#these days she's a private detective

[silverselfshippingchaos]

d.ate being famous because of the first game and constantly being like "what the actual fuck" about it is so funny to me lmao

[edwinisms]

see I can’t accept charles’ comic background and socioeconomic status as canon for the show because if I did that would mean the whole group would be a bunch of rich kids and that’s a horrifying concept

[frog-in-a-dew]

A detective trying to uncover just what exactly is going on and where did all these magical girls come from VS his niece and her group of trouble making friends who are a tad bit too obsessed with an old cartoon for their own good, following him around like ducklings

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Hi urgent question, what does it mean when the friend that left you five years ago remakes the playlist she made you for your eighteenth birthday with the description, "For all that which I needed to leave behind. Tall tales (which was the name of the playlist she made for your birthday), great mistakes, and the time of my life." And another playlist with the description, "My life as it is! Taller tales than ever before." And posts them both to the Spotify she knows you can see? What does it mean? Hello what does this mean??!? I need someone to please present the correct answer because I don't know what to think or feel but I can't stop looking at the playlists and crying, and I'm at work so that's not great, so I just need an answer please.

[spaghett-onaplate]

i'm perusing court listings and the very first case i looked into is multimillion dollar fraud 😭 they can't all be this interesting surely

[shomatoriashi]

12/03/24: 04:45pm

lovesick!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

notes: loosely based on the hallmark movie drew gooden was watching and reviewing titled timeless love.

warnings: unedited; canon divergent to fit with this oneshot's storyline; potentially ooc; dark content; obsessive behavior; read at your own caution.

alternate title: your heart belongs to me.

sunlight streams through the open windows, painting the bedroom in brilliant hues of gold. dawn had long since morphed into morning, rousing a once sleeping couple back to consciousness.

the husband was the first to awaken, stretching out his limbs as a yawn escapes from his parted lips. wiping the sleep from his eyes, he trails his stormy grey eyes toward the form settled achingly close to him.

pulling down the comforter, he reveals your sleeping figure with your head buried within his chest. letting out a grunt of approval, he gently delves his fingers into your hair, massaging at your scalp, already grinning the moment you began to awaken.

he was the first to notice the smile that was beginning to spread across your features, basking in your sleepy giggles when he continues massaging at your scalp. "h-hey, if you keep doing that, i'll end up spending the whole day in bed."

jinwoo simply lets out a rich chuckle in response, allowing the tip of his nose to nuzzle against yours, eyes filled with adoration for you, "well, maybe that's what i want to do... keep you here in bed with me for the rest of the day-"

he stops speaking, eyes now turning affectionate at the pitter patter of footsteps quickly approaching your shared bedroom. already accustomed to such sounds, you sit up in bed, already anticipating their arrival when your kids, min-jun and sera, rush into your room.

hearing his children's laughter fills his chest with joy, allowing his son and daughter to jump on his bed, eyes already regarding the way his kids cling to their mother. he rests his cheek against the palm of his hand, admiring the way you pressed kisses against both of their tiny cheeks.

"hey, you guys are making me jealous over here."

sera was the first to move away from you, grey eyes lighting up when she suddenly lunges at him, "papa!"

welcoming his little girl in his embrace, he gives her a series of kisses as well, only stopping when min-jun comes closer to him as well, "dad, i'm getting hungry, can you make breakfast?" sera's eyes light up at the thought of having breakfast soon, with her nodding her head in agreement to her brother's words.

"well, who am i to deny my children's needs?" jinwoo was grinning down at his kids, "how's this for a plan: why don't you and your little sister brush your teeth and wash your face while your mother and i prepare breakfast?"

"yay!" both of his kids immediately rush away from him, giving him a private moment with you. just as you got out of bed, jinwoo wraps his arms around your waist, managing to capture your lips in a sweet kiss while basking in your soft giggles.

"behave, i need to take a shower real quick, then i'll join you in the kitchen." letting out a groan of your name, jinwoo allows you to escape from his loose embrace, not moving from his spot in bed until you disappear into your shared bathroom and locked it.

running a hand through his hair, making them even messier while letting out a yawn. he gets out of bed, remaking it as he places the sheets and comforter in place, adding the finishing touches by fluffing up the pillows and settling them against the headboard.

making his way towards the kitchen, he makes sure to make a fresh batch of cooked rice before making the rest of his side dishes ranging from his famous omelettes with sausages and a side of kimchi. with the table all set, jinwoo calls out to his beloved family.

"min-jun, sera! breakfast is ready!"

he strains his ears, trying to detect any sounds of pounding footsteps. yet... when all he hears was dead silence, concern began coursing through his veins. rushing out of the kitchen, he calls out their names again, voice cracking when he cries out to you-

only to receive the same, deafening silence in response.

the room was felt spinning around him, making him stumble before falling to his knees. his eyes look straight into the digital clock settled in front of him, the time reading 0800 as an incessant beeping sound breaks jinwoo out of his reveries-

"BOSS!!"

sung jinwoo wakes up with a start, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his heart pounding in tune to the heart monitor his body was connected to. no tubes or wires covered his mouth as jinwoo takes in a deep breath to help with steadying his heart.

"boss, are you okay?! you've been out of it for a while now! i was so worried about you-" from beside him, jinho continues on with his concerned rambles as he looks away from him to see the familiar blue screen of the system:

[ player sung jinwoo's slumber has lasted for 21 days and 8 hours... ]

"where's min-jun and sera?" jinwoo asks in a hoarse tone, making jinho furrow his brows at him. "what? who are they?"

"tch, they're my kids." jinwoo was glaring at jinho, as if silently scolding him for his ignorance. "and my wife-" yet the moment he says your name, jinho's expression remains confused.

"boss, i hate to break it to you, but- you're not married at all. you've been single the whole time that i've known you."

"that's-" yet jinwoo's words were cut off the moment a nurse enters his room. she sees him sitting up in bed while pressing down on her communication device, "dr. choi, patient sung jinwoo has just awakened, come to unit d501, quick!"

jinho was immediately rushed out of the room, and the young hunter finds himself surrounded by a plethora of medical staff-

without a single sign of you in sight.

{ ... }

the weeks pass by in a blur, with his sister helping him back home. she keeps a steady hand behind his back, rubbing comforting circles behind his back, "oppa, are you alright?"

lifeless grey eyes meet with his sister's concerned gaze, making him force a smile as he gently ruffles her hair. "yeah, i'm alright."

he continues the trek back to his and jinah's shared apartment, thinking back on the events that had happened so far (according to jinho's recollection).

apparently, they had entered a dungeon together, and jinho had simply witnessed him taking on hundreds of enemies. jinwoo vaguely recalls how the system had ordered him to take out at least a hundred enemies within the span of an hour and how he had fought tirelessly against them with a single dagger-

only to feel something sharp pierce him at the back of his head, successfully rendering him unconscious.

that single attack was enough to knock jinwoo out for a total of three weeks-

within the span of those three weeks, he had dreamt of living a blissful and happy life with you-

but now that he was awake, he had long since lost such feelings of happiness.

"you know..." jinah's voice breaks him out of his momentary reveries, "jinho told me what happened, and he said that you... you wished to see your kids-"

"i'd rather not talk about it." jinwoo grits his teeth in response, hurriedly pulling up the hood of his jacket to help with hiding his expression from his sister. it wasn't like he wanted to remain so closed off from jinah-

it was the sheer fact that acknowledging how it was never real put an even deeper hole within his chest.

detecting the pain in his voice, jinah simply nods, walking beside her brother while softly sighing to herself. somehow, she knew that whatever jinwoo had went through truly took a toll on not only his mental health-

but his heart as well.

{ ... }

jinwoo felt guilty for remaining so closed off with his sister that he decided to cook her favorite meal later that night. while eating, he saw his sister trembling in her seat, eyes filling with tears before admitting to him, "w-when i saw you sleeping so deeply, like you were trapped in a glass coffin, i was so afraid that i would lose you- just like with mom a-and dad."

his heart twists even further upon hearing her admission, making jinwoo stand from his seat. he takes jinah's trembling form within his embrace, delving his fingers into her hair, "ssssh, i won't ever leave you... and i'm so sorry for making you wait for so long."

jinah sniffles and gives him a nod, "y-yeah, but, when you were still sleeping... jinho stopped by and helped a lot. he stayed by your side and gave me updates, s-so..." as his sister trails off, jinwoo felt a strange sense of relief at the thought of jinho helping his sister.

making sure that jinah was well fed, jinwoo makes sure to send her off to bed at a reasonable time for school. with all the dishes cleaned, jinwoo heads back to his room before taking out his phone. his gaze remains expressionless when he searches through the device while typing in a single name.

{ ... }

jinwoo and jinho were settled within ahjin guild's new building, with jinho looking over the thick notebook that held an almost frightening amount of notes pertaining to his boss's so-called dreamwife.

"this is the reason why you won't let hunter cha join our guild?" jinho looks away from the pages to meet jinwoo's gaze as he sipped on a cup of instant coffee. "yes, because i am already a married man and don't wish to have any distractions."

"does she know she's married to you?" jinho wasn't brave enough to flat out tell jinwoo how insane all of this was, since he still held him in high regard. after all, he knew that if it wasn't for jinwoo, then he wouldn't have had much success in kickstarting his own guild.

which was why he kept his own personal musings to himself, still doing his best to support the man he saw as his big brother despite it all.

"not yet." jinwoo glares down at his cup of coffee, "it's just... i know it's crazy, but you don't know what it's like to be in a coma for that long while experiencing something so vivid."

focusing his gaze on the dark liquid, jinwoo continues to reminisce about his dreams, "in my dreams, she was so real to me. her smile, her laughter, and the way she made me feel- every single thing about her has been imprinted on my soul."

finally meeting jinho's gaze, he gestures toward the filled notebook, "those pages contain every little detail that i know about her. from her favorite color to her favorite foods, to even her favorite books and movies- everything was written based on my memory of that dream."

jinho heaves out a little sigh before closing the notebooks all while sliding it back to jinwoo from across the coffee table. "you're right in saying that it is crazy, however, i'm stupid enough to follow with your whims and support you, boss."

{ ... }

jinwoo had a meeting to attend with the chairman, which was what brought him back to the hunter's association. he vaguely recalls go gunhee mentioning a new healer that would be transferring to seoul, and how he responded in a polite manner, doing his best to hide his disinterest.

when he steps out of the chairman's office, he nearly runs into someone, clicking his tongue as he wrapped his arms around the unknown person to keep them from falling to the ground.

"are you alright?" jinwoo asks, only for his eyes to go wide upon seeing a familiar head of hair.

"sorry, i got a l-little lost, is this the chairman's office?"

it was at that moment that jinwoo felt his heart cease its beat-

for he had finally found you.

{ ... }

heat was felt settled on your cheeks the moment you came face to face with sung jinwoo.

and gods above, he was far lovelier than you could have ever dreamt of. despite coming from a different country, you remained achingly aware of how a single hunter from south korea rose to the ranks, losing his former title of being the weakest in the world when he became korea's 10nth s-ranker.

in every candid shot you had seen of sung jinwoo, he appeared goofy yet incredibly cute at the same time. sure, you acknowledged his attractiveness on screen-

but nothing could prepare you when it came to finally meeting him face-to-face.

his boyish features were now amplified, with jinwoo standing well above you with his lanky frame. you take in the sight of his crooked smile and how his beauty seemed to be further accentuated by the sight of his sharp jawline.

you kept gawking at him for a few more seconds before quickly snapping out of it with a shake of your head. an introduction was felt settled on the tip of your tongue, yet jinwoo ends up further surprising you when he says your name.

"it's nice to finally meet you, my name is sung jinwoo."

you open and close your mouth in response, asking in an almost dumb manner, "h-how did you know my name?"

your question succeeds in making jinwoo stiffen in response, his outstretched hand remaining frozen. his mouth kept opening and closing, without a single word being said. "ah... well, the chairman was talking about you being our newly transferred healer earlier, that's why i knew your name."

you visibly relax upon hearing his explanation, letting out a sigh of relief, "oh, right, that makes sense!"

wishing to diffuse the awkward situation, you let out a gentle laugh and gesture toward the chairman's office, "ah, so, i guess i'll attend my meeting now-"

a gasp was felt lodged within your throat when jinwoo grips at your wrist, preventing you from moving forward, "wait."

you give him a questioning glance, earning a warm smile from jinwoo, "i'd like to welcome you here, so... would you care to join me for dinner later?"

the same warmth was felt against your cheeks, making you feel a bit shy when you give jinwoo a nod, "sure, i'd love to join you for dinner."

an overwhelming look of joy takes over jinwoo's features, with him letting you go to attend your meeting with go gunhee. "awesome, that's... great."

feeling dazed at the sight of his smile, you knew that the butterflies that kept erupting all across your abdomen prevented you from truly acknowledging the alarm bells that went off in your head, your mind slowly taken over with romantic daydreams pertaining to the famous hunter you had finally met.

and sadly, you would never know the true depths of sung jinwoo's obsession for you.

{ ... }

jinwoo had spent months preparing for this very moment-

and once he finally had you sleeping in the same bed with him-

there was no way he was going to squander it.

moonlight paints his room in subtle, glowing silver hues, painting our sleeping figure in an almost ethereal light. the powerful hunter was unable to sleep now that he had you so close to him-

exactly where he wanted you.

his whispers of your name remained constant, becoming so frequent that the syllables that made up your name felt like a prayer that fell from his parted lips.

of course it was like a prayer-

for jinwoo solely worshipped you.

you had come into his life in the most unorthodox of ways, where his first meeting with you happened during a mutual raid that happened when he first began his career as a hunter. he was barely out of high school when he attended a raid that nearly killed him.

somehow, he had gotten lost, nearly dying of starvation as he was left to rot-

life was felt quickly seeping out of him-

but that was when you came along.

you, with your gentle healing aura and kind eyes-

you, whose beautiful features were forever imprinted within his very mind the moment you healed him and offered him some food to help with regaining his strength-

you, who never once left his heart ever since that fateful day.

you became his sole source of light, using your existence as a means to push him forward when he was struggling so much with keeping his own life together (a sickly mother with a sister who relied on him in the wake of his father's disappearance).

you were the one who gave him the sole courage to face the many challenges that came with being the weakest hunter-

yet even when he was so close to death, your comforting presence never once returned to him.

by then, he was desperate to know all he could about you, and it was during this time that he realized that you had lived in a different part of the world, saving the lives of other hunters in gates that were more prevalent within your city.

but that didn't stop jinwoo's obsession from growing.

he kept what felt like thousands upon thousands of notebooks pertaining to you and your accomplishments, never once stopping his writings when it came to you all while praying for the day he would see you again.

up to the point where his fate had been altered by the events of the double dungeons-

jinwoo had never once stopped thinking of you. and when the system offered him another chance at life-

your face was all he could see the moment he accepts being the system's player.

while he performed all of the missions and tasks given to him, jinwoo had no intention of getting knocked out by the enemy, falling into a coma that left him helpless-

yet at the same time, the fact that he dreamt of you and the perfect life you had built together-

it only served to further solidify jinwoo's belief that you were made for each other-

made for him.

and it was only a matter of time that you would serendipitously appear within his life.

in fact, jinwoo had carefully orchestrated your transfer to seoul's hunter association branch. using the funds jinho had provided for him, he manages to find you, paying off your guild all while convincing your guildmaster to keep such a transaction a secret as the promise of your arrival further fuels his desires to see you again.

the waiting game for your arrival nearly killed jinwoo-

yet when chairman gunhee tells him about your transfer to seoul-

the hunter couldn't have been happier.

upon seeing you once more, he basks in your presence, knowing that you were by far the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. he ignores the need to chain you to him, wishing to take his time when it came to courting you-

because deep down, he wanted you to naturally fall for him more than anything else.

now, six months later, sung jinwoo finally has you exactly where he wanted you. unable to hide his feelings of pure devotion for you, he makes love to you after celebrating being together with you for half a year. after waiting far too long for you, there was no way he was going to ever let you leave him.

had you been awake, you would have noticed the crazed expression settled within jinwoo's gaze, his voice letting out soft coos of your name before laying beside you. he allows the back of his hand to caress at your bare skin, swearing an oath to never leave your side.

sliding his eyes shut, jinwoo carefully places your body against his naked chest, basking in your gentle hum as you buried your face deeper into his chest. hazy grey eyes look over toward his closet, knowing of the stacks upon stacks of notebooks he had dedicated to you were behind that closed door.

jinwoo supposes he could let his loyal shadow soldiers help with burning those books away-

after all, the shadow monarch had no need for them now that he has you in his arms.

end notes: lmao when the delulu is the solulu in jinwoo's eyes ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[felassan]

During the period the other day when the official Dragon Age YouTube account was dropping snippets of info in the live chat, among other cool bits of info such as 'Inky is returning', there were also these lil blurbs about the 7 companion characters. ◕‿◕ some of them have some different info to what was shared here on the official DA website and here in the EA press release. Twitter user elisa (doggiesnores) managed to grab these and kindly shared them on Twitter via the graphic above. [credit and source link: Twitter user elisa] tysm to doggiesnores for sharing these.

