull her down with you in the process.

Marilyn lands on top of you, briefly knocking the wind from your lungs.

“Shit, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

The redhead looks at you for a moment, shocked, before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Try not to do that with Larissa, her center of gravity is too high to fall as gracefully as I can.” She nudges you playfully as your cheeks burn, helping you up and paying your embarrassment no mind as she skips the next song and her hands land on your waist once again.

You continue your dance lessons at least three times a week in the evenings over the course of the month leading up to the Rave’N, squeezing in some last minute weekend sessions as the big night draws nearer. You switch up who is leading until you feel comfortable taking the lead, something you hoped you’d be able to do with Larissa.

And your dancing gets better - it really does. But something nags at the pit of your stomach - Larissa’s behavior towards you has taken a turn for the worse in those weeks. She’s been acting strange around you, and pretty much everyone else as well. Where she used to be a frequent guest in the teacher’s lounge, she now rarely shows her face anymore. She pointedly avoids making eye contact with you in staff meetings (she used to shoot you little looks every now and then, looks that you’re starting to miss), and it seems she has a newfound agenda against Marilyn, grilling her on any subject she can possibly conjure up.

Even her usually radiant smiles seem to have been reduced to forced grimaces as of late. You try to chalk up her change in demeanor to the pressure that Nevermore is under to get more funding from the Mayor, but you can’t help worrying that something is really wrong.

It makes you even more determined to ask her to dance at the Rave’N, if only to see one of those beautiful smiles you’ve been missing. Maybe she does like you, maybe she doesn’t, but it would be worth it to make her happy, even for a few minutes. It has to work.

~~~

The Rave’N is tomorrow and Larissa has half a mind not to go - if she sees you wrapped in Marilyn’s arms again, dancing the night away, she might scream and lose the last ounce of professionalism in her body. The whole situation reminds her far too much of watching Morticia get swept across the dancefloor by Gomez some 20 years ago. That rejection still stings, even all these years later, and Larissa isn’t sure she could live through the same scenario twice. Her heart, and her pride, really took a hit the first time - this time, however, it would be nothing short of devastating.

You’ve used the empty classroom several times a week this past month - every few days, Larissa passes it on the way to her office and hears music and laughter seeping through the crack underneath the door. 

Although it irks Larissa, she can’t come up with a reason to barge in and tell you off - you aren’t technically breaking any rules, though Marilyn is using her key for reasons other than those she’d specified. Still, imagining the anger that would surely be written across your face if Larissa interrupted your little rendezvous - anger that would be directed at Larissa herself - breaks her heart, and she can’t bring herself to do it.

Jealous. Larissa admits it to herself - she feels jealous. She hasn’t felt this way in a long time, not since she’d seen the engagement ring glimmering on Morticia’s ring finger, coupled with her beaming grin and Gomez’s own smug smile. But she feels it now, when she sees the ease with which you and Marilyn talk and laugh and dance. Larissa has always been too shy to make a move, too unsure of your feelings to act upon her own - and now it seems she’s too late.

But not going to the Rave’N isn’t an option - not as principal, when her presence (or rather, the lack thereof) would be questioned. She’ll simply have to plaster on a fake smile (it’s not like she hasn’t been able to practice those these past few weeks) and pretend everything is okay - and maybe she can sneak out when the obligatory slow dance song comes on, so that she won’t have to witness you dancing arm in arm with Marilyn, in front of the entire school.

~~~

The Rave’N is in full swing, the music booming in your ears - your nerves are beginning to rise. Sure, the dance lessons have gone well, but you can’t help but worry you’ll forget everything Marilyn taught you the second you look up into Larissa’s gorgeous, piercing blue eyes. That is, if she even agrees to dance with you - you don’t want to get ahead of yourself.

Larissa looks stunning tonight - she’s always beautiful, but tonight she’s practically glowing. She’s changed the way she does her updo a bit - there are more curls piled up high on her head, it’s even more intricate than you’ve ever seen it before. Her dress is modest but it hugs her curves in all the right places - it suits her. Fuck, you’ve really got it bad, you think, unable to take your eyes off her.

When you first arrived, she was greeting the students - you’d given her a bashful smile and thought you could see a hint of a blush adorn her cheeks when she returned the smile. Her smile appeared to be genuine, and your heart did a somersault in your chest.

Now that most people seem to have arrived, she’s moved to the buffet table, keeping a watchful eye over the students. She seems content, though she doesn’t really have anyone to keep her company - the thought of her feeling lonely as students dance and the rest of the chaperones gather in smaller groups at the other end of the dance floor makes your heart ache. You want to reach out to her - you find yourself praying to any deity that is willing to listen that she wants that, too.

Marilyn sidles up next to you, but you begin to ramble before she can even open her mouth. “Oh god, are you sure about this? What if she says no? What if she says yes? What if I trip and fall and take her down with me and-”

“Stop!” She raises an eyebrow at you, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. Larissa looks over in that moment, smiling again as your eyes meet - her smile falters, however, and she quickly looks away.

“We’ve been over this. Larissa definitely likes you. And you’ve gotten so good. You haven’t tripped and taken me down with you the last couple times.” She shoots you an overexaggerated wink and you roll your eyes, playfully bumping her shoulder. “You got this! Now go, before the Rave’N ends and I realize I’ve wasted all my afternoons for the better part of a semester for nothing.”

You take a deep breath and nod, turning towards the punch bowl where you last saw Larissa - only to see she’s left it unmanned, no tall principal in sight. A flash of platinum blonde at the far end of the room catches your eye, and you see Larissa’s form disappear into the hallway.

Your brow furrows as you push past a group of students at the edge of the dancefloor, throwing them an absent-minded smile as they watch you with confusion. You pick up your pace, almost chasing after Larissa, hoping she hasn’t disappeared on you completely.

As you exit into the hallway, your shoulders relax a bit when you see Larissa slumped against the wall just down the hall. With every step you take, however, the tension builds again - Larissa’s head is resting back against the wall, her eyes are closed, a deep frown adorns her face. Your footsteps echo in the hallway and she turns to face you. As soon as you make eye contact, she pushes herself off the wall, smoothing her dress and plastering a smile on her face - one that very clearly does not reach her eyes.

“What can I do for you?” she asks - her voice trembles just a bit. She peels off her gloves and runs a hand over her hair, smoothing it down - you’re caught off guard by the motion, briefly transfixed by the sight of her bare hands.

“I…” your voice trails off and you shake your head in an attempt to clear it. Should you make up some excuse? Or should you just come clean? Seeing the wariness in her eyes, however, makes you realize you can’t possibly lie to her. “I wanted to ask you something but I saw you leave. Is everything alright?”

Another forced smile. “Everything is fine, I just needed a little fresh air. You know how awfully stuffy it can get in there with no windows to open.”

“And how’s the air out here?” you tease, knowing that the hallway is just as stuffy. You try to keep your voice light, and it almost works - the ghost of a genuine smile passes across Larissa’s face.

“Just as stuffy,” she confirms, her lips curling upwards in spite of herself.

You hold her gaze for a moment. You’d been so set on asking her to dance - it’s what you’d been hyping yourself up for for weeks now. But right now, Larissa just looks tired. She looks like she needs to talk - maybe your plan would have to wait.

“Maybe you’d care to join me for a walk?” you ask hopefully, extending a hand towards her. She looks from your face to your hand with a bewildered expression, hesitantly taking a step forward and placing her hand in your own. Your heart begins to beat like crazy - her hand is cool to the touch, her skin so incredibly soft. It is a bit larger than your own, and she is careful to keep her grip light as her long fingers curl around yours.

“Sorry if my hand is a bit cold, it always is,” she mutters - you wave away her concern and give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you tease, regretting the words as soon as they come out of your mouth. You blush and keep your gaze in front of you as you walk with Larissa towards the west entrance of the school. She says nothing, but she holds onto your hand the entire time.

The night air is cool as it washes over you, and you hum. You make no move to disentangle your hand from Larissa’s, and neither does she - the two of you walk in silence towards the lake. You’re so close to her that your shoulder brushes against her arm as you walk - her perfume, sweet and floral, wafts towards you on a breeze. It’s your favorite scent in the world - it makes you dizzy.

“Why are we out here?” Larissa asks as she comes to an abrupt halt. Your stomach lurches.

“We’re getting fresh air?” you whisper, suddenly feeling unsure of yourself.

Larissa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand as deep frown lines mar her features. “No, I know that. What I mean is…” She takes a deep breath, her eyes searching yours but apparently coming up blank. “Won’t Marilyn mind?”

You snort, then cover your mouth in horror at the sound you’ve made, your eyes wide. The crease between Larissa’s eyebrows deepens. “Why would Marilyn mind? What’s she got to do with anything?” Why would Larissa bring up Marilyn? Why should Marilyn care what you’re doing? If anything, she’d be cheering you on…

“I-I thought…” Larissa starts, looking uncharacteristically insecure. “I just don’t think your girlfriend would like you holding my hand,” she whispers. Your eyes grow even wider.

“My what?” You don’t understand - you don’t have a gi- Oh.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” you say slowly. “Marilyn is one of my best friends, I couldn’t dream of dating her.”

“I’m sorry.” Larissa looks mortified, her face turning beet red as she raises her hand to cover her mouth. “I-I just assumed, when I saw the two of you slow dancing together, I-”

“Wait, when did you- never mind, it doesn’t matter. Larissa, listen to me,” you cut her off as understanding washes over you. “Marilyn was just teaching me how to dance.”

“Oh.” Larissa pauses, bringing a hand up to her neck to play nervously with her necklace. “May I ask why?” Her voice trembles slightly even as she attempts to compose herself - your heart begins to pound erratically against your ribcage.

“So that I won’t make a complete fool of myself when I ask you if you’d like to dance with me tonight.” You bite your lip, blushing and looking up at Larissa, whose face is unreadable for a moment.

“You want to dance with me?” She sounds slightly breathless and her cheeks are flushed - it gives you the final shot of confidence you need.

“Yes, Larissa, I would be honored to dance with you.” Raising her hand to your mouth, you press a chaste kiss to her knuckles, your eyes never leaving hers. Her cheeks glow pink and her pupils widen a fraction as her lips curl into a shy smile.

Then her eyes dim a bit and she looks up at Nevermore, biting her lip. “I would love to but I’m afraid the dance will be over soon.” She sounds sad and it breaks your heart - you fumble around in your pocket for your phone, Larissa’s eyes curiously tracking your every move.

“My dress has pockets, isn’t it cool?” you comment, grinning as you open Spotify and start to scroll with your thumb.

“Yes, that’s very cool, darling,” she replies with a chuckle.

The song “this is how you fall in love” by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler starts to play out of your phone’s speaker - you turn up the volume and slide your phone back into your pocket so that the speaker is sticking out slightly.

“Larissa Weems,” you start, taking a step back and gazing up into her eyes, which sparkle with childlike wonder. “May I have this dance with you?”

The smile you receive in return is blinding. “It would be my honor,” she purrs, and you waste no time in resting your hands on her waist, tugging gently to pull her flush against you. Larissa winds her arms around your neck, smiling down at you as you begin to sway to the beat of the music.

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight,” you whisper, reveling in the way Larissa blushes and looks away, flustered.

“Thank you, darling. You look beautiful yourself,” she whispers back, ducking her head so that your faces are mere inches apart.

Your eyes drop down to those plush red lips, just in time to see the tip of Larissa’s pink tongue dart out to wet her lips.

“May I kiss you?” You have trouble getting the words out as you stare at her lips, as if in a trance. They quirk up at the outer corners and form the word “please” - you close the gap, pressing your lips to hers. They are incredibly soft, but a little cold - Larissa makes up for the fact by quickly parting them, inviting you to explore the warmth of her mouth with your tongue.

The two of you moan in tandem as your tongues meet and you press yourself even closer to Larissa, getting lost in the kiss, the song, the dancing. You’re overwhelmed with feelings - excitement, contentment, adoration, lust, love. One feeling overwhelms them all, however - the feeling of finally finding your home.

Larissa feels the same way - she smiles into the kiss as it deepens. She’ll have to send an apology to Marilyn for all those dirty looks, though - but for now, she doesn’t care. For now, all that matters are your hands caressing her waist and your tongue flicking against hers. For now, all that matters is you.

This is how you fall in love Let go and I'll hold you up So pull me tight and close your eyes Oh, my love, side to side

-

Marilyn wonders where you and Larissa have gone off to, and if all has gone well. The following day, Marilyn’s questions are answered in the form of a huge bouquet of flowers on her desk, with a note that simply reads: Thank you. I’m sorry. Larissa

x

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[bazzybelle]

Good Omens 2 and Wayward Son - A Fan's Commentary on Fandom Reactions

I’m going to start off by saying apologies for any obvious grammatical errors. I am writing purely from the heart here. 

Also, apologies to my Sandman friends. If you haven’t read The Simon Snow Trilogy, this will go over your heads. However, I have been going back and forth on writing this meta since the release of Good Omens 2, and I just finished reading a spectacular meta on queer ships becoming canon by @avelera, which you can find here (read it, it’s brilliant). Anyway, I feel now’s a good time to let out all of my feelings when it comes to Good Omens 2 and how similar it was to reading Wayward Son. 

Simon Snow friends, you all know that Wayward Son is my favourite book out of the trilogy. You also know that this can be considered a controversial take within the fandom. And I don’t mean that in a toxic way, this fandom is one of the more wholesome fandoms I’ve seen; But in the way of like… Wayward Son is itself a polarizing book. 

I say this, knowing full well what went down when Wayward Son was released. Perhaps I had the advantage of not being completely embroiled within the Simon Snow  fandom until after I’d finished reading the book, but I lived on the periphery. I followed Rainbow on Twitter (fuck you, I am not calling it X), I had saved some artwork on Pinterest (before I found out those were stolen, wherein I immediately unpinned them and deleted my fandom folders), and I was excited to get Wayward Son as soon as it came out. So much so that I asked my husband to go to the Indigo near his office and buy it because I wanted to read it right away. 

Friends, I demolished that book within a DAY. 

Then I read it again. And again. And again. 

Then I wrote my first fanfiction in eight years. 

This book changed me. But you all know that. I’ve talked about it often, and that’s not what this meta (Editorial? Opinion piece? Shouting into the void?) is about. 

What I am going to talk about is the amount of pure vitriol this book got once it was released. There was SO MUCH complaining about the book. It was too short! There was no point to it! Why aren’t Simon and Baz having sexy vampire sex? Why aren’t they living together (never mind that this was briefly discussed at the end of Carry On, but go off I guess)? 

And you know what’s even funnier? Within a couple of weeks (it might have even been days, I’m a little fuzzy on timelines) Rainbow announced the third book. We knew, right away, that Wayward Son was meant to be an in-between book! Rainbow, being a fandom person herself, has said time and time again that she had always considered Wayward Son as an in-between book, structured like The Empire Strikes Back within the Star Wars original trilogy. Like think of the in-between books of any series, they are ALWAYS the darkest ones. In order to fully appreciate the win in the end, you need to go through the tough shit. 

What I loved about Wayward Son was it took that idea and spun it. It went all “ok, yeah we dealt with the win, now let’s deal with the aftermath. Only then can we have the makeouts and sexy times these guys deserved.”  (and damn, did Any Way The Wind Blows deliver on that promise).

But I am getting away from myself again. Point is, it was always meant to be an in-between book. There was always meant to be a resolution at the end of the trilogy. But that sure as hell didn’t stop people from outright demanding Rainbow give them the happy ending NOW. Pestering her on Twitter, (not so much on Tumblr) demanding she do this, or do that, or “you better not kill Baz” (even though she has ALWAYS SAID SHE NEVER WOULD) or “they better not break up” (even though, narratively, it was heading in that direction). The closer the book got to release date, the more people complained about how awful Wayward Son was. 

It was really disheartening to see. 

Which is why I got really upset when the SAME THING happened after the release of Good Omens 2. 

(For clarification purposes, because several of my friends have spoken to me about their own personal issues with Good Omens 2. And you are all super fucking valid. I am strictly referring to the amount of anger I saw online because although Aziraphale and Crowley kissed, they didn’t have an immediate happily ever after. I am also speaking of the anger expressed because the season wasn’t wrapped up in a neat little bow.)

Like with the release of Wayward Son, people seemed to have forgotten that season 2 of Good Omens was meant to be an inbetween season. Neil Gaiman has not been shy to talk about that. He has said over and over again that Season 2 was always meant to be a bridge between the Good Omens he and Terry Pratchett wrote together, and the sequel they had been planning. 

What… did you all just forget about that? Do you not know how narrative writing works? 

It’s like people refused to take a step back and breathe for a second and appreciate the season for what it was. A beautiful romantic story (because, IT WAS! Just like Neil said it would be), as well as a lead up into what will be the epic, dramatic conclusion. No, instead people started demanding the happy ending NOW, and getting angry when Neil wouldn’t budge and offer more information (even though he never has before) (funny how people just… forgot that).

It was Wayward Son all over again.

Yeah, I’m not going to lie, I was crushed with the way Good Omens 2 left off. Just like I was so confused when Wayward Son ended out of the blue. You know what I did about that? I wrote fic, I read the book again, and I happily anticipated the upcoming final part that would tie up all the loose ends.

Know what I’m doing to heal after Good Omens 2? I’m looking at gifs, rewatching episodes, laughing at memes and crack, and hoping to all the gods of story writing that Amazon approves of a third season, so that Neil Gaiman can be allowed to finish the story he and Terry Pratchett built together.

