#but then she mentioned him in the event story……. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aperrywilliams · 23 hours

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If Anything, I Find it Educative (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Spencer is not happy attending the annual FBI Gala this year. Having to socialize with a woman who only wants to seduce him makes it worse. But one not-so-fortunate incident could improve his night somehow.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: Awkward Spencer. Morgan is stubborn about Spencer getting 'game.' Spencer spills facts about seafood (oysters), human biting, and cheating. Mention to Spencer's dick (only a phrase). Someone choking on food is described. A toxic relationship and job insecurities are described too. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Okay, people. This is kind of an experiment: I want to know how you think the relationship between Spencer and Reader might evolve (if it evolves at all). Good friends? Romantic relationship rom-com style? An angsty romantic relationship? Friends to lovers? Just lovers? What important things do you imagine could happen to them? (canon or not). What could be the Reader's whole back story?

This is just a one-shot, but I am considering continuing it based on your thoughts and suggestions.

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Spencer's POV

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There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by many people at an event. Standing in the middle of a crowded party dressed in formal attire is one of them.

It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.

And this time, it's Hotch's fault.

Tonight, I should have been at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket and enjoying my new edition of War and Peace. But the annual FBI gala and Hotch's adamant request blew my plans.

"Strauss wants to see the whole team at the venue this year. And we are in a very thin line with her to ignore her wishes."

No one seemed conflicted with the idea of attending this fancy party. Even some of my teammates looked excited about it. While JJ and Garcia chatted animatedly for days about what dress they would choose, Morgan saw it as a chance to get to know the new female agents working at Counterterrorism. Rossi only wanted to know how good the scotch would be this year, and Prentiss took it as an excuse to have free drinks. For his part, Hotch seemed as calm as any day at work.

But me? I wasn't excited at all.

Reluctantly, I purchased a tuxedo for the gala. At first, I thought about renting one since I would hardly use it again. But my germophobic self made me think again, and I decided the expense would at least make me feel less uncomfortable.

Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.

Now, I'm standing at the entrance, scanning the venue, searching for a familiar face. The place is packed with agents from all divisions and their plus ones, so it's hard to find anything at all.

But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.

"Boy genius! Over here!"

Penelope is calling my name from a table in the corner. As my gaze lands on her, I can see Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Hotch there too.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and quickly, I stroll where my teammates are.

"Spence! You made it!" JJ greets me as I pull a chair next to Morgan to sit.

"We thought you weren't coming," Emily added before sipping her drink.

"I understood it was a requirement," I quipped, looking at Hotch. The aforementioned man nodded in agreement.

"It was, indeed. Have I to remind you Strauss is still mad about the whole ordeal with you stepping into a building with no vest and no gun?"

Hotch is right. Strauss made his life hell for a whole week until he notified my suspension.

I wince, remembering the incident in question.

Self-note: don't leave behind the vest and the gun again.

"You look very handsome, boy wonder," Garcia chimes, waving her hand and pointing at me.

I can't help but blush at the compliment. It's not she hasn't done it before, and I know she means well, but-

"Maybe pretty boy gets some game tonight," Morgan claps his hand on my shoulder, grinning.

That's why I don't like that kind of attention. At every chance, someone pips up and tries to play wingman or wingwoman for me. And although I appreciate their efforts, I like to move at my own pace. Even if some say my pace, it's more like a turtle's speed.

Giving him a tight-lip smile, I reach for a glass of water. I don't know how I'll survive this night.

Surprisingly, it is okay for now. I fall into conversation with Garcia and JJ, although it is more like me listening and them talking. Occasionally, I add some to the topic, and they seem receptive.

But Derek looks impatient to stand and march to a group of women talking on the opposite side of the venue, next to the bar. I don't look much into it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"You're oddly quiet tonight, pretty boy. What's up?" My sight darts from JJ and Penelope to Derek.

"Nothing?" I offer. My eyebrows creace. Derek snickers.

"I know what you need! Come on, let's enjoy the party and come with me to chat with those beautiful agents at the bar over there," he proposes. I shake my head.

"No. I'm good. You can go if you want. I don't think you need my help."

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Don't get dismissive with me. It'll help you to lose a little. I promise," he insists. And I know I'm losing my battle with him tonight.

"As if I had something interesting to say to them," I mumble, loud enough for Derek to hear.

"Don't say that. Surely, some would like to hear about, I don't know, oysters? And how they became a symbol of glamor or whatever. Because I'm sure you know that, right?" Derek points, grabbing an oyster from the tray a waiter offers him.

"Actually, oysters were not considered a status symbol until the 11th century, when the Crusades trunked access to seafood in Europe. Some researchers believe that-"

I'm about to explain the whole thing when Morgan cuts me off.

"See? Now, don't waste that knowledge with me, and let's share it with those gorgeous, shall we?"

I'm screwed.

I reluctantly stand to follow Derek. I know he's the best intention even if I won't tell him that. Maybe he's right, and I need to step out of my comfort zone occasionally.

As smoothly as only Morgan can be, he interrupts the conversation between three women by the bar. You would think they would return annoyed looks from the sudden interruption, but they did not. It is everything but that.

"Excuse me, beautiful ladies. Hope you don't mind some company. My friend and I thought it would be an honor to share part of your precious time tonight."

How the fuck can he do that?!

The result shocked me almost more than it impressed me. The three turn to us with flirting smiles flashing to Derek. And me?