Text reads:

Harding: "She's a ball of positivity, and doesn't have a bad bone in her body (she doesn't even swear)" Emmrich: "Emmrich is friendly, scholarly, and sincerely proud of his companion, Manfred - a walking skeleton" Lucanis: "Lucanis… The guy treats his assassin gig like a 9-5 job. And like any office worker, he loves his coffee." Taash: "You'd expect a dragon hunter like Taash to be a jock. But she's also well-connected, and "knows a guy" for everything." Davrin: "He's one of those guys that knows he's charming, but at least he doesn't take himself too seriously. His pet Griffin is named Assan 🥺" Neve: "A cynic with a heart of gold, Neve is a private detective who works to make Minrathous a better place" Bellara: "Bellara tows the line between Type A and scatterbrain. You can always count on her to come up with a creative solution to your problem."

[source]

[glitter-stained]

Bats and Birds jobs headcanons that I will defend with my life, mostly from my civilian AU:

Barbara: works at a library, will hack your company to help you figure out flaws in the system for money on the side

Dick: retired Olympic gymnast, gymnastic teacher

Cass: part time professional wrestler, in a duo with Steph

(Edit edit: it has been pointed out to me that some people just don't like feelings which I didn't consider, so I did take off the therapy part because she wouldn't want to do it, but I still think it would be so interesting to see her volve about it)

Jason: writer (novelist + ao3, he has the range), part time barista at some point

Steph: definitely works part time at a movie theatre, I also picture her being a professional wrestler for some reason, in a duo with Cass

Tim: unclear if he's doing freelance investigation journalism or private detective work but either way he likes figuring stuff out (it's a lot of cheating husbands and he doesn't dislike it)

Duke: escape room owner and designer, the trickiest puzzles in the American continent, and each room has incredible aesthetics and personality even though people complain about how difficult they are.

Damian: professional painter, volunteers at the animal shelter every day.

Bruce: trophy wife

Harper: whatever the fuck Michael Reeves has going on

Cullen: editor (Jason's professional AND ao3 beta but neither has any idea the three identities are connected)

Lucius Fox: CEO of Wayne enterprise

Luke Fox: mechanical engineer

Kate Kane: rich heiress, competitive MMA fighter when she feels like it

[demonic0angel]

New Ship Idea!! (Click for clarity)

I’m actually not sure if this is a new ship… I haven’t seen anyone mention it tho?? Even tho they’re both detectives?? (Canon and fanon-wise)

*slams a fist down on the table* it's not fair that Tim gets to fuck around and get a detective boyfriend!! Steph deserves one too!! (Or a gf, I'm not picky)

The ship name is…. Spoiler Warning! As decided by this poll.

Notes:

+ They met in college in one of their classes and just clicked. Wes began making crazy theories again and theorized that Bruce Wayne was actually Batman, but nobody believed him except Steph. Since she was in the know, she thought it was hilarious and made friends with him. She’s the first person in a long time to believe him, so Wes formed a crush on her.

+ Wes liked her first but Steph was the one who asked him out. She wanted to know more about him since she noticed his interest in her.

+ Everyone was really apprehensive of Wes at first until he won them over. I'm not sure how he meets the Batfam, but it would be fun if they captured him bc they realized that he's from another dimension while Steph is going ????

+ In my hcs, Wes is part of an exchange program between the DP world and DC world but nobody is meant to be aware of it except the people participating and the DP world. Ensue chaos when the Batfam gets a hold of Wes' DNA.

+ They go on double-dates with Tim or Cass and their partners.

+ They are both crazy, it's just that neither of them are willing to kill very much. One of them makes the crazy plans and the other is absolutely willing to enable them.

+ Their idea of dates is going to escape rooms, visiting haunted houses, spending a day inside with movies and a cork board, and solving puzzles together.

+ In the future, Steph is a part-time hero and nurse while Wes works as a private investigator that is occasionally contacted by the police. They make a very, very frightening civilian team.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Wasn’t Me

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis: when Vision accidentally phases through your wall and catches you and Peter in the act, you try to stop it from spreading to everyone in the tower before Tony gets home

Masterlist

“Wait, this isn’t the kitchen.” Vision said as he accidentally phased through the bedroom wall. You and Peter froze at the sound of a third voice and slowly looked up. Every time you snuck off to have some private time with each other, you made sure to lock the door. But despite all your best efforts to keep your relationship a secret, neither of you accounted for Vision coming through the wall. Especially not when you were right in the middle of….something.

“Oh. Hello.” Vision said and gave you and Peter a polite wave. The act he had caught you did not seem to phase him at all while you and Peter were horrified.

“AHHHH.” You and Peter screamed at the same time. You rolled off of Peter and landed right on the floor while Peter grabbed a pillow and placed it over his lap.

“Forgive me for intruding, but I am looking for the kitchen.” She said to meet her in the kitchen.” Vision asked politely.

“Well you’re not gonna find it here!” You exclaimed as you threw your shirt back on.

“Dude! Get out! ” Peter shouted as he hastily tried to zip his pants.

“Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” Vision genuinely asked.

“YES!” You screamed like it was obvious.

“My apologies. I bid you both a good day.” Vision nodded curtly and disappeared back the way he came. You and Peter stayed in silence for a while as you processed what had happened.

“Do you think he saw us?” Peter asked to break the silence. You sat up from under him and gave him a look.

“Do I think he saw us?” You repeated slowly.

“Well do you?” Peter asked as you climbed back onto the bed.

“Are you kidding me? Of course he saw! The straw was already in the coconut. There’s no way he didn’t realize what was going on.”

“Maybe he thought we were just wrestling?” Peter shrugged weakly.

“Uh huh. Wresting with your dick out. Just like WWE.” You said sarcastically.

“Damn it. He definitely saw us. Do you think he’ll tell anyone?” Peter worried.

“He better not. My dad will kill you. And then vaporize your corpse. And then set the ashes on fire. And then blow them into a shrimp cocktail.”

“But I’m allergic to shellfish.”

“Exactly.” You whispered.

“Oh shit.” Peter gulped. “We need to go find Vision and make sure he doesn’t tell anyone.”

“Let’s go. He’s probably charging or in a bowl of rice or something.” You said and lead Peter out of the room. You went into the kitchen and found Vision at the breakfast table.

“Hey Vision.” Peter smiled awkwardly as you stood beside him.

“Hello, Peter.” Vision said politely.

“So, about the little snafu from before. We just want to make sure you don’t tell anybody about what you saw.”

“Yeah. Because it wasn’t what it looked like.” You added.

“Oh, no? It looked like the two do you were engaging in sexually explicit activity.” Vision replied. You and Peter exchanged a panicked look and tried to think of a way out of this.

“It looked like that, yes, but that’s not what we were doing.” Peter lied as you nodded along.

“Hm. That’s funny. I can detect heart rates and both of you appear to be lying.” Vision said with genuine curiosity.

“We’re not lying, silly.” You forced a laugh. “My heart is racing because I haven’t had any food yet but I drank a bunch of coffee.”

“You know women and their pumpkin spice lattes.” Peter added, earning himself a jab in the side.

“Watch it.” You said through a smile.

“And my heart just beats fast because I have the heart rate of a spider.” Peter added. “No lying here.”

“Oh, I see. But if you two weren’t engaging in sexual activity, what were you doing?” Vision questioned.

“Uhhh…” Peter scratched his head and tried to think of something.

“Peter was just choking on a pretzel and I was getting it out of his throat.” You jumped in.

“With your tongue?” Vision asked.

“Yes?” Peter said weakly.

“With your shirts off?”

“It’s a new technique.” You deadpanned.

“I’m not aware of this technique. Can you demonstrate on me?” Vision asked you.

“Absolutely not.” Peter snapped and stepped between you and Vision. Vision looked at Peter in confusion and you had to jump in again.

“Because it didn’t work.” You explained. “He still choked.”

“He seems fine to me. Although, I am detecting some slight discomfort in the abdomen.” Vision said as he looked Peter up and down.

“I have a tummy ache.” Peter admitted and patted his stomach.

“Would you like me to conduct a physical exam?” Vision asked and held up both his hands.

“No. I probably just have to fart.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned and rubbed your eyes.

“So are we cool? You’re not gonna tell anyone what you saw?” Peter asked Vision.

“We are cool. I will not be telling anyone what I didn’t see.” Vision confirmed.

“Okay. Good.” You sighed in relief.

“Except for Wanda.” He added. “Because I already told her. I tell her everything. I love her quite dearly.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned even louder.

“What did you tell her you saw?” Peter asked him.

“Just you were engaging in-“

“It wasn’t sexual activity!” You exclaimed. “He was choking and I was saving his life.”

“Then why was his penis out?” Vision asked Peter.

“Because…it…was… cold.” Peter said slowly, hating himself with every word.

“Oh my God. Both of you need to stop.” You stated. “Do you think Wanda going to tell anyone about what you thought you saw but didn’t actually see?”

“I’m not sure.” Vision replied. “You’ll have to ask her.”

“Fine. We can ask her.” You sighed and pulled Peter by the hand and brought him to where Wanda was reading on the balcony.

“I don’t want to. She’s scary.” Peter whispered to you.

“We have to talk to her and find out what she knows before she tells my dad.” You whispered back.

“I can whisper too.” Wanda whispered as she suddenly appeared behind the two of you. You both screamed and jumped apart as she laughed. You grabbed Peters hand and ran away, brushing past Natasha as you went.

“They’re a little odd, aren’t they?” Natasha chuckled as she watched you run by.

“They are.” Wanda agreed. “You know, Vision caught them doing it before.”

“What? No way.”

“Yeah. He said he accidentally phased through Peters bedroom wall and caught them.”

“Oh God. Yuck. New fear unlocked. That’s hilarious though.” Natasha laughed at the thought.

“What’s hilarious?” Steve asked as he came into the room.

“Vision caught Y/n and Peter doing it.” Natasha told him.

“What?” Steve laughed. “No way.”

“That’s what I said!” Natasha laughed.

“Honestly, I kinda figured they were doing it. They are the only two in the tower around that age. And lord knows Peter is hornier than an…animal with horns.” Steve said weakly when he couldn’t think of an animal.

“Rhino?” Wanda asked.

“I was thinking Triceratops.” Steve admitted.

“Wait, isn’t there a rule again dating on the team?” Nat asked. “At least, that’s what Tony tells me and Bruce every time we make eye contact.”

“If he had a problem with that, he’s definitely gonna have a rule against one of us dating his daughter. Especially Peter.”

“I thought Peter was a nice boy, no?” Wanda asked.

“He is.” Steve nodded. “But all Tony will see is that he’s a boy who Vision caught with his daughter. He’s gonna blow Peter into a million pieces.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what Vision walked in on.” Wanda mumbled. From across the room, you and Peter were peeking out from behind a wall to watch them all talk.

“This is bad. They’re all laughing and saying our names.” Peter whispered to you.

“Do you think Wanda told?”

“I don’t know. What if she made them all see it with her mind powers?”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because she’s evil and not to be trusted!” Peter whispered harshly.

“We just need to talk to her and find out what she knows. Maybe she didn’t even believe Vision.”

“Do we have to?” Peter whined. “What if she enters my mind palace?”

“She wouldn’t find much.” You mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sweetie.” You patted his cheek and pulled him out from behind the wall. Natasha and Steve had left at that point and Wanda had gone back to her book.

“Hey, Wanda.” You said with an awkward wave.

“Oh. Hello. I haven’t seen you two in forever. What have you been up to?” Wanda said sarcastically.

“Not much. Same soup, just reheated. You know the vibes. So, uh, we just wanted to talk to you about something. Something Vision might have said.” You began.

“Oh. You mean you two swallowing each other alive in Peters room?” Wanda asked. You and Peter exchanged a look and Peter let out a loud gulp.

“Vision doesn’t know what he saw.” You told her.

“Vision is made from the highest form of artificial intelligence. He knows everything.”

“Okay.” You said mockingly. “But he doesn’t know in this specific situation.”

“He’s programmed to access a situation down to every last detail in case there is a threat of danger. And it seemed the only threat of danger in Peters room that day was running out of oxygen. Or maybe a broken pelvis.”

“I’m flattered but I’m not that good.” Peter said humbly.

“He’s right. He isn’t.” You nodded in agreement.

“What was that?” Peter asked you.

“We just want to make sure whatever Vision told you about what he thinks he saw isn’t going to be told to anyone else.” You said to Wanda.

“Now hold on.” Peter tried to go back to what he had heard.

“Secrets safe with me.” Wanda smiled and zipped her lips.

“And me.” Bruce said from behind you. You and Peter whipped around and saw Bruce staring at you while eating a bowl of cereal.

“What?! Were you in here the whole time?” Peter asked.

“Yeah. Wanda, you are funny. How come I never noticed that?” Bruce chuckled.

“I’m not sure.” Wanda shrugged. “You tell me.”

“God damn it. Are either of you going to tell anyone what Vision saw?” You asked and pointed at Wanda and Bruce.

“I thought Vision didn’t see anything?” Wanda smirked.

“Right. Is anyone going to tell my dad about what Vision thinks he saw but definitely didn’t see?” You asked with a hopeful smile.

“Maybe? I don’t understand the question. Can you reword it? Or maybe write it down so I can see it?” Bruce asked.

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “I thought you were the smart one.”

“Ouch. Can you tell your girlfriend to stop being mean to me?” Bruce asked Peter.

“I’m not his girlfriend because we weren’t engaging in sexual activity because we’re not dating. Everyone got that?” You asked angrily.

“Got it.” Wanda nodded.

“No, sorry. Still confused. So you are dating but Vision didn’t catch you guys doing it?” Bruce asked so genuinely that you wanted to scream.

“No, he definitely did.” Wanda snorted. You looked at her in betrayal and she smiled apologetically.

“Oh. Now I get it. You guys are dating and Vision did catch you having sex.” Bruch realized. “But what are we not telling Tony?”

“No one is telling Mr. Stark anything. Everyone just keep your mouth shut about the activities, which may or may not have been sexual in nature, that Vision allegedly walked in on. Okay?” Peter exclaimed.

“My lips are sealed.” Wanda assured you. “Well, now they are. Because I already told Steve and Nat. But that was before you asked me not to tell anyone.”

“Oh my God. Find. Can we trust you?” You asked Bruce.

“I’m not gonna rat. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” Peter nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

“I don’t take orders from you.” Bruce snapped and walked away.

“Jesus Christ.” Peter whispered and felt genuinely offended by the tone. You took his hand and brought him away from Wanda to regroup.

“We need to get ahead of this before anyone else finds out we’re secretly dating.” You told him.

“You guys are secretly dating?” Sam asked as he came into the hallway, making you both jump.

“Damn it!” Peter shouted and hit the wall.

“Oh great. Captain fucking America knows now.” You grumbled.

“Since when are you two a thing?” Sam laughed and looked between you and Peter.

“Two months.” You admitted.

“Two months? And Tony still doesn’t know?”

“Do you think Peter would be alive right now if my dad knew?” You asked and gestured to Peter.

“That’s a joke, right?” Peter laughed nervously.

“I guess not.” Sam shrugged.

“Are you gonna tell my dad?” You asked him.

“No.” Sam replied.

“Cool. Thanks.” You sighed in relief.

“But only if-“

“Mother fucker.” You exclaimed now that there was a new obstacle.

“Only if you promise to never bring up that one time with the TV.” Sam continued.

“You mean when you got caught-“

“Zip it.” Sam cut you off. “Or I’ll tell Daddy Warbucks about your affair with Little Orphan Annie here.”

“This whole conversation has been wildly emasculating.” Peter mumbled.

“I never saw anything.” You told Sam.

“Good.” He nodded. “Then we have a deal.”

You went to shake hands when your phone started to ring. You looked at Peter curiously and pulled it out of your pocket.

“Hang on. Hello?”

“Hey short stack. I’m landing in 20 minutes. I can see that most of the team is in the tower today so I thought we could all have a nice, family dinner in the dining room. How does that sound?” Tony asked you through the phone.

“The entire team? In the dinning room? For dinner? Tonight?” You asked as panic grew in your chest.

“Are you playing a one man game of Clue? Just let everyone know, will you?” Tony asked.

“Sure, daddy. No problem.” You laughed nervously and looked at Peter with wide eyes.

“Thanks, peach. See you soon.” Tony said before having up.

“Shit balls.” You whispered once you were off the phone.

“Was that super good news?” Peter asked hopefully.

“My dad wants the whole team in the dinning room for family dinner.” You said and held your breath for his reaction.

“Son of a…” Peter started to shout and then quieted down, “shart mama.”

“I know. It’s bad.”

“This has gotten so out of hand. I’ve never taken this many L’s in a row. I don’t know if I can take anymore. My body is shutting down. I haven’t peed all day.” Peter said as he paced back and forth.

“Keep it together.” You said as you gripped his shoulders.

“Oh no. This is going to be so awkward.” Sam laughed at your misfortune.

“Why? Because everyone knows we’re secretly dating except for Mr. Stark and they also know Mr. Stark will kill them for knowing and not telling him right away so tonight will be a long, uncomfortable game of who tells him first?” Peter asked all in one breath.

“Yes, that’s exactly why.” Sam nodded and looked at Peter strangely.