It’s become sad to watch this feral hunger from fans demanding immediate gratification, and getting upset when it isn’t the ending or gratification they were expecting. Wayward Son came out after years of Carry On fans having nothing else but the one book. Like I said, I wasn’t part of the fandom then, so I don’t know how fans from 2015 felt upon learning they’d get more Simon and Baz. Same with Good Omens. I only really got into the fandom a few months before season 2 came out. So I don’t know how OG fans felt waiting and waiting and waiting. So maybe I have that going for me as an advantage, that my hunger wasn’t growing more and more feral. 

Then again, I’m now a part of The Sandman fandom, and we’re essentially waiting on Season 2 to start development. And while I’m hoping a few things are tweaked (like Dream and Hob’s relationship), I’d be more than fine if it stays the same as in the comics. And if they decide to go about that in an entirely different way, I’d be fine with that too. You know why? Because I’ve learned to trust the writers of the stories I love not to lead me astray. 

And if I’m unhappy with something –because nothing is ever 100% perfect, and even my favourite stories end up coming short– there are always fanfictions to write, gifs to laugh at, and fandom friends to discuss plots and meta with. 

I may have lost the point of this meta. I tend to do that, following a train of thought that doesn’t always make sense in the end. 

Fandom friends, can we all just agree to take a breath and be thankful of the stories given to us? Can we learn to appreciate the entire picture, and not just a tiny section of it? And for the love of all that is holy, can we learn to be patient and to listen when our story tellers remind us to wait and see? To trust them when they assure us that our characters will have a happy ending, even if they need to traverse a little in the dark to get there?

I sure as hell am, and I hope you will too. 

Gonna tag @carryonsimoncarryonbaz because she was instrumental in encouraging me to write this.

[poraphia]

hello! Idk if you’re still doing siren requests but could you do a siren x reader where reader is a hero but a more captain puffy type hero than dream team hero and they were best friends at school, but completely oblivious to each others’ identities? I’m not sure, this is a more vague one. But just an idea, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want :)

"Just A Hero and a Villain Catching Up"

pairing • siren x hero!reader 1967 words • 9.25.23 containing • reader and wilbur are long term besties, reader doesn't really like being a hero, tommy teasing wilbs and reader my masterlist ~! ღ mrs. mania ღ on Tumblr

"You're my best friend, but I've been keeping a secret from you. Little did I know, you've been keeping a secret from me."

♡♡♡

“Alright, team, I think we did amazing work here!” Dream exclaimed as he held the once stolen artifact in his hand with pride. I breathed a sigh of exhaustion as the other heroes cheered. Dream looked at me, held tilted with his beady stare through his mask. As the other heroes congratulated and supported one another, he approached me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“We’re doing a good thing here, Nymph. We protected an ancient piece of art, and we should be proud of the work we did.” He reassured, rubbing my shoulder. I let out a small grumble as I fiddled with my sleeves.

“Yeah, but didn’t Eastside’s museum get robbed too last week? Only two heroes showed up, and that was including me who volunteered to go.” I questioned. I looked up at him, staring at his smiling mask. He returned the gaze blankly without saying a word.

Dream broke the silence before letting a loud sigh that sounded almost annoyed. My eyebrows furrowed under my mask. “We both know that the headquarters aren’t exactly on our side sometimes,” He said. “but that isn’t necessarily in our control.” I didn’t say anything in response. Instead I brushed his hand off of my shoulder and checked my watch.

“Oh, shit,” I mumbled. Dream tilted his head curiously. I turned to him, pointing at my watch. “I have to go, but I’ll check in at HQ before midnight. See you, Dream.” Before I could hear or see his farewell goodbye, I formed a cloud so that I could fly away from the scene. As I glided through the city from West End to Eastside, I stared at the sky, thinking to myself.

I feel like I haven’t been the best friend to Wil.

And it’s not because we’ve been barely seeing each other, or we don’t joke around like how we used to when we were in high school, but it’s because I’ve been keeping this huge secret.

It’s not something I can just confess and get over with. No, no. I trust and love Wil with all my heart, but if he ever figured out my identity, that would put him in grave danger. I could never live with myself if I knew something happened to him all because I couldn’t keep one little detail about me.

So I kept my mouth shut.

It’s been months since we sat down and talked to each other because of how busy we were. The moment I’m free is the moment he has to go to an important meeting. The moment he’s free I’m searching through the whole city looking for runaway villains. But after months of planning in advance, we were finally able to schedule a whole afternoon to ourselves at the local cafe in Eastside.

I go to the Cloudy Cafe every so often to catch up with my past mentor, Puffy. She taught me in her final years of being a hero before retiring. My cloud slowly evaporated away as I landed safely behind the cafe building. Using a spare key she gave me, I unlocked the door and retrieved my backpack that was hidden into some storage shelves. I changed into some casual fitted clothes before stuffing my mask and costume into my bag , leaving the backroom, and locking the door behind me. Before I turned the corner, I noticed a familiar bright yellow sweater and mess of brown hair running into the cafe, followed by a blonde boy wearing a red and white shirt. With a raised eyebrow, I let them run into the cafe first before following in a minute later.

I was welcomed to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods. The blonde boy I saw run in earlier was talking to Puffy, who was sat at a circular table in the corner of the cafe. Deciding that I’ll just talk to her later, I scanned the cafe, finally finding Wilbur sitting at a two person table with his laptop out. He was panting with his face a little red from exhaustion. Pushing my curiousity aside, I walked up to his table while smiling.

“Wilbur!” I exclaimed. Immediately his head perked up and a huge smile formed on his face.

“(y/n)!” He beamed. Wilbur stumbled up. His tall figure nearly towered over mine as he engulfed me in his long, lengthy limbs. Giggling, I wrapped my arms around his torso and buried myself into his chest. after a moment of us snuggled into each other’s warmth, I pulled away, looking at his face.

“I haven’t seen your face in literally so long! Did you get handsomer?” I joked. Wilbur flushed, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Eh, you could say that.” He said bashfully. We both took our seats at our table. Wil closed his laptop and placed it in his bag. I placed my backpack under the table to leave us with more room on the table. He sat across from me with his hands folded onto the surface. “Seriously, how have you been, (y/n)? Has work been treating you well?” He asked.

I bit my tongue from letting out a tired huff. A bit of me wanted to unravel all my stress onto him, raving about how tiring this workforce is and how I feel as if this system isn’t as innocent as we’re made to believe. But instead, I just shook my head.

“It’s… Alright.” I managed out. Instantly, Wil saw right through me.

“Oh? I know that tone, y’know. C’mon, spit it out.” He teased. His hand trailed around to where my hands were sprawled out. I sighed, a little annoyed that he still knows how to decipher pieces of me.

“It’s just… It’s not exactly what I signed up for, y’know? I thought it would be about doing good for the world, but if anything, I think we’re doing worse.” I ranted, using my hands a little to convey my words. He sat and stared at me; eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated. “I don’t know. Sometimes I want to leave, but the other times I feel like I could make a change. Lately, it’s been feeling hopeless though, y’know?”

My fingers quickly pressed against my lips, realizing that I was probably saying too much. Wil, in turn, nodded, as if understanding my words. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about. Where did you say you work at again?” He asked.

“I— Uh— Just some human services organization that helps aid people and things like that.” I said, waving my hand off. I watched his expression soften, as if he was relieved to hear my words. I smiled reassuringly at him.

“Order for Wilby and his lovely, oh so loved partner!” The blonde barista called out from behind the counter. With an audible groan, Wilbur got up from his seat and trotted over to the counter. He quietly lectured the blonde boy as he just smiled cheekily. Once he was finished, he returned to our table with one iced coffee and one hot coffee.

“Sorry about that,” he chuckled. He slid the ice coffee order to me, in which I happily took a sip from. He took his seat in front of me, placing his cup on the table. “That’s my brother, Tom. He’s an odd one honestly.” I titled my head curiously.

“You have another brother? I thought it was just you, Techno, and Phil.” I noted.

“Ah, well,” he took a sip of his coffee before speaking again. “He was a new addition only like a couple months ago. It’s been a crazy year honestly.” He laughed. “Speaking of family, you should come by our house sometime soon to say hi.”

“Oh, absolutely!” I grinned. “I would love to spar with Techno again, or even just hearing stories from Phil.”

“Great!” He replied. “Oh, you just came from West End, right?”

I hummed in response, curious as to where this was going. “Yeah, why?” I asked.

He hesitated a bit, his lips briefly thinning before speaking. “I was wondering if you caught a glimpse of the fight near the museum. I heard it was kinda big.”

Oh, you mean the fight I was just in fifteen minutes ago that nearly led to some building collapsing and dozens of people injured?

“Oh, yeah!” I fiddled with the ends of my sleeve. “I saw a glimpse of it, but not much. If anything it was just the cause of my traffic.” I chuckled. My leg rapidly shook from under the table. Wilbur I beg, please be oblivious just this once.

Wil smiled before looking out the window. “Yeah, I caught a little bit of it too as we were headed here. Nymph really was causing a huge storm! Nearly scared the crap out of me from all that thunder.” My heart stopped at the mere mention of my superhero name. The identity I didn’t want him knowing.

“Ah, yeah, it was a giant.” I smiled. “I heard she was causing such a storm to muffle out Siren’s commands.” I commented, which wasn’t a lie. Siren was about to unleash a load of commands to brainwash all of the heroes fighting, so in an act of quick thinking, I summoned a huge storm with thunder so that no one could hear his voice.

“Well, Siren is pretty cool like that,” Wil laughed. Though something about it seemed… Fake in a way. His shoulders were tensed up and he refused to make eye contact. But maybe I was just looking too into it. “What do you think of the Syndicate? If you don’t mind me asking.” He turned to me now with his head resting in his palm. I leaned back in my chair, thinking about what to say.

“I think the Syndicate gets more exaggerated than they really are on media.” I said blankly. Wil raised an eyebrow, as if asking me to continue on. I took a sip from my drink before speaking again. My eyes glued onto my hands as I rubbed my own knuckles. “Well, nobody really stops and interviews the Syndicate about why they do their crimes, now do they? Maybe it’s just the little conspiracy theorist in me, but I feel like media hides the truth behind the rivalry of the Syndicate and Heroes Society.” I shrugged. When I looked up, Wil had the expression of a sweet puppy tilting his head out of curiosity. If I didn’t have any self-control, I would’ve expressed my admiration for such an adorable sight. Instead, I returned the tilted head gesture.

“Pff, what?” I chuckled as my hair cascaded down my shoulder. Wil hummed before returning his head posture back to normal.

“Nothing. It’s just you don’t really hear about people trying to understand the Syndicate. It’s really interesting.” He smiled. He has this glossy look in his eyes that almost sparkled.

“Ah, well,” I reached over the table, shaking my near empty drink. “it looks like my coffee is almost done. Let’s say we get out of here and walk along the pier or something?” I suggested.

Wil looked at me before turning his gaze to the blonde boy behind the counter. In the least subtle way possible, the barista was pointing at the back of his throat while making gagging noises. He scoffed at the sight before returning that beautiful gaze of his to me.

“I would love to, but first, let me go beat up Tom over there.

♡♡♡

a / n ~ sleepy mania over here. hope you guys enjoyed. thank you sososo much for the support! sorry i havent updated my masterlists though. trying to get more organized. reblogs, replies, even likes are super duper appreciated!

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Honor and Espionage Part Two

Aramis x Reader

Words: 5013

Part One

Summary: Shut away in the ambassador’s mansion with a woman who knows her true identity, the reader attempts to complete her task. Aramis must wait helplessly as the fatal night ticks on. 

Notes: I cannot even begin to explain how much of a chokehold this man has me in. Aramis has stolen my heart, and I hope there are those of you who can relate! Let me know what you think, these are just such fun characters. (I also plan to do more with this reader/Aramis dynamic in the future, including the story of how they met)

Warnings: Violence, blood, angst, more steaminess 

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

The doors closed and the last of the guests appeared to be inside. Aramis tucked his spyglass away with a frustrated sigh. He could see you now in his mind, your dazzling smile winning over the guests and the ambassador, your charm earning your way to more secluded areas of the house. Areas with information. Areas with proof of his treason. Aramis had seen firsthand how skilled and precise you were at your job. But that didn’t keep the turning in his gut from adding to the pained worry in his chest. 

The musketeer leaned back against the bark of the tree he’d hidden behind. The others were in similar positions, all glancing up at the house for any sign of trouble. 

D’Artagnan shifted, leaning toward him with a raised brow. “How do you do it?” He asked. “I imagine marriage would be hard enough when only one of you is a musketeer, but both of you?”

Aramis looked up at the boy and found only innocent curiosity on his face, as well as a hint of admiration. He inhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair. Aramis knew of the younger man’s complicated feelings for a particular merchant’s wife. Perhaps all he was looking for was a little hope. 

“It isn’t easy, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that,” he said, a small smile teasing his lips. “But I think it helps us understand each other more than we would if we lived in a cottage somewhere.” Aramis chuckled. “Perhaps understand isn’t the right word…” In all his years of knowing you, he found that your mind was one he had yet to comprehend. Luckily, trying was one of his favorite activities. 

“What is then?” D’Artagnan rested his arm on his knee and tilted his head. “The right word?” 

Aramis contemplated the question for a while, listening to the distant sounds of the forest around the ambassador’s property and the occasional laugh streaming from one of the open windows. 

“I don’t know, ‘appreciate,’ I suppose,” he answered. D’Artagnan noticed the intense sincerity overtaking his features. “I cherish every moment I have with her because of everything we’ve been through. I worship each second breathing the same air as her as if any inhale may be my last. Because when I even think of a world where her voice has been silenced and her heart has been stopped…” He trailed off, turning back to the house. “I know my soul would follow her, even if my body could not.” 

Porthos’s deep and thoughtful laugh joined their conversation. He sat with his head tilted back and a smirk on his face. 

“Always the romantic hero type, eh?” He said. “Both you and her.” 

“Yes, Porthos, I am a man guilty of loving my wife and she is guilty of the same. Tease all you like.” Aramis smiled to himself, still facing the place where his wife could be in danger and he’d have no way of knowing until it was too late. 

Porthos shifted so he was sitting beside him. He put a hand on his shoulder, gaze following his worried friend’s. 

“She’ll be alright, yeah? She always is.” 

“And if anything happens, we’re ready,” D’Artagnan added. 

Athos merely nodded but Aramis felt his support. All four men contemplated the situation in silence, each plagued with his own thoughts and concerns. Aramis forced slow breaths to calm himself but reached again for his spyglass to peer through any windows he had a clear sight of. 

D’Artagnan thought of the fierceness he’d already witnessed- had even been on the receiving end of- and had faith in your abilities. He felt sorry for anyone inside who’d be unfortunate enough to cross you. 

-

With the man who was to be your escort now rotting away with poison in his belly, you had to alter your story to one Treville would likely have a headache of explaining later on. Rather than the daughter of a prominent merchant in the area, you’d presented yourself as a friend of the king of France’s sister, the Duchess of Savoy, who was traveling with her brother- unable to attend the dinner due to a head cold he gained on the journey- and looking for an advantageous marriage. A forward approach, of course, but luckily it seemed the ambassador couldn’t resist a good challenge of pursuit. All of the other guests seemed to buy your story as well. 

Almost all of them. 

As you giggled mindlessly at something Laurent had said, you could feel the harsh, burning glare from your rival across the table. Milady de Winter, making conquests of her own, ensured that you couldn’t ignore her presence. Her intentions, you had yet to decipher, but you knew her presence could only mean trouble for you. 

Why had the cardinal sent a spy after the ambassador? Did he have the same information as Treville or were his motivations more sinister, as they often were? 

“Tell me, mademoiselle,” Milady began, the same knowing smugness in her voice as before, “what do you think of the rumors growing in Paris regarding the musketeers dueling with Cardinal Richelieu's noble Red Guard? I, for one, have been frightened of even stepping outside of my door.” 

Laurent grunted with an approving nod and took a drink of his wine. “A bunch of lawless miscreants, the lot of them.” He leaned forward so only the two of you could hear. “You know, I’ve heard that the imbecile Captain Treville even has some of his men following me.” 

“You poor dear,” you cried, placing your hand beside his, “how awful to be pursued by those brutes. I’ve personally spoken to the cardinal recently and he couldn't agree more with… I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name madame.” You stared pointedly at Milady. She didn’t blink. 

“Lady de Bonacieux.” 

You kept your face politely neutral, but inside you wanted to reach across and slap her. The use of your close friend’s last name was surely not a coincidence, but you failed to understand how she could know about your relationship with Constance. And her degradation of the musketeers was certainly meant to frustrate you, which meant she knew about your marriage to Aramis. But why not reveal you now? Why keep your identity a secret when it would benefit her much more to see the ambassador throw you out, or worse? 

“Ah, yes, we’ve met before,” you said. She wasn’t the only one with veiled threats up her sleeve. After all, you were not the only one here under false pretenses. “The cardinal introduced us once, did he not?” 

“I believe that was the occasion, yes.” 

“How lucky am I,” Laurent cheered, “to have friends of the cardinal’s on either arm.” 

You noted his boisterous tone and genuine glint in his eye. Either he was a much better liar than you anticipated, or there was something you had yet to discover. 

After dinner, Ambassador Laurent insisted on showing off his gardens to his guests before the men would separate to discuss subjects they felt were ‘too intense for the women’s delicate sensibilities.’ It always made you laugh, having to play the part of the naive ornament that they foolishly believed women to be. If any one of them could look into your mind and discover what you truly knew and understood, the burdens of knowledge you carried, they’d be terrified. 

Whereas, with your husband, your mind was his favorite thing about you. 

You pushed Aramis to the back of your thoughts again and continued batting your lashes at the idiots around you. 

Servants holding lanterns lined the paths of the garden, illuminated by the moonlight. Grand statues and topiaries were the center of Laurent’s boasts. You nodded and giggled and flattered until your brain was numb of boredom. 