That's new. And, of course, I have to blush furiously at that.

"Hey, handsome. Sweet talk, uh?" One of the girls teases Derek while the others giggle.

"I know I can do better, but you make me nervous, sweetheart," Morgan banters as smoothly as the beginning.

And that's it. We have their full attention now. Scratch that; Derek has their full attention now.

He asks for their names, and that's how I know the woman who spoke first is Vivian, and her friends are Julie and Ashley. The three of them work in the Counterterrorism Division.

"And who is your good-looking friend?" Ashley asks, skimming at me.

Why is she looking at me from head to toe?

Derek glances at me, and I understand it's time for me to say something.

"I'm Spencer," I wave.

Short and precise.

"Hi, Spencer. You are cute," Ashley points, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry.

As Emily once said, my IQ slashes to 60 when I'm in front of a beautiful woman. And Ashley is a beautiful woman. Her long, stylish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin with perfect makeup, gorgeous smile, and a dress that accentuates her body in the right places. It would be stupid to say she is not attractive.

"Why don't we go to the dance floor while Ashley and Spencer get to know each other better, uh?" Derek offers to Julie and Vivian, winking at me.

Oh, Lord. Help me.

I don't think Derek or Ashley would appreciate it if I refused to stay here and run to the nearest exit. So I give Ashley a tight smile and prepare myself for whatever comes now.

"Well...?" she prompts, and I don't know what the fuck she expects me to say.

"Yeah. Nice party," I offer, hoping my attempt to small talk works.

Ashley's smile suggests it does.

"It is. Are you having fun?"

No.

"Yes! A lot! Are you?"

"Yeah. But I think it turns out better now," she says, subtly closing some distance between us with a playful look directed at me.

Is she flirting with me?

I clear my throat to appease some of my nerves. I need to cool off. If Derek can do this, I should try.

A waitress approaches us and offers some drinks. Ashley picks a glass of wine, and I prefer a flute of champagne. I don't usually drink alcohol, but I need it now.

"Slow down, boy. People would think I make you nervous," Ashley points seductively when she notices how I quickly down the liquid.

My eyes widen when she rests a hand on my chest and leans to whisper in my ear.

"I don't bite. Unless you want me to."

Okay. That sounds very straightforward.

I should feel flattered. An attractive woman is more than insinuating me right now; I barely said anything. But it doesn't feel like that.

Derek surely would tell me, 'Take it and play it, pretty boy,' but I don't feel like it. If we could engage in a kind of conversation, I would feel more comfortable. Don't get me wrong. I know what a potential one-night stand means, but I'm not good at it. That's how I am. Sue me.

I want to turn her down gently, so I do what I know to do, and people usually hate me for it: spit information.

"Compared with other mammals, like dogs and bears, humans don't have the strongest bite. Scientists measure the pressure exerted by an animal's bite in pounds per square inch or psi. The human bite force is 162 psi. The bite force of some dogs can reach 250 psi, while some bears have a bite force of over 1,000 psi. It's interesting, actually-"

Ashley is now looking at me, confused. She retreats his hand from my chest and hums, faking interest in what I'm saying.

As I go on with my info dump, I notice how Ashley changes her empty glass of wine to a filled one when a server offers it.

Aside from 'interesting,' 'oh,' and 'uhm,' she doesn't add more to the conversation - or more likely, my rambling - and by now, you would think she's tired of me. But no. For God knows what reason, she is persistent. I give her that.

Typically, I can ramble on and on, which is not the exception. The waiters and waitresses keep coming with drinks and food, and even I pick some for myself.

When they offer us a tray with oysters, I can't help but recall what Morgan told me before.

As I see Ashley ushering one to her mouth, I deliver an exciting fact about it.

"Did you know that raw oysters are still alive? Indeed, some people argue oysters might feel pain, and others say that because they don't have a central nervous system, they don't feel pain like other seafood species might."

Not looking at her, I focus on my oyster, inspecting it before continuing.

"If it's that so, the question is when they die actually. This is likely to happen when they are shucked rather than when they are chewed or swallowed. Scientists think this because an oyster's heart is right next to the bottom adductor muscle, so separating it from the shell kills it."

I should have known the lack of response wasn't due to the interest in the topic, although speaking was impossible for her. Her face's blueness and her hand on her neck now tell me something is wrong.

Fuck. She is choking.

I don't know what to do. She is choking on an oyster, and I'm paralyzed. The people around us start to scream as they see her turning blue. That picks everyone's attention, and I want to dig a hole to get into right now. But first, I should do something to help her. Before I can reach for her, a pair of arms hugs Ashley from behind and applies the Heimlich Maneuver. After a few thrusts into the abdominal area, we see the oyster fly from her mouth to somewhere on the floor.

At the same time, Vivian, Julie, and Derek rush to us to find out what is going on.

Ashley starts coughing, and some of her natural color returns to her face. The arms around her torso loosen, and that's when I notice the woman who just saved her life from choking.

Everything happens so fast that I barely register the slap across my face—Ashley's courtesy.

A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.

Before I can say anything, Ashley starts a rant full of anger and frustration toward me.

"Are you fucking crazy? Why would you say something like that? It's disgusting!"

Ironically, I'm speechless now.

What is wrong with talking about oysters?

"You fucking weird!" Ashley continues with her rant. It's like she has been holding it since we were left alone.

The woman who helped Ashley now looks between me and her with her eyebrow creased.