“I don’t want to go.” Peter whispered and turned to you.

“We all have to go.” You told him. “He’ll get sus if we’re not all there.”

“But what if your dad kills me?” Peter whined.

“Then I’ll wait at least three months before getting a new boyfriend.” You smiled sweetly and patted his chest.

“You can do that but I’ll just haunt him and kill him in his sleep.” Peter smiled back.

“Oh my God. Come on. We have to go get ready for dinner.” You said and pulled Peter to your room.

30 minutes later, everyone was seated in the dining room with Tony at the head of the table. You and Peter nervously peered through the doorway to see what the set up was.

“What’s our plan?” Peter asked you.

“Sit far away from each other and diverge the conversation every time my dad gets close to happening upon the truth.”

“Okay. How hard can that be? We never get together for family dinner. They’ll all be talking so much that you and I won’t even come up.”

You and Peter took your seats at the table with you next to your dad and Peter further away. You made eye contact with Peter and nodded to let him know that you were in this together. Everyone stayed dead silent as the food was passed around and Tony was quick to notice.

“Why is everyone so quiet? Did Sam leave porn on the big TV again?” Tony asked as he chewed his food. You gulped and looked at Peter in a panic. You had been wrong about everyone talking and keeping the attention away from you. Instead, everyone was silent and tense since they didn’t want to be the one to let Tony know what Vision had seen.

“That was one time.” Sam defended.

“But how could we ever forget?” Tony teased him.

“I just wanted to watch Mama Mia. My eyes were burned.” Bucky said as he shut his eyes to keep out the memory.

“Let it go.” Sam said flatly.

“I don’t remember that.” You said robotically. Sam gave you a discreet thumbs up across the table.

“What? You were the one that found it.” Tony reminded you.

“Doesn’t ring a bell. I think you’re all remembering incorrectly.” You said with no much stiffness it sounded like you were reading from a prompter. Tony looked around the table and everyone avoided eye contact with him. They mindlessly pushed their food around their plates to look busy so that Tony wouldn’t ask them anything.

“Why is everyone acting weird?” Tony asked.

“What? We’re not. You’re being weird, dad.” You forced a laugh and patted Tony’s arm.

“Right.” Tony said skeptically. “So, Pete the treat. Any romantic interests at school?”

Everyone turned to stare at Peter, who was in the middle of taking a sip from his glass. Peter started choking on his water for a long time. No one made any effort to help Peter so he just sat there choking for an uncomfortably long period of time. Everyone stayed silent as he Peter coughed, turned red, and clapped his chest to try and get the water out. When he was finally done, he was crying and bright red.

“What?” Peter asked horsely.

“Peter doesn’t want to talk about girls, dad.” You laughed nervously. Everyone exchanged looks while also sneaking glances at you and Peter.

“He does with me. Come on. My dad never bothered with this stuff and I want to break the cycle. Tell me about your love life.” Tony insisted and playfully patted the table. You shot daggers at Peter and everyone turned to look at him. Peter felt sweat dripping down his forehead and smiled nervously.

“There’s no one, Mr. Stark. No girls.”

“I don’t buy that for a second. I can see the hormones brewing in your eyes. You’re sweating just at the thought of her. I know there’s a girl.”

“Maybe.” Peter squeaked out.

“See? I knew it. Tell me about her. She cute?” Tony asked. Peter looked at you for a brief second and quickly looked away.

“Yeah, yeah. She’s gorgeous. Really pretty.”

“She’s all right.” Sam shrugged, making everyone stifle a laugh as your jaw dropped.

“Fuck did you just say?” Peter snapped.

“I was kidding. Damn.” Sam held up his hands in defense.

“Damn, indeed.” Tony laughed. “Way to stand up for your girl, kid. She’s a lucky lady.”

“Thank you, sir.” Peter said and hoped that was the end of the conversation.

“You really are a good kid, Peter. I don’t tell you enough. I was just saying this to Pepper the other day, but if anyone is ever brave enough to try and date my daughter, I hope they’re like you.” Tony said sincerely. This time, you started choking as everyone murmured with amusement.

“Really?” Peter asked hopefully. He looked at you but you didn’t dare make eye contact.

“Yeah. Sure, you’re pretty annoying and way too eager at times, but you’re a good kid. You’re responsible, you care about other people, and you know how to get a decent haircut.” Tony continued.

“So you’d give Peter your blessing? If he and I ever wanted to date?” You asked skeptically.

“Absolutely not.” Tom said immediately.

“What?” Your face dropped. “But you just said-“

“I said I hope the person you date is like Peter.” Tony specified. “But Peter would never be allowed to date you.”

“Why not?” Peter asked and you shot him a look. Everyone else kept their heads down and turned away from Tony so he wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Not that I care. Psh. Peter is lame. I would never date Peter. Haha. But yeah, why not?” You asked your dad.

“Because he’s a superhero. And no daughter of mine is dating a superhero.”

“But you’re a superhero.” You pointed out. “And mom married you.”

“I know. That’s why I’d never allow you to go down the same path. I’ve missed hundreds dates, thousands of calls, and a million important moments because I was off being a superhero. I was saving the world but I was hurting the person I love most in the process. I don’t want that life for you. If Peter was an average guy off the street, I’d be thrilled to know you were dating him. But Peter isn’t average.”

“I know that.” You replied, starting to get annoyed now that your dad was trying to tell you that you couldn’t do something. You were already doing it, but he didn’t need to know that. He needed to know that he couldn’t make your choices for you.

“Ayo. Yeah she does.” Sam snorted. Everyone gasped and looked at him, making him freeze. You and Peter stared daggers at Sam who smiled sheepishly.

“Oops?”

“You little bitch.” You mouthed across the table at him. Tom noticed the way everyone reacted and grew suspicious. He looked at you and noticed you weren’t making eye contact. He then looked at Peter, who looked like he was about to pass out.

“What was that?” Tony asked Sam.

“Nothing.” Sam scoffed and went back to eating.

“Samuel. Tell me what you just said.” Tony said with an eerily calm smile.

“I don’t want to.” Sam whispered.

“Tell me or I will shove your wings so far up your ass-“

“I said she knows Peter isn’t average.” Sam admitted before Tony could finish his sentence. You buried your face in your hands while Peter chewed off all of his fingernails.

“What does that mean?” Tony asked and turned to you.

“I can confirm that as well.” Vision raised his finger as he spoke up. You and Peter looked at Vision in betrayal while everyone else stayed silent.

“Oh my God.” You whispered and rubbed your face.

“What? What’s the big red giant talking about?” Tony asked you again, sounding angry this time. Before you had a chance to think of something, Vision spoke up.

“I’m talking about how I accidentally caught them fornicating earlier today, sir. Also, am I required to be here? I can’t actually eat food.” Vision said politely. Everyone was dead silent as Tony processed what he was hearing. No one dared to look up from their plates or even move a muscle.

“You know what? Vision is right. We should actually all leave. And never return. Bye!” You said and got up from the table. Tony grabbed the back of your shirt and made you sit back down.

“Nobody move.” He said in a low voice. Silence fell over the table again as Tony slowly looked to Peter. That’s when he noticed that Peter had passed out and had his limp head in his dinner plate.

“Wake the son of a bitch up.” Tony ordered. Wanda lifted Peters head by his hair and a green bean stuck to his cheek and forehead.

“Peter?” Tony asked, but Peter didn’t wake up. Wanda shook him, then took his pulse to see if he was even alive.

“He’s unresponsive.” She reported.

“Jesus Christ.” You groaned to yourself as you watched Wanda and Steve try to wake Peter up.

“He peed his pants.” Steve announced, making you groan even louder.

“PETER!” Tony shouted as he banged on the table. Peter woke up and looked around in confusion. Tony slowly stood up and leaned over the table while staring daggers at Peter.

“Somebody tell me what’s going on.” Tony demanded. No one said anything, so you bit the bullet and stood up as well.

“Dad, Peter and I are dating. Vision caught us before and the whole team found out about it. That’s what’s going on, okay? Please, don’t kill my boyfriend.”

“What?” Tony asked as he slumped back in his seat. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset, but it was definitely not good.

“Sam was watching porn on the big screen!” You blurted and pointed to Sam.

“You said you didn’t see anything!” Sam pointed back at you.

“That was before you didn’t hold up your end of the deal!” You shouted.

“Shut up, both of you. Are you kidding me right now? You’re dating Peter Parker?” Tony asked in a calmer voice.

“Yes, daddy. I am. I have been for two months. We didn’t tell you because we knew you’d be mad and we just wanted some time together before you forced us apart. I wouldn’t normally lie to you like this but I knew you’d never allow us to be together and I love him. I just needed to love him for as long as I could before the world knew. I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad at me.” You said as you took your dads hands. Tony stared at you for a long time and finally, put his hand on your cheek.

“I could never be mad at you, princess.” Tony said kindly. You smiled in surprise as Peter let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m gonna turn Peter inside out, though.” Tony said sweetly before lunging at Peter. He punched Peter right in the throat, making Peter collapse to the ground. You rushed to Peters side as Tony shook out his hand.

“Dad! You can’t hit him that hard. He’s only 5’8. He could’ve died.” You yelled at Tony as you pulled Peters head into your lap.

“That didn’t even hurt.” Peter wheezed out as he clutched his throat. Tony wound up to hit Peter again, but stopped when he saw something that surprised him. He watched Peter reached up and touch your face as he whispered to you that everything was going to be all right. He thought he had just been punched in the throat and was awaiting the punishment of a lifetime, his priority was to comfort you when you were upset. Tony then knelt down beside Peter and helped him sit up.

“I’m sorry, kid. I should not have hit you. It was a slight overreaction.” Tony sincerely apologized.

“Slight?” Peter croaked out.

“I just wasn’t expecting to come home to this news. But if it’s been two months and my daughter says she’s this in love, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.”

“Mr. Stark, I know it’s probably hard to think about your daughter dating someone with a life as unpredictable as ours, but I don’t put anything above her. If I’m out on patrol, chances are, she’s hanging out on a rooftop with a walkie talkie telling me where to go. If I have to miss a date to take care of something, I take her with me. She’s my partner in all of this. I don’t leave her waiting around for a text back all night. She comes first.”

“Actually, “Vision began, “when I entered your room, it seemed as though Peter was going-“

“Do not finish that sentence, jumbo tampon.” You cut him off.

“You can trust me, Mr. Stark. You can trust us.” Peter said as he wrapped an arm around you. Tony looked between the two of you for a while but didn’t say anything.

“Please, daddy.” You whispered. Tony finally caved and smiled softly.

“Okay. You’ve convinced me. I’m not gonna kill Peter. You have my blessing, underoos.” Tony said as he helped Peter off the floor.

“Really? You’re not gonna force us apart?” You asked hopefully as you wrapped your arm around Peters.

“I’m not.” Tony confirmed. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions. But if he breaks your heart, he’s getting turned inside out. At least for a day. I cannot compromise on that.”

“Deal!” You clapped your hands before hugging your dad.

“Hold up, do I get a say in that deal?” Peter questioned.

“Don’t push your luck, kid. After what Vision walked in on you doing with Tony’s kid, you’re lucky to be alive right now.” Bruce said as he patted Peter on the back. Tony frowned as he pulled out of the hug.

“Hold on, what exactly did Vision walk in on?” Tony asked. Peter motioned for everyone to keep their mouths shut as Tony looked around the room. When no one answered him, he looked at you expectingly.

“So.” You laughed nervously. “Dessert, anyone?”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr @loudthoughts-softspoken

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

[sleepydeprived]

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham's greatest detectives.

[chapter 3]

Mama I’m Chasing A Ghost.

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

The floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom looked out onto the manicured gardens of the estate, and in the distance, was a view of Gotham that never seemed to change.

The same scenery, the same routine.

The butlers, the maids, the drivers who ferried me from one lavish location to another.

Every day was like the last, but with one major exception;

Gotham Academy

For the first time in my life, I had been thrust into a world that wasn’t mine. My mother had insisted I’d go, telling me it was for my own good. I was homeschooled my entire life, my education confined to private tutors and digital classes.

That is.. until my mother moved me to a prestigious school a few months ago. I don’t know what changed her mind. She was always so hellbent on keeping my life private. Her sweet little girl that only she knew about.

But now here I am attending a school that is closely watched by weird, content-hungry journalists and creepy paparazzis hoping to catch a photograph of children with high titles.

Nevertheless, I felt like an outsider. A puzzle that didn���t quite fit. I was the new kid—the girl who came out of nowhere.

But being an outsider didn’t automatically mean loner.

My presence didn’t go unnoticed.

I was different. People knew it, felt it, and stared. Maybe it was the fact that I came from a family—a clan—that held such an influence over Gotham’s elites. I was basically one relative away from a famous celebrity or a corrupt politician.

But, of course, there was also the resemblance to Martha Wayne.

It was a ghost of a resemblance, really, but it haunted me all the same. From the first day I stepped onto campus, I heard the whispers;

She looks like Martha Wayne.

The wife of Thomas Wayne?

She could be her daughter...

Or granddaughter.

It had started out as idle speculation, but as the days passed, the gossip only grew.

People stared, talked behind my back, and pointed at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. They didn't know me, but they had already formed an opinion. The mystery girl. The girl who had somehow, inexplicably, appeared out of nowhere. The girl who had the same smile, the same eyes, the same air of dignity and grace as Gotham’s most beloved figure. The figure whose tragic death had left an indelible mark on the city.

I had never cared for the attention. In fact, I hated it. I’m not interested in being some object of fascination, and that’s just how I was raised. I’m not Martha Wayne nor am I related to her—or at least, that’s what I’ve been told. The more people asked, the more I pushed that idea away. But the whispers were constant.

It made me think. A lot. So much more than what I preferred.

And suddenly, the buried thoughts from childhood of who and where my biological father was came rushing back.

Ever since I was a child, I had learned to bury my feelings—bury the questions about my father, and why my mother wouldn’t speak of him. There had been one conversation about it, years ago when my mother still had the time to let me in her study.

"Your father is not someone you need to concern yourself with," mother had said, her voice cold and stern. "Do not ask about him. Do not seek him. He is not a part of your life. Understand?"

And now, in the halls of Gotham Academy, that memory itched at me, more often than ever before. The bell rang, signaling the end of another school day, but I didn’t hurry to leave. I stood at my locker, staring at my reflection in the shiny surface of the metal.

Do I look like her?

————————

taglist:

@leeleecats @mariadvorak @deans-spinster-witch @rainlovewrites @xoacesgf @whiteoakoak @uknowimdumb @otterluver05

[thewitchblue]

Hello! Do you take requests if u doooo 🤭🤭

Ok! So just imagine Damien dating a figure skater

gn or fem 🙏🏽

Andd the Batfam doesn’t know about it until. One day at dinner, dick asks if anybody is dating.

Stay silent for a moment but than Tim starts looking at Damien, and well, it’s a family full of detective so everybody peeps sad.

So now they’re just sitting there questioning him because wym he has a gf?? Who is she??

Does she know what he does at night??

Do they stay on the phone when going to sleep orrrr??

Do she got an older sister? ( this question was from Dick.) 

Like Tim knows all about Damines relationship ok like bro has access to basically every camera. He KNOWS a lot of things 😭

OH and don’t let them find out she ice skates.

Dick will instantly find an opportunity to bond with her cuz basically she’s like his little sister already.

Cass is a lil happy cuz like figure skating and ballet are kind of similar. So I feel like she would help you stretch or ask you for help. You show her that leap ballerina movie( it’s so good 😭)

Jason would def tease Damien about it all the time, like he has nothing against figure skaters(when the batfam went to an ice ring once he fell on his ahh😭) but like come on the bad ass kid that is sassy af got a girlfriend??? Thought he was gay honestly.

Tim as I mentioned before already knew about your relationship, he just didn’t know you figure skated. Is an interesting thing to him. Like it’s not but at the same time it is?? Yk

Bruce? He’s just glad his son can love someone that’s not his family. Def try’s and go’s to your competitions, makes the whole family go if Damien lets them. Honestly adore you, like? You a nice girl that wears pink in almost every. if not all outfits ?? Is dating his son Damien…Damien Wayne?? The one that frown 24 seven….ye ok

Like how would they be if they met her?

How would the titans react 😦

Jon:so you’re telling me you? Have a girlfriend?…r you paying her…

You assumed Damian had told them about you. Neither of you is outright affectionate (the industry wants you to be a hot single skater, and Damian was Damian), but you had assumed Damian would have at least told his family the bare minimum about you such as you figure skating professionally or even your existence. Turns out, he did not, and you found out in the most awkward dinner of your life.

"So, you aren't being paid off to cover his tracks?"

Jason asked. You had been invited to a dinner party after the others dogpiled on Damian to find out more about his secret relationship. Damian was still mentally cursing Tim. The rat snitched on him, and now he's stuck in this terrible situation.

Jason got kicked hard beneath the table by Damian, who was already annoyed he was forced to have a stupid dinner with his family to prove his relationship.

"I see on every recent social media post that says you are single."

Tim said. He spent the past 56 hours researching you until the words began to blur and the coffee ran out.

"I'm a private person. I guess you can say I don't kiss and tell."