A glint in the trees caught your eye. It was only for a second, but you could have sworn you saw movement. A flicker of silver. A contrast of blue-gray in the dark between the trees. 

You restrained yourself from groaning in frustration.

Surely, Athos was smarter than this. Surely, he wouldn’t allow for Aramis and the others to stake out the ambassador’s house because your husband was a touch too protective. Surely, they wouldn’t be that stupid. 

And yet… you knew it was them.

Aramis ducked behind the tree with his breath caught in his throat. 

“Do you think she saw me?” He whispered. Athos shot him a silencing glare. One trip, one loud noise could give away their presence. 

D’Artagnan eyed their leader and leaned over to Aramis. “She definitely saw you.” 

“Do you both want us to be shot?” Athos snapped. 

Aramis held a finger to his smirking lips. Athos’s blue eyes glared icy daggers. They all turned back to the group in the gardens and found that you’d looked away from their hiding spot. 

“Mademoiselle, have you seen your companion, Lady de Bonacieux?” Ambassador Laurent asked as he approached you. You’d only just noticed her absence yourself, sending a shock of panic through you that pushed the thoughts of your sneaking husband to the back of your mind. 

You gave Laurent a confused smile. “I haven’t, mousier. Perhaps she forgot something inside?” He looked to the house with a disappointed frown. “Oh, don’t let it upset you, sir. I’ll find her at once and we can continue our merriment.” 

There was something else in his expression, as well. A flicker of suspicion. But it was gone as soon as it had appeared, replaced by a smile of encouragement. 

“Don’t be gone long, my dear. I have yet to show you the largest of the statues.” 

“Of course.” You bowed and hurried back inside. 

In the trees, D’Artagnan’s teasing of Aramis halted with Porthos pointing to the gardens. 

“Look,” he said. Four pairs of eyes snapped over to watch you go. Porthos shook his head in confusion. “Where is she going?” 

“More importantly,” Athos said, motioning to another member of the gathering who retreated back into the house. “Where is he going?” Laurent’s ornately dressed form followed after you just long enough that you wouldn't notice. 

Aramis’s stomach dropped. He moved into a readied crouching position. “He’s discovered her. We have to help.” 

“Wait.” Athos held out a hand to stop him. “We must have faith in Y/N’s abilities. If we act too quickly, it could be a disaster for both her and us.” 

“But if he knows, he’ll kill her!” 

“Not with all of these people here,” Porthos noted the still full garden. “Even he’s not that stupid. He’d have to take her somewhere else if he’s going to kill her.”

“How surprisingly unhelpful,” Aramis snapped. 

But, with no other choice, he again remained, holding a clenched fist to his lips as he uttered more prayers he could only hope someone was listening to. 

Inside, you crept along the halls to the sounds of the crowd outside. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of them knew. How many knew of this man’s betrayal of his country and stood by and let it happen? How many helped him? 

You came upon a door on the second floor with movement and light streaming through the cracks. You removed the dagger you had strapped to your leg and opened it. Milady de Winter stood over the ambassador’s desk, rummaging through piles of parchment. 

“I expected a more subtle exit,” you said, closing the door behind you. “I believed you were more skilled than that. I thought wrong.” 

“Speed, in this situation, is favored for stealth, I’m afraid. Not all of us have musketeer husbands waiting to rescue us if this goes poorly.” She sneered at you over the countless letters and plans on the dark wood desktop. You froze. “Oh save me the shocked looks. It’s my job to know who you are.” 

“As it is mine to know who you work for,” you fired back. Of course, your marriage wasn’t a secret, but something about her knowing of Aramis made your skin crawl. “How did the cardinal find out about Laurent? No one else was supposed to know. Why would he send his favorite spy?” 

“Why indeed?” The growling voice behind you made your heart stop. A hand roughly grabbed your arm and the glower of Ambassador Laurent loomed over you. His burning gaze shifted over your shoulder. “What does the cardinal mean by this? I thought we had a deal?” 

“A deal?” You gasped, whirling around to look at Milady. “The cardinal is working with this traitor?” Laurent’s grip on your hand tightened and you forced a cry of pain back down your throat. 

“Unfortunately, you’ve run out of usefulness, ambassador. You’ve drawn too much attention to yourself, as this musketeer insider proves.” Milady said calmly. She raised her arm from behind the desk, aimed her pistol, and fired. “And someone has to clean up the mess.”

Laurent crumpled to the floor. 

Milady skirted around the desk with a cold, hard glare. “I’m afraid that goes for you too.” 

-

The crowd let out a collective gasp as the sharp sound rang through the night. The four men hiding in the shadows jumped to their feet. 

“Did you hear that?” Aramis exclaimed, not bothering to stay quiet anymore. 

“Steady, Aramis,” Athos urged, though he’d reached for his weapon. 

“We can’t wait any longer,” Porthos said. 

Aramis didn’t wait for an order. He dashed across the clearing separating them from the gardens. The other three swiftly followed. The guests gasped again upon seeing their approach. 

“Everyone remain calm,” Athos instructed. “We have everything under control.” His voice boomed with enough authority that nobody questioned him. 

Aramis’s feet carried him through the main door. Candlelight flickered in his vision. Gold shimmered from every surface it was nearly blinding. He whirled around, holding a hand out to stop the others, and listened. 

You dove for the weapon with one hand and slashed at her with your knife in the other. Milady knocked against the desk, sending parchment flying over the ambassador’s bloody body. 

“We could have made quite the team, you know,” she said. “The cardinal would have liked you, had you not married a musketeer of course. Aramis, isn’t it? I’m told he’s such a charmer.” She finished reloading her weapon. “Too bad you’ll never see him again. Husbands are useless anyway. He’ll betray you. Just wait.” 

You snatched a candlestick from the side table and launched it at her. She fired accidentally into the wall. In the bright flash of your weapon, a note caught your eye. There, on the edge of the desk, was a letter. In the moment you were able to read some of the words, you recognized it as Laurent’s plot to pay Savoyan soldiers to assassinate the king. And in the corner, was the cardinal’s signet. 

You swung your knife in Milady’s direction again, grabbing the letter and taking the second she had to reload to retreat. The ambassador’s guards met you in the hall. One reached for you. You plunged your knife into his arm and elbowed the other in the nose. If they pursued you, you didn’t turn to see. You ran. 

The second shot might as well have been through Aramis’s pounding heart. 

The third consumed his senses completely. 

With Porthos and Athos busy with more guards, he and D’Artagnan raced up the stairs. The ornate white marble brought them to the second floor where you laid with your back against the wall and a cloaked figure standing over you, gripping your arm as you screamed in agony. The figure tore something from your hands and hurried away without looking back. Aramis fired a shot but missed. 

“After her!” You shouted. You tried to pull yourself to your feet using the railing, but any movement in your arm shot searing pain through your body. Blood had already soaked the sleeve and side of your gown. 

“Go,” Aramis said to D’Artagnan. The young man sprinted after the assailant while Aramis rushed to your side. When his dark, beautiful eyes hovered over yours, you almost breathed a sigh of relief through your clenched teeth. 

“My arm,” you groaned. “The wretch shot me in the arm.”

Aramis examined the wound, lifting your limb gently. You took a sharp breath that sounded more like a whimper. He laid a hand on your cheek. 

“It’s bleeding too much.” Aramis unlatched his belt and wrapped it around your arm just below the shoulder. He tightened it and this time you couldn’t keep the scream at bay. “I know, love. But if I don’t remove the ball and sew the wound soon-”

“I’ll bleed to death,” you finished. There was a flicker of terror in his eyes. 

He saw the light leave your gaze, felt the warmth abandon your skin. He heard your final breaths as your blood stained his hands. He imagined his life without you. It was as dark and cold as a moonless night. The mere image of standing at your grave planted a seed of despair in his chest that he forced himself to push down in order to ensure that it didn’t become real. 

“That’s not going to happen.” 

Downstairs, Athos and Porthos’s battle showed no signs of ending. D’Artagnan returned with a shake of his head. Aramis put an arm under your legs and the other behind your back. He scooped you up and you bit back tears of anguish with every step as he ran. 

“I can walk,” you protested. “It’s my arm, not my ankle.” 

“Now is really not the time to argue, darling.” 

“What happened? Is she hurt?” D’Artagnan asked, keeping up beside you. 

“I need you to bandage her arm and apply pressure to the wound,” Aramis instructed. The younger musketeer tore off a piece of tapestry from the wall and wrapped it around your arm. 

“Sorry about this,” he said, pulling the fabric taught. 

You bit your lip and buried your face in Aramis’s chest. 

“What in God’s name happened?” Athos exclaimed. He and Porthos joined the rushing group. 

Aramis kept his eyes forward and his focus on you. “I need the ambassador’s cabin. She can travel on horseback and we need to get to a secure location for me to operate.” 

“Where is the ambassador?” Athos asked. 

You lifted your head. “He’s dead.” The four men exchanged a glance. You scoffed. “Don’t worry, I didn’t kill him.” 

“That might not matter,” Athos said. He held the door leading out to the path where carriages awaited. 

“What’s going on? Who are you?” The driver jerked the reins away from Porthos’s reaching hand. 

D’Artagnan lifted his gun. “We’re going to need to borrow this, monsieur.”

“Aramis, there’s something I need to tell you all,” you said, voice weaker than before. He lifted you into the carriage, keeping you close in his arms. 

“It will have to wait, darling.” He kissed your forehead. 

“But if I-”

“Don’t.” His tone was firm, but it shook with fear nonetheless. He gulped. “Everything is going to be fine.” 

-

A short ride away sat a small farmhouse, apparently abandoned. Porthos halted the carriage and the other two soon rejoined with the horses. Aramis hurried you inside. 

“She needs a drink. This is going to hurt.” 

Porthos held out a leather flask. “Why don’t we just do what you did with me?”

Aramis scowled. “I like her face the way it is. I’d rather you not damage it.” 

“I’ll have to agree with my husband on that.” You snatched the drink from his hand and downed as much as you could as quickly as the burning liquid allowed. You were already feeling the dizzy discomfort of losing so much blood from the inner side of your arm. “Before you start, I have to tell you all… I have to tell you… the ambassador was plotting to kill the king. And the cardinal was a part of it. That’s why he sent one of his spies to retrieve his letter. She’s the one who killed Laurent and the one who shot me. If you can find her, you may be able to expose the cardinal.” 

“We can worry about that later.” Aramis brushed a strand of hair off of your sweat-spotted forehead. “I’m taking care of you first. And I’m sorry, my love, but it is going to hurt.” His voice sounded as pained as you felt. The anguish in his eyes showed how much seeing you like this broke his heart. 

Finishing the rest of Porthos’s brandy, you gripped Aramis’s shoulder with your uninjured hand. 

“Do it.” 

Lacking the proper tools, Aramis took the sharpest knife he had and reluctantly plunged it into your gaping wound. The burn of the bullet was nothing compared to the blinding sting as he worked to remove the ball from your flesh. Athos gave you a piece of leather to bite down on, but even your muffled screams made Aramis sick to his stomach. 

“I know, mon amour. I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon, I promise. I’m so, so sorry.” He clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus. “I’ve almost… got it.” The gore-coated piece of metal fell into his palm. Blood poured out from your wound. Again, the sensory images of your failing body filled his mind. Your eyes struggled to stay open. He worked faster. “D’Artagnan, tighten the belt and hand me my needle.” 

“Is it supposed to bleed that much?” 

“Just do as I say!” 

You let the leather piece fall from your mouth and managed a weak smile. “This reminds me of when we were attacked by thieves on the way to Gascony,” you laughed, ignoring the growing haze in your head. 

“I think we have different accounts of that.” 

You smirked. “Only, I saved you that time.” 

Aramis shook his head, his lips teasing upward. He threaded his needle and held the point over a candle’s flame. 

“Like I said,” he examined the needle. “Different accounts.” 

The sharp point pierced your scarlet-stained skin. It didn’t hurt as much as removing the bullet. You squeezed your eyes shut, took shallow breaths, and tried to stay awake. 

“There.” Aramis sliced the thread and wrapped a fresh cloth around your arm. “It’s over. You’ve lost a lot of blood but, God willing, you’ll heal.” He adjusted the cushions beneath you and cupped your face in his hands. 

“Aramis,” you breathed weakly and placed your hand on his. Your voice was hardly above a whisper. 

“What is it, love?” 

You opened your eyes to his brown irises staring in panic. Your smirk grew. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

He breathed a sigh of relief and brought your lips to his. 

Porthos chuckled behind him and slapped him on the shoulder. “That is a tough woman you’ve got yourself.” 

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Athos warned, though he was smiling as well. “We have to make sure the wound doesn’t get infected.” 

“Your concern warms my heart, Athos,” you teased. You pushed yourself up on your good arm and tried to stand. But the blood loss, as well as the brandy, weakened your legs. You fell back against your husband. 

“What are you doing?” He fretted.  

“I must get to Treville. We have to find de Winter. She has the letter.” 

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Aramis wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple. “You need to rest.”

You squirmed in his hold, grimacing when you moved your injured arm. “Leisure is not one of my specialties.” 

“I’ll just have to help you practice.” His dark gaze glinted with his smug smile, brow raised. 

“Perhaps you will.” 

D’Artagnan coughed, reminding the two of you that three other men stood in the room. You might have blushed if you hadn’t lost so much blood. 

D’Artagnan winked. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re going to be fine.” 

-

Aramis made a sling for you from his deep blue sash and the five of you headed back to Paris. You rode with Aramis, his arms on either side of you and his eyes shifting at every movement. He tensed at each snapping twig, his arms holding you a little closer. 

“It’s just a bird,” you whispered. “Besides, you needn’t be so worried.” You turned your head over your shoulder so you could kiss his cheek. “Broken wing or not, I’m still a better shot.” 

But if there were any of the ambassador’s allies, you did not encounter them. Nor was there any sign of Milady. By the time you reached Treville, you were sure the cardinal’s letter was little more than ash and memory. 

The captain paced before you as Aramis changed the crimson bandages on your arm. 

“If I had known your contact was Baffier, I would have warned your spouse to expect you.” 

“That certainly would have made you simpler.” 

“Admit it,” you snickered, “it was fun.” 

“I can’t say that’s the word I would use for you almost bleeding to death,” he said. He wasn’t smiling, rather his face held the same concern it had at the farmhouse. 

“Nor I.” Treville gave you a hard stare. “The ambassador is dead and we don’t have any proof of what he was planning. This is going to be a mess to try and explain to the king.” 

“It was the cardinal’s spy that killed him, not I.”

“Unfortunately, we also don’t have any proof that she exists and if someone from the gathering comes forward and recognizes you or the others, it’ll be a hell of a time explaining what you were doing there.” He stopped his movements and turned his head to both of you. “Which is why I’m not assigning you to anything else until this all dies down.” 

You stood up, Aramis following behind you. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means stay home,” Treville sighed. “You are injured. For God's sake, Y/N, you could have died if Aramis hadn’t been there!” 

“I’m afraid I have to agree with the captain.” Aramis stepped forward. “It’s far too much of a risk for you to be seen.”

Treville changed the subject of his exasperated glare from you to your husband. “And I’m sending you with her.”

Aramis’s face fell so quickly you would have laughed had you not been so frustrated. 

“Captain, I don’t… do you really think that’s… surely you’ll need-” He stammered. 

“You can keep an eye on each other until I can get this awful business figured out and her arm can heal.”

You both opened your mouths to argue, but he held up a hand. 

“That is my final decision.”

“What if you should need our services?” You asked. 

Aramis nodded frantically in agreement. “Yes! Surely Paris will find itself in danger some way or another and you’ll need our skills to stop another villain.” 

“If an emergency arises- and only of the utmost importance-'' Treville pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two will be the first to know. Now I have to try to begin to sort this out.” 

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. 

You wanted to stay and fight, but between the ache in your arm and your husband’s guiding hand leading you to the door, there wasn’t anything you could do. 

“God knows how long it’ll take for this to quiet down,” you huffed once you were outside. 

“You two don’t look happy,” Porthos said. 

“Let me guess.” Athos crossed his arms. “House arrest?” 

You crossed your arms, grimacing from the jerking movement. 

“Careful, darling.” Aramis winced. 

You ignored him. “We aren’t allowed on any assignments until this whole ridiculous situation is handled.” 

“So, what, you have to go into hiding?” D’Artagnan wondered. “What are you supposed to do until then?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll think of something.” Porthos gave you a mischievous smirk, but his teasing did not lighten your mood. 

“He might as well have sent us to live in a cave.”

“Now, dear,” Aramis said, putting an arm around your shoulder “don’t you think you’re being a tad melodramatic?” Your face morphed with fury and your eyes burned into his. He gulped. “I love you?” 

You turned on your heel and stormed away. Aramis looked desperately at his three companions, but none offered any solace. In fact, they all grinned in amusement. 

“God help me,” he muttered, chasing after you as the trio started to laugh. 

-

Two Days and A Country Cottage Later

You swiped the damp cloth over your skin, bringing it further up your arm until fingers gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from soaking your stitches. 

“Mind my needlework, darling.” Aramis purred into your ear. He took the cloth from your hand and began his own soothing motions over your arm. “Allow me.” 

You laid back against him, the bath water rippling with each movement. With your head leaned on his shoulder, he carefully cleaned the area around your wound. Any ache in your nerves was erased by his lips on your skin- from your shoulder to your neck to that little spot behind your ear. 

“You know,” you sighed contently, “maybe the captain was right to send us out here. I can’t remember the last time we’ve gotten to spend this much time together.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.” His lips followed your jaw as you turned to face him. 

“I just hope the city is still standing by the time we get back,” you giggled. “I’m surprised we haven’t already been summoned.” 

Aramis flicked at the water. “I give Treville and the others three more days before they come begging for our help.” A cocky smirk played on his features. 