"Hey. You should take it easy. You're just recovering from-"

She can't finish the sentence since Ashley turned to lash out at her.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I almost died because of this pathetic nerd here who can't stop rambling about alive oysters! Just thinking about it makes me sick again!"

"Could it be a hint for not eating them anymore?" I muse, gaining a chuckle from the woman - let's call her the savior - and a deadly glare from Ashley. I recoil from saying anything else, and it is the wiser.

"I should have known better than to engage my time with you. Even if you actually pack a big dick, it doesn't worth it!" she whisper-yell at me, but loud enough for Derek, Vivian, Julie, and the mystery-savior woman to hear.

I'm utterly confused and embarrassed. What have to do my dick with all of this?

Derek is now dispersing the crowd around us as Vivian and Julie try to soothe her friend's anger, rubbing her back and arm.

I bet they see Ashley's wrath boiling and the high probability of her launching towards me to punch me. Their efforts to subdue her seem to work because, after a loud huff, Ashley only grabs her coat from Vivian's hand and spits at me: "Thanks for ruining my night!"

The three pass by my side to one of the exits venue.

I don't even know how I should feel.

I feel upset because my escape plan didn't go as planned. I feel relieved because Ashley didn't die. Hurt? Yeah, that, too. I didn't deserve a slap on my face. She calling me a pathetic nerd? Sadly, I'm not surprised. And it only confirms my theory I'm not good at this kind of setting.

With the show over and people not focused on me anymore, Derek approaches. I know what he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it. I'm done for tonight.

"Don't say it," I cut him off.

"I wasn't gonna say anything," he tells me with a sympathetic look, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Sure you not," I grumble. "And what was about that comment about my… dick?" I whisper to him.

Derek's face tries to remain neutral, but I know him better.

"What did you do?" I demand to Morgan, and he sighs.

"I may or may not have suggested a rumor about your attributes."

I look at him in disbelief.

"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"

"Come on, pretty boy. It worked! You caught their attention, didn't you?"

I shake my head, trying not to snap at him in public. Morgan can see the distress I'm carrying right now and relents.

"I'm sorry, Reid. I thought it would be a good chance for you to show yourself around. You're a good kid; you deserve to have a good time."

It's useless to engage in this argument again. I understand his good intentions, but like this? No, thanks.

"I better get going," I mumble, walking backward. I'm done for the night.

"Reid..." Morgan starts, but the shake of my head cuts him off. He sighs as I turn to head to one of the exits.

Walking through one of the venue's doors, I find myself on a lateral terrace. I stop for a moment to look around.

If there were different circumstances, I would be enjoying this view. To the front, you can see a beautiful and thick green shrubbery. Several fountains with little waterfalls and statues recreate a neoclassical garden. It is no coincidence since the property where the venue is located is a typical Jefferson's Neo-Palladian construction with high ceilings and large columns.

My architectural appreciation stops when my eyes land on a woman with her back leaning against one of the columns, her left hand resting on the concrete railing, and her right hand with a glass of wine. Her face is turned to the side, and she is observing the beautiful garden in front of her.

I know her. I've seen her before.

Although it is dark outside, the light from the venue's long windows illuminates the terrace enough.

My brain comes up with the answer in a fraction of a second.

Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking.

After what she did, nobody even thanked her. The worst part is knowing Ashley behaved that poorly with her. It's not fair. And it's my fault.

With that in mind, I approach her.

She seems too concentrated to register I'm just a foot of distance from her. I clear my throat to call her attention.

She turns her head with a confused look at first. But she offered me a kind smile when she realized who I was.

It's my first chance to look at her; with everything happening so fast, I barely noticed her trying to talk back to Ashley moments ago.

And now that I'm in front of her, I feel weirdly struck.

Besides her beautiful smile, her eyes hold a piercing gaze, but not the kind that frightens you. It's more like she actually sees you and gives you her undivided attention. With light makeup, her face lets you see some of her freckles. With her hair tied to one side, you can see her neck adorned with a simple gold chain with a compass-shaped pendant.

My not-so-subtle scrutiny is interrupted by her voice.

"Can I help you?" She asks, and my cheeks turn pink. But I'm here for a reason, so I clear my throat before speaking.

"Sorry. I - uh. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there," I say, pointing to the inside. "And, well, I want to apologize too. Ashley wasn't very kind to you, considering you mostly saved her life."

She tilts her head slightly, a frown forming, while contemplating what to say.

"Well," she starts. "I'll take the thanks. But I can't take the apologies."

Now, it's my turn to frown.

"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"

Not that she should do it. It's her right to do it or not, but I'm curious.

"Because you didn't do anything wrong to me, so you don't have to," she shrugs, like it's obvious.

"I kind of did. I mean, Ashley behaved awful, and I didn't -"

Before I can continue, she shakes her head to stop me.

"No. Don't do that. Why on earth do you want to apologize for someone else's bad manners, considering she treated you like garbage?"

She doesn't say it as if she is upset at me, more likely as if she doesn't understand why I would do that. And yes, she has a good point. But someone has to do the right thing, and that's what I say next.

"It's just the right thing to do."

She takes her time, mulling over my words and whether she believes me or not.

"Okay. You're correct. It's the right to do. And it's a shame most people don't do it. But I still believe it is not your responsibility here."

Something is telling me her statement concerns more than Ashley being impolite. But it is not my place to point that.

"But some people do. And that must count as something, I guess. "

It's curious how her look changes from pensive to more light-hearted.