You seemed amused, but Damian was screaming internally and glaring harshly at everyone around him.

Nobody else knew what to say. They already knew everything about you through Tim (well, besides the figure skating because Tim found that information irrelevant). This dinner was mostly to confirm you are real and that you do know Damian. This isn't some hallucination that the Batfamily has to figure out how to fix.

Colour them surprised when you actually showed up and lightly kissed Damian on the cheek. Jason had to give Dick twenty bucks with a scowl. He really thought there was zero chance Damian, Edgelord Supreme, would ever get a girlfriend.

You had no idea what to say because Damian prepared you already. There was nothing to say. You had to pick at your food and awkwardly talk about how long you've dated, which they already knew, and what your first date was like, which they also already knew. What can they say? They are the greatest detectives for a reason.

After the horrible dinner, you decided to take them all ice skating. Partially to calm your nerves and partially to see what they all have.

Jason, obviously, sucks at it, and Damian snickered every time he fell. You helped him as best you can, keeping him to the walls of the rink for support.

Dick was a little clumsy at first, but once he got it, he was a total show-off. He attempted figure skating moves but struggled with keeping control. You circled him and gave him tips, which he was surprised worked. You cheered for him and bonded over the overlap between gymnastics and figure skating. You were excited to find out he's a gymnast because you also do gymnastics on the side. You are a professional figure skater, so you are surprised there weren't more people asking for tricks from you.

Cass held your hand the entire time, which you were fine with. You saw how excited she was by the ice skating, so you offered to watch a figure skating movie when they got back to the manor, which she happily agreed to do. She had a feeling she's going to love you. You showed her a few beginner-friendly tricks, and helped her with her form. You'd love to spend more time with her.

"You are going to have to show me your moves after the movie."

Cass agreed happily. She was excited to see you again. She's already welcoming you into the family, and so was Dick as he slid in between both of you.

You giggled, more than happy with your little trio going on. Damian did warn you Dick is the family golden retriever, but you didn't consider it seriously until you met him.

"You're invited to our movie night too, Dick."

Dick winked and asked,

"Do you have a sister? We can double date."

You laughed and shook your head in amusement. You replied,

"Not in this lifetime, Dickie."

Bruce watched in the seats with Damian.

"She is not what I expected to be your type after Raven. When is her next competition?"

Damian seemed startled that he knew about the figure skating. Nobody else did except Tim. He told him,

"She'll be in Gotham. The competition is in a week."

Bruce nodded. He liked you. He liked the adoration that Damian couldn't keep off his face when he looked at you and the way you seemed to make him smile without even trying. He'll have to remember to bring Damian when he goes to the competition. He wants to see you in action.

He smiles softly as you laugh with Cass and Dick, Jason eventually joining the group after shuffling for a couple of minutes. You are perfect for the family.

The Titans didn't quite know what to do with this information.

Beast Boy was the loudest about his disbelief. The boy has zero filter, and he asked probably a million questions after Damian was caught sneaking you out one night, which Damian still hates because it woke up everybody and suddenly he had to show the whole team his girlfriend. He wanted to wait, but evidently, fate was not on his side.

Raven already knew. She was just thankful Damian can finally stop sneaking you in and out of their tower nightly. She was the one who put Beast Boy on a leash when it came to the thousands of questions he asked.

Starfire had a strong feeling Damian was hiding something. Dick taught her a thing or two about reading people, and Damian's baseline changed substantially. He was secretive about his phone, often vanished for seemingly no reason, and sometimes came home with lipstick on his lips that he had to buy make-up removal wipes for and keep the wipes on him at all times.

Blue Beetle was surprised anybody would date Damian. You were nice and asked questions about the scarab, and you both connected when you asked to see the scarab in action. It felt good to show his powers off to someone who could truly appreciate them. He liked you.

Cyborg also liked you. He researched ice skating terms to speak to you better. You seemed equally interested in him. You asked him questions about his backstory, and it kind of dissolved into Cyborg crying and mourning his life before becoming a cyborg. You held him as he cried and listened to him. He loved you like the others.

[aureatchi]

ᝰ𓂃⊹ ִֶָ SHE PAINTED THE HIGH RENAISSANCE ONTO HER BLANK CANVAS. . .ft. fyodor dostoevsky & dazai osamu

৻ꪆ RIASSUNTO. fata viam invenient...you attend a ball, fated to stumble upon two demons in disguise. you don't know whether it is for better or worse that you somehow already know them, all masqueraded as angels, regardless of how laughably far off that would be.

◞ OR ROME WAS TRULY THE PROMISED LAND, and you sought the art of chaos, rivalry, and seduction.

SERIES MASTERLIST. → ii. | PLAYLIST ♫. | wc. 9.6k+

৻ꪆ a/n. it’s FINALLY HERE !! get ready because there’s A LOT. i’ve poured sm heart into this so i hope you enjoy it as much as i do :) THANK YOU TO EVERYONE who was patient + reached out telling me how excited they are for this. this series is also my entry for @kentopedia’s love through the ages historical!au collab. thank u sm for putting this together <3

৻ꪆ info. fem!reader. renaissance!au. drama & romance. cursing. some suggestive parts. love triangle. arranged engagement. slowburn. lowk touch-starved. a lot of story buildup/complex character. suicide attempt from dazai. historical inaccuracies. bad poetry. religious imagery/symbolism.

— THE MONA LISA WASN’T REAL. And Vincenzo Peruggia was not, in fact, the person who stole the piece, contributing to the boom of its fame to the general public, but was planned in a way to frame him so that the origins of the painting would be a secret gossip only a group of the most successful artists knew about. 

The gendarmes were close. They were correct in assuming that another artist could’ve stolen the painting during the investigation. But they never suspected it could be the person the portrait was painted of herself—no, obviously not Francesco del Giocondo’s wife—but the original face who remained under the cover-up. 

An artist’s face, who later went under the alias of “Raphael” to conceal her contentious image and entanglements from the public eye—you. 

The crashing of ice-cold water on your skin amidst the summer air. The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders, and an unknown heart who vowed to drown you…

“My, miss, you’re already stirring up tons of drama, and you’ve only been here three days!” 

The past couple of months had felt like a dream. It almost seemed like yesterday when you packed your things into suitcases and moved to one of the most famous centers of the art world, Florence. 

Yet now, you entered through the gates of the ‘eternal city’ itself—Rome, a great privilege granted to you by the Pope himself. You almost cried when you received his invitation, commissioning you to paint the frescos in his private library. Of course, there were some strings pulled, like the person who recommended you…

“It’s all thanks to you, Ranpo,” you giggled mischievously. As the lead architect of the Vatican (but before that, your friend), he had told the Pope, “...she might as well become the best painter in all history. She may not be well known here in Rome, but say her name in Florence, and you’ll awaken the whole city. You’ll realize you’ve found a diamond among all the rubble. Trust me on this one; I’m never wrong.” 

“It was nothing,” Ranpo replied with a smug smile. “His Holiness, Fukuzawa never doubts my word.” He tapped his head with his forefinger and winked. “Not only does he recognize my talent in the arts, he also acknowledges my outstanding intellect! I’d be a detective in another life.” 

You chuckled before he continued. “The rest is all on you, princess. Again, you’re progressing quickly-” he pulled out a letter to summarize out loud. 

“-His Holiness was so impressed that he’s giving you the rest of the rooms to paint,” Ranpo said while you stared at him with widened eyes. “He…fired everyone else who was working on them. On top of that, he invites you to a ball happening in a couple of days to make an announcement on new projects. Other than you, he’s invited only the most influential artisans to attend alongside the aristocrats.” 

“No way!” You grabbed Ranpo’s hands in excitement. 

“Yes, way.” He let you spin him around on the pavement in eagerness, your long dress following along. “Though, I feel like you’re going to have to explain to him how you painted the library’s frescos so quickly.” 

Your turbulence of elation calmed. “Hm, you’re right. 

“I hope the question slips his mind.”

You hadn’t actually told Ranpo, but it always seemed like he would figure out everything about you anyway. There was one reason why you had become so famous in Florence. You created masterpieces in what felt like seconds—it was almost like you were granted the touch of creation itself. No one had ever seen you paint, so the mystery of how you were able to produce your portraits in mere weeks—sometimes days remained a mystery to the entire world, no matter how fast science progressed. 

You called it an ability. To be able to visualize—a mental image in your head you wanted to come to life in the form of a still painting on a canvas was what you did. You conjured the concept yourself, freezing daydream into textile. 

You weren’t sure why you possessed something supernatural, or perhaps there were other artists you didn’t know who could also do the same thing, but firstly, you kept it a secret—it seemed almost inhuman to hold such a power. Yet secondly, it was even more the reason to follow in your father’s footsteps. 

He, too, was a painter in the courts of Urbino and would’ve liked to become a famous artist as well. Now, that dream lived on through you—you had studied and trained under his teachers and other artists until you mastered their techniques from the foundations to geometry. Your father was no longer alive, but you were sure he’d be proud of you for getting this far. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Ranpo said.

“The two angels of art are going to be there.” The brunette closed his eyes and rested his arms behind his head as if he already knew the shocked expression awaiting your face. “Your inspirations. Osamu Dazai of Milan and your fiancé, Fyodor Dostoevsky of Florence.” 

“Pardon me, Fyodor?” 

…

A long time ago, your uncle—your now legal guardian—arranged your marriage to Fyodor Dostoevsky. However, the same would’ve happened even if your father had been in charge due to his family’s good societal position. 

It was just meant to be, you guessed. 

Coincidentally, Fyodor had also taken an interest in art the few times you two saw each other when you were younger, and you eventually saw him go on to become the most talented sculptor in Florence. 

However, your path of similarities ran cold after that. You hadn’t seen him in years, and you weren’t even close. You were obligated to write to each other once a month, but each message almost seemed like business transactions rather than love letters. Fyodor was too aloof a person despite being well-educated and polite—though he checked off every other box (and you were sure any other woman would want him), you realized you would never be able to connect with him. He was just not interested. 

You couldn’t do anything to change the engagement, but as long as there was no set wedding date to look (dread) forward to, you were content with life for now. 

You didn’t necessarily like Fyodor, nor did you go to Rome to finally pursue him, but you admired him from a different standpoint. 

He and Osamu Dazai were truly angels of art; even gods, if the Church was not one’s forte. Everyone across the country knew their names—patrons and civilians alike worshipped them at the feet. Even the powerful Medici family, sought by every artist to be commissioned, held close ties with both. 

Clientages saved their money to have the two paint for them, upcoming artists aspired and envied their success, ladies came with their names rolling off their tongues to the horror of their husbands’ faces—they were rumored to be devilishly handsome, too. Self-portraits of the prodigies were yet to be made, but you didn’t doubt it one bit. If Dazai was anything like Fyodor, he had to be fanciable too. 

They had the world and heavens as masterpieces in their hands; one could say their names traveled as far as the badlands. You arrived in Florence right after they departed for Rome, and you studied the creations left behind to figure out how they made crowds swoon and create such huge impressions on people.

And you found their pieces were indeed the pinnacle of the renascene summer. You silently made them your mentors, incorporating what was successful for them into your own works. 

…

“And you’ll be there, right, Ranpo?” 

“Of course, so don’t you worry your pretty head about a thing,” he tapped his head with a smile. “Though, I have some work to finish first, so I’ll leave thee to explore Rome.” 

“Don’t take the wrong wagon this time,” you giggled. Ranpo was late to meet you on your first day because he kept taking the wrong passenger coach to get to you. For some reason, he was knowledgeable at everything but navigating transportation. 

“I’m taking a horse this time,” Ranpo replied. 

“Even worse! You better not fall off!” 

There was a tailor you had been recommended to by your aunt before you departed. You decided to head to his shop first to find a dress to wear for the evening. 

“Good day, my lady,” the couturier said with a kind smile. “I have multiple options of gowns for you tonight. Please do take your time selecting.”

“Gramercy,” you replied with a smile in turn. Your measurements had been sent to him a few weeks ago, so that you wouldn’t have to wait for your garments to be made. 

He brought out at least four cioppas. You didn’t even care to figure out how many in total because among all the regal reds, greens, and royal blues stood out a silk, off-white dress with gold accents. Your eyes were immediately drawn in, though you couldn’t put your finger on why. It wasn’t the most showy in the bunch, but that didn’t matter to you. It was like a rare gem among common stones—though you would need a good eye to really appreciate its uniqueness. 

You ran your fingertips across the fabric, closely observing its craftsmanship. You became fascinated with the opulent designs on the flowy skirt and the long sleeves. You guessed that if you didn’t take it, you’d instead dream of it for the rest of your days in regret and freeze it in one of your paintings for eternity.

“I think I’ll try this one first.” 

Your first choice proved worthwhile when you tried on the gown in the separate dressing room. You exchanged the simple front-laced bodice and plain cotton attire for the new, elegant piece sewn just for you. The fabric hugged and complimented your curves in all the right places, creating the most flattering look as you turned in front of the mirror. 

You imagined yourself with your hair styled and matching jewelry to accompany it—you felt like a princess. Perhaps this confidence was the only thing that would help you get through the ball this evening and perhaps your entire time here. You hadn’t been around so much aristocracy in years—though you grew up privileged, you preferred to live humbly and simply focus on your hobby (and you spared your change on those in need). You were lovely yourself, no doubt, and maybe that’s why you charmed many people of different social classes as you grew more popular. 

You studied yourself through the mirror again, and it was like the polarity of your dresses reflected the fate of this new chapter of life set against the one you left behind.

The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders and an unknown heart that vowed to drown you…you suddenly felt cold. You rushed to get out of the room. 

“It’s perfect on you,” the tailor said, unable to disguise his awe when you asked him for his opinion and to ensure all the sizing was correct. You nodded in curiosity when he asked, “Now, would you like to know the inspiration behind the dress?” You always looked forward to seeing how your tailors incorporated your personality and family style into their design. 

“It’s a play on a singular topic,” he said. 

“Angels. A dual purpose signifying both the type of art you create and how you give off an entrancing allure—they will be curious about your enigmatic yet enchanting importance. That will be your statement tonight among the darker colors.” 

The earlier thought of comparing your two inspirations to angels came to mind. You decided right then—you found no need to try on any of the others. 

“I’ll have this one sent for me tonight,” you said. “Thank you again.”

Rome was alive and busy with action at every corner you turned. You strolled down the streets with no set destination, admiring the liveliness of the city. There were markets and shops everywhere and merchants with all sorts of foreign goods. 

You discovered a ruella at the corner of one street, and the door was widely opened. You peered in to see a group of women inside, probably discussing various intellectual topics. 

You decided to go inside and socialize, having nothing better to do. As you stepped into the salon, they all turned to greet you. 

“Good day, miss,” a few of them said. 

“Oh, aren’t you the Florentine artist?” one of them asked. She moved to the side so you’d have a spot to sit.

I got recognized, you thought, and you couldn’t hide your smile. 

“My husband was there awhile back,” she continued as you sat beside her. “He couldn’t stop talking about how enamored he was with your style and was sure you’d make it here next. Looks like he was correct!” 

“I’m very flattered,” you responded, a warm tint in your cheeks. 

“Did you recently arrive?” she asked. “I hope your journey here went smoothly.” 

“Yes, it went alright!” you said. “The weather wasn’t too bad, and I enjoyed the views on the way. I even passed by some lakes…” 

You felt it again. A shiver ran down your spine. The crashing of ice-cold water on your skin that stood perpendicular to summer’s balmy weather. The intense feeling to stay alive—to save yourself and the soul you did not know…

Your journey had gone smoothly up until you passed by one of the lakes near Rome. It had been a peaceful day, and your coach driver suggested that you look outside. You lifted the curtain and were received with one of nature’s blessings—verdant grass and plants that thrived around clear blue waters. 

You could’ve painted it if you remembered the sight. You truly could have if the memory of the scene wasn’t tainted by what you saw seconds after. 

“Hey, is that a person?” you asked your driver, squinting your eyes—unblemished, untouched picture shattering in your head. The land on one side of the lake was vastly elevated, creating a cliff on that end, and a figure stood in the distance.

A moment passed. 

“…Yes, my lady.” 

Your eyes weren’t betraying you—there was a man dangerously close to the cliff’s ledge, and you weren’t born yesterday to not know what he was thinking of doing. 

“Stop the wagon,” you said, a slip of panic in your tone. Your driver looked back at you hesitantly, but you ordered once again. 

“Please stop the wagon. Don’t come after me. And don’t tell anyone about this.” 

The horses carrying you came to a halt, and you rushed out of the chaise. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you at that moment—there was a random person you happened to catch making more than a terrible decision, why get involved—but you couldn’t stop now as it was like your legs were carrying you themselves. You immediately took off east towards the cliff. It would take you a few minutes until you got to the man. 

What would you even tell him? Would you try to talk him out of it? Gaslight him into stepping away from the edge? Offer to paint him a custom piece for free?—“Oh, I’m actually a famous artist in the country, I can paint you whatever you wish. But I can’t really do that if you kill yourself.” You dashed past grass and rocks as you hurried up the hill.

You would definitely have to change once you got back—the bottom of your dress was already soiled, and you were sweating.