“Well,” you stood, water cascading from your skin and glittering in the setting sun streaming through the window. 

Aramis basked in the sight of you. Almost glowing, you looked practically angelic. You stepped out of the bath and ran your fingers through your hair, beckoning him with a hooked finger and a suggestive glimmer in your eyes. 

“We better not waste them then.”

[jotunkhiicha]

It’s important to remember the things that shape you, the things that harmed you and the things that propel you forwards—but don’t let them become anything more than experiences. Don’t let them become you.

Act III: Underneath the Light Pollution, Can You Still See Stars In Her Eyes?

The storm batters against her windows as she sits, nursing a glass of water with her sister opposite her, clad in her very best.

The wind thrashes against the glass, bellowing the cries of those who’ve had their dreams stolen by the water, had their love washed away into the storm drains and lost their hopes to the moon that peaks between the clouds.

In a way, it perfectly displayed the truth within Fran’s heart; a bristling storm that exists to simply destroy all the things in her life. It gave birth to a suffocating despair that has fuelled a healthy supply of antidepressants to keep her from falling alongside the raindrops that spill down her windows.

She isn’t so bad nowadays.

“How is the new prescription?” Willow asks and leans forwards, clasping her hands together and the chair creaks under her weight.

Fran bounces her left leg and chews the inside of her cheeks; both a sign of her anxiety. “I haven’t taken them.” She admits and she’s unable to meet her sister’s gaze, feeling immense guilt.

She knows it’s futile to run from her sister’s gaze, there truly isn’t a way to even lie to her.

Willow is like a black hole, constantly drawing others into her devoid presence, sucking the vitality from the world but the accretion disc, the delightful front she displays, is all too enticing for people and they simply tumble into her singularity. As the minutes go by, as the silence becomes like a gravity well that she falls within, she is unable to crawl her way out of this hole and her older sister has won with her gambit.

Fran purses her lips and leans back against the chair with her nails drumming, idly, against the glass. “I haven’t felt I’ve needed them lately.”

Why is that so hard to admit? Is that even true?

Willow smiles and it seems like a jet of light, bursting from the destruction of the silence, has been born from a quasar. “That’s fantastic, Fran. That’s really good!” She beams and it fills the world with colour, spilling her love across the idle stage of her life.

Fran allows herself to smile at her sister’s jubilation; feeling a touch intoxicated by her happiness as it webs between her synapses. “Yeah. I deserve some good times!” She giggles, “It’s been too long.” She dithers into silence and she brings the glass to her lips, enjoying the haughty chill that spreads through her body.

Her older sister tilts her head and sighs at that joyous laughter, completely content with hearing it on repeat for the rest of her life, however short that may come to be. Where they had seemed so far flung apart that they could never stand side by side, at the end of today where the sky bleeds black, such a sound had become scarce in the world.

It wasn’t so bad, was it?

[ambrossart]

DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART SIX

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. ❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader ❖ word count: 3,511 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

You shoveled chocolate cake into your mouth while George Michael crooned “Careless Whisper” into the cold, dark depths of your soul: “I’m never gonna dance again… Guilty feet have got no rhythm…”

You sang along with your mouth full, crumbs spewing from your lips, stopping only to take another bite, another swig of punch. You were drunk on your own misery because nobody had bothered to spike the punch bowl. Yeah, apparently you were attending the one dry prom in the entire country, but that was A-okay because this smooth, melancholy sax was sending you swirling into despair and nothing mattered anymore.

You finished one plate of cake, licked your fork clean, then reached for another. That’s how Chrissy found you, three slices deep in chocolate cake, with frosting smeared all over your face. She came up to you like a mother approaching her paint-splattered toddler and said, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, just eating my feelings…”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She surveyed the damage with a frown. “Where’d you get all the cake?”

“I stole it off that table over there.” You gestured with your hand. “Not my proudest moment… and yet, somehow, not my lowest tonight, either.” You sliced through the stolen cake with your fork, another huge chunk, and—down the hatch!—stuffed it all into your mouth.

Chrissy sucked in a breath through her teeth, grimacing as she watched you. “Oh boy,” she said, and sat down beside you. “Okay, sweetie, tell me what happened.”

“I took your advice. I tried to talk to Eddie, I tried to be nice, and I went down hard in a giant blaze of glory. Like, it was cataclysmic, Chris. You should have seen it. We’re talking ‘Mount Vesuvius erupting’ bad, ‘meteor killing all the dinosaurs’ bad. Like, I just single-handedly wiped out an entire civilization in a matter of seconds. Total carnage. No survivors. He yelled at me, Chris. He actually yelled at me, and you know, I always thought I’d be turned on by him yelling, but I wasn’t. Honestly, I’m kinda traumatized by the whole thing, and… uhh, yeah… now I’m sitting here eating cake with my good friend George Michael. He has a lovely voice, don’t you think?”

You went back for more cake, and Chrissy snatched the fork out of your hand. “Okay, that’s enough sugar for you.”

You snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ll just throw it up later.”

Chrissy winced.

“Oh—” You slapped your hand over your mouth and sank into your chair, a shameful blush engulfing your face. “Oh my god, Chris, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… you know, all the lactose, it’s gonna make me sick later, that’s all I meant. I swear, I wasn’t trying to…”

Chrissy’s smile was warm and forgiving. “I know. It’s okay.” She scooted closer to you, then handed you a napkin and told you to wipe your face. While you were doing that, she said, “All right, just out of curiosity… when you were talking to Eddie, were you talking to him like you and I talk? Or were you just making a lot of jokes at his expense?”

“That’s not fair, Chris. I’ve known you my whole life.”

“Just answer the question.”

You puffed up your cheeks and blew out. “Fine, I was making jokes, but they weren’t mean or anything. I just…” You hung your head. “I don’t know how to talk to him, Chris. It’s like, he looks at me and my heart starts beating really fast and I just go into panic mode, and I start hurling insults like hand grenades. It’s like World War II in my head, and I’m deep in the trenches. And I know I’m messing it up. I can hear myself messing it up. All the warning bells are going off: Abort mission! Abort mission! But I can’t stop myself! I insult his clothes and his music, and I sacrifice him to demons.”

Chrissy said, “Wait, what? Demons?”

“Yeah… I kinda sacrificed him to a demon back in middle school—well, his character, not him. This didn’t happen in real life or anything. It was in a game: Dungeons & Dragons. I dunno if you’ve heard of it, but… it’s surprisingly fun. You get to make your own character and everything.”

“And sacrifice people to demons, apparently.”

“Yeah—well, no, you aren’t really supposed to do that. I kinda went rogue and ruined the whole game.”

“That sounds more accurate.” Chrissy giggled into her hand, then tipped her head at you and smiled. “Oh… what am I gonna do with you?”

“Trade me in for a newer model?”

Chrissy shook her head. “Nah… I’ve grown kinda attached to you.” She took your napkin and carefully dabbed some frosting off your chin. Then she put her hands on your knees and said in a calm, reassuring voice, “Listen to me: it’s just Eddie. You’re not exactly talking to Steve Perry here.”

“Well, at this point I think I’d have a better shot with Steve Perry.”

“Yeah… he’s a famous rock star, so somehow I doubt that.”

“Well, you don’t know how charming I can be.” You pressed your hand to your chest and fluttered your lashes.

Chrissy laughed at you. “Actually, I know exactly how charming you can be, which is why it breaks my heart to see you like this. Seriously, what are you so afraid of? Him not liking you back?”

“Oh, he definitely doesn’t like me back. Yeah, I’d say him yelling in my face kinda solidified that.”

Chrissy said, “Well, then you have nothing to lose, right?” And you went quiet. “Just talk to him. Don’t overthink it. Don’t make jokes. And please, for the love of God, don’t insult the guy. Just walk up to him and be honest. Say, ‘Eddie, I’m an idiot—I’m an adorable idiot, but an idiot. I’ve been in love with you for six years, but I never knew how to express my feelings. I’d very much like to marry you and have your babies’—Ha!” She absorbed your half-hearted slap, giggling as she did.

“Just talk to him,” she said. “I promise you’ll feel better once you do.”

“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say. You confess to a guy and he’s basically winning the lottery. I do it and it’s like, Sorry, son, there’s been a death in the family.”

“Oh, that’s not true, and you know it. You’re the lottery, too.”

“Yeah, maybe the penny scratcher…”

Chrissy shook her head. “Now you’re just being silly.”

But you weren’t. You weren’t joking at all.

Silence fell over the table as the music seamlessly transitioned to The Dream Academy’s folksy cover of “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” by The Smiths. Another slow, painfully depressing song, but this one was even worse because it carried this pathetic sense of yearning that stabbed and twisted into your heart like a dagger.

You braced yourself for another three minutes of torture when, out of nowhere, a phantom voice said, “Wanna dance?”

You looked to your left and felt your stomach flip. It was Jason Carver, standing beside you with an outstretched hand, looking like a damn Ken doll in his prom tux. (You had made that joke more than once. Chrissy always hated it: “I swear to God, if you call me Barbie, I’ll kill you.”)

You flinched away from him, blushing. “Oh, no thanks, I don’t really—”

“Come on, it’s our last prom. You gotta do at least one slow dance.” Jason’s smile was confident and irresistibly charming.

You stared at his hand for a minute, your stomach twisting into all kinds of knots; then you glared at Chrissy. “You put him up to this, didn’t you?”

She put up her hands and backed away from the table. “Hey, don’t look at me…”

And before you could further protest, Jason took your hand and effortlessly lifted you out of your chair, making your knees buckle as soon as you put weight on them. The anxiety was hitting you like a train now and dragging your body over the tracks. What if you stepped on his foot? What if you scuffed up his shoes? They looked like some really expensive shoes. Could you actually afford to replace them? What if your breath smelled terrible? What if you had chocolate cake in your teeth? (Oh my god, you definitely had chocolate cake in your teeth!) You two were going to be standing face to face, practically nose to nose. He was going to see everything. The peach fuzz on your face. The huge pores on your nose. What if Jason saw all these glaring imperfections and thought, Wow, she’s somehow even uglier up close?

Well, then you would simply die.

Panicking, you pulled your hand out of his grasp. “Wait, Jason, I…”

Jason chased your hand, caught it, and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Hey, come on. Just relax, okay? I promise I won’t step on your feet.”

“Yeah, but I…” You saw your reflection in his dazzling blue-grey eyes and suddenly lost your will to resist.

The next two minutes felt like two hours.

Here you were, slow dancing with Jason Carver in the middle of the dance floor. His hands were around your waist, holding you close like you were his real date and not just some last-minute tagalong. Your arms were draped around his neck, stiff and awkward at first, but gradually loosening as you swayed to the music. It was surreal, being this close to him: feeling his heart beating against yours, feeling the heat of his breath on your face whenever he spoke, whenever he laughed at one of your jokes.

Ten-year-old you would have been so happy right now. She would have floated home on a cloud, spent the rest of the night daydreaming about Jason Carver and gushing about him in her diary. Savor that sweet naivety, kid, because in a few years it’ll all be gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you let yourself daydream, get so caught up in your fantasies that you had to pinch your arm just to bring yourself back to reality. You tried, but you could never seem to get your feet off the ground. They were just so heavy.

Then after a while, you just stopped trying.

“You know, I used to be really jealous of you,” Jason said after a while.

“What?” you said. “Why?”

Jason looked at you like you were insane, like it was so painfully obvious. “You’re Chrissy’s favorite person in the world, and you always will be. Whenever something good happens, you’re her first phone call. When she’s upset, she goes running to you for comfort. And that just kills me because I wanna be that person for her too, and I’m scared I never will be.”

You frowned. “Yeah, we kinda have a weird codependency thing going on. It’s probably really unhealthy, actually…”

Jason laughed. “It’s not, it’s great, and I’m so glad she has you. Honestly, I am.” His smile was so sincere and sad, it broke your heart a little. “Look, Chrissy is amazing, easily the best thing that ever happened to me, but I know she only shows me the good side of her. The happy side. She smiles for me and cries for you. She doesn’t trust me enough to show me her ugly side, and I don’t know how to change that. I’m scared to bring it up because I don’t wanna push her away, but I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Jason, trust me, you’re already doing exactly what you’re supposed to do.” When you said this, you felt your chest tighten unexpectedly. “Maybe I just need to step back a little, give you two some space.”

“What? No, that’s not what I—”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “Jason, it’s fine, really. Honestly, I think that’ll be the best thing for both of us. I mean, we can’t lean on each other forever, right?”

You laid your chin on his shoulder and stared across the dance floor to where your best friend was sitting with a huge smile.

Of course Chrissy wasn’t jealous watching you dance with her boyfriend. No, that hideous emotion was reserved just for you. You were the one who was never satisfied with what you had. You were the one constantly comparing yourself to everyone else. Judging yourself. Weighing yourself. Hating yourself.

Here you were, slow dancing with Jason Carver, being the envy of every girl at prom, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to switch places with Chrissy Cunningham, to be sitting right where she was.

Because that’s where he was going.

As you watched Eddie approach Chrissy, as you watched them talk, Jason started singing under his breath: “Please, please, please… Let me get what I want… Lord knows it will be the first time…” and you buried your face in his shoulder and squeezed your eyes shut real tight.

Chrissy stared at Eddie Munson with knitted brows. “You’re asking me to dance? Why?”

“Uhh… because I want to? I don’t really know how else to answer that.” Eddie scratched the back of his neck, feeling both nervous and bashful as he stood before her in his suit jacket and ripped jeans. “Umm, look, you don’t have to say yes or anything. Seriously, just say the word and I’ll get outta your way and leave you alone. I just thought, y’know, since it’s the last prom and all…”

Chrissy cut him off. “Yeah, but why? I never even talk to you, so why would you wanna dance with me?”

“Well, I uhh…” Eddie cleared his throat a few times, then let out a nervous chuckle. “Wow, you’re really putting me on the spot here, aren’t you? Umm, okay, well… that’s a little difficult to answer, and I’m probably gonna shoot myself in the foot for saying this, but… Wait, are you okay?”

Chrissy was staring off towards the dance floor, where her boyfriend was dancing with her best friend, and as she did, her whole expression just kind of wilted into this guilty, miserable look that cut Eddie to his core.

“Oh shit,” he said to himself. “Hey, look, I’m not trying to get in the way of anything here. I know you have a boyfriend and that’s totally cool. I just…”

Now Chrissy had her hands cupped over her mouth, appearing on the verge of tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, to seemingly no one at all. Then she looked up at Eddie, her blue eyes sparkling like two gorgeous sapphires, and she said the words he had been dreading most of all. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t dance with you tonight.”

She pushed past him and walked away, leaving Eddie gutted and standing alone with his heart in his hand.

“Okay,” he said after the initial shock had worn off, “that was fucking brutal.”

When you finally opened your eyes, you were facing the opposite side of the room and staring at a wall of familiar faces. But one in particular caught your eye. It stole the breath from your lips and made your face go white with shock… as if you were seeing a ghost.

Your legs felt heavy as you broke away from Jason and stormed across the dance floor. Once you got close enough, you opened your mouth to yell, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper.

“I thought you had food poisoning!” You hissed the words like they were a curse, like you were trying to banish his spirit back to the grave.

Chance Gallagher turned toward you with a cup of punch in his hand and a pretty girl at his side. “Oh shit,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? What are you doing here? I thought you were sick.”

“Yeah, well, I uhh…”

“You got better, huh?” There was a lump in your throat as you watched Chance fidget with his tie, loosening it so he could breathe more easily. The color of it matched your dress perfectly, but it also matched the dress of his pretty new date, along with the corsage that dangled from her wrist. It was your favorite flower. You figured it was hers, too.

You rubbed your brow furiously, struggling to fully grasp the situation. “Okay, I think I’m a little outta the loop here… If you didn’t actually wanna go to prom with me, why did you even ask me in the first place?”

Chance’s shoulders went up and down uncaringly. “Because Jason asked me to.”

His words hit you like a sucker punch to the jaw. You staggered back and shook your head. “What? Jason asked you to…?”

Of course, you thought. Of course, Jason put him up to it. Why else would someone like Chance Gallagher ask you to prom? Chance was popular, Chance was on the basketball team, and who the hell were you but Chrissy Cunningham’s bitchy best friend? You knew he wasn’t actually interested in you. Hey, you? The guy didn’t even know your name! That little voice in your head tried to warn you—it was practically screaming at you!—but you didn’t listen to it. No, you let yourself wish and dream and get swept up in all the grandeur of prom, but it was all bullshit. Fake, plastic, bullshit. And you shouldn’t have come in the first place.

You ran into Jason and Chrissy on your way out. As soon as you saw Jason, you pointed your finger in his face and screamed at the top of your lungs, “YOU SELFISH SONOFABITCH! YOU TRIED TO PAWN ME OFF TO YOUR FRIEND!”

Chrissy’s face scrunched up with confusion. “What? Jason, what is she talking about?”

Jason opened his mouth and closed it again. His stormy blue eyes were writhing with guilt.

“He forced Chance to ask me to prom, Chris. He made him do it. What, did you have to pay him? How much was I worth, Jason? Twenty bucks? Thirty? Did you get a good deal out of it, at least?”

Jason exploded: “Oh, come on, of course I didn’t pay him! I would never insult you like that!”

“Right, you would just force me onto your friends like some chore!”

Jason shook his head furiously. “No, that’s not what it was! I swear to God it wasn’t. Look, all I did was ask Chance to do me a favor, that’s all. I didn’t know he was gonna flake on you like that. If I’d known, I never would’ve asked him to do it in the first place.” He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the dirty blond roots. “I just wanted everyone to have a good time. That’s all I was trying to do.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said as a tear escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. “No, you wanna know what I think, Jason? I think you wanted to have a good time, and I was in your way. Well, don’t worry, Jason, I’m getting out of your way now, so you go ahead and enjoy your perfect little prom, okay? I’m done.”