"Okay. You win this time..." she trails off, not knowing how to refer to me.

"Spencer," I supply. She hums.

"You win this time, Spencer. And being that said, I accept your apology too," she added, sipping the remaining wine from her glass.

I smile, nodding appreciatively. It's a little gesture, but I feel better after what happened.

Silence settles between us, and I take that as my cue to leave. I had already taken enough of her time.

"Uh, well. Thank you again..."

I trail off, realizing I don't know her name.

"(Y/N)," she says.

"Thank you again, (Y/N). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

With that said, I should get on foot to leave the venue, as I had planned to do ten minutes ago, but for some reason, my feet didn't want to move, and I kept standing there. (Y/N) look at me as if I'm going to say something else due to the lack of movement on my part.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and now I have the same question for myself.

"Yeah. Yeah. Totally okay. Sorry, I'm leaving now."

Turning in my heels, I'm about to walk away when I hear (Y/N) 's voice.

"I didn't know that, you know? And, for the record, I didn't think it was disgusting."

I stop in my tracks to look at her with a raised eyebrow. When I catch what she is referring to, my eyes cast to the floor, and my cheeks turn pink again.

"If anything, I found it educative," she adds. I try to decipher if there is some teasing in her words, but I find none. She's being oddly genuine. Oddly, because I'm not used to people saying that when referring to the things I tend to ramble about.

"Thank you," I sheepishly say, my hands finding home in my pant pockets. "People don't tell me that very often."

A puff leaves (Y/N) 's lips before she says, "Ungrateful fuckers."

I chuckle at her choice of words.

Weird. It's the first time all night that I don't want to run away from here.

"Yeah. Something like that," I agree, and she smiles. Now I'm comfortable enough to make some conversation.

"Uh, are you from Quantico?"

"Yeah. A very adrenalinal position," she prompts, and I raise an eyebrow. "Finance Division."

I can't help but snort, and she laughs. "I told you. What about you?"

"Behavioral Unit Analysis," I reply. (Y/N)' s eyes wide in recognition.

"Wow. The one and only BAU."

"You know us?"

"Sure. I wouldn't forget a unit that has its own jet. I'm the one who enters the travel expenses from all Quantico," she explains. I hum, trying to figure out the amplitude of that sole task. "Like I told you, very exciting."

She is mocking herself regarding her job. But I find it impressive for a desk job. Not all people have the skills to run financials.

"Well, I agree it is not very adrenaline but very important. I mean, we have to travel around the country all the time. Our job depends on traveling."

(Y/N) has now an amused expression on her face.

"It's nice to know someone truly values what you do. Not even our boss does it," she points before letting a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Gosh, I'm being very judgmental right now. You're going to think I spend my life complaining about everything. I do sometimes, but I'm not always like this," she explains. I shake my head.

"I'm not judging you. Everyone has the right to say what things don't like or would change about their jobs."

"Well, thanks. Although I'm sure you guys have more reasons to be concerned. You risk your life on the field every time. That's huge."

She rests the empty glass on the concrete rail, adjusting her coat around her body. The air is chiller at this time of the night.

"You know? People say that a lot. And I agree. It's a dangerous job, but it's not better than anyone's for that reason, or whatever another reason for that matter.

Her eyes are analyzing me with curiosity. I'm not sure, but it's like she's having difficulty believing what I'm saying.

"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"

"Sure."

"Why are you here tonight?"

My eyes narrow at her question. Isn't the reason obvious?

"What do you mean? It's the FBI annual gala," I point out, knowing she already knows that too. She nods.

"Precisely," she starts. "And at the risk of being impertinent, I can say this environment makes you uncomfortable. When you were with that girl talking - scratch that, when you were talking, and she looked at you, trying to devour you with her eyes - you seemed like you didn't want to be there. Above all, knowing this kind of event is basically to show off to other bureau agents, I don't think is your notion of an ideal night."

If I wasn't impressed when we started talking - which I was - I am now.

She assumes my awe as discomfort.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep."

"No, no. You are okay. And let me tell you, your observation is completely accurate," I hasten to clarify.

"Yeah?" (Y/N) asks, and I nod earnestly.

"Yeah. Have you not considered applying for a position as a field agent?"

An amused laugh leaves her lips.

"No way! I would be a total disaster! And carrying a gun is not my idea of a dream job anymore," she points out, still laughing.

I chuckle, but her answer makes me think. Before I can ask for clarification, she calls me out.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question."

I didn't, although the answer is simple.

"My boss made me."

(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.

"What? Did he put a gun against your chest?"

Well, thinking better about it, maybe the answer is not that simple.

"Not quite, but you can say I felt it that way."

I tell (Y/N) how my team always worries about my lack of social interaction, which isn't that accurate if you ask me. However, some of the pressure of doing things that people my age would generally do is finally getting me and pushing me out of my comfort zone.

She listens to me with undivided attention and seems to understand what I'm talking about.

"Peer pressure, uh? I can relate to that to some extent," she agrees.

"That's why are you here tonight, too?"

My question makes her let out a deep sigh as her eyes focus on the garden beside us for a second.

"Not really. Who knows, maybe I do enjoy being here?"

(Y/N) phrases it more like a question than a statement. And I can tell she doesn't believe it either.

"Enjoying being apart from the crowd, in a lateral terrace barely illuminated and exposed to the chilly night air? I can think of several other places to do the same thing without the trouble of a gala environment."

Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, which tells me I'm right.

"Not fair, you are a certified profiler," (Y/N) complains, faking annoyance.

"And you haven't answered my question either," I remind her. She rolls her eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, let's say I came here to prove myself something. Spoiler alert: I failed. That's why I have been mostly spending the night here."

I hum, knowing she is vague in explaining, but I'm not in a place to pry.

"Look, I would tell you more about it, but I'm sure you have to return inside. Your teammates are surely wondering where you are."

I can't help but snort, and she raises an eyebrow at my reaction.

"I'm sorry, but your assumption is far from reality. Considering what happened inside, they think I ran home. What I was actually doing before spotting you here," I admit.

"Ha! So it's true I'm holding you back but for a different motive," she triumphantly concludes.

"I didn't say that!" I complain with a hint of exasperation, to which she breathly laughs.

"I know. I know. I'm messing with you. Honestly? There are two reasons why I'm avoiding this topic right now. First, I don't think you want to hear the mess my life is these days, and second, I would kill for a coffee and a sandwich-" she pauses, stifling a chuckle before continuing. "Considering oysters are out of the table."

"Oh, come on!" I groan, seeing how she falls into a fit of laughter, so contagious that I can't help but join her.

"Sorry, sorry. Not very kind of me, I know. But I couldn't help it," she apologizes, still giggling. I bit my lower lip in amusement.

"Alright. It's okay. It's frankly funny," I admit, my words leaving my mouth before I can think of them. "Well, I could tell you more of those moments in my life - many of them - if you let me join you with the coffee and sandwich. I know a good place that is open at this hour. And you can tell me what kind of thing you wanted to prove yourself tonight."

Spencer Reid. Is that you?

I'm surprised by my sudden confidence, and it seems (Y/N) is, too. She hums, scrubbing her fingers under her chin while contemplating my offer.

"Okay, I'll take it. But don't tell me later that I didn't warn you about the mess of my life," she points her index finger at me.

"I won't. I promise."

Grabbing a cab is relatively easy since the FBI considered transportation outside the venue for people who won't be driving.

The fifteen-minute ride allows us to have a light conversation. That's how I know (Y/N) has been in the bureau for almost four years. Being an Accountant by profession and with a Master of Science in Finance from Georgetown, she was recruited for the FBI precisely considering her outstanding skills in the financial department.

She asks me about my trajectory in the FBI as well. I tell her about Gideon and the start of my life at the BAU.

Arriving at our destination, I insist on paying for the ride despite her resistance. I assured her that she could invite me to the coffee.

It must be a curious image for the patrons to see two fully gala-dressed people stepping inside a diner at eleven pm.

We sit on a bench facing each other.

A girl who can't hide her curious expression comes to take our order. As promised, (Y/N) asks for two coffees and two sandwiches.

"So, Agent Gideon recruited you for the FBI. Why did you accept? I would have thought you would be more comfortable in academics," (Y/N) asks, stirring a spoon of sugar in her coffee.

"I thought the same at the time. But Gideon saw something I didn't. He knew I wouldn't settle with learning and teaching for the rest of my life, and I needed it to be useful beyond that environment."

I explain how profiling has helped us to catch unsubs around the country and how worthy it is for me. I can't think of myself doing anything else. (Y/N) listen to me with raptor interest; it is nice to be heard that way.

"You know? I haven't heard someone speak passionately about their work in a long time. It's good you feel that way," she says with a hint of longing that doesn't go unnoticed by me.

"It is bold of me to assume you don't like what you do?"

Maybe I'm overstepping, but I'm curious. And (Y/N) doesn't seem bothered by my question. Shifting in her seat, she leans, resting her elbows on the table.

"Not bold at all, mister profiler," she teases. "But not always has been that way. I would say I started to feel uncomfortable not long ago. A couple of months, perhaps?"

I hum, thinking about what could have made her feel that way.

"It has to do with why you were at the gala tonight?"

She chuckles, nodding.

"Kind of. Remember I told you I wanted to prove myself something? Well, it has to do with what has been bothering me," she prefaces.

(Y/N) relates how things have gone well since she got into the FBI. She felt respected, wanting to do many things and learn everything she could.

That's how she met her boyfriend.

"I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, much less at work. I wanted to be professional, separating my private life from my job. But he was so attentive and supportive. He always told me he was happy I felt fulfilled with what I was doing. He was so perfect I thought I had found my soulmate."

I don't know exactly where she is going, but sure as hell, that prick wasn't her soulmate.

"What happened?"

"One day, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. After two years of relationship, he started with harsh comments and criticism about everything I did and didn't do."

A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.

"I should have noticed. By then, he was promoted from desk duty and junior trainee to field agent. He had always wanted it, and I felt so happy for him. But that changed everything."

(Y/N) tells me about how her boyfriend stopped listening to her, and instead, every topic of conversation turned to his job, implying - sometimes saying it explicitly - that it was more important than hers.

"It's not only the fact we stopped communicating; it was realizing how low he thought about me and my accomplishments. At first, I tried to understand. Of course, he was dazed by this new life, full of danger and adrenaline. I could understand it. But when he started comparing me to his female colleagues and the things they were doing, way more important than the ones I was doing, it made me insecure."

(Y/N) takes time to collect her thoughts, sipping the remaining coffee from the cup.

"The insecurities got the best of me. At some point, I just wanted to run away and leave it all behind. I knew it was irrational, but I believed him. I even thought about changing my career and training to be a field agent. Good thing we broke up before I could do that," she admits.