Splash!

Your face was struck in complete horror at the loud sound. You peered over the edge to see huge ripples cascading across the surface of the lake. 

Oh shit! 

You ran back down and then towards the shore. You thanked God that you weren’t using any heavy layers under your dress that day and prayed you weren’t going to end up killing yourself as well. You knew how to swim, but the man was far from the bank. 

Am I really going to do this? 

This might’ve been the most spontaneous thing I’ve done. And the worst.

You liked to think that if you saved him, you would be rewarded in some other way. A good Samaritan—you thought. It had to be worth it. You couldn’t die before your new life even began. 

You submerged yourself into what felt like frozen water, your clothing suddenly feeling uncomfortable around you. Still, you wasted no time swimming toward the man who jumped in. 

He was already sinking—of course, this lake has to be deep. You immediately grabbed onto his waist when you got to him, but not before you took a good look at his face. He was probably of the working class because he only wore a simple white shirt. You also noticed he was covered by an absurd amount of bandages. Soft waves of brunette hair framed the man’s profile, and he looked far more content and at peace than he should’ve been. In any other situation, you would’ve thought he was taking a pleasant nap by the way his eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly parted. 

You’d never seen anyone so pretty underwater. If you hadn’t seen him as a human above land, you would’ve thought he was a mermaid or some other foreign creature. 

Your thoughts and observations were interrupted when you realized you couldn’t hold your breath any longer. Trying not to panic anymore, you first tried to drag the two of you up above the water, but you weren’t strong enough to battle the weight of it against the two of you. 

You would have to swim to shore and didn’t know if you had enough air to return. 

Well, I need to make it work anyway, you thought. You wouldn’t let this mysterious guy you didn’t know cut off everything you wanted to pursue. 

You took ahold of one of the man’s loose arms and, with determination, tried to propel yourself the way you came from, kicking your legs through the water. You were more than correct in assuming it would be complicated—the energy in your body drained quickly. 

You were only halfway from where you started when you accidentally choked. But that caused you to completely seize up—water poured into your lungs like open floodgates, and you were unable to breathe. You tried to push yourself up to get air, but you were already too weak to carry even yourself.

The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders and trying to save an unknown heart that had led to you drown—you wondered if he was still alive. He would have to be resuscitated at this point, and you realized, you too. If anyone came in time to save you, that was. You shouldn’t have had ordered your driver to not follow after you. Or rushed into the lake unprepared. 

Or involve yourself with this man. It was his decision to jump off the cliff…and now you had tied his own weight onto your life. Maybe it was all too heavy to carr—

“I’m happy to hear,” the woman replied, oblivious to and interrupting the encounter you were replaying in your head. “I wish you the most success here.” 

“Thank you,” you replied. “You are very kind.” 

“I am a bit nervous,” you whispered. “I’ll be meeting His Holiness for the first time and other artists. Do I even compare to them?” 

It was evening now. You had spent the last couple of hours preparing for the ball after exploring town—you had on the classy cream-colored dress you selected earlier from the tailor, accompanied by a couple of necklaces. Your hair was put up in a complex style and fastened by a few pieces of jewelry. 

Your mind utterly conflicted with your appearance, though. Your thoughts were in chaotic peril—you tried to hide the fact that you had been pacing around your room in anxiousness right up until Ranpo picked you up. 

“Thou art second to none, miss,” Ranpo replied with a wink and a tight squeeze of your hand. It had only half the same effect as his bear hugs the viridescent-eyed would give you when you weren’t in public, but it was enough. “There’s no reason to be nervous. You fascinated him long ago—you might’ve even been his favorite if I wasn’t here!” 

“Maybe so.” You giggled at his lighthearted smugness. “Well then, let’s get going.”

Ranpo nodded and led you through the large doors of the ballroom. Immediately, you were greeted with the celestial light from the chandeliers contrasting the dark evening sky outside. 

Your eyes drifted in awe among the artigiani and aristocratici of Rome. It was almost chimerical—you hardly remembered you were still holding Ranpo’s hand. The scene looked like it came straight out of a painting. 

“Appealing so far?” Ranpo asked, guiding you down the stairwell. “Can it stand against the Florentine carnivals?” 

You slowly nodded, still focused on the liveliness surrounding you. “It feels divine.” It was more prestigious than any event you’d been to so far—most likely because this was held in one of the Pope’s courts itself. 

“You haven’t even experienced it yet,” Ranpo laughed before leading you into the waltzing crowd. “Shall we dance?”

You and Ranpo followed the movements of the other couples. When you were sure of the pattern of the steps, your eyes wandered again to admire the setting. Everyone was dressed to the nines—although, as your tailor said, they all wore darker colors. You pretended to not notice the looks you received from strangers—however, they were not insulting. They were out of captivation and marvel.

Multiple pieces of artwork were hung around the hall, too, and you wondered if the chosen artists who created them were here now. You considered if they knew of your name too, just as you recognized theirs. 

However, your heart almost stopped when you were reminded of a completely different topic. Ranpo noticed a moment of shock flash through your eyes but did not proceed to question you. (Thankfully, he knew when you would prefer him not to be nosy.) 

You saw the back of a man’s head dressed in pure white—his brunette hair in slightly messy, soft waves. 

There is no way. 

However, you could not confirm your suspicions because he approached a lady in a beautiful, deep red gown to ask for a dance. His face and figure became completely hidden as he waltzed with her at the opposite side of the room. 

“See someone you know?” you heard Ranpo ask. 

Of course he didn’t need to be nosy, because he figured out everything about you anyway. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” you responded quietly, still trying to get a glimpse of him, but before you could say anything more, a guard standing next to the entrance silenced the entire crowd. 

“Enter, His Holiness, Fukuzawa!” 

You immediately turned around, and once more was someone dressed in white—the Pope, Yukichi Fukuzawa. You glanced at Ranpo, who gave you a nod of reassurance before politely applauding with everyone else. 

“Thank you for attending this event today,” Fukuzawa started. “Our city has made much progress due to the collaboration and contribution of our artists, so I would like to take tonight to celebrate all of them. Ultimately, I want to reveal the next upcoming project.” 

After a few more words, everyone applauded again, and the party resumed activity. You and Ranpo moved away from the dance, him deciding it was finally time to do the thing you were dreading. 

“Look over there.” Ranpo urged his head towards two men in conversation standing a few feet away. 

If the ballroom really represented the heavens, surely these two were the angels. Even without Ranpo telling you, you knew them to be Osamu Dazai and Fyodor Dostoevsky, standing side by side, white suits further proving their empyreal position.

But your eyes widened, and if you hadn’t been careful, your jaw would’ve dropped, too. Obviously, you recognized Fyodor—tall, jet-black hair—handsome and intimidating as ever, but you didn’t dwell on him for too long. Your eyes quickly scanned the room in search of a woman from earlier with dark curls, dressed in deep red, and when you found her, she was no longer dancing with the brunette dressed in white. 

You looked back at the man beside Fyodor.

It’s him. 

And as if hell—fate, whatever wanted to taunt you further, Osamu Dazai noticed you and Ranpo first, pausing his share of thoughts with the ravenette. You locked eyes with him, and you immediately became embarrassed. 

What the hell? First, one of them is my fiancé, whom I don’t even say a word to, and then the second is…him? 

Perhaps we shall meet again, were the brunette’s words to you by that lake. You truly didn’t believe him then, but it wasn’t the first time you choked on your assumptions. 

In a split second, you pulled Ranpo out of sight. “Ranpo,” you pleaded. “I can’t meet them now!” Your fingers hastily ran through your hair, making sure everything was in place. “I’m not even sure what to say-”

“You’ll have to rip off the bandage sooner or later,” he said, tugging on you. “And I say the sooner, the better! I’ll introduce you to them!” You felt even more displaced at the fact that he offered to introduce you to your own fiancé. However, before you could even object (or say, “Ranpo, somehow I already fucking know both of them!”), he dragged you back—toward the two painters. 

“Good evening, my lords,” Ranpo said as you approached them. 

You didn’t miss how Dazai’s face lit up in a curt smile. Meanwhile, Fyodor had on a neutral expression—probably the only appearance you ever saw him wear. 

“Good evening, Edogawa, the darling of His Holiness,” Fyodor said, the slightest spite in his tone. He did not glance at you at all. 

“Still as cold-hearted as ever, Il Divino-Painter,” Ranpo replied with a chuckle, but it was apparent that he did not like the man.

“I am a sculptor,” Fyodor corrected, a bogus smile still plastered on his face. 

“Don’t mind him,” Dazai said, patting your friend’s shoulder. “He’s just jealous you’re in charge of planning out the entire Vatican palace. And also at the fact His Holiness had to force him into a suit!” When Fyodor gave him a look, Dazai turned to you. 

He had eyes of the sunset, paving the way of something between hell and earth—though in a perfect world, it should’ve been the other way around because he looked as if he had just come down from heaven. You felt your cheeks warm and an uncertain feeling in your stomach. 

“Good evening, my lady,” Dazai said, knocking you out of your reverie. You blushed again as he knelt to take your hand and kiss it, bowing before you—the single minute felt longer than nox itself.

Was this the same man you met at the lake a few days ago? 

He was the artist you admired all along? 

“Apologies for not greeting you first,” he continued as he stood up. “I did see you earlier. How could anyone not notice the angel of Florence who creates masterpieces in days, especially when she looks like one tonight?” You became even more flustered by his sweet words. 

He was familiar with my name all along.

“Ah, so you already recognize her?” Ranpo asked. 

“Of course I do!” You suddenly tensed—half expecting him to reveal your previous encounter with him that you did not want anyone else to know. (If Ranpo knew, you hoped he would keep his mouth shut for your sake.) It would cause too much trouble if someone decided to spread it, and even worse if your uncle found out. He was very strict on image.

But to your relief, he did not. 

“I am very fond of your style, my lady,” Dazai said, resting his hand under his chin. “Madonna del Granduca,” one of your paintings. “You capture human sentiment and emotion so well, even in the most simplistic pieces.” 

Finally, you were able to respond to one of his compliments without becoming a mess. “Thank you.” 

“...And sfumato, your technique,” Fyodor added. “Perhaps you like her style so much because she takes it from you.” 

It was only now Fyodor finally acknowledged you. 

He may just be the son of Nyx. His intentions were tucked away behind amethyst eyes, slumbering in the peaceful twilight he allowed mercy to while all else was caught up in chaotic darkness. Maybe no one else noticed that—if anyone did, Fyodor would not be as beloved as he was now—but you did. You saw through the three strands of malice that laced his following words. 

“Good evening,” he said softly. He kneeled in front of you with your hand, tormenting you with eye contact.

“It’s an honor to see you again, miss. Though I must ask, was Florence not enough? 

“Is grasping originality so tough?

“Are you here to copy more artistic concepts to boost your own depictions of seraph?” 

He delivered a deadly kiss to your hand before you could respond, and before he could see the puzzlement on your face. 

“Excuse me?” 

But you did not falter before him as he stood back up. He did not intimidate you. 

“I’m flattered.” 

For once, the slightest sign of curiosity seeped onto Fyodor’s face.

You gave him a poisonous smile of your own. 

“Sfumato—the blending of colors to create smooth transitions between them,” you explained, giving a nod toward Dazai. “I’m honored that you immersed yourself so much with my painting that you could observe such a detail.”

Ranpo pretended to look around the hall as if he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening, while Dazai couldn’t keep a snort from escaping his throat. 

You kept your eyes fixed on your fiancé’s violet gaze, trying to figure out whether or not you’d be dead after the night was over. Actually—he seemed like the type that could seduce someone into death. Stygian black hair framed against his pallid complexion—ethereal, no doubt, yet you would not be surprised if he turned out to be the Grim Reaper’s right-hand man. (And you were supposed to marry him!)

“I’m here because His Holiness summoned me to paint the frescos in his house. I feel that if he sensed plagiarism in my work, he would’ve not trusted me with this project. 

“What about you, my lord?” 

There was a pause; he was thinking. 

“I am simply searching for something important,” he replied. “An inspiration, if you want to call it. I need it to complete a piece I have been working on.”

“And you’re sure you can find it here?” 

“You can find anything in the promised land, solnyshka.”

The foreign word rolled off of his tongue like honey. He dressed his voice to sound like a lullaby, and you remembered why you thought of him as an angel before he decided to insult you. 

What a juxtaposition. 

“What did you say?” 

“Did you not hear me?” 

He wasn’t going to tell you what he said, nor what he meant in entirety. “Nevermind. I did. Good luck trying to find it.” 

…

“May I have this next dance, my lady?” 

The charming brunette extended his left hand out to you. You had become irritated with Fyodor after his apparent distaste for you—So this is how you treat me after years of not seeing each other? You thought you could at least try becoming acquainted with him to make your inevitable fate a bit easier for both of you, but it seemed like that wasn’t happening anytime soon. You left the conversation at the nearest opportunity and moved to the other side of the room, unaware that your other dilemma was following you. 

“Lord Dazai?” 

You noticed something new about him as he stood in front of you. Those sunset orbs also harbored a concept as far as the sun. There was something distant in them that felt like half of his mind was immersed somewhere else. You wondered where. 

“I don’t like Dostoevsky at all either,” Dazai chuckled. “Even though tonight’s given me another rival on my list, I like you way more.” 

“Don’t speak so soon,” you scoffed. “You’re going to hate me when I take all your customers.” 

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, bella.” You frowned at his attempt to flirt. “And besides, many of them are very loyal to me.” 

You hesitantly took Dazai’s hand as he led you to the floor, joining the circle of couples who had already lined up to dance the almaine. 

“I’m still annoyed with you,” you said quietly as the two of you lightly skipped across the floor on your toes, never breaking eye contact with his tawny eyes. That same look was there—it was like he was thinking of everything and nothing all at once. “I’m only agreeing to this so I could boost my status. You just caught me off guard back there. That’s why I acted nice.”

He dramatically pretended he was offended. 

“Why, tesora?” Dazai took both of your hands. You circled around each other gracefully before reversing to step in the other direction. “I saved you! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be dancing here tonight and finally knowing the name of the poor soul who jumped into the lake!” 

“If it weren’t for you, I also wouldn’t have nearly drowned, idiota,” you glared. 

“Keyword: nearly!” 

You continued sulking at him while the dance went on, ignoring the rest of his defensive sentences and the friendly endearments he added to the end of them. 

“Ow!” 

Dazai had stepped on your foot during another turn. 

“What was that for?” you asked, silently observing how he made sure he did not catch your dress along too, so it would not ruin. 

“Hm? What do you mean?” Dazai spun you again; this time, he stepped on your other foot. 

“Lor- Dazai!” You disliked how much fun he was having with this. Now, he wore a mischievous gleam in his eyes that coupled an unmistakable, playful grin. 

He spun you one last time, and this time, you purposely stepped on his foot. 

“Hey—why did you do that!?” he pouted. 

“Thou did it first,” you replied dryly. “You’re a bad dancer, my lord. You can’t even keep up with the slow ballroom almain.” 

He smirked as the number concluded, and then he brought you to the center of the floor. 

You looked around to see at least half of the couples moving off, either to watch or go elsewhere. 

“Let’s see if you can keep up with this one,” he chuckled lowly. 

“What dance is this?” you asked.

“A galliard. The La Volta.” 

Your lips slightly parted to say something, but you didn’t know what. 

It made sense now why so many chose not to participate in this one. The La Volta was a bit obscene—first, the women were lifted up in springs and jumps, even though that was usually improper. It was also very fast—it would require skill to do it comfortably, especially with the long, heavy gowns you wore. 

Finally, it required close contact between the couples, which was…scandalous. Like a forbidden fruit. 

You had never danced it before. Nor had you planned to. You were engaged, after all.

I bet noone in this room, but Fyodor himself and Ranpo even know we’re to marry, though, you thought to yourself, even though you shouldn’t even be considering excuses. …And he probably couldn’t even care less.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dazai said, a bit more seriously, leaving it up to your decision, but his eyes alleged something else. Like he was pleading to let you indulge. 

The forbidden fruit and its serpent. Why was this man always tempting you to things that could sabotage your name? It was as if his heart vowed to drown you to doom…

“No, I’ll do it,” you decided. 

…yet you had let him, again and again. The descendants of Eve never learned. 

“They call you the Renaissance Man, my lord? I’ll steal your title when I show everyone I can do more than paint…and outdo you in dance.” 

“Dance is a form of art, too, y’know,” Dazai smiled before he parted from you. “How about instead, you think of it like we’re creating our own special piece together.” 

“Competition,” you disagreed in one word, curtsying before him as the drums cued.

“Collaboration,” he bowed. 

You two rose, and a new tension was ignited in the room. Your eyes locked with his again, but this time more determined—more passionate, as you gracefully swept to the left while the brunette the opposite way. You continued that movement while also gravitating closer. 

Closer, until he was finally able to lay hands on your waist. 

“Look up, miss,” Dazai softly reminded you. “Too flustered that you’ve forgotten etiquette?” 

You didn’t even realize your eyes chased down to where he was holding you—no man had touched anywhere near your corset before. You felt nervous; it was supposed to be so wrong, so why did his hold feel so right? As if his fingers were always supposed to be wrapped around you, the final touches to a masterpiece of intimacy. 