You turned to leave and Chrissy was at your elbow, crying and begging you to stay.

You said to her, “No, please, I don’t wanna be the one that ruins your night, and I really don’t wanna cry anymore. And I know if I’m around you, I’m gonna completely fall apart and… I just need some time by myself, okay? I’ll be fine, I will, I just… I really need to get outta here.”

You tore away from her and saw dozens of eyes bearing down on you. Preps. Jocks. Nerds. Cheerleaders. Sally, Sarah, and Stacy, standing there looking so damn pleased by your misfortune. Like this was just perfect, wasn’t it? Like it was exactly what you deserved.

You squirmed away from their eyes, all of their eyes, and ran up the stairs and out the door.

Now here you were, sitting on the dirty floor of the women’s restroom and crying in your prom dress while “Endless Love” sent you spiraling right back to middle school. All you needed was a bucket of pigs’ blood dropped on you and your night was complete.

You ripped off your corsage and whipped it at the garbage can. Then you slumped down, knocked your head against the wall, wiped some of the mascara off your cheeks, and thought, God, this night can’t possibly get any…

The door burst open and

“Oh shit!”

Eddie Munson came stumbling into the bathroom like a drunken idiot after a bar fight. He spun around, catching himself on the wall, and then pushed his back against the door.

His brown eyes bulged as they locked with yours.

“Uhh… hi. How’s your night going?”

_____________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I have a request, if you fancy! R telling sirius (or remus if you’d rather) that she’s been feeling disconnected from him lately and the two of them working through it together. Some hurt/comfort from you is always a delight. Much love!

this isn’t exactly what u asked for but I hope u like it anyway, thank you for requesting! love <3 | fem!reader

When people had warned you about the honeymoon phase, you'd always rolled your eyes. Not me and Siri, you'd think, together and happy for entirely too long, every day so great it feels stolen, it feels too good to be true.

And, as it turns out, it is.

It starts slowly, you nearly don't notice, and then suddenly Sirius feels very very far away and you've no clue on how to get back, or what caused the distance in the first place. But, you love him. You're willing to do pretty much whatever it takes to be with him, and it has to start with a conversation. You don't want to do it when you're tired, and then a good day happens and you take it greedily, too scared to bring it up and ruin it.

Too many days pass by like that.

Sirius gets home on Friday and he's tired and he's a bit poorly. He's a grown up and he doesn't need any coddling, but maybe that's the thing — maybe you should be coddling one another more often, like you used to, and like you want to.

"Hey," you say lightly, wondering if he's unhappy. He'd never take a bad mood out on you but he still has them. He likes the quiet when he's stressed.

"Hey," he says, eyes squinted softly as he kisses your cheek.

You lean back to give him space, assuming he's on his way to the fridge for a drink, and you're encouraged greatly when he chases after you for another kiss. His hand pets the back of your head.

"Hard day?" you ask as he pulls away.

"Not too bad."

You wait, hoping, and then you say, "Mine was okay."

He winces. "Sorry. I'm glad it was, yeah? I missed you."

I missed you too, you want to say. I miss you.

"How's your head?"

He takes the water jug out of the fridge and bumps your hip. You shift. He fills two glasses and downs his own. "It hurts," he says, offering you a weak smile, "but I've had worse."

"Good, that's good. I- dinner's in the oven, so… whenever you're ready."

"Is everything okay?"

You pick up your glass and hesitate. "If you're not feeling well, it can't wait. I want to talk to you about something and it might be-" You fumble for words. "I don't know. It can wait."

Your heart stutters at his expression. Fondness, deep and genuine, etched into every line. He squeezes your forearm.

"It's okay," he says, hand starting in an affectionate procession up the length of your arm. "Let's talk about it now."

You get him settled on the settee with a cool patch and some painkillers. He looks silly. It helps lighten the mood, enough for you to sit close and tuck a black curl behind his ear. "How handsome," you croon.

"Gotta look good for my girl, you know that."

Your smile fades. You stroke his cheek with the back of your hand. "I miss you so much lately."

There's a scary pause, quiet that feels like it's seeping into your clothes. Cold water.

"I understand," he says finally, "I- I miss you too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He's reaches out to hug you and you move inward, your relief a palpable thing, his ribs under your hands.

The ensuing talk is completely different to what you’d imagined. You’d worried about a fight, a big fight. You’d wondered if he’d blame you for the distance, and you’d been afraid of what you might say in answer. You don’t want to make it his fault. Life can be really hard and you’re not sure you could do it without him anymore, and pulling apart rather than together would’ve ruined you, so it’s a relief when he clings to you, and when he bears a slice of his heart. He’s tired, he’s sorry. He’s really sorry, and he should’ve brought it up first, but he didn’t want the fight.

Seems you’re on the same page — not as far apart as you’d believed.

“I shouldn’t have thought that of you,” you say apologetically. “I know you wouldn’t fight just to fight, but-“

“It’s okay. I get it, I know I’ve been… insecure, before. You had good reason.”

“I don’t understand it, we’ve always been-“

“Good.”

“Great.”

He takes your face into his hand. Warmth swallows your cheek. “We’ve always been amazing.”

“But not perfect, like we thought.”

“I like it better this way,” he says earnestly, hand moving up like he’s trying to hold you all in one place. It’s a touch that’s a little too rough and you love it.

“I gotta take this off you,” you say, reaching for his cool patch. You both laugh in tandem. “Can’t kiss you like I want to, I’ll laugh.”

Relief has your hands shaking against his neck. You kiss him, and he gets playfully mad and kisses you, mumbling about taking the lead. You’re really, really happy, and you’re also scared.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you admit.

“I think it’s more me than you, sweet thing.”

You huff a laugh against his cheek, leaning in close. “You make me out to be some sort of-”

“Angel?”

“Saint.”

“I won’t let a good thing like you get away from me because of my pride.” He taps the tip of his nose into yours. “I don’t mind taking the blame. Not if it’s for us.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t, though. I don’t want things to get worse, or for you to feel like you’re trying to make us work by yourself-“

He kisses you fiercely. You try to push him away and he recedes instantly, and you realise at the lack of him that you actually very much would like to be kissing him, falling back in.

“I don’t think that,” he says between breaths. “I won’t.”

“Let it be my fault,” you plead, only half-joking.

“Never.”

Another kiss. Another.

You and Sirius are unbalanced. There’s always going to be one of you giving too much, and both of you like to take it. You’ll take him any day — sick and tired, sluggish with love. Now, with his hands hungry at your neck. Tonight, when he’s sleeping off his migraine, arms too tight around your chest. And in the morning, when you finish the conversation, and you inevitably make it work.

[leossmoonn]

hang around the ice cream with steve during the summer and while you’re sitting there reading and eating ice cream and steve getting jealous

Idk what this is. I just love Steve and all I’ve been doing is imagining him being my husband. So enjoy this blurb

Warning: gets a little 😏😏 suggestive at the end (nothing major)

Steve doesn’t consider himself the jealous type. He’s Steve “the hair” Harrington. What does he have to be worried abt? I mean, the fact that he works at Scoops Ahoy and is basically a dad-mom to a bunch of 13 year olds is what makes him Steve “the hair” Harrington, right?

No, Steve was painfully aware of how uncool he became and the fact that a very cool guy walked in and set his sights on you made him crush an ice cream cone

“She looks like she’s bored, Steve. Don’t worry about it,” Robin says. “Um, how do you know? You’ve never flirted with a guy before,” Steve says.

“Disregarding that. Anyways, she’s not flirting. She looks so uncomfortable.”

“No, she’s smiling,” Steve says. “Yeah, fake smiling. You see how her eyes don’t squint and crinkle?” Robin points out.

“What? Have you been like, stalking my girlfriend?”

“Steve, shut up. Now look at her and tell me she’s enjoying the conversation.”

Steve looks at you and it looks like you’re enjoying the conversation. But you’re a nice person and it’s not like it was weird to have convos with random ppl in stores. You did it all the time. But this time it was different bc now you’re bc Steve was ruining his own day by being his own villain.

“Yo, Y/n!” Robin shouts. “What the hell are you doing!?” Steve exclaims.

“Steve needs to tell you something!” Robin pushes Steve out from behind the counter. She’s like 😁👍 and Steve know obvs is like 😡🖕🏻 but he goes over to you anyways.

“Hey, Stevie!” You grin. And now Steve feels so bad for ever thinking you would cheat. I mean, the way you smile at him just says it all.

“Hey, honey. How, uh, how’s it going?” Steve asks. “Good. Hey, have you met Frank?” You ask.

Steve paints on a tight smile. “Yeah, he’s in our uh, science class, right?”

“Woah, Steve, you’re dating her?” Frank asks. “Yeah, why?” Steve asks.

“That’s so cool! Man, after your downfall, we all thought you were such a nerd and a loser, but you’re with a total catch now!”

“Thanks, Frank. I appreciate it,” you smile.

While Steve tries to act friendly, he can see through Frank. He’s looking at you like how Steve used to look at girls before he learned some humility: like a piece of meat. It made Steve’s blood boil.

So Steve decides to be discreet and show Frank that you are Steve’s. He slips his arm around your shoulder and kisses your cheek.

“Yep, Y/n is the best!” Steve beams. It’s not like he’s lying bc well, you are the best. He just really wants to punch Frank in the face.

You can totally see through Steve. You look at him like 🤨 “don’t you have a job to go back to?”

“What? Scooping ice cream doesn’t take that much effort. Robin has it covered,” Steve says.

“Yeah, dude, it’s kind of irresponsible to leave your post. I can keep Y/n company,” Frank says.

“Oh, I’m sure she’d rather be alone. Right, sweetie?” Steve hums.

You’re like 🙄 and not bc you like frank or anything, but it’s so obvious was Steve is doing, and him and Frank are basically having a staring contest and probably like a sword fight in each other’s minds. So you decide to play into Steve’s words.

“Steve is right, Frank. You did kind of interrupt my reading,” you gesture to your book.

“Right, my bad. Next time I’ll make sure you aren’t reading,” Frank smiles.

“Good idea,” you nod. “Well, I gotta get back to work. I’ll talk to you later?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, have fu - Steve!” You gasp as he crashes his lips onto yours. You can’t help but just melt into him. He’s Steve “the hair” Harrington, after all, and he’s completely stolen your heart <3 (aw so cute)

Frank obviously leaves with a glare on his face. You swear he mutters “Stupid Harrington stealing all the hot ones.”

You leave after a little bit but come back after Steve’s shift to pick him up.

“You hungry? My mom saved some leftovers for you,” you say.

“Yes, please. I’m starving,” he groans.

“Great. Why don’t you sleep over tonight?” You ask.

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiles. He leans in to kiss you but you stop him. He pouts, “what? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, but we do have to talk,” you say. “I know, I’m sorry we’re out of your favorite ice cream. This stupid store sucks,” he says.

You smile, “it’s not that, Steve. Remember earlier with Frank?”

“Yeah,” Steve frowns. “Well, I wanted to ask you why you did all that. Were going jealous?” You ask.

“Pffft me, jealous? Nah,” he shrugs.

You raise your brows. “Really, Steve? Making out with me right in front of him?”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t like it.”

“I did like it, but please tell me why were you jealous!”

He sighs. “I guess… I’m just not cool anymore. And I know that sounds shallow because I’ve been trying not to care so much, but I can’t help but care. I used to be this guy who everyone bowed down to. Now I’m just this guy who scoops ice cream and gets chocolate sauce all over him every time I try to drizzle.”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s like :(( “why are you laughing?”

“Honey, I know you miss being King Steve, but you have to know by now that all that was so insignificant and just stupid. Think about how you were a year ago: jackass, man whore, ass —”

“Must you go on,” he remarks. You grin, “sorry. Anyways, I know being popular was like the best thing ever, but think about what you have now. Best friends, who may be 13 year olds, but they’re all the best. You have a stable job, decent grades now, and a girlfriend who I recall is a catch.”

He sighs, “yeah, I know. I’m really thankful for you guys. I’m really happy that I’m babysitter Steve and not man-whore Steve, but I’m just afraid.”

“Afraid of what, baby?” You ask.

“You started dating me just after I became uncool. So you saw how cool I was and I’m afraid that one day you’ll miss that and end up going to someone cool like Frank.”

“Steve, are you serious?” You ask. “Yes, I am! I know it’s so stupid, but that’s how I feel,” he frowns.

“Hey, it’s not stupid, honey. I just don’t think you understand how cool you are.”

He’s like 🤨 “um, do you know who I am?”

“Yes, I do. You’re Steve “the babysitter” Harrington. The most caring, loving, tough guy out there. You’re a hero, Steve. Not only to me and the kids, but to the world. You’re so cool, and you know why? Because you gave up all that douchebag crap to be a great person.”

Ugh and he’s looking up at you with those big honey brown eyes with his cheeks painted pink. (I would die for him basically)

“Really?” He asks. “Mhm,” you smile. You wrap your arms around his middle and peck his cheek. “Not to mention, you, Steve Harrington, make a certain girl very happy in bed.”

He grins, “oh, yeah?” “Yep,” you giggle.

“Well, good, because I’ve heard that this girl is a real catch.”

“You’ve heard?” You scoff. “Yep, I’ve heard. I think I might have to take this girl out to really know, though,” he sighs.

“Oh, really? To where?” You ask.

“Her favorite restaurant at 7 pm tomorrow.”

“Are you asking me out but talking about me like I’m not here?” You smirk.

“If I was, would you say yes?” He asks. You giggle, “yes.”

“Great. Wear that little green dress, yeah?” He hums.

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

“But a cool one, right?”

You sigh, “yes, you are a cool dork.” You kiss him sweetly, but then pull away. “But, Frank is pretty cool, too. I don’t know, Stevie, he might got you beat.”

Steve wraps his arms around you and pulls you flush against him. “We’ll see about that after I’m done with you tonight.”

[arc-misadventures]

hot blonde copper au. Since Yang and her colleagues now have Jaune's phone number are they going to use their police resources to check out who he is.

There Are Rules Here For A Reason

Weiss: Ruby…

Ruby: Yes, Weiss~?

Weiss: Look, Ruby, I love like the little sister I never had.

Ruby: Naww~! Thanks, Weiss, I love you too!

Weiss: But, I can not just look up who, Yang’s date is!

Ruby: Why not!

Weiss: It’s against the law that’s why! With out a warrant, and a plausible cause for said warrant; I can’t just randomly use my my status as a police officer to spy on someone!

Ruby: But, can’t you? He is a thief after all!

Weiss: Has he stolen anything?

Ruby: Uhh… Her heart…?

Weiss: Metaphorically, or literal? Because if it was the first you would lucky if you get pass the, ‘Laugh Test.’ And, if it was the second we would be having a completely different conversation.

Ruby: Can’t you do anything?!

Weiss: No.

Ruby: Come on, please! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseeeee!

Weiss: No!

Ruby: Can’t you just run his name through your record thing, and see if there are any crimes running against him?!

Weiss: Yes I could…

Ruby: Yes!

Weiss: If I knew what his name was…

Ruby: Shoot!

Weiss: Look, Ruby… Yang is a big girl, and she can handle this on her own.

Ruby: But…?!

Weiss: Why are you even acting like this? Yang never acted like this when you want out with that… Oscar was it?

Ruby: Yeah, Oscar.

Weiss: Yeah, your father did act like this, but he’s the overprotective Father type, so that kimd of behaviour makes sense, but for you to act like this… It just doesn’t add up.

Ruby: Well…

Weiss: …

Ruby: It’s because I’m concerned for my sister! She’s going on a date with a complete random nobody! Who knows what she could be walking into! We have to make sure she safe, or else who knows what could happen!

Weiss: …

Ruby: …

Weiss: Ruby…?

Ruby: Yes?

Weiss: Put your father on the line…

Ruby: W-What are you talking about… It’s just…

Weiss: Ruby, you would never say something like that. Never in a million years. It’s not like you to think, and speak in such a manner. So obviously your father who told you to say that to me, so put him on the line… Now.

Ruby: …

Ruby: Told you she wouldn’t buy it…

Tai: H-Hi, Weiss! How’s it going?

Weiss: Swimmingly, Mr Xiao Long.

Tai: Oh please that makes me feel old, just call me, Tai!

Weiss: You are old.

Tai: …

Tai: Okay that hurt…

Weiss: Mr. Xiao Long, Yang is an adult, she can make her own decisions you can not tell me to tell her what she does. Nor, will I abuse police forces to satisfy your fatherly overprotectiveness towards your daughter.

Tai: But, what if he touches her inappropriately?! Then what?!

Weiss: Haa…

Yang: Then I’d sock him in the face!

Tai: Y-Yang?! Is that you?

Yang: No it’s the Empress of Mistral; Of course it’s me you overbearing monkey!

Tai: Then… You overheard the whole conversation then…?

Yang: As soon as, Ruby said, ‘Hello bestie…’

Tai: Oh… Oh dear…

Yang: Dad, I know you mean well, but I’m twenty-one, and I’m a cop. So, I’m pretty sure I can handle this myself. Okay?

Tai: But, what if?!

Yang: Dad! Don’t worry, I have the perfect way to handle this~!

Tai: Really? What do you have planned?

Yang: Well, first off I do this~!

(Beep)

Weiss: Oh, you hang up on him. Oh how sad…

Yang: Times like this I envy your family relationships… Which I don’t like saying.

Weiss: That my family never really interacted with one another, or is it because my father’s in jail?

Yang: The second one. It, doesn’t hurt as much.

Weiss: Like you wouldn’t believe… You heading off?