"What stopped you? I mean, like you're telling this, you were going to change for him," I ask. She cast her gaze, averting mine. Her cheeks turn pink.

"I don't like to admit it, but the reason we broke up wasn't because I realized how stupid the situation was. We broke up because he cheated on me. I discovered it two months ago, breaking the camel's back."

Fuck. That prick was not meant to be her soulmate. And I feel the urge to have one or two words with him right now.

"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I manage to say. (Y/N) shakes her head.

"Nah. If anything, I'm glad it happened. Even if it broke my heart."

"He was at the gala, right?" (Y/N) nods.

"With the coworker that he chose to cheat on me. His current girlfriend."

Everything makes perfect sense now. (Y/N) was trying to prove to herself that the wound had healed. And from what she said earlier, it didn't turn that way.

She bitterly chuckles.

"Yeah. It's pathetic, I know."

Spencer, do something.

"No! It's not. Unfortunately, cheating is not uncommon, particularly in men. In 2020, IFS released a report stating that 20% of men have admitted to cheating, and only 10% have. In 2021, the Health Testing Centers asked 441 people who admitted infidelity to their partners and asked how long it took for them to tell their partners about it. 47.7% of the respondents told their partner within a week that they'd cheated. 26.6% of those have waited for a month, and 25.7% took six months or longer to tell their partner about the infidelity. And 60% of them said the affair started in a work environment."

And then again, the rambling. But instead of giving me a blank look, (Y/N) seems to consider what I just said.

"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about it then. Anyway, it hasn't been easy to get out of this. I thought going to the gala and forcing myself to see them together would be enough to get a closure," she reflects.

"But it still hurts," I supply, making (Y/N) hum.

"Yeah. I'm not ready, and it sucks. Not for him, but for me. I hate feeling so out of place, so dissatisfied with everything," (Y/N) retorts, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

Her eyes look sad, and I want to do something to fix it, although I know that nothing I can say would be enough. Maybe joking will at least get her off the topic.

"And there I was talking about oysters all night," I sigh, feigning disapproval. Genuine laughter escapes her lips.

I didn't know that making her laugh could fill my heart so much with satisfaction.

"That's life," she adds, now checking the time on her cell phone. "I think I'll get going," she announces, collecting her things and preparing to stand.

"Can I walk you home? It's very late already," I ask.

"Oh no, don't worry about me. My building is not far from here."

I know she doesn't want to cause trouble, but it makes me uneasy about what could happen to her walking alone at this hour.

Thank you, BAU.

"Please?" I insist. (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.

"Aren't you already fed up with me?" she asks curiously.

"Non yet," I grin.

Not having the energy to put up a fight, she accepts my offer, and after paying the bill, we leave the restaurant.

The night is colder now, and both of us walk in silence with our hands in our pockets.

I can't know what exactly she's thinking, but at least I can't stop thinking about tonight. For someone like me, it's hard to fall into spontaneity, but with (Y/N), it wasn't a problem. That amazes me, and I like it at the same time.

When she stops walking, I get out of my thoughts.

"Here," she says, looking at the building we are standing by. "Thank you for walking with me," (Y/N) states, smiling. It's the same warm smile she offered when I found her on the venue's terrace a couple of hours ago.

"Of course. It's the less I could do."

And I mean it. She saved my night in so many ways she doesn't even know.

"Well, I need to say it was a pleasure to share this shit of a night with you and turned it less shitty," she says, grinning and satisfied with her remark.

I laugh at her statement. I couldn't have said it better.

"Thank you. It's the best compliment I have had in a long time," I joke, making (Y/N) giggle.

"You are welcome."

I have the question on the tip of my tongue. I would love to see her again, but what if she doesn't think it's worth it? I opt for the vaguest thing that comes to mind.

"See you around?"

(Y/N) thinks about it for a moment. Am I being too obvious? Before falling into a spiral, she smiles at me again.

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

I can't help but feel the excitement pouring from me.

"Great! Well, I - I'll go now. Good night (Y/N)," I say goodbye, slowly walking backward.

"Good night, Spencer," she retorts before entering the building.

I watch her disappear behind the door, and I think that while neither of us got what we wanted, maybe we got what we needed.

-------------

A/N 2: I'm excited to know your thoughts about this!

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #amanda perry williams #aperrywilliams #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

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pennyellee · 2 days

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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings (preview only): minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, incision wound, blood, suicide attempt, strong language, mentions of God, ...

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 583

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

author's note: well, yall, life is getting in my way, it's certainly keeping me from finishing this chapter, but it shouldn't be that long before I actually do. I wanted to drop a little preview before the sacred day I was born, which is tomorrow, 1-2-3 birthday depression. Enjoy the preview and stay tuned for the chapter. I'll be also answering some asks tomorrow, yes, i see them, and i love you all so so so so much, I just have very little of free time lately. See ya soon! lots of love, p. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡🫧

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII

Time seemed to slow as Yoongi lunged forward, reaching out to stop her, but it was too late. The blade sliced through her skin, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as pain seared through her, her vision swimming with darkness. She felt Yoongi’s hands on her, his panicked voice calling out to her, but it was distant as if coming from a faraway place.

“Seokjin?!!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

He cradled her in his arms, his hands trembling as he pressed against the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

The sound of loud footsteps echoed in the corridor as others rushed forward to reach the doctor, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief. But amidst the chaos, Y/N’s empty gaze remained fixed on Yoongi, her eyes still burning with flames.