You were falling for it—the serpent’s art of seduction. This wasn’t supposed to be a collaboration. 

“What happened to your confidence?” Dazai teased, whispering in your ear; you felt his breath tickling your skin.

Your eyes drifted back to his in embarrassment, but you couldn’t give your rival the entertainment of winning against you in something you proposed. Fighting against your nerves, you wrapped one of your arms around Dazai’s broad shoulder.

“Shut up.”

He lifted you by the hips to aid as you lept and turned around him, his left thigh pushing you upward, and that same nervous excitement returned to your stomach. It was as if pools conjoining both everything and oblivion at once lay physically on you. His gaze resembled hands—he caressed your shoulders; he traced your face like he wanted to paint every angle of you. 

He was gentle with his actual hold on you, too; Dazai carried you as delicately as the brush strokes he made on canvas. He carefully set you down with ease after every jump while still treating you like a porcelain doll, and there you made the mistake of wandering your eyes down to his lips, lightly parted—you realized this was the second closest time this man had come near enough to kiss you. 

His body was so warm, he could pull you flush against him if he wanted to. His breath was minty, the coolness of his mouth addicting, and if Eden smelled heavenly too, he had truly just slithered down, carrying the sweet, earthly scent along with him. All your senses were overloaded by the man standing before you like alcohol; you wondered if you’d even end up home by the end of the night. 

“You’re enjoying this way more than to simply boost thy status.” 

In that moment, you snapped out of your haze of dopamine, and the music faded into a new routine. You also realized that an entire audience had been watching you. That was not ideal. 

You scooted back right after Dazai released his hold on you, looking down in coyness. “Maybe I’m just a good actor.” 

“You’re a terrible one,” he chuckled, following you out of the crowd. “You can’t even look at me to sell your lie!” 

You glared at the brunette once more. “I don’t have to look at you to tell you the truth.” 

“So cold-hearted,” he sighed. “Even after a dance to loosen you up. Guess I need to work harder to ask you out.”

“For what, a double suicide?” You once again recalled some other things he had said during your weird, fated meet at the lake. 

“Exactly! You remember!” 

“Well, sorry, that’s not happening,” you responded. “Go find some other lady to ask. I’m sure you do this all the time anyway.”

Because how did he touch you so perfectly? How did he dim out every other person in the room to make it seem like it was just you two?

He paused. “No, I don’t. You’re the first person I danced this galliard with. You realize we were even in skill, right?” 

“Didn’t seem like it. And I don’t understand why you chose me.”

“You fascinate me, angel of Florence,” Dazai said. “You did save me in a way. Sure, we’re rivals. But one day, I’ll paint you myself. 

“You’re too beautiful to not.” 

…

“I hope you all have had a lovely night,” Fukuzawa spoke over the room. “To conclude the gathering, I would like to announce what the Vatican’s next project will be.” 

Artists all around you waited in anticipation, for good reason. You and Dazai looked at each other too. You’d already experienced it for yourself—a commission from the Pope himself guaranteed immediate, enormous success (and money; your job from him was your biggest pay so far). Whatever he proposed required another artist, and it could be anyone in the room. 

“The Sistine Chapel,” Fukuzawa said. “The large crack that has formed along the ceiling is to be repaired in the upcoming year.” 

There were a few chatters after that. The chapel was insanely impressive—the interior of the large building was covered in stunning frescos by some of the great artists who had come before you. Even though the Pope hadn’t even said what the job was to be, anyone working on things concerning it would have to be just as good as its predecessors. 

“Along with reparations, its panels shall be painted.” 

There were a few gasps from the patrons. Was that even possible? How could someone even paint the ceiling without it being taken off of the roof? And it was so large, too, like a mega-sized canvas. 

It was unheard of. 

“I have already selected the person I would like to work on this,” Fukuzawa continued. There was silence again. 

“It’s probably Dostoevsky,” Dazai said to you. 

Fyodor? “Why do you think so?” you asked. 

“He completely stole the spotlight with that statue of David he finished this year,” he dryly chuckled. “Well deserved, I’m afraid. You saw it too when you were in Florence, did you?” 

“Yeah,” you replied. You had to acknowledge how impressive it was for yourself. It was like the man turned hard stone into pliable clay. 

“But that’s sculpting, not painting.” 

“Oh? Do you think you’d be a better candidate?” 

He was smiling again. “No, I never said that,” you scoffed. “I was going to say maybe you’d have a chance-”

“Fyodor Dostoevsky,” Fukuzawa said.

Oh.

You paused, scanning the room to see where he was. 

He was on the other side, intently making his way to the Pope. 

“I request you to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.” 

Fyodor stood in front of him and then bowed. 

“...I offer my sincerest gramercy for this opportunity, Your Holiness,” the artist said.

There was a pause.

“…I would like to discuss the rest of what this entails in private.” 

Your brows furrowed. That was almost a bit…rude. Sure, he hadn’t declined the offer, but for whatever reason, he also didn’t accept it. 

“Very well,” Fukuzawa replied without a change in his tone. “I adjourn this party. Bonam noctem.”

There was a final applause for him and the city’s next project, and then everyone began filing out. 

However, you and Dazai stayed in place until Ranpo suddenly tugged on your arm. 

“There you are! Let’s go!” 

“W-Where?” you asked as he started to drag you away. 

“Goodnight!” you heard Dazai say before disappearing into the crowd. His small smile remained in your memory, and a part of you wished you could give him a proper goodbye.

“To eavesdrop, duh,” Ranpo replied as he sifted you through everyone moving the opposite way. “Don’t you also want to hear what Fyodor has to say?” 

“I don’t understand why he didn’t just accept the proposal,” you said. “Anyone else would do it in a heartbeat!” You were sort of jealous; that job was given to someone so ungrateful! If you were the one who recieved it, you would’ve put your entire effort into transforming the ceilings right away. 

“I don’t know how he’s so beloved,” Ranpo continued. “Not even His Holiness likes him that much; he just doesn’t show bias when choosing people to paint his architecture. Did you know Fyodor was supposed to produce his tomb?” 

“What happened with that? I thought it was being worked on by a few other artists.” 

“He kept clashing with His Holiness about it,” he said. “Until the plans got so messed up, Fyodor called it a ‘tragedy’ and left Rome for a while. Quite literally abandoned it.” 

What an asshole! Especially in front of His Holiness!

“I don’t like him at all,” Ranpo squeezed your arm. It had become quite apparent to you that Ranpo admired Fukuzawa—not just because he was his so-called favorite or because he was the Pope, but something else. You had seen them together during the party earlier, and you were reminded of father and son. “He has a nasty ego, and I can’t figure out his intentions. I feel off every time I meet with him.” 

“Intentions? For what?” 

“Don’t be stupid, miss,” Ranpo said. “He told you himself, he’s here for something. It’s just so annoying! He hides it all behind those stupid, purple eyes…” 

You approached the entrance to a hallway at the very back of the room, and you heard two familiar voices outside. 

“...I carve marble, not paint.” 

“You discredit your skill with a brush too much.”

“Your Holiness, we had very different views during the last commission you gave me,” you overheard Fyodor say. “I simply don’t want to cause another commotion with this.” 

You only peeked through the large doorway to hear more clearly, but Ranpo continued walking right in as if they wouldn’t notice. 

“R-Ranpo!” you whispered harshly.

Immediately, Fukuzawa and Fyodor looked at you both, and you scrambled behind Ranpo. 

“I’m so sorry, Your Holiness,” you replied, accidentally locking eyes with Fyodor, who looked at you unfazed as if he had already noticed you two a mile away. You couldn’t even think of an excuse to explain what you were doing there, but then Fukuzawa resumed the conversation without a care. 

“I see then,” he replied and then gave it some thought. “I felt you were the only one who was fit for the matter, but perhaps I could just hand it to-” 

Fukuzawa looked at you, and Fyodor looked at him before looking at you. 

“Ah, what I said was just a concern,” Fyodor interrupted to your dismay. “I’ll accept your commission on one condition.” 

The three of you waited. 

“On the contract, it shall be stated that noone shall view the inside of the Chapel until it is completed,” Fyodor stated. “Including yourself, Your Highness.” 

He thought for another moment. 

“Very well, Fyodor. It will be arranged.” 

What a rat!

It had been a few weeks since that eventful ball. You had started work on painting the rooms in the Pope’s chambers—there were sketches of concepts scattered all over your desk. Coupled with your thoughts—thoughts reliving all the situations you were thrown into that night. 

You hadn’t seen the two angels since then. Well…would you even call them that anymore?

Knock, knock, knock!

“Hey! Let me in!” You heard Ranpo’s voice from outside your house. You were still half-asleep, trying to make breakfast, but you immediately rushed to open the door. 

“Ranpo!” You were startled. “What are you doing here so early?” 

“Stop complaining. You’re going to love this.” 

He stuck his hand into his pocket and then revealed a set of shiny keys. 

“Sitting in my palm are the keys to the Sistine Chapel.”

“No way.” It was like the sight fully awakened you, like caffeine. “Ranpo…how?!” 

“Hmph!” He shook his head. “You underestimate me so much when you quite literally depend on me!” When you laughed, he continued. “Lord Fyodor’s on a business trip until next week. Do with that info as you wish.” 

“You’re a genius,” you replied with a mischievous grin as he threw you the keys. 

“Of course I am! I despise him, but I’m too lazy to mess with him right now, so I’ll just leave it up to you. After all, he didn’t want to do it initially because he thought you set it up.” 

“By me?” you asked, shocked. “He hates painting so much that he thought I had a hand in it? Imagine giving away the Sistine Chapel.”

He was really something else. Was dead set on declining the offer right until His Holiness debated giving it to me…

…

Ranpo sat at the dining table eating the remaining tarts left over while you finished washing the dishes in the kitchen after your meal. Your move had gone smoothly, and you were pleased with the home you created for yourself—the windows in front of the sink were opened, letting air and the sounds of nature in as you looked outside. 

“His Holiness instructed me to paint over the previous works in the Palace when I first walked inside because he deemed what I could produce more important than what was already up there,” you told him with your own dash of pride. You couldn’t contain the bright smile that flashed on your face. 

“Just as I suspected,” he replied, pleased. 

“...But social-wise, I think I dug a hole for myself.” 

“Definitely!” Ranpo said with no hesitation, popping another dessert into his mouth. He already knew what you were going to talk about. You gave him a look before sighing, realizing that he probably was right.

“A few days ago, I overheard people in the salons saying that…I have a special thing going on with Lord Dazai. It’s not true! I don’t know why he was being so friendly with me!” 

You hadn’t even seen him after that night. Maybe you were a little disappointed, but you should’ve seen that coming anyway. He was known as a charmer, but he hadn’t committed to anyone. And regardless, you were to marry Fyodor one day. 

Ugh, Fyodor.

“And you were friendly to him in return,” Ranpo replied. “You could’ve shrugged him off like normal rivals do. But it looked like you were completely enraptured with him.” 

Enraptured?! He was completely enraptured with me! However, you couldn’t describe to Ranpo how exactly he was—how the brunette’s eyes pleaded with yours to follow him into the eventide, how he made you feel like the only person that existed in the large crowd of people…maybe Ranpo would have his point proven.

“Well, other than that, I’ve got thee settled in Rome well enough. I’ll be here for the rest of the unwise decisions you’re going to make, but from here on out is on you, princess.” 

“Thanks, Ranpo,” you sarcastically replied. “Seriously? Unwise decisions? Rome is just different from everywhere I’ve been to before. I’m learning.” 

“Exactly, there are arts of everything,” he said. “Thou better grasp them quick or fall behind.” 

Dance. 

Deceit.

Dreams. 

Only a few you had discovered so far. 

“You fascinate me, angel of Florence. You did save me in a way.”

You couldn’t even grasp,

Dazai.

You didn’t know how long you were out. All sense of time was lost when you gained consciousness again, and you realized you had been washed up on land. 

Did God stay true to your pleas? Did an angel really come down to rescue you?

That was certainly what it seemed like in the first few seconds because you were blinded by light when you opened your eyes. You heard insects buzzing off in the distance and maybe even a bird chirping as you lay on lush grass. Perhaps you were in heaven instead, and this was your first taste of peaceful paradise. 

But all was ruined when your eyes finally focused, and a face obstructed your view. (Why was he always ruining your flawless moments?) He hovered on top of you, and the first thing you became aware of was that his mouth was dangerously close to yours. 

You immediately coughed—out of both shock and the need to. Lake water gushed out of your mouth, causing you to sit up without warning. The brunette was flung off of you, landing harshly on his bottom.

“Ow!”

You paid no mind to him as you coughed again. And again. 

When all the water was finally out of your lungs, you looked at him in utter confusion.

“Why the puzzled look?” he asked as if he wasn’t the one who was drowning and you weren’t the one saving him (and less importantly, it hadn’t looked like he was about to kiss you).

Now he sat beside you, almost perfectly fine if it weren’t for his clothes that were soaked. 

“But…you—we were drowning?” You turned to see if anyone else was in the distance because who was it that saved both of you? 

“Yeah, I was drowning,” the man replied, and you now noticed the honey color of his eyes that had been shielded behind closed eyelids and pretty eyelashes earlier. “And this time, it almost worked! Until you decided to rescue me!” 

“Um, what?” You asked sharply, even more bewildered at the way he tried to make your efforts sound negative. 

“At first, I thought maybe thou were a lovely lady who wanted to commit double suicide with me! But I realized that wasn’t the case when you started fighting to get some air…” 

“Are you crazy?” you asked, not caring whether you were speaking impolitely or not. “Double suicide? Why else would I dive into a cold lake to join a stranger? And you were aware of what was happening all along?” 

“Maybe! Women have done a lot to try to get close to me.” You didn’t believe him. “And, well, yeah! Obviously, I couldn’t continue because of two things. The first was you because I couldn’t let an innocent involved be harmed along with me! I had to save you, of course.” 

You became even more irritated. “You wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t pretend you were drowning! I had to use all my strength to rescue you, y’know! I could’ve died as well!” 

“But you didn’t!” the brunette replied. “There was no way I was going to let someone so beautiful drown.”

You scowled at him before you stood up. “You’re ridiculous. What’s your second reason?” 

“Drowning in a lake ended up becoming uncomfortable.” You wanted to punch him in the face—uncomfortable was an obvious understatement. “I didn’t like the feeling of suffocation that set in, so I just decided to give up.” 

“It didn’t even look like you had any air left in you,” you muttered, facing your back towards him, remembering his placid expression earlier. “How were you conscious if you weren’t even holding your breath?” 

“Party trick,” he responded, and when you dared to glance back, he wore a smug grin. 

“Oh…are you leaving me then?” he asked as you started walking away, saying no more. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” you scoffed, not stopping. “I’m completely soaked, and I don’t know about you, but I have important things to get to.” 

You heard a chuckle from him. “Is that so?” he asked. His voice was getting farther, meaning he was no longer following you. “Where are you headed?” 

“Rome.” 

“I live there. Perhaps we shall meet again. And then, I could ask you—properly—if you would like to commit a double suicide with me.” 

“I doubt it,” you replied, assured you were never going to see this man whose face looked kissed by Aphrodite herself again. Perhaps you would’ve found him handsome if he was in a less disheveled state. 

As if you did not already. 

“Why do you seem so sure? Anything can happen.” He chuckled once again. 

Well, I am a painter, and you don’t look like someone who would even have an eye for art, is what you wanted to say. But you didn’t want to open more doors to curiosity and stay there even longer. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you stopped. “Okay, then.

“If you think you’re going to see me again, can you promise to not kill yourself until then? Until I agree to you?” 

You figured you would just give him some hope so that your efforts to save him would not be in vain. If he would actually keep your word, anyway. 

When you turned around, the brunette was still standing on the shore, and he had a smile on his face. 

He really did carry the setting sun in his gaze. It was still midday, but the man’s soul seemed to prefer the softer shades of light that appeared just before the cool shades of night. 

And you felt his eyes tenderly cupping your face, even though you were feet away from each other. You weren’t sure if you were so lost that you were imagining things—but he looked at you as if he’d known you a hundred lifetimes, longing to touch your soul once again. 

“I pinkie promise,” he said. 

You thought that finally ended the conversation, but he asked one more thing. 

“Your name?” he asked. 

“Do you really need it?” It was unlikely, but you didn’t know if he would recognize your name. You didn’t want to risk anyone knowing about this encounter. 

“I saved you,” he said. “I almost thought you were done for. You still weren’t breathing when I performed chest compressions, so I had to—” 

“Okay, stop right there!” you interrupted, becoming flustered. You didn’t need to hear the rest. You imagined the stranger’s mouth on yours—trying to give you oxygen, of course, but his mouth on yours regardless. 

You told him your name. “Don’t bother with yours. I’ll figure it out if we run into each other again.” 

His grin was smug. “Fare thee well, mia belladonna.

“Until we meet again.” 

…

“You can find anything in the promised land, solnyshka.”

ur man of choice (or both if u’d like) dances with u during the ball if u rb; reblogs are incredibly cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

WE DID ITT !! i hope this was decent, tbh i’m rly nervous HAHA ᡣ𐭩 dazai rly got most of the love here, but i promise there’s waay more to come.