Yang: Yeah, I’m going to go home before one of them show up. Plus I need to get ready for my date tomorrow~!

Weiss: Well, I wish you luck then. And, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

Yang: And, what exactly is it that you do, do?

Weiss: Hey!

Yang: Hahaha! Bye~!

Weiss: See you later, Yang. And, good luck to you Mr. Thief, because you’re going to need it…

[boldlyvoid]

touch me

spencer reid x reader

Summary: Spencer is incredibly touch-starved and hard on himself since coming home from prison. Luckily, the medical examiner in this small town is really good at reading people, and exactly what he needs.

warnings: mentions of cases, insecurity issues, female reader, smut, blowjobs, riding, praise, emotional hurt/comfort. emotional sex, strangers to lovers, hook-ups,

word count: 5.8k

They had been in New Mexico for almost a week, solving a series of murders that seemed to have no end in sight. There was nothing they could do but go back to their hotels to sleep, hoping there’d be a connection in the morning.

Spencer and JJ were sharing a room as the small town hotel didn’t have accommodations for everyone that was visiting to help with the case. They didn’t mind, it was like a long sleep-over.

They did their own thing, kept their space and Spencer really did enjoy overhearing her on FaceTime with her kids. It was refreshing happiness in the middle of the madness murder sadness and despair they were swallowed by.

When his phone rang at 6 am, just shortly after he returned to his room for a quick rest, he sighed deeply, “Dr. Reid.”

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but another body dropped and I need you to go to the ME,” Prentiss explained softly down the line. “It’s weirder than the other’s and you’re the only person who would be able to work it out with the examiner.”

“I’m on it,” he replied with a tightlipped smile. He hung up and looked over at JJ, already peacefully asleep on her bed. He closed the door softly on his way out, not wanting to disturb her any further.

At the other end of the hallway, Spencer stood and waited for the elevator. It seemed to be taking forever, everything he was doing lately dragged on and on with no end in sight. He was exhausted, still struggling with his PTSS, just all around not having the best time.

He was in the middle of rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when the elevator opened with an equally tired woman waiting inside. “Hi,” she said before covering her mouth to yawn, “sorry.”

“I get it,” he smiled as he stepped inside. “Lobby?”

“Yes please,” she smiled. “Are you here for the case too?”

“Uh, yes,” he answered softly, “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, with the FBI.”

“Oh, hi! I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, the medical examiner,” her face lit right up. “Agent Prentiss said you’d be joining me I just didn’t think this quickly.”

She was adorable, bubbly and happy in a way he envied. He missed the feeling of random giddiness, smiling at her as he felt the butterflies swirl in his stomach. “Do you need a ride? I have an SUV from the bureau.”

“Yeah,” her smiled got bigger. “That would be really nice.”

They walked closely together through the lobby and towards the parking structure, he hit the unlock button a few times while trying to figure out which SUV his keys matched to. Finally getting in and watching her climb in the passenger seat.

“Do you know anything yet about the body?” Spencer asked as he turned on the ignition.

“Yeah hold on,” she pulled her iPad out of her bag and started sliding through emails.

“Your tech girl sent me the initial police reports, witness statements and overview,” she began to explain. “Like the others, she’s a 25-year-old female, blond, blue-eyed, athletic.”

“Prentiss said it was a weird one?” Spencer added.

“They think she was embalmed before the unsub staged her,” Y/N added with a tone of disgust on her voice. “Do you have your tech girl’s number?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Spencer dug his phone from his pocket and dialled the number.

“Penelope Garcia, the 8th wonder of the world at your service,” she answered after just one ring. “How are you doing on this fine morning, my fine furry friend?”

“Not so hot,” Spencer replied. “I’m with the ME right now on the way to the body, she has a question for you.”

“Oh hello, ask away.”

Y/N was smiling on the front seat, enjoying the show they put on for her. “Um, hi I was wondering if you could look into anyone in this town buying embalming equipment, or if any has been stolen from the funeral home? This town is so under-resourced already, I don’t know where this guy could get this stuff.”

“Absolutely, I’ll add that to my parameters,” Garcia’s voice was lovely and soft. “I’ll call you back if I find anything!”

“She’s lovely,” Y/N exclaimed as Spencer place his phone back in his pocket.

“Yeah, she is.”

Spencer pulled into the morgue’s parking lot, the lights were all on and the Coroners van was parked by the loading doors. Inside there was just 1 officer, waiting beside a body bag as Spencer and Y/N walked in.

The officer gave them both a quick rundown of the crime scene findings, as well as information about where all the equipment was before leaving them to their work.

“Have you ever examined a body?” Y/N asked Spencer.

He nodded, “I’ve been present during a few, held some organs, but I’ve never done one myself.”

“They’re pretty gnarly,” She scrunched her face and giggled. “Let’s get you all geared up.”

She handed him a hairnet, a white plastic suit, goggles and a mask. “Gloves are on the wall, pick your size.”

He felt like a lunch lady standing beside her, taller than her by almost a foot, dressed in all white with a hairnet. He could tell she was smiling at him under her mask, her eyes gleamed up at him in a way that made his heart melt.

He had to remind himself multiple times that this was nowhere close to the time appropriate to want to flirt with someone. They were about to examine a dead body, and potentially solve a case. There would be time to flirt later.

But he was just so amazed by how she worked, being able to tell everything that was going on by just looking at the body. Making notes on her own and only occasionally explaining things to Spencer. In her own little world, solving the puzzle with expertise.

“The other 4 vics were just strangled and staged, dressed up and left in different areas around town,” she ran the case down more for herself, needing to hear the words to make a connection.

“Yes,” Spencer followed her train of thought, tilting his head as he listened.

“She was murdered, embalmed, staged and sexually assaulted. His MO is completely different and it’s only been 2 days since the last body dropped. I think he’s found his signature,” She explained her thoughts. “His sexual aspect comes out only when they’re dead and cold, we’re dealing with a necrophile.”

“While most serial killers start with small animals before moving on to humans, he started with women and then eventually grew to what he really wanted. That’s what we were missing,” Spencer’s eyes lit up.

“He’s a lot younger than you hypothesized in the original profile,” She added.

“You read it?”

She nodded, “yeah I like to know what you’re looking at to see if I have answers.”

“This is really going to help us,” Spencer smiled, his eyes mimicking hers now.

“I can finish up here if you want to go back to your team? I can get a cab,” She offered. “Go catch this guy.”

“Okay,” Spencer said, backing up from the table and taking his equipment off. Placing them in the hazmat garbage. “Are you sure?”

“Yes Dr. Reid, I’ll be fine,” She laughed. “Can I call you if anything comes up?”

He smiled again, “call me even if something doesn’t.” He dug a contact card out of his pocket and placed it on top of her purse. Waving as he walked out of the room.

—

He thought about her smile for the rest of the afternoon, leaving his findings with Prentiss before heading back to his room to sleep for a few hours.

He finally found his way back into the police department 5 hours later, coffee in hand as he tried to absorb all the new information. They had a lead, stolen embalming equipment from a funeral home a few towns over was reported 4 days ago.

He stayed back during the apprehension of the suspect. Simmons, Lewis and Rossi were closer and they didn’t think the unsub would be dangerous. No one was missing and he wasn’t expecting them, should be easy to get him to come in for some questions.

Much like the rest of this case, it didn’t go to plan. They found another woman in his home, having to shoot him in the process. Ending the spree, ridding the world of a necrophile. It just didn’t feel like justice was served when another person had to die.

Spencer sat on his bed, calming down slightly from the end of the case. Saving a woman, killing a murderer, it was all a lot to process in such a short time.

JJ was in her bed on the other side of the room, scrolling through Facebook as she looked at photos of her kids. It was a much easier way for her to calm down, remembering that she could go home to pure, unadulterated happiness at the end of a case.

They heard a small knock on the door, Spencer volunteered to answer, opening it only a small amount as he looked out.

“Oh, hi,” surprised to see Y/N behind the door.

“Would you like to come and drink with me?” She asked, holding up a bottle in her hand. “In my room,” she added.

“Yeah, yes um, hold on,” he closed the door on her softly.

“Who’s that?” JJ smirked at him.

“My friend,” he replied quickly, running to the bathroom to look at his hair and fix his shirt. “I’ll be back later.”

He grabbed his wallet, making sure he had a condom first, before opening the door only a small amount to slip out into the hall. Hiding Y/N from JJ as she tried to look out the door.

“Sorry, my co-worker and I are sharing,” he explained.

“It’s okay,” she smiled, heading towards the stairs. “I’m just a floor up, and the elevator takes a million years.”

Spencer held the door for her, watching her head up the stairs as he noticed the bottle in one of her hands and her shoes in the other. She walked up the steps in her socks, exhausted from the day.

“Did you get any sleep?” She asked him softly as she kept climbing the steps.

“A few hours, did you?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, “I woke up just before they called about the body this morning.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just go to bed? You’ve been working for 12 hours,” Spencer worried for her.

She reached the door for floor 3, pulling it open with the hand she held her shoes in, “Sleep is the for weak.”

He laughed lightly, “do you want me to hold anything?”

“Here,” she handed him the bottle, “thanks.”

She dug the keycard from her pocket as he followed her towards the right door. Excitement bubbled in his chest as she opened the door and welcomed him inside.

It was exactly like his room downstairs, only there was just 1 queen bed and a few couches by the window. She set her things down on the bed, sighing deeply as she sat on the edge.

“Do you have any cups or mugs?” Spencer asked, reminding her that he was holding the alcohol still.

“Yeah, on the bar table over there,” she pointed. “I’m just going to change in the bathroom quickly, you can pour yourself a drink.”

“Okay,” he smiled awkwardly as he crossed the room.

She dug through her suitcase quickly. Spencer saw from the corner of his eye as she took out some shorts and a shirt, not even slightly worried about being so casual in front of a complete stranger.

He inspected the bottle, it was just a cheap scotch, nothing too special. He poured about an inch of the golden liquid into two cups, not a big fan of drinking but tonight he felt a little risky.

She came back looking more refreshed, very cozy, and still breathtakingly beautiful. He hadn’t felt this way about someone in a long time, the tightening in his chest as he wondered where the night was going to go.

Not to mention the longing he felt.

Even before prison, he wasn’t one to spend a lot of nights alone with a beautiful stranger. The added isolation in his life changed him on a fundamental level, he realized just how much he craved contact, and just how much he’s deprived himself over the years from both men and women. He just wanted to be loved properly.

He silently handed her one of the cups, smiling at each other softly as they tapped cups. Taking the whole drink, “oh, yep that was exactly what I needed.” Y/N’s eyes watered as her face scrunched up, coughing a bit.

Spencer felt the same, only being able to hide it a bit better. The burn was nice on his throat, it made him feel alive. “Did you want to order some food or anything or?”

She laughed, “that would be the smart and responsible thing to do.”

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

She looked up at him, her shoulders dropping as she released the tension in her body. Looking into his eyes with care, it was so different from the way his co-workers looked at him. She didn’t think he was broken, she had to reason to believe he was even damaged.

“Yeah,” she smiled, placing her hand on his chest as she stepped in closer to him. “Do you like mushrooms on pizza?” She giggled, even this close to him with every opportunity to kiss him, she chose to just make him smile. Something that didn’t happen too often lately.

“I do, it’s my favourite topping actually.”

She took his tie in her hands and dragged him to the couch, “I enjoy topping sometimes too.”

She sat down on the couch and looked up at him, waiting for him to sit beside her. Patting the cushion beside herself while he swallowed sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, making her smirk.

“I won’t bite Spencer,” she laughed finally. “I’m sorry if that was too much?”

“No,” he said, sitting down beside her quickly. “No, it’s fine honestly, I’m just not used to it.”

“Too busy with the FBI to find anyone to hit on you?”

He shook his head softly, pushing his hair out of his face. “I uh, I was framed for murder and in prison for 3 months. I haven’t really had a conversation with anyone I don’t work with in a while.”

“Oh,” she didn’t look surprised or scared. “That makes sense.”

“What does?”

“You’re soft,” she leaned in to press her hand against his chest once more, eye level with him now. Seeing his eyes dart from her lips to her eyes every few seconds as he licked his lips. “You don’t look like you want to hurt anyone, but something about your aura is changing. You know how to protect yourself now, and you’re stuck thinking you’re still in danger.”

“How can you tell all that just from looking at me?” He asked softly.

“If I showed up at any other man’s door with a bottle of alcohol and the offer of a night alone, I would have been pushed against that door the second we got here,” she explained. “You respect me, almost a little too much.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” His face was soft and curious and proving her point.

“You see me as a person, but I can tell you’re touch starved. Every time I get close to you, it’s like you don’t want me to move away,” her voice was barely a whisper as she leaned in even closer to him.

She could feel his breath on her face, her nose was close enough to brush against his as she stared at his lips, “but you won’t make the first move. You want to protect me from you.”

He nodded his head lightly before rubbing the tip of his nose against hers and making her smile. He let out a sigh, relaxing his shoulders as she straddled his lap, leaning him back against the couch. He bit the bullet and let his hands rest on her hips, looking at her softly in the hopes it was okay.

“Tell me?” She begged, holding his tie in her hands, running it through her fingers as she waited. “What do you want? What you miss? Let me be that for you,” she begged.

“Anything,” he finally tells her. “Just touch me.”

She loosened his tie, freeing his neck finally. She slowly undoes every single button on his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants as she opens it up.

Her fingers are warm on his skin, but he still gasps at the touch. Her fingers were so soft, like angel kisses as the pads of her fingers traced the skin. Gliding over every freckle, raking through his chest hair, bumping along the barely-there abs.

His thumbs rubbed against her bare thighs, where he held her lightly. “You can touch me too,” she whispered.

His hands travelled up to her waist, he gently pulled her in closer. No longer resting on his legs, but pressed close to his chest. Her hands landed on his shoulders, looking down at him with nothing but pure lust as her breathing hitched.

She cupped his face, gliding her thumbs along his cheeks softly as she stared at his lips. He opened his mouth to breathe, his bottom lip was plump and beautiful and she couldn’t help herself from rubbing her thumb over it.

He kissed her thumbprint before taking it in his mouth, sucking on it softly making her hips buck into his lightly. The suction on her thumb was more erotic than she expected, the feel of his hot mouth, his wet tongue swirling around it before he let her go with a pop.

She accidentally let out a moan that excited him, “like that?”

She immediately felt her heartbeat in her clit, she nodded feverishly. Suddenly at a loss for words, wondering where this Spencer suddenly came from.

“How far are we taking this?” He asked softly. “We can stop and order that pizza at any time?”

There he was, the soft and sweet man that she brought here in the first place. “Pizza is even better after sex,” she couldn’t stop the giggle from erupting from her, even as she bit her lip.

He smiled at her like she was the world. A complete stranger making him feel more than anyone had in the last year. “I’m going to need longer than it takes to deliver a pizza,” he admitted.

“Luckily they’re open late,” she compromised, leaning in and finally kissing him.

It was soft at first, then he pulled her in even closer. She was chest to chest with him as he breathed her in deeply. She melted into his grasp as if he had just stolen her soul right out of her body.

She was his now.

She kept his face in her hands, holding him as he broke the kiss to explore her jaw. Kissing every inch of her neck and chest as she gripped his hair, making him moan as she used her nails to comb through the long locks.

“Does that feel nice?” She cooed, running her nails along his scalp as he tilted his head back.

“My favourite thing,” he explained as he closed his eyes, letting her repeat the same motion again and again.

He looked so peaceful, running his hands over her back and sides softly as she massaged him. She leaned in and kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, both eyelids and his forehead.

He wanted her to touch him everywhere, her delicate touch made him feel worthy for once. Every self-hatred of his washed from his body as she explored him with care, care only one would receive if they were a most prized possession.

He felt loved.

It was overwhelming, he didn’t realize a tear had slipped down his cheek until she was wiping it from his skin. Shushing him softly before kissing him quickly on the lips.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, what’s on your mind beautiful?” She asked softly as she brushed through his hair once more.

“I just,” he looked in her eyes ever so innocently. “I’m not used to feeling cared for, no one pays attention to me this way.”

“That’s shameful,” she looked utterly perplexed. “Look at you? You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re powerful. You’re kind and lovely and soft?”

“But I’m also weird and too much to handle,” he interjected.

“Not to me,” she corrected him. “this morning you could have said nothing in the elevator, you could have driven by yourself and awkwardly waited till I was finished my work. But you didn’t, you had a conversation with me, you helped me many times, you cared about me making it back here safely and you didn’t even know me. You’re a special kind of person Doctor Reid, and anyone who doesn’t see it is an idiot.”

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile and furrowed his brow, “do you ever give out parts of yourself to everyone because you know how hard it is to feel appreciated?”

“All the time,” she laughed softly. “But not now.”

“Me either,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“I’ll make you a deal, you tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done and I’ll tell you mine,” she offered. “Even the playing field.”

“How so?”

“Right now you think I’m super nice and kind right? And I just told you how I feel about you, but you hate yourself and outside of here I hate myself too. Share a secret, we can be fucked up together,” she smiled.

“In order to keep myself safe in prison, I poisoned a batch of heroin and almost killed a lot of people,” he responded without thinking.

“Okay,” she was a little shocked that he gave in so fast. “One time I stabbed a guy who tried to touch me after I pushed him off me twice already. He didn’t die, it barely even went in.”

“Both are technically self-defence,” he shrugged.

“See?” She smiled. “You’re not as bad and scary as you think you are. You’re smart and cunning.”

“Are you sure you’re not a therapist?” He teased her, “because this has been better for me than any therapy appointment I’ve ever gone to.”

She laughed again, kissing him softly. “I think it would be against the rules for your therapist to do this, I guess that’s why some men cheat.”

“How so?” He just liked listening to her speak.