“Stay with me, baby. Don’t leave me please.” Yoongi whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He pressed his lips to her forehead, willing her to hold on, to fight for her life.

But as he looked down at her pale, lifeless face, he knew that the road ahead would be long and fraught with challenges. For now, all he could do was pray that she would survive, that she would find the strength to forgive him and that they would someday find their way back to each other.

“Please don’t take her away from me, my Lord.”

Yoongi prayed that it was not too late to save her from the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

One thing remained clear in Yoongi’s mind: he would do whatever it took to save her, to make amends for the pain he had caused, and to prove to her that his love was worth fighting for.

Yoongi’s voice cut through the turmoil, his words a desperate plea for forgiveness. He begged for her to forgive him, to give him another chance to make things right. No more secrets, no more lies. No more pain. He was willing to rebuild their relationship from the ground up, on a foundation of honesty and trust.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the tang of fear, thickening the air with a palpable sense of impending doom. He ripped one of his sleeves a while ago, pressing the roughly crimpled fabric to the wound, praying that Seokjin was near. Or did anyone hear him scream frantically enough to relay the message?

“You can’t leave me, baby, please. I promise we’ll work everything through.”

He kissed and caressed her hair with his free hand which was covered with her blood. Tears blurred his vision as his hand trembled at the sight. A blood he never wished to shed.

“Please, Y/N, you have to forgive me.” The weight of his actions pressed down on him like a leaden blanket, suffocating him with the weight of his mistakes.

“Fucking goddammit Yoongi!”

—

Y/N set the plates on the table, pouring the hot water into a kettle of green tea as he joined her at the table. They exchanged smiles, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the kitchen and the windows providing a magnificent view of the sea.

“I’ve been thinking,-” she said with a smile on her face while she set the seaweed salad down in front of him. He hummed in response, reading today’s paper.

“About opening my practice.” He nodded, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

“Thought you wanted to wait until the babe arrives?”

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

PS: accounts highlighted in pink cannot be tagged, so if you want to be in the tag list, please make sure you have it allowed in your settings. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts @seonghwaexile

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ingravinoveritas · 2 days

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have you seen the super blurry video of the 4 of them at the Oliver awards?? I what really gets me is Michael stepping into the person behind him.

https://www.instagram.com/stories/davidtennant_daily/3347586970874865569?utm_source=ig_story_item_share&igsh=MWhjbHM4azBiMmt0Zg==

Yes, I have indeed seen the blurry video that's been going around this afternoon. I know some folks were having difficulty seeing it, so I will post it here:

I think probably the first thing I thought was that this video is too short to really draw any full-on conclusions (to quote Buffalo Springfield, "There's something happening here. What it is ain't exactly clear..."), and to wonder where the heck it came from. (It was posted as a story on a fan page on Instagram, but there's no indication of who recorded it or why it was publicized to begin with.)

Beyond that, though, and because we do not have a context for what is happening (although given the folder David is holding, it looks like it was filmed around when the group photo was taken), I am just looking at the things that are most plainly visible. One of which is what you mentioned, with Michael jerking back suddenly into the woman behind him. It's been suggested that Anna touched Michael's arm to guide him to move because the other woman was trying to pass through. When I watched it again, though, it looked more like the order of events was Anna reached for Michael's arm, he visibly pulled back right when she made contact, and then the other woman moved to keep from colliding with him. That is my interpretation, at any rate.

It also looks like a conversation is happening (possibly between Michael and Georgia, with David in the middle), and Michael seems to look somewhat agitated. Georgia, who is on the right of the frame, appears to then slap her hand to get their attention. This very well could be because it was loud, there were a lot of people talking, and it was difficult to hear. Given how close she is standing to David, though, Georgia could have also just put a hand on his arm the way Anna did with Michael, but she didn't, and I'm a bit perplexed as to why. The hand slap actually reminded me of a school headmistress, or something Judge Judy would do, because those are the only two people I think I've ever seen do a gesture like that.

Whatever her reasons, it seemed to work, as David's head snapped up right away. I did notice though that Michael continued talking (perhaps possibly determined to get whatever point he was making across), and it gave me the feeling that he and Georgia were having a bit of a back-and-forth/fighting for David's attention. (I guess that means the answer to the question of, "Can Michael fight?" is "Yes, if David Tennant is involved".) It could also be that AL was trying to sooth him/get him to be more agreeable to whatever Georgia was saying, but it doesn't seem like that really worked.

Again, it's a very short video and without context it's hard to say anything definitive, but that is my interpretation. I'd still like to know where in the world this video even came from, especially because it seems to cut off so suddenly, giving the impression that there was more. Strange days indeed...

#whyblock #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #georgia tennant #olivier awards #curiouser and curiouser #glad to see Michael and David talking though #so many questions #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #anna lundberg #thoughts #discourse

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awakeskydoesntdraw · 2 days

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Posting in this blog after an eternity because I feel like I'm going insane here and my friends are asleep so I need to dump my brainstorm SOMEWHERE (SPOILERS FOR ARLECCHINO'S BACKSTORY/SHORT ANIMATION!!)