+ check THIS FOR EXTRA INFO/LORE, it’s cool ;) comment on the masterlist to be added to the tagslist !! & ilu if you made it this far, thank you so so much for reading ᰔ

TERMS & DEFINITIONS:

CIOPPA - outermost layer of a dress

RUELLA - salons/social gatherings

ALMAINE - slow court dance; GALLIARD - fast court dance (in the renaissance)

TRANSLATIONS: (not all bcz they wanna be mysterious)

gramercy - “thank you”

artigiani; aristocratici - artisans; aristocrats (italian)

bonam noctem - “good night” (latin)

© AUREATCHI 2024. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + animated line divider by cafekitsune. header + series dividers mine; DO NOT SAVE.

[cressidagrey]

Schrodinger's... Girlfriend? - Chapter 6: Of Burglaries and Beasts

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Original Character

Summary:

Oscar Piastri’s love life is the talk of the F1 world—mainly because no one’s ever seen his girlfriend. Does she exist? Or is she just a figment of his imagination? Detective Lando Norris to the rescue!

Warnings: 

I don't think there are any?

Lando had actually stolen his phone. 

Oscar wasn’t quite sure if he should be impressed or scared. 

He was leaning towards scared, because Lando had this glint in his eyes, ever since he had been forced to give back said phone by Zac. 

And now there they were…The Silverstone Fanstage 2024 was buzzing with excitement. 

Meanwhile, Oscar would rather be anywhere but there, but that’s what he got for being a Formula 1 driver. 

So there they stood, microphones in hand, while the moderator asked questions and Lando was as charming as only he could be. 

And then the interviewer decided to throw them a curveball. 

“Alright, Oscar!” the moderator started, her voice playful. “There’s been a lot of talk about your mysterious girlfriend over the last few weeks. Can you clear the air and finally tell us the truth?”

Oh, come on. 

Oscar glanced at the crowd, his nerves obvious as he laughed awkwardly. “You know, you guys have been working overtime with these theories.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yeah, she’s real. She’s just… private.”

It wasn’t even that Nessie would actually care if the relationship became public knowledge. Neither of them cared. They had talked about it before…it was more that neither of them wanted the hassle that came along with making it public…and quite frankly, fucking with Lando was way too much fun these days. 

Lando, who had been quietly watching the exchange, smirked, clearly not able to resist. “Private? Or imaginary?”

Oscar just rolled his eyes. This again? “Nessie is very much real, thank you very much,” he responded tersely.  A beat of silence passed, and then it hit him. He immediately realized what he’d just said. The slip-up was out there, and there was no taking it back.

Lando’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. “Wait, did you just say ‘Nessie’?” he asked, his voice tinged with laughter. “As in the Loch Ness Monster?!”

Oscar’s face immediately turned red as he slapped a hand to his forehead. 

Ugh. 

“No, I didn’t—ugh, I mean, forget I said that. That was a slip-up,” he said with a grimace.

Lando burst out laughing, leaning into the microphone, clearly reveling in the moment. “Guys, you heard it here first,” he announced, his voice echoing across the stage. “Oscar’s girlfriend is the Loch Ness Monster. No wonder no one’s ever seen her! She’s hiding in a lake somewhere.”

Oscar groaned, his head dropping into his hands as he rubbed his temples. “I hate this. I already regret everything.”

Lando, not missing a beat, turned to the crowd and continued to tease. “Seriously, though. This doesn’t help your case, mate. How are we supposed to believe she’s real when she’s named after a mythical creature?”

Oscar just sighed. “Look, she’s not the Loch Ness Monster,” he told Lando with a roll of his eyes. “Nessie is very much a real person. She’s brilliant, actually. Smarter than me, that’s for sure.” But then seemingly everybody was stupid if you compared the to his genius girlfriend. 

“Nessie is incredibly supportive of me and I am so lucky to have her as my girlfriend,” he said, which was the simple truth. 

Lando laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m stopping now. But ‘Nessie’ really doesn’t help your case here, Oscar.” He paused for effect. “I’m just saying, it’s not exactly proof that she’s real.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, done with the teasing. “You’ll never let this go, will you?”

The moderator, sensing the tension and wanting to steer the conversation back to something more positive, smiled warmly. “Well, it’s clear she’s been a big source of support for you, Oscar. That’s really sweet to hear.”

Oscar nodded, his voice softening. “Yeah, she’s definitely my biggest cheerleader. She just makes everything feel better. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Lando, not able to resist one last jab, mockingly wiped away a tear with the back of his hand. “Aww, Oscar’s a softie! But seriously, I’m happy for you, mate, even if your girlfriend’s an ancient legend from Scotland.”

Oscar rolled his eyes again, unable to hold back a smile. “You’re impossible.”

The moderator chuckled, trying to bring the conversation to a close. “Alright, alright. We’ll move on from the Loch Ness drama. Oscar, it’s clear you care about her a lot. You’re happy, and that’s what matters.”

Oscar smiled, his earlier discomfort fading as he thought of Nessie. “Yeah, I’m really happy. And trust me, she’s not a myth.”

Lando, still clearly entertained by the whole situation, leaned in with a grin. “Well, I still think you’re dating a mythical creature. But hey, if she’s real, I guess I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Oscar shook his head, laughing despite himself. “You’ll meet her one day. Just not in a lake.”

Maybe sooner than Lando thought after all. 

Lando, ever the showman, leaned into the microphone again with a wink. “Loch Ness Merch Drop coming soon!”

Oscar laughed, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “I swear, Lando…”

The moderator, now clearly enjoying the banter, smiled at the crowd. “Thank you, guys. Oscar, you’ve definitely given us some good material for today’s session!”

Oscar, still grinning but shaking his head at Lando, laughed along. “I regret every word I said.”

Lando, on the other hand, was still in stitches. “Nah, mate. This is gold. I’ll never let you live it down.”

Oscar buried his face in his hands once more, but he couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. The crowd erupted in laughter, and for a brief moment, Oscar could only laugh along with them—Nessie or not, this was one conversation that would follow him for a long time.

[heliosunny]

Yandere!Ayato x Reader

The day you met Kamisato Ayato was anything but ordinary. You had stumbled upon his younger sister, Ayaka, in peril, cornered by a group of hostile individuals while wandering through Inazuma. Without a second thought, you intervened, defeating her attackers and ensuring her safety. Ayaka’s gratitude was immediate, but her elder brother’s reaction was far less welcoming.

From the moment Ayato laid eyes on you, suspicion clouded his sharp gaze. He was a man who trusted few, and the idea that a stranger had “conveniently” saved his sister reeked of ulterior motives. Though Ayaka vouched for you, his skepticism remained. To his credit, he didn’t cast you out entirely. Instead, he insisted you stay within the Kamisato Estate under the guise of “monitoring you for further investigation.”

It wasn’t easy. Ayato’s cold demeanor and sharp tongue made it clear that he doubted your intentions. Yet, despite his hostility, you stayed. Ayaka needed time to recover, and you couldn’t abandon her—not after what you’d witnessed. Gradually, your genuine care for Ayaka chipped away at Ayato’s walls. You weren’t the enemy he had convinced himself you were. In fact, you were nothing but kind, patient, and selfless.

When Ayaka fully recovered, you quietly left the Kamisato Estate, believing your part in their lives was over. But the universe had other plans.

Not long after, a larger threat emerged—one that had the Kamisato Clan in its crosshairs. Strange disappearances, sabotage, and threats plagued their estate. It wasn’t a coincidence, and Ayato knew it. What he didn’t expect, however, was your return. This time, you weren’t alone.

You revealed yourself as a detective working alongside Shikanoin Heizou. It had been Heizou who assigned you to investigate the earlier incident with Ayaka, and now he had sent you back to aid Ayato with this new case. Though Ayato was initially taken aback by the revelation of your profession, he couldn’t deny the relief he felt at your presence. He trusted no one, yet you had already proven your loyalty once before.

As the case unfolded, you became Ayato’s anchor. Whether it was unraveling cryptic clues, protecting the estate, or simply listening when the burden of leadership weighed heavily on him, you were always there. You were sharp, resourceful, and unyielding in your determination to help. Slowly but surely, Ayato found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain—or resist.

The realization hit him like a storm. He didn’t just appreciate you—he needed you. You were his equal, his match, the one person who could stand by his side through anything. When the case finally came to an end and the culprits were brought to justice, Ayato wasted no time in confronting you.

“I have a proposition.” he said one evening, his calm mask betraying nothing of the emotions swirling beneath. “Stay by my side—not as an associate, but as my partner.”

You blinked, taken aback by the suddenness of his words. “Wait… are you saying—marriage?”

“Precisely.” His tone was unwavering, as if he were stating an undeniable fact.

You laughed nervously, unsure if he was serious. “That’s… a bold offer, Lord Kamisato. But I’m afraid I can’t accept something so sudden.”

Ayato’s smile didn’t falter, though there was a glint of something unsettling in his eyes. “I understand your hesitation. But I assure you, my feelings are genuine. You’ll come to see that, in time.”

Little did you know, Ayato wasn’t one to take no for an answer. The more you resisted, the more determined he became.

After finishing a case at Narukami Shrine, you were invited by none other than Yae Miko for a private meeting. Her playful smirk never left her lips as she gestured for you to sit down. “You’ve been busy lately, haven’t you?” she teased, her sharp eyes gleaming with curiosity.

When she offered to tell your fortune, you couldn’t exactly refuse. It was Yae Miko, after all, she was rarely wrong about anything. But when the results came in, her expression turned unusually serious.

“Your love line” she began, her tone far softer than you were used to, “is a complicated one. A dangerous one, in fact. Be careful, dear. The one who holds your heart might not let go so easily.”

Her cryptic warning left you unsettled. You tried to brush it off as another one of her enigmatic tricks, but her words lingered in your mind. Yae Miko wasn’t one to say such things lightly.

Days later, you found yourself visiting the Kamisato Estate. You had heard that Ayato had just returned from a major mission assigned directly by the Shogun, and part of you wanted to check on him. He had been unusually quiet after your last encounter, and though you didn’t want to admit it, you were worried about him.

When you arrived, Ayaka greeted you warmly and led you to the training grounds, where Ayato was recovering from the aftermath of a fierce battle. His usually pristine appearance was slightly marred by cuts and bruises, yet his expression was as calm as ever. However, the moment he saw you, his eyes lit up with something unmistakable—relief.

“I didn’t expect to see you here” he admitted, his voice carrying a warmth that made your heart skip a beat.

“I heard you just got back from a case.” you replied, crossing your arms. “Figured I’d check in. You look like you could use some help.”

He smiled faintly, his exhaustion evident. “Your timing is impeccable, as always.”

As it turned out, your instincts were correct. What Ayato hadn’t told anyone was that his case wasn’t quite over yet. The Shogun’s orders had uncovered a deeper conspiracy threatening the stability of Inazuma, and Ayato was at the heart of it. Once again, you found yourself by his side, aiding him in unraveling the mystery and standing by him in yet another perilous battle.

The fight was grueling, pushing both of you to your limits. But together, you triumphed. Your unwavering determination and skill had earned you not only Ayato’s deepest admiration but also the respect of the Shogun herself. As a token of her gratitude, the Shogun personally rewarded you for your service.

What you didn’t expect was Ayato’s next move.

Standing before the Shogun in all her commanding presence, Ayato bowed deeply. “Your Excellency, I have one more request, if I may.”

The Shogun raised an eyebrow. “Speak.”

“I humbly ask for your blessing in marriage,” he said, his voice steady yet filled with conviction. “With them.”

The words hit you like a lightning strike. You stared at Ayato, stunned, as he turned to meet your gaze. His eyes held nothing but sincerity, as if he had planned this moment all along.

The Shogun considered his request for a moment before nodding. “Very well, Lord Kamisato. If they are in agreement, you have my blessing.”

Your head spun. This couldn’t be real. Ayato, always composed and calculating, had just asked for the Shogun’s approval to marry you in front of everyone. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“You’re not saying no, are you?” Ayato asked, his voice soft yet laced with an undercurrent of possessiveness. “I meant every word, and I won’t retract my proposal.”

You felt the weight of Yae Miko’s words return. A dangerous love line. Her warning rang in your ears as you looked at Ayato, whose calm mask had slipped just enough for you to see the intensity lurking beneath.

Despite the intensity of Ayato’s feelings, you had come to understand that beneath his possessiveness was a man who valued respect and devotion. While his obsessive nature could be overwhelming, he had never crossed a line, always treating you with the utmost care and reverence. Refusing his proposal seemed pointless—he was a man of his word, and as long as he didn’t tire of you, there was no harm in accepting his love.

And so, the preparations for your wedding began, with the Shogun herself granting her blessing. The ceremony was nothing short of a spectacle—luxurious, elegant, and befitting the head of the Kamisato Clan. Nobles, diplomats, and high-ranking officials filled the grand hall, marveling at the union of Ayato and the detective who had earned their place beside him.

Among the attendees were old friends and colleagues from the detective office, including Shikanoin Heizou. They greeted you warmly, reminiscing about past cases and your shared adventures. It felt like a moment of reprieve amidst the overwhelming grandeur of the event.

But Ayato’s sharp eyes were never far from you. From across the room, he watched as you laughed and chatted with Heizou and your other colleagues. The sight of you smiling so freely with others, particularly Heizou, ignited a storm within him. He didn’t say a word during the festivities, maintaining his usual composed demeanor. Yet, as the night wore on, he indulged in more wine than usual, the jealousy simmering beneath his calm façade.

By the time the wedding concluded and you returned to the privacy of your chambers, Ayato was visibly tipsy, his usually refined movements slightly unsteady. You helped him remove his outer robe, gently guiding him to sit. But as you turned to fetch water to sober him up, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him.

“You seemed awfully happy tonight” he murmured, his tone low but laced with jealousy. “Laughing with them, reminiscing like old lovers… Did you forget whose name you now bear?”

His words caught you off guard, and you turned to face him fully. “They’re just friends, Ayato. You know that.”

His lips curled into a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do I? Because watching you with them made me think otherwise.”

You frowned, recognizing the edge in his voice. “You’re drunk, Ayato. Let’s talk about this in the morning.”

But Ayato wasn’t listening. Before you could pull away, he stood, towering over you as he backed you against the wall. His usual restraint seemed to waver as his arms caged you in.

“I’ve waited too long for this night to let anyone else steal your attention” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “You’re mine to cherish, Y/N. And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

That night, Ayato’s jealousy manifested in a way you hadn’t expected. His touches, though fervent, never crossed the boundaries of respect—he was still the man who cherished you, even in his drunken state. But his possessiveness was undeniable as he marked you as his in every way imaginable, whispering promises and warnings against anyone else daring to take your attention from him.

As the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, you found yourself lying beside Ayato, his arms wrapped around you even in sleep. The night’s events still lingered in your mind—his jealousy, his drunken insistence, and the way he’d poured his emotions into his actions. Despite everything, you couldn’t deny that a part of you understood his feelings, even if they were overwhelming at times.

When he began to stir, his eyes fluttering open, you gently reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. He blinked up at you, his expression soft but guarded, as though unsure of how you felt after the night’s intensity.

“Ayato…” you murmured, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry for not being more mindful last night. I didn’t mean to make you feel insecure or neglected. I’ll do better at respecting your feelings—and our boundaries.”

He stared at you in silence for a moment, his usual composed mask cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of vulnerability. For a moment, you thought he might accept your apology and let the matter rest.

But then his lips curled into a sly, mischievous smile, and he tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer. “Boundaries?” he repeated, his voice still tinged with a huskiness that made your cheeks warm. “Darling, I don’t recall any boundaries between us. Especially not after last night.”

“Ayato, you were drunk” you countered gently, trying to pull away. “You weren’t yourself—”

“I’m perfectly sober now,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “And I think it’s only fair that you make up for the… distress you caused me. After all, you were quite close with your friends last night.”

You sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to let this go so easily. “I already apologized. And I kissed you just now to show I meant it.”

He chuckled, the sound low and teasing as he tilted his head. “A kiss on the forehead? My, how chaste of you. But don’t you think I deserve a little more than that, my dear spouse?”

Your face grew hotter as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “How about another kiss? Here.” He tapped his lips with a finger, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And perhaps… elsewhere, if you truly want to make it up to me.”

You groaned softly, torn between exasperation and fondness. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you married me” he quipped, his tone smug as he leaned back against the pillows, waiting expectantly. “So, what will it be? Will you grant your husband his ‘redemption,’ or shall I continue to lament my cruel, neglectful spouse?”

Despite his teasing, there was a warmth in his gaze that reassured you he wasn’t truly upset. Reluctantly, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss. When you pulled away, his arms tightened around you again, keeping you close.

“Better” he murmured, his smile softening. “But I think I’ll need more time to forgive you properly. Perhaps… a day in bed together would suffice.”

You sighed, hiding your smile against his chest. Ayato might have been possessive and dramatic at times, but you couldn’t deny that he had a way of making you feel loved—even when he drove you absolutely crazy.

[fluentmoviequoter]

More Than Meets the Eye

Excellent idea inspired by 5x18 with Tim and his wife from @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ! I hope you enjoy!!