“It’s easier to be open with someone you’ll never see again than it is with your therapist or wife because there are no consequences. They can’t judge you or hold anything against you, they do what you paid them for and they leave,” she explained herself.

“I’d like to see you again,” his voice barely a whisper. “If you’d like that?”

She nodded softly, “maybe I’ll move back to Virginia, finally.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Born and raised. I moved to Albuquerque with my girlfriend 5 years ago, and she left me about 2 years ago now,” Y/N explained. “I liked my job too much to move all the way back there and start over.”

“I can put in a good word for you where ever you want,” he offered before he could stop himself from looking too desperate.

“I’ll look into it,” she smiled.

He kissed the centre of her chest again before pulling her into a hug. Hearing her heart beating in her chest softly as she pressed her cheek to the top of his head and rubbed her hand over his back. Soothing him so completely, he felt beyond amazing.

And then she was gone, pulling back from him and standing up. “Wh-?” Before he could even ask, she was lifting her shirt off.

He stared at her breasts, eyes wide and jaw dropped. She walked over to the bar, taking another shot before she pushed her shorts down and climbed onto the bed. Completely naked in under a minute.

He stood then, pushing the opened shirt off his shoulders and immediately undoing his belt. He took a condom from his wallet before kicking off his shoes, dropping his pants and underwear to the floor and stepping out of them.

She was laying back against the pillows when he crawled over her, resting his naked body against hers ever so slightly. She just smirked as she looked up at him, “hi.”

“Hello,” he whispered.

“What do you want?” She asked.

“You.”

He kissed her softly on the lips, or at least he planned to. Y/N wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down against her. Swiping her tongue across his bottom lip, begging to make out with him, finally.

Grabbing and tugging at each other as everything started to heat up, she could feel his erection against her leg as he ground down on her. Sucking on his tongue, lightly making him moan into her mouth.

His hair kept tickling her face, every time she’d push it away it would just fall right back against her skin. She pulled him off by his hair, gasping for air as they stared at each other again.

“Can I be on top?” She asked lightly.

He wrapped his arms under her, holding her close as he rolled over. Watching her settle more onto her knees as she sat on his hips. “Better?”

“Much,” she said as she sat up, taking a hairband off her wrist and putting her hair up. Raising her arms in a way that made her tits perk up. He reached up and cupped them, rubbing his thumb lightly across her nipples before giving them a squeeze.

She just laughed as she finished her ponytail, “having fun?”

“Absolutely,” he smiled up at her.

His hands followed the curve of her body, from her boobs to her waist and down over her hips. She was stunning, confident, everything he ever wanted and more.

She found the condom in the sheets, the bright purple packaging making it easy to see. She played with it in her hands, seeing how long it would take before he got desperate, but he never did.

“How long have you had this?” She asked, trying to tease him.

“Not long,” he was honest. “I just got out of prison, remember?”

“So you haven’t had sex since before you went in?” She looked excited.

“No, why?”

She smiled, “so I’m taking your free man’s virginity.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing?”

“It is now,” she giggled before leaning down to kiss him once more.

Trailing kisses down his neck, stopping only to suck a mark near his Adam’s apple. Hearing the sweet little gasps he made every time her tongue came in contact with his skin. She kissed his clavicle, his shoulder and down his chest. Making her way across his abs and over his lower tummy.

He gripped the sheets, not knowing what she had planned or where she was going. Spreading his legs, she kissed his groin, his right hip bone and the inside of his thighs. He couldn’t believe it, the way she explored him so delicately.

She ignored his cock for a while, kissing and sucking at any and all the visible skin she could find. He felt her smile against his thigh then, getting closer and closer before she took his cock in her hand and kissed the base.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, settling into the bed like water filling a glass, he was liquid in her hands. Her mouth was a blessing and she chose him to worship.

“Fuck,” he moaned as she took all of him as far as she could. Dragging her tongue along the shaft as she pulled back up. Swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him all the way in once more.

She pulled off with a pop, sitting up now with his dick still in her hands. She tore the condom open with her teeth, taking the package off and rolling it over him.

His dick bounced back against his stomach when she let go of it, hard enough that it had a mind of its own now. She bit her lip as she lifted herself over him more, setting herself down softly where it laid against him.

The head of his cock brushed her clit as she ground down on him, his hands found her hips once more as he instinctively helped her find a rhythm.

He could feel how wet she was, the way she glided over him so easily. Her breath hitching every time her hips bucked, she was enjoying herself. It made him even more excited. She leaned back down then, kissing his neck once more as she continued to push down on him.

“I need you,” Spencer gasped.

She smiled against his skin, lifting her hips enough for him to line up with her before she started to sink down on it. He watched himself disappear inside of her, feeling the way she took him in like he was always meant to be there.

“Fuck,” she gasped as she sat down fully, her hands resting on Spencer’s stomach as she tried to get used to it all. Listing herself up and down little by little to get the rhythm going again.

Spencer pulled her back in again, arching her back so she could bounce easier. She held him close, tucking her face into the crook of his neck as she started to move faster and faster on him. Hearing his breathing pick up as his grip tightened on her asscheeks.

She kept one hand in his hair as her other hand reached for her clit, pleasuring herself slightly the way she knew she liked it. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered against his skin as she fucked him.

It had never felt like this before, it was so personal for the first time. They worked together perfectly, not having to communicate at all, following the other person’s rhythm like a well-oiled machine with a task.

He felt her everywhere. Her hands in his hair, her lips on his neck. The way her hot breath tickled right under his ear as she tried to catch her breath against him. The way she pulled off him and sucked him back in, again and again, her breasts against his chest and her ass in his hands.

He couldn’t believe it. That a real human being cared about and appreciated him, even after learning his worst secret. She was special and different and everything he needed.

He could feel himself getting closer, wanting to savour every moment with her that he could. His hands roamed her back, over her shoulders and arms. He wanted to touch every single inch of her while he had the chance.

“I’m so close,” she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek and resting her open mouth against his.

They weren’t kissing, they were panting over each other with their foreheads resting together. Euphoria filling the empty spaces between them as she came, gasping and shaking violently over him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, bending his knees and driving into her a few more times before he finished.

She tugged on his hair then, biting his bottom lip as she felt him twitch inside of her. Letting out the smallest gasps and whimpers as she pulled her hand out from between them and pushed herself off him.

Dropping her body against his, resting her head on his chest as they caught their breath.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a hug as he repeatedly kissed the top of her head. “Thank you,” he was still out of breath as he said it.

She smiled, laughing against his skin again as she hugged him back.

—

He woke up to the sun in his eyes and the feeling of lips against his skin. He blinked as gained consciousness, finding Y/N laying against his chest again. Her face in his heck where she was placing lazy kisses, trying to wake him up nicely.

“Good morning?” His voice was groggy and deep, it made her smile against his skin. A feeling he didn’t realize he missed so much during the night.

“What time is your flight back?”

“10:30, why?” He asked softly, rubbing his hand over her back softly.

She held him tighter, breathing him in deeply as she did so. Not wanting to let him go any time soon, “it’s 9:45.”

“Is it bad I’m hoping there’s a secret serial killer in Albuquerque?”

She laughed again, sitting up this time so she could look at him again. “Maybe I’ll come to visit my parents soon a find a reason to stay in Virginia?”

“I’d like that,” he smiled, pulling her into a kiss. Never wanting it to be the last one.

He waited till the last possible moment to finally peel himself out of her grasp, trying to find all his clothes and belongings from the night before

He kissed her quickly at the door before taking off down the steps and back to the room he was supposed to be sharing with JJ. He knocked on their door lightly, hoping to every god on earth she hadn’t left yet.

She opened the door and just stared at him with her mouth open, “oh my god?” She laughed.

“What?” He asked, completely oblivious to how he looked.

JJ dragged him inside, pulling him towards a mirror and pointing at his reflection. “What happened to you?”

His hair was a mess, he had hickeys all over his neck. His shirt was barely buttoned, definitely not untucked and he didn’t even have his shoes on. “oh.”

“Oh?” JJ couldn’t believe it. “Who is she?”

“Um, the ME from this case,” he explained, scratching the back of his head as he squinted.

JJ just laughed then, “hurry up and look somewhat presentable, pretty boy, the team is going to eat you alive for this.”

Sure enough, when he finally sat in his little corner of the plane with his glasses on and a hickey still visible above his collar, all eyes were on him. No one wanted to ask, they all just made it abundantly clear that they were curious.

Alvez even took a photo to send to Penelope, who sent it to Derek, who texted Reid only 20 minutes into the flight asking who she was. He rolled his eyes and put his phone back in his pocket. About to get really pissed when a second text came in.

555-0623: if you’re still serious about that recommendation, there is a spot available at the DC medical examiner’s office… I’d probably be closer to you than your therapist’s office 💋

He smiled then, saving her number and starting his letter.

[tenshinokorin]

Diluc’s Letters

because I’m insane, I hand-transcribed all of Diluc’s winery letters in his current outfit event. It was mostly to keep Kaeya’s letters, but I also got the ones from everyone else, which includes my guesses at the authors. (I’m still pretty new to GI having only been playing a couple of months, so there may be errors there.) This is mostly only for my own ficwriting records, but if you find it handy and wanted to do a nice back for me, please feel free to add me as a GI friend, since I don’t have any yet. ^^; My UID is 617026092.)

DILUC'S LETTERS

A letter with Rough Handwriting (Grand Master Varka) 

Diluc, 

Jean wrote to me lately with shocking news. If I don't miss my guess, she wrote to you too. Her sentiments are those of the Knights as a whole. Crepus was a good man, and I thought very well of him. It grieves me greatly to know that he met with such a fate. As for the defeat of the drake, the honors for that accomplishment should go to your father. I do not accept Eroch's theft of the credit for that deed, which was bought with your father's sacrifice. Stolen credit will not be accepted within the Knights of Favonius under any circumstances. I will not permit it. I have already given Jean the authority to punish Eroch with all necessary severity. The Knights will inform you of the results. I've heard that you've been taking some time off outdoors and may not be easy to reach, so there is no guarantee that my letter will reach you. As such, I'll stop here for now. If it does reach you, then I wish you good health and safety in your travels. Contact us if you need anything. I hope that falcon of yours will help put this letter in your hands. I mean, I don't write in person very often, you know? These may seem like pointless words to you right now, but remember: even the greatest of disasters must come to an end. Mondstadt waits for your return, and if you're willing, the Knights will always welcome you. (If you're not, forget I said anything, yeah?) 

A TIDILY WRITTEN LETTER (Alice) 

To the heir of the Ragnvindr Clan, 

I apologize for sending this letter without notice. You may not remember me, but we've met a few times. We've met near the square, when I sat at the table adjacent to yours at the Good Hunter, and I've seen you in your tavern... You were always busy with a great many things, especially back when you were much chattier than you are now. You spoke cheerfully and often with your brother and friends then. It's probably no surprise that you did not notice me then. But I've always had my eye on you, child. I recall with crystal clarity how my little Klee once made a complete mess of your vinyard while she was trying to catch crystalflies there... But you didn't get angry. In fact, you personally escorted Klee back and even gave her a few bottles of fresh grape juice. Now I think that might jog your memory, yes? Klee recently told me she "Hasn't seen that strange man with the red hair in aaages," so I decided to look into it out of curiosity. My deepest condolences regarding your father. In many of the stories I've been told, you are the model knight: proud, driven, a knight of noble character and lineage. But I know that you're gentler than you appear. If you weren't, you wouldn't have treated Klee the way you did. And since you helped my child out, I hope you won't mind if I treat you as if you were my own. Therefore, I sincerely hope that you will leave the dark place that you are presently in, and that you will not wallow in grief and remorse. Partings are most painful things, but they also encourage us to grow. A bird that has lost the roof over its head will fly further than others of its kind. Go out and see the world. That's the best course of action I can envision. Only by feeling, observing, and listening can your heart be healed. Parents all wish that they can accompany their children forever, and the skies seas, and stars bear witness to that oath. Everything that was your father now finds new life with you. That which you will experience in this world may have been things that your father experienced once upon a time. I hope that the wind will bring you all manner of wondrous things in your journeys to come. In any case, keep your chin up, young child. 

A LETTER WITH CLEAR HANDWRITING (winery dude)

Master, 

Master Kaeya took leave and stayed at Dawn Winery for a few days. In a rare turn of events, he decided to stay in his original bedroom. He would pace about the grounds when idle, and even asked Adelinde to make him his favorite dishes. Ah, it really does take me back. I shall be honest with you, but I was quite surprised to hear Master Kaeya say that he wanted to stay for a few days. We did not refuse him, however. We believe that even if you were here, you would not refuse him outright. Dawn Winery has always been a more quiet location, perhaps because all who stay here are rather peaceable people. The house is made by those who live in it, and Master Kaeya's uncommon arrival did end up livening the place up significantly. I hope that you are doing well in your travels abroad. Everyone here at the winery misses you. May you remain safe and in good health. 

A LETTER WITH ELEGANT HANDWRITING (Jean?) 

Dear Diluc, 

Welcome back to Mondstatdt, sir. It has been some time since the incident. We discovered that Eroch had betrayed us, and he has been punished severely. I hope that this news will put your mind at ease. In other news, our people have discovered that the Abyss Order has stepped up its activities between Wolvendom and Stone Gate lately. Also -- a mysterious individual that people are calling the "Darknight Hero" has suddenly started showing up out of nowhere all around Mondstadt City. He typically actis in the dead of night, and his intentions are currently unclear. Please stay safe, and notify the Knights as soon as possible should you see anything suspicious. We will send support immediately. Whether you are presently in our ranks or not, all faithful Knights will remember your contributions to the Knights of Favonius. May you remain in good health. 

A NEATLY WRITTEN LETTER (Albedo?) 

Dear Mr. Diluc, 

It is my pleasure to investigate the ley lines alongside you. As you know, my focus is on alchemy, so my knowledge of the ley lines remains quite shallow, and I fear that I will only be able to share what little understanding I have. According to many pre-existing documents, the ley lines can be seen as a medium for storing information. Under certain circumstances, they can record activities that occur in the area around them. All this information goes through a recording and storage process. After a certain period of time, they may be released once again by the ley lines. If I may be so bold as to make a guess, there should be a method to activate the ley lines. Those who grasp such methods can control the times at which ley line information is recorded and released. Judging from the runic symbols and some other clues, I surmise that there are particular members of the Abyss Order who may have a very small chance of being able to achieve this. If you believe that his requires further investigation, these entities may serve as your point of entry. I wrote a paper a few years ago in which I covered my brief foray inro questions concerning the flow of ley lines and other such topics. You will find a copy of this paper enclosed. I hope that it can help to clear up some of your doubts. 

A NEW LETTER (Informant?)

Dear Darknight Hero, the Knights of Favonius have stepped up the guard details throughout Mondstadt without making any major movements. The Abyss Order will not have noticed. I am scouting around Dragonspine. The monsters here are scattered and separated. Clearly, they haven't been assembled by the Abyss Order. There are no signs of enemy activity in the south of Mondstadt either. If you can confirm that the other locations are also free of monsters, we will be able to conclude that the Abyss Order has nothing to do with the recent ley line disorder. 

* * * 

KAEYA'S LETTERS

(A Letter in Beautiful Handwriting) 

I. 

To D: 

A storm is brewing within the Knights of Favonius. Varka's inner circle is preparing to investigate Eroch and his henchmen, and it's looking increasingly likely that Eroch is about to get unseated from that high horse of his. You might not be too pleased to see this letter of mine, but I mean to get this news to you as soon as possible. You don't have to reply. 

II.

To D: 

Even I was a little surprised to hear that you'd decided to leave on a trip. Jean wanted to write and try to dissuade you, but I advised her against it. As for Varka, I don't think he knows that about this. Otherwise, he'd have probably sat you down for a talk. If you'd like to leave, do it now. The less the people know, the less the goodbyes you'll have to say. Leave at night, too, so things won't be too saddening. Take care. 

III. 

To D: 

Some slightly bad news. Eroch won't be quite so difficult [should be 'easy'? Is this an error?] to bring down after all. The Grand Master's order to investigate has certainly dealt him a major blow, but I wouldn't call the problem "pulled up by the roots' yet. The matter's been handed over to Jean's jurisdiction. She'll take care of this, I believe. Eroch is an obstacle in her path, in any case. Just sit tight and wait for the good news. 

IV. 

To D: 

Recently, a group of businessmen returned to Mondstadt. Word is that the reason for their return is a downturn in business. According to my observations, their employees are regulars at Angel's Share. These people can also be found out in the more dangerous parts of the wilds around the city. Now, a few of them were a little careless and even dropped some pages of their notes on the ground. I took the liberty of returning these sheets to Angel's Share. You know, out the goodness of my heart. I think they might have something to do with you, seeing as how they were there. I also noticed that their notes were written in code. Information brokers, perhaps? Or some kind of secret organization? Whatever the case, it took quite a lot of effort to see those blurred words with only one eye, you know? Don't worry, I'll keep this a secret. 

V. 

To D:

I didn't try to hide it from you on purpose, you know. But I suppose you found out all the same, huh? I mean, not everyone who wears an eyepatch must be blind, right? Don't people also wear an eyepatch if they have a scar over their right eye? 

The long-awaited good news is finally here. Now, I'm going to bring a glass of wine when I go to watch Eroch pack his things and leave on his last day (good riddance, by the way). That should be fun, eh? I know you're not the type to do that sort of thing, but I am, so allow me. 

VI. 

To D: 

Oh my! No sooner did you get back than a mysterious character started popping up. I hear he's called the Darknight Hero. He has repeatedly fought off Treasure Hoarders and monsters in the Mondstadt area -- and he'd even attacked Abyss Order strongholds. So far, it seems like he's on Mondstadt's side, but the Knights of Favonius could never permit the existence of a vigilante. I get the feeling the two of you would get along nicely. Why don't you find an opportunity to get to know him and give him some sage advice? You know, just so he doesn't get caught by the Knights? 

VII. 

To D: 

Per standard procedure, the Knights of Favonius need to take a statement from all relevant parties. Recently, the Knights of Favonius have received reports from a number of eye-witnesses claiming to have seen the Darknight Hero in the vicinity of the Dawn Winery. The Grand Master has assigned the Cavalry Company to this mission. As such, I will be paying you a visit in three days. He seems to think our relationship can be improved if we are forced to talk in person. Don't worry, though. My lips are sealed. This will be nothing more than a formality. Anyway, three days' notice should be enough for you, I presume? 

VIII.

To D:

The appearance of the Darknight Hero has indeed brought the Knights of Favonius some valuable time during the Abyss Order's last attack. This helped Jean convince the Knights of Favonius to stop focusing on trying to stop him. This will decrease the limits on the Darknight Hero's actions, but this doesn't mean his situation will necessarily improve. Objects with too honed an edge tend to be damaged more easily. You, I'm sure, are aware of the great dangers that come with acting alone. That said, I would advise against such a course of action. 

IX. 

To D: 

I heard that the Dawn Winery did not suffer any damage. Likewise, the Knights of Favonius only sustained minor injuries, and will recover quickly. However, an employee of a local merchant has gone missing, and their last known location just so happens to align with the Abyss Order's area of activity. The Knights have dispatched people to go to the rescue. Do be aware that the Abyss Order has become more dangerous of late, even going so far as to organize multi-pronged offensives. Perhaps the Knights of Favonius and the Darknight Hero should team up. That might guarantee that things will go off without a hitch, hmm?

[bluemoonfantasiesiii]

All Letters from Hidden Strife + my observations on them

A Letter with Rough Handwriting (Varka)

“Diluc,

Jean wrote to me lately with shocking news. If I don’t miss my guess, she wrote to you, too. Her sentiments are those of the Knights as a whole. Crepus was a good man, and I thought very well of him. It grieves me greatly to know that he met with such a fate. As for the defeat of the drake, the honors for that accomplishment should go to your father. I do not accept Eroch’s theft of the credit for that deed, which was bought with your father’s sacrifice. Stolen credit will not be accepted within the Knights of Favonius under any circumstances. I will not permit it.

I have already given Jean the authority to punish Eroch with all necessary severity. The Knights will inform you of the results. I’ve heard that you’ve been taking some time off outdoors and may not be easy to reach, so there is no guarantee that my letter will reach you. As such, I’ll stop here for now. If it does reach you, then I wish you good health and safety in your travels. Contact us if you need anything. I hope that falcon of yours will help put this letter in your hands. I don’t write in person very often, you know? These may seem like pointless words to you right now, but remember: even the greatest of disasters must come to an end. Mondstadt waits for your return, and if you’re willing, the Knights will always welcome you. (If you’re not, forget I said anything, yeah?)”

Diluc’s Response

“Dear Master Varka,

You have my utmost thanks for your condolences and concern. My father would be pleased to have heard your compliments. I doubt that anything would have pleased him more than to have the acknowledgement of the Knight of Boreas. I am presently traveling, and by a stroke of fortune, your letter has indeed reached me safely. If nothing goes awry, I believe that I will not be joining the Knights of Favonius. However, I will not forget my previous experiences. I will commit everything the Knights taught me to heart. May this find you in good health.”

A Tidily Written Letter (Alice)

“To the heir of the Ragnvindr Clan,

I apologize for sending this letter without notice. You may not remember me, but we’ve met a few times. We’ve met near the square, when I sat at the table adjacent to yours at the Good Hunter, and I’ve seen you in your tavern… You were always busy with a great many things, especially back when you were much chattier than you are now. You spoke cheerfully and often with your brother and friends then. It’s probably no surprise that you did not notice me then. But I’ve always had my eye on you, child.

I recall with crystal clarity how my little Klee once made a complete mess of your vineyard while she was trying to catch Crystalflies there… But you didn’t get angry. In fact, you personally escorted Klee back and even gave her a few bottles of fresh grape juice. Now I think that might jog your memory, yes? Klee recently told me that she ‘hasn’t seen that strange man with the red hair in aaages,’ so I decided to look into it out of curiosity.

My deepest condolences regarding your father. In many of the stories I’ve been told, you are the model knight: proud, driven, a knight of noble character and lineage. But I know that you’re gentler than you appear. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have treated Klee the way you did. And since you helped my child out, I hope you won’t mind if I treat you as if you were my own. Therefore, I sincerely hope that you will leave the dark place that you are presently in, and that you will not wallow in grief and remorse. Partings are most painful things, but they also encourage us to grow. A bird that has lost the roof over its head will fly further than others of its kind.

Go out and see the world. That’s the best course of action I can envision. Only by feeling, observing, and listening can your heart be healed. Parents all wish that they can accompany their children forever, and the skies, seas, and stars bear witness to that oath. Everything that was your father now finds new life with you. That which you will experience in this world may have been the things that your father experienced once upon a time. I hope that the wind will bring you all manner of wondrous things in your journeys to come. In any case, keep your chin up, young child.”

Diluc’s Response

“Dear Ms. Alice,

I must admit that when I read the opening lines of this letter, I was not expecting it to have been written by you. It seems that I may have indeed failed to notice you despite your presence nearby. My apologies for that. Regarding Klee, I have heard that you are an extremely powerful witch, so I suspect that Klee would have been just fine even sans my presence. Even so, you sent me this letter, for which I am thankful. As you have said, traveling is my best option at present. I will go out and experience all that the world has to offer, just as you have suggested. My father’s will shall find continuation through me. Klee is welcome to stay at Dawn Winery as a guest during my absence. Adelinde will prepare sufficient snacks and grape juice for such occasions. And if you don’t mind, you are also welcome to drop by. I hope you and Klee stay in good health.”

GODDAMMIT ALICE DID YOU HAVE TO WRITE A FUCKING NOVEL?! Anyway, uh… I think Alice accidentally inspired Diluc to go to Snezhnaya. Oh sure, Alice, he’ll go see the world. And get himself banned from a whole-ass country for going on a Fatui murder spree. Also, does she just hear about people in Mond who recently lost their parents and go “Mine now”? First Albedo, now Diluc.

A Letter with Clear Handwriting (servant; exact identity unknown)

“Master,

Master Kaeya took leave and stayed at Dawn Winery for a few days. In a rare turn of events, he decided to stay in his original bedroom. He would pace about the grounds when idle, and even asked Adelinde to make him his favorite dishes. Ah, it really does take me back. I shall be honest with you, but I was quite surprised to hear Master Kaeya say he wanted to stay for a few days. We did not refuse him, however. We believe that even if you were here, you would not refuse him outright. Dawn Winery has always been a more quiet location, perhaps because all who stay here are rather peaceable people. The house is made by those who live in it, and Master Kaeya’s uncommon arrival did end up livening the place up significantly. I hope that you are doing well in your travels abroad. Everyone here at the winery misses you. May you remain safe and in good health.”

A Letter with Elegant Handwriting (Jean)

“Dear Diluc,

Welcome back to Mondstadt, Sir. It has been some time since the incident. We discovered that Eroch had betrayed us, and he has been punished severely. I hope that this news will put your mind at ease. In other news, our people have discovered that the Abyss Order has stepped up its activities between Wolvendom and Stone Gate lately. Also — a mysterious individual that people are calling the ‘Darknight Hero’ has suddenly started showing up out of nowhere all around Mondstadt City. He typically acts in the dead of night, and his intentions are currently unclear. Please stay safe, and notify the Knights as soon as possible should you see anything suspicious. We will send support immediately. Whether you are currently in our ranks or not, all faithful knights will remember your contributions to the Knights of Favonius. May you remain in good health.”

Diluc’s Response

“Dear Jean,

Thank you for your concern, Acting Grand Master. It is as you say. That incident should no longer weigh heavily on my mind. Punishing Eroch for his malfeasance was the right way to correct the Knights of Favonius’s past mistakes. This is an important step indeed for the Knights. As for my own personal safety, you need not concern yourself too much. The Knights of Favonius should focus their effort where it counts by looking after those who need it most. May you also remain in good health.”

A Neatly Written Letter (Albedo)

“Dear Mr. Diluc,

It is my pleasure to investigate the ley lines alongside you. As you know, my focus is on alchemy, so my knowledge of the ley lines remains quite shallow, and I fear that I will only be able to share what little understanding I have. According to many pre-existing documents, the ley lines can be seen as a medium for storing information. Under certain circumstances, they can record activities that occur in the area around them. All this information goes through a recording and storage process. After a certain period of time, they may be released once again by the ley lines.

If I may be so bold as to make a guess, there should be a method to activate the ley lines. Those who grasp such methods can control the times at which ley line information is recorded and released. Judging from the runic symbols and some other clues, I surmise that there are particular members of the Abyss Order who may have a very small chance of being able to achieve this. If you believe that this requires further investigation, these entities may serve as your point of entry. I wrote a paper a few years ago in which I covered my brief foray into questions concerning the flow of the ley lines and other such topics. You will find a copy of this paper enclosed. I hope that it can help clear up some of your doubts.”

Diluc’s Response

“Dear Albedo,

Thank you for the detailed explanation. I have read your paper and found it both enriching and easy to understand. It is a rare and well-written document indeed. I have written the relevant information down in hopes that it will be put to good use in the future. Guarding against danger is a very important skill. I will continue to keep watching over the Abyss Order, and use force against them where necessary.”

Albedo, honey, please stop downplaying your intelligence. I know Rhinedottir didn’t do your self-esteem any justice, but have a bit more confidence in yourself.

Informant (exact identity unknown)

“Dear Darknight Hero, the Knights of Favonius have stepped up the guard details throughout Mondstadt without making any major movements. The Abyss Order will not have noticed. I am scouting around Dragonspine. The monsters here are scattered and separated. Clearly, they haven’t been assembled by the Abyss Order. There are no signs of enemy activity in the south of Mondstadt either. If you can confirm that the other locations are also free of monsters, we will be able to conclude that the Abyss Order has nothing to do with the recent ley line disorder.”

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. It’s KAEYA’S SECTION!

Letters with Beautiful Handwriting (Kaeya)

I

“To D:

A storm is brewing within the Knights of Favonius. Varka’s inner circle is preparing to investigate Eroch and his henchmen, and it’s looking increasingly likely that Eroch is about to get unseated from that high horse of his. You might not be pleased to see this letter of mine, but I mean to get this news to you as soon as possible. You don’t have to reply.”

II

“To D:

Even I was a little surprised to hear that you’d decided to leave on a trip. Jean wanted to write and try to dissuade you, but I advised her against it. As for Varka, I don’t think he knows that about this. Otherwise, he’d have probably sat you down for a talk. If you’d like to leave, do it now. The less people know, the less goodbyes you’ll have to say. Leave at night, too, so things won’t be too saddening. Take care.”

III

“To D:

Some slightly bad news. Eroch won’t be quite so difficult to bring down after all. The Grand Master’s orders to investigate has certainly dealt him a major blow, but I wouldn’t call the problem ‘pulled up by the roots’ yet. The matter’s been handed over to Jean’s jurisdiction. She’ll take care of this, I believe. Eroch is an obstacle in her path, in any case. Just sit tight and wait for the good news.”

IV

“To D:

Recently, a group of businessmen returned to Mondstadt. Word is that the reason for their return is a downturn in business. According to my observations, their employees are regulars at Angel’s Share. These people can also be found out in the more dangerous parts of the wilds around the city. Now, a few of them were a little careless and even dropped some pages of their notes on the ground. I took the liberty of returning these sheets to the Angel’s Share. You know, out of the goodness of my heart. I think they might have something to do with you, seeing as how they were there. I also noticed that their notes were written in code. Information brokers, perhaps? Or some kind of secret organization? Whatever the case, it took quite a lot of effort to see those blurred words with one eye, you know? Dont worry. I’ll keep this a secret.”

Diluc’s Response (To “K” I)

“To K:

Message received. Thank you. Also, I suggest that you stop mentioning your eyes in your letters. Don’t think I don’t know your right eye wasn’t blinded.”

V

“To D:

I didn’t try to hide it from you on purpose, you know. But I suppose you found out all the same, huh? I mean, not everyone who wears an eyepatch must be blind, right? Don’t people also wear an eyepatch if they have a scar over their right eye? The long-awaited good news is finally here. Now, I’m going to bring a glass of wine when I go to watch Eroch pack his things and leave on his last day (good riddance, by the way). That should be fun, eh? I know you’re not the type to do this sort of thing, but I am, so allow me.”

VI

“To D:

Oh my! No sooner did you get back than a mysterious character started popping up. I hear he’s called the Darknight Hero. He has repeatedly fought off Treasure Hoarders and monsters in the Mondstadt area — and he’s even attacked Abyss Order strongholds. So far, it seems li he’s on Mondstadt’s side, but the Knights of Favonius could never permit the existence of a vigilante. I get the feeling that the two of you would get along nicely. Why don’t you find an opportunity to get to know him and give him some sage advice? You know, just so he doesn’t get caught by the Knights?”

VII

“To D:

Per standard procedure, the Knights of Favonius needs to take a statement from all relevant parties. Recently, the Knights of Favonius have received reports from a number of eye-witnesses claiming to have seen the Darknight Hero in the vicinity of the Dawn Winery. The Grand Master has assigned the Cavalry Company to this mission. As such, I will be paying you a visit in three days. He seems to think that our relationship can be improved if we are forced to talk in person. Don’t worry, though. My lips are sealed. This will be nothing more than a formality. Anyway, three days’ notice should be enough for you, I presume?”

VIII

“To D:

The appearance of the Darknight Hero has indeed bought the Knights of Favonius some valuable time during the Abyss Order’s last attack. This helped Jean convince the Knights of Favonius to stop focusing on trying to stop him. This will decrease the limits on the Darknight Hero’s actions, but this doesn’t mean that his situation will necessarily improve. Objects with too honed an edge tend to be damaged more easily. You, I’m sure, are aware of the great dangers that come with acting alone. That said, I would advise against such a course of action.”

IX

“To D:

I heard that Dawn Winery did not suffer any damage. Likewise, the Knights of Favonius only sustained minor injuries, and will recover quickly. However, an employee of a local merchant has gone missing, and their last known location just so happens to align with the Abyss Order’s area of activity. The Knights have dispatched people to go to the rescue. Do be aware that the Abyss Order has become more dangerous as of late, even going so far as to organize multi-pronged offensives. Perhaps the Darknight Hero and the Knights of Favonius should team up. That might guarantee that things will go off without a hitch, hmm?”

Diluc’s Response (To “K” II)

“To K:

Thanks for the letter. Cooperating with the Knights has objective pros and cons like two sides of a coin. I’m sure you understand that better than I do. No need to worry about my safety. Self-preservation is easy. Striving towards my goal is hard. Take better care of yourself instead.”

This is probably the best display of just how similar yet different these two are. Kaeya is very wordy, and his natural playfulness bleeds heavily into his writing, whereas Diluc is curt and direct, but they’re both sending the same message: “I know what I’m doing. I’ll be fine. Worry about yourself more.” And honestly, I think that’s really sweet.

The Box on Top of the KoF HQ

Singed Paper

“Remember always that the Alberich Clan, who did not have royal blood, who stepped in as regents when the strength of the one-eyed king Irmin failed. Though we could not restore Khaenri’ah to life, we of the Alberich Clan should lead lives as those who blaze like fire, rather than those who wallow in the embers.”

KHAENRI’AH LORE!! *ahem* Okay, so the implication with this passage is that Kaeya’s birth father helped him write it when he was a child. And the Khaenri’ahn Prince Kaeya theory is now disproven. However, it seems like his family did hold power at some point as regents.

On the other side of this paper

“I saved this one memento from the fire ‘Father’ made while he wasn’t paying attention. This was in violation of our principles. Our clan’s affairs should never be recorded. For me, this sheet of paper cannot serve as any form of identification, and it will not give me passage anywhere. Now that I look at it, his handwriting was as grieving as a smoking ash pile. There is no way that I can write something like that, living in Mondstadt as I am.”

The implication here is that an older Kaeya added these notes after saving the paper from a fire accidentally started by his birth father and that even if Kaeya were to present this to a Khaenria’ahn, it wouldn’t grant him entry into whatever remains of the nation as it’s not valid proof that he himself is Khaenri’ahn.

Also interesting is the quotation marks around “Father” implying that Kaeya doesn’t actually consider his birth father his real father.

At this point, the dialogue box tells us that in the box where this paper was found, there’s also an old eyepatch and a sticker.

Sticker

“Ha! To think that all that play-acting as a one-eyed pirate would eventually end with one actual wounded eye. I have never blamed Diluc for that. I suppose I must have been asking for it, telling him the truth the day my adoptive father died without expecting conflict to emerge somehow. He seems to believe that I really was blinded, though that’s not the case. Well, I’ve already fooled him for a while, haven’t I? Might as well keep going.”

So this actually disproves the popular interpretation that Kaeya told Diluc the truth of his birth the night Crepus died because he wanted Diluc to kill him. The truth is, he genuinely didn’t think Diluc would react so violently. I think Kaeya coming clean about being Khaenria’ahn was his own trauma response to losing Crepus. While he may not have seen Crepus as his father, he still cared about him deeply.

Anyway, I’ve already put the two letters from Diluc in their appropriate spots in the Beautiful Handwriting section. After reading everything inside the box, we find some dull seashells inside a small bag, harkening back to the conch recording of Kaeya reminiscing with Diluc about how they used to collect seashells together in the first Archipelago event.