This is a documentary-style fic! All scenes in italics are the interview scenes, and the non-italic portions are body cam footage, additional scenes, etc.

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!wife!reader (+ they have twins: a boy and a girl)

Summary: You and Tim go undercover as your criminal doppelgängers. When the case is turned into a documentary, the interviewer and viewers learn that there's often more than meets the eye.

Warnings: interview scenes in italics! fluff, angst, murder, credit card fraud, violence, threats, slightly suggestive in parts (bc Jake Butler) but SFW!

Word Count: 3.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Death, deception, and doppelgängers. When the Los Angeles Police Department responded to an urgent 911 call, no one expected what would happen next.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“Send help! He’s- oh my lord, I don’t know- there’s blood and he… I heard a scream, but not the shot!”

“Sir, where are you?”

A single scream, no witnesses, a silent shot, and a once-in-a-lifetime interaction between suspect and officer. This is More Than Meets the Eye.

When you and Tim walk into his office, where two chairs are waiting, you’re surprised to see three people and a camera shoved into the small area behind his desk. You smile at the interviewer as you sit, and Tim waits for you to settle before he lowers beside you.

“Hello! We’ll start right away. I’ll introduce you first,” the interviewer says. “Whatever feels best, and then we’ll get into the dirty details of the case.”

“Like they’re ever clean,” you mumble.

“This is Sergeant Tim Bradford of the LAPD, and his wife-“

“Don’t do that,” Tim interrupts. “She’s not my wife in this case, she was instrumental to solving it. Use her position title.”

“My apologies.”

You send the interviewer a kind smile as your elbow taps Tim’s in thanks. Tim doesn’t really want to be here, you know that, but you appreciate him standing up for you regardless. When your introduction is complete, you straighten your shoulders as the case is introduced and travel back in time to one of the weirdest days of your life.

“Sergeant Bradford, you were the first responder at the scene. But when you returned to the station is when this case truly took its first turn, correct?”

Tim sighs before he answers, “Yes, that is when this became more than just a call for me. For all of us, really.”

“Can you tell us more about that moment?”

“I walked into an interview room and saw a guy who looked like me on the other side of the glass. There was an opportunity, and our detectives were quick to jump on it.”

“Tim, switch to a private channel,” Angela requests. “I know you’re on a Metro patrol, but dispatch just alerted us to a suspected murder. You’re nearby.”

“I’ll check it out,” Tim answers. “Did the caller give any other details?”

“One of interest. He said he heard a scream but no shot. Apparently he mentioned more than one shot suffered by the vic.”

“He heard a scream but not numerous shots?”

“That’s what the call said. He told the dispatcher a name of a neighbor who had some sort of argument with the vic yesterday, so we sent another unit to pick him up.”

“Got it.”

“Thanks, Timothy. I owe you one.”

“Just one?”

“Two baby ones. Let me know.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he sets the radio aside. He reaches the address quickly and knocks on the door. There’s no answer, even after his yelled introduction as a police sergeant. Because of the exigent circumstance and probable cause of the phone call, Tim enters the house without a warrant. Inside is a blood bath, with one body spread in the tile of the entryway. Tim alerts Angela to the dead body, and she asks him to stay close to the scene and guard it until Nyla arrives.

“But the moment she gets there, come back to the station,” Angela adds.

“10-4,” Tim replies.

He clears the house, then closes the door behind him as neighbors gather near the front yard. One neighbor tells the others about what happened, and Tim assumes he is the caller. Several minutes pass before Nyla arrives with a CSU team, and Tim waves as he returns to his shop.

When he steps into the bullpen, Angela jogs to Tim’s side.

“Don’t freak out, Tim,” she says.

“I never do,” he argues.

“This- this is different Tim. So, just consider everything before you say no.”

Angela leads him into the interview observance room. On the other side of the one-way glass is a man who strikes an uncanny resemblance to Tim.

“It’s creepy, right?” Nolan asks. “He looks just like you!”

“Why are you here?” Tim counters.

“I brought him in. His name’s Jake Butler, though I fully expected his prints would come back as a Bradford.”

“He doesn’t look that much like me,” Tim argues.

“He really does,” Angela says. “I thought it was you for a split second.”

“I agree,” Wade interjects from the open door. “But whether you can see it or not, you’ve got an opportunity here, Bradford.”

Tim looks back to the window just as Jake stands to examine his hair in the reflection. Face-to-face, Tim can see the unsettling resemblance, though it pains him to voice that aloud.

“Fine, we- there’s some things in common,” he mutters.

“I’ll take it. I want you in the room with me,” Angela responds. “Shake him a little bit and find out what he really knows.”

“He saw me and immediately asked if the victim was dead,” Nolan fills in. “And his front door had blood all over the knob.”

“I’ll try not to let your wife see the competition,” Wade jokes.

Tim rolls his eyes as he follows Angela into the interview room. Neither of them speaks before Jake sees Tim and gasps.

“Yo,” he breathes out dramatically. “Your face looks like mine, man! Hey, do you have a long-lost twin? ‘Cause I’ve always felt this connection and-“

“No,” Tim says firmly.

In another part of the station, you hear about Nolan’s arrest of a murder suspect and decide to offer your assistance to Angela. A dead body in a nice neighborhood will need a lot of hands willing to do dirty work, and that’s something you don’t mind. Nyla looks up from her computer as you approach Angela’s empty area and smiles like she knows something you don’t.

“Hey,” you greet. “I was just looking for Lopez. If you need help, let me know.”

“Oh, we do. Our suspect has an acquaintance of sorts that I think you could help us find. Come with me?” Nyla replies.

You follow her to an interview room and don’t question when she asks you to walk inside. Once the door is closed behind you, you see Tim and Angela, then-

“Baby!” the man at the table cries.

Your eyes widen as he stands and steps toward you with his arms up. Tim pushes his hand against Jake’s chest and points to his chair.

“Give us just a moment, Mr. Butler?” Angela requests.

“Why you wearing a uniform, sweets?” Jake asks you. “C’mon, don’t leave me alone in here.”

You ignore his plea to stay and follow your husband into the observation room. Looking through the window, you suppress a shiver at how eerily similar Jake Butler is to Tim.

“Baby?” Tim repeats loudly. “What was that?”

Nyla raises a tablet with the criminal file of a woman who looks nearly identical to you. The name is different, and she’s currently in holding after being arrested on a warrant for missing court.

“Jake Butler’s girlfriend. Tell me that’s not lucky,” Nyla jokes, her smile wide as she observes the concealed horror on your face.

“This is too weird,” you mumble.

“It is,” Angela agrees. She lays her hand on your shoulder and smiles before she asks, “Want to go undercover for me?”

You look at Tim, who sets his jaw and lifts one shoulder slightly. He’s letting you choose. Neither of you are undercover officers; given the situation, it’s likely the only chance you’ll have to close the case.

“Only if one of you agrees to watch the kids,” you answer. “I need someone I trust with them if I’m going to pretend to be…”

“Shop,” Nyla answers with a giggle. “And that genius in there is Dim.”

Tim drops his head as he shakes it. You understand the nicknames, especially when compared to your lookalike’s credit card fraud scheme, but it only makes this more real. You’re going undercover as another version of yourself with another version of Tim. You’ll need a lot of help to get through this case.

“Neither of you are undercover officers,” the interviewer points out. “Yet you seemed eager to be launched into a dangerous situation, even if it meant leaving your children for an indefinite period of time.”

Tim clenches his jaw, and you lay your hand on his knee, below the camera's framing.

“We’re cops,” you argue. “Every morning when we kiss our twins goodbye, we know that we’re walking into danger and risking never coming home to them. What made this moment different was that we knew the outcome. With our team behind us, we could be pulled out at any moment, and the whole ‘lookalike’ thing gave us an advantage to call more shots than most UCs.”

“We didn’t abandon our children for some crime spree through the hills. It was a job, a performance, and it had a clear end date,” Tim adds. “Being a cop is the job. Our son and daughter, though, they’re our lives and we keep that line very clear.”

“Then that must’ve made what happened next hard. If your children, your relationship, are your life… how did you turn into - um - Dim, also known as Jake Butler, and…”

“Kaylee Longworth,” you fill in.

“That’s not what you called her, is it?”

“No. She was dubbed ‘Shop.’”

“Why? Dim is a play on Sergeant Bradford’s name, and an insult to Butler’s intelligence. What’s the connection from Kaylee to Shop?”

“It rhymes with cop,” Tim answers. “And she had a shopping habit that caused her financials to take a nosedive. We never would’ve found her if she’d stopped shopping sooner.”

“How was Longworth brought into custody initially?”

“A report of a stolen credit card,” you explain. “She was arrested in a Los Angeles Victoria’s Secret for using the stolen card.”

“Okay. So, you effortlessly become Dim and Shop. Where did those parents you seem to identify as go during your escapade through the hills?”

“What are you asking?” Tim interrupts. “If we feel guilty about pretending to be other people to catch a murderer?”

“Dim and Shop was just that, an act, pretend, and keeping this city safe for our family was the only thing on our minds,” you finish.

“The act went well, didn’t it? Was there any moment where you struggled or thought you did a bit too well?”

“Both,” you and Tim answer together.

“Hey, this isn’t the minor leagues, Butler! Get your head in the game or get out of my way.”

You roll your eyes at Jake’s criminal handler as Tim tightens his grip on your hips. He presses his chest against your back and licks his lips as he smiles at the man before you.

“You try controlling yourself with a woman like this,” Tim argues. “We got it handled.”

“Got something handled,” you murmur, turning your chin over your shoulder to see Tim.

“Focus,” the man snaps. “I need ten more credit cards by tonight. If you can’t do that, then maybe you’ll have to find a new girl, Butler. Can you get that through your girl-centered mind?”

Tim straightens and steps around you. As he crowds the shorter man, he drops his voice and slaps on a fake smile that does little to hide the anger in his eyes.

“I got it, pal. We’ll get it done. And when we do, you may want to find a new way to keep me in line.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Tim wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you out, whispering an apology as you turn a corner. It’s just a cover, you remind yourself. When Tim acts like someone you don’t know, you remember that you’re playing a part, too. This isn’t you. Though it’s hard, the case is all that matters.

“Jake,” you whisper harshly as another hand wraps around your arm.

“I got the account number,” Tim grunts. “What more do you want?”

“A promise that you’re not the one and done lucky loser you look like,” the man holding a gun against Tim’s temple answers.

“The only lucky thing about him is me,” you call. “You seriously think he can manage to fall into coincidence after coincidence? He only seems like that because that’s what he wants you to see. You can’t replace us, and you know it.”

“Oh. He’s lucky to have you, huh? Then maybe we’ll keep you here for the next score and see if Jake can deliver on his own.”

“Sure. Just make sure it’s not a man he’s ripping off.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because, like I said, I’m his luck. I can press men easier than he can, if you can understand that.”

He presses the gun harder into Tim’s skin, and you level your expression. After a moment, he drops his hand and signals for the men behind you to release you.

“Let’s go, Jake,” you say.

“Where are you going? We’ve got a casino hit tonight.”

“We’ll be back,” you promise. “I doubt a little unlucky boy like you would understand.”

“You’ve got an hour.”

“More than I need,” Tim brags.

“But all those attempts to maintain your covers together fell short,” the interviewer adds.

“How so?” you inquire.

“The interruption in the park. You were millimeters from adding another felony to the arrest when an unexpected interruption occurred.”

“You mean our kids?” Tim asks. “They came up and called me dad, and we did our jobs to maintain our covers and get our guy. So, no, it didn’t ‘fall short.’”

“What are you saying?” you question. “You want me to draw him back to a room so you can pop one in him?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m sure getting men to follow you into private spaces can’t be too hard. So, lure him to my room and I’ll make sure this payday is doubled for you.”

You glance at Tim where he stands on the other side of the semi-circle of criminal conspiracy.

“Dad!” a young girl yells.

You bite your tongue when you hear the familiar voice and look over slowly to maintain your composition and cover. Your daughter stops between you and Tim, and her twin brother pauses beside you. He furrows his brows as he looks at the tattoos covering Tim’s skin but doesn’t ask.

“Dad,” she repeats. “What are you doing here?”

Your son looks up at you, but you keep your eyes on Tim. Raising your eyebrows in faux accusation, you cross your arms and ask, “You have something you want to tell me, Jake?”

Over Tim’s shoulder, you don’t see Nyla or any sign of someone who should be watching your kids.

“Yeah,” the man beside you agrees. “Do you?”

“Man,” Tim drawls. “Do I look like I have something to tell? Unless his mama didn’t do her part after I bailed out, she’s just a confused little kid.”

“She’s not confused!” your son defends. He’s a few minutes older than her, fiercely protective, and he doesn’t stand for anyone talking down to her. “You’re not being kind.”

You look at the man beside you and shrug. Someone – you and Tim – taught your children too well. Gently, you tug the back of your son’s shirt to get his attention.

“Go back to where you’re supposed to be, alright? You shouldn’t run off,” you encourage.

He nods eagerly, grabs his sister’s hand, and runs back the way they came. You watch them go up a hill, then see James meet them at the top. Jake’s handler needs a performance now, so you look at Tim and tilt your head as your smile grows. You step toward Tim, loop your arms around his neck, and push yourself against him. Tim swallows at your sudden and awkward attention but recovers quickly as his hands drop to your thighs and slide up slowly.

“You may not have anything to tell now, but… It does give me an idea,” you flirt.

Tim cocks his head to the side quickly and then angles his face toward yours. “Tell me more, baby.”

“On your own time,” the handler interrupts. “Car, now, or we miss rush hour at the casino, and you can kiss your cut goodbye just like those kids.”

In the second part of your interview, set up in your living room, the interviewer asks, “And then what happened? You arrest the handler, who turned out to be the killer after a credit card robbery gone wrong. Plus, you apprehend everyone involved in his criminal racket. But a character like Jake and Kaylee can’t just disappear, right?”

“It can,” Tim assures. “That hair grease and the tattoos washed right away. You wouldn’t be asking these questions if we were trained UCs, but we had a team walking us through every step. This wasn’t something we just threw ourselves into.”

“I understand that. You performed well and closed the case. You got your spouse and kids back as you returned to your normal lives."

"Right. The job ended, and we returned to our real lives," you agree.

“You mentioned that the roles were hard to play at times, but your attraction and obsession with Butler seemed effortless,” the interviewer says.

“What are you implying? That I developed feelings for a felon who played a role in the murder of an innocent man?” you reply incredulously. “I was playing a part.”

“Well, sure, but there was no script. Everything you did was your choice, was it not?”

“Stop,” Tim warns. “What we did had nothing to do with the real people. If you can’t see that, you’re not looking in the right place.”

“My mind was never on Butler, it was on the truth. I did what I had to and what would get us the evidence we needed,” you defend.

“Those played up moments were completely necessary in your mind then?”

“Imply that she cheated one more time and we’re done,” Tim interjects. “Ask something about the case or you can finish this documentary on your own.”

“We’ll take another look at your cover identities, then. The moment in the park with your son had to have threatened that act and your composure,” the interviewer muses, changing the subject.

You nod at Tim before you answer, “Well, sure, but police work is everything expect predictable. Things happen in police work, but the detectives and a tactical team were nearby, plus Tim was right there, so there was never a real safety concern in my mind.”

“You trust Tim that much?”

“With my life.”

“And your children’s apparently. They didn’t sign up to go undercover, so how can you justify having them in that-“

“How can you justify a question like that?" Tim interrupts.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’ve made more than enough implications. If you think that we willingly let our children stand in a dangerous moment or put them in the path of any sort of harm, then this interview is over.”

“There’s just a few-“

“We’re done. We’ve covered the case,” you agree.

The door behind you opens, and you turn quickly. You and Tim smile as you walk to greet your children, who are returning from school.

“Mom!” your son calls as he hugs your legs. “We learned about dolphins today! Did you know they can see themselves in a mirror and know that it’s them?”

“Dad!” your daughter squeals as Tim pulls her up to hug her.

“I missed you today,” he tells her. “Do you think we should just stay here and play forever?”

“No!” she says with a giggle. “You have to stop bad people and I need to go to school.”

“I’ll stay home,” your son offers.

You laugh and take his offered drawing of a dolphin. The interviewer and the camera behind you are long forgotten as you interact with your children. This moment, the real you and Tim in your own life contrasts the limited information the documentary makers have about your parenting style.

“Alright, go put your stuff away and we’ll make dinner,” Tim instructs.

“My favorite?” your daughter asks.

“No, it’s my turn!” your son argues.

“You have the same favorite.” Tim chuckles as he directs them down the hall before he turns back to the camera crew in your living room.

Your children run to their rooms, and the interviewer asks, “Just one more thing, please. Why do all of this? You aren’t specially trained or viewed as an officer who has to do this. It’s outside of your scope, so what made this case worth it?”

“Everything we did, everything we continue to do, we do out of love for our kids and our city," you answer. "No matter what you say or how you try to twist this case, we acted from our sense of duty and from love.”

“Not that you’d understand,” Tim sighs. “Being a parent, being a cop... there’s always more than what you see from the seat you’re in outside of it all.”