The TLDR is basically I think that the whole story with Arlecchino and Clervie is foreshadowing for whatever is about to happen with Lyney and Lynette

I think the parallels between Lyney and Arle don't need to be too explained for the most part. Pyro Visions, Arle wants him to be the next "king" while he doesn't seem to be too into that idea just like her younger self didn't want it, both are associated with Rainbow Roses (they both use them as ascension materials)

Plus, I'd argue they look kinda similar here. I'm not sure exactly what is that makes the resemblance, maybe a bit of the hair, bowtie and shorts and you could say it's something she has with the others too (her kid design resembles Freminet, current one Lynette) but I thought it was good to mention anyways

Meanwhile, Lynette and Clervie are the two closest companions to their respective pair

Lynette's has Lumidouce Bells as an ascension material. Clervie is very clearly represented with the same flower (if her necklace wasn't enough, there's this)

Plus, a bit of a smaller connection, but they both have clear sweet tooths

(Lyney saying "we talked about this" implies this is a frequent event. The animation showing Clervie with cake twice while it only had 7 minutes to tell the whole story has a similar effect)

So, if Lyney is a parallel to Arle while Lynette is a parallel to Clervie, where does this leave us?

Well... Not exactly in a good spot-

To be fair, I don't think Genshin would actually kill a playable character (or at least, so I hope), but it's very possible Lynette gets really hurt, either directly by Lyney or by being close to him

Arlecchino swore to be nothing like her mother, but in the end, the way she's acting towards Lyney by wanting to make him the next king may be very similar to it

Once upon a story quest, Lyney said similar words to a woman who claimed he'd end up all alone. I can only pray that the writers will have mercy at my soul and that they wouldn't go that low with a playable character

If I were to make a mildly self indulgent guess, as the Freminet main I am, I'd say that he may be the key that's going to make things turn out different for the twins. His presence is the biggest difference between the twins vs Arle and Clervie, who seemed to have no one else that was even mildly close to them. From the 4.6 trailer we know that he's the one that has been hiding stuff and we do see him blocking out Arle's attack, so I don't think it's a stretch to say he'll have a really important role in this whole thing

So yeah! If you read all my rambling, thanks I guess, hope you enjoyed it. In the end, all I can hope is that the Fontaine siblings all turn out fine for the sake of my own mental wellness because God knows these 3 stay all day spinning in my head as if it was a microwave

Also, for the record: No, I don't have a clue about what the hell is going on with Freminet apparently finding "Clervie" (ghost?? Illusion??) and hiding her from Arle. Until this short my best shot was that she was some sort of mermaid creature, but that idea is out the window so it could be anything really

#I don't know how right I am with any of this #I may end up deleting this after I sleep #i just think too much about characters I like #I know a lot of people interpret Arle and Clervie as something completely different but I just cant ignore the parallels in my mind #all i hope is that I'm not alone in going insane connecting dots that may not even exist lol #genshin impact #genshin #arlecchino #the knave #clervie #peruere #lyney #lynette #freminet if you squint #rambling #theory #genshin theory #my posts

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juniperskye · 2 days

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Why are you in my head? Pt. 2

Sneak Peek: Eddie and you are soulmates. The legend of soulmates is that you start to hear one another’s thoughts around age 16 – not all the time, but when you’re feeling a strong emotion. It simply flows out of you and into the other, the legend also states that the closer you are, the more you can hear them. **The events of season 4 did NOT happen** I did also use some of the dialogue

Bold are Eddie’s thoughts; Italics are reader’s thoughts. (mind you, they are essentially hearing both sets of thoughts)

Eddie Munson x Fem Sunshine! Reader (Soulmate AU)

Fluff/Angst - Part 1

Word count: 2255

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, explicit language, no use of y/n, fem reader, mentions of drugs/sale of drugs/drug use, arguing, mentions of Eddie’s drug addict parents, teeny tiny glimpse into reader’s past, let me know if I missed any!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

So, I have 3 more parts mapped out for this story, making it 5 total parts. Please, Please, PLEASE let me know if you want it!!? I would love to write it.

Holy shit.

You both let out a quiet chuckle.

All at once, colors were brighter, smells were sweeter, touches were softer. Everything came together in that moment; you couldn’t believe it. Here he was.

Before either of you could introduce yourself, the bell rang out, signaling that lunch was over. How long had you been standing here? Looking at him, seeing him for the first time, it made time stand still.

Don’t go. Not yet.

Neither of you made a move to leave. The cafeteria was slowly emptying around you, the reality of this moment creeping in. The second bell ringing brought you out of your thoughts, you looked into his eyes again and pulled back slightly.

“Shit! I can’t be late on my first day!” You hissed.

“Oh god O’Donnell is gonna kill me!” He facepalmed.

“You have O’Donnell this hour too? Also, you seem to be late to her class a lot.” You giggled.

“You’re in O’Donnell’s right now?” He questioned.

You nodded in confirmation. A grin took over his face, he grabbed your hand and began speed walking to her classroom. As you came up to the door, he looked over at you and nodded.

“Follow my lead.” He whispered.

You walked into the classroom, and everyone fell silent. Mrs. O’Donnell looked over at the two of you, and judging by her expression, she was less than impressed by your tardiness.

“Eddie Munson. I told you that if you were late to my class one more time I would be forced to fail you.” O’Donnell croaked.

“Mrs. O’Donnell, I understand that, but I couldn’t possibly let our new student wander the halls aimlessly.” He explained.

She looked at you, awaiting some sort of confirmation. When she was met with an enthusiastic nod from you, she finally relented. She looked down at her attendance chart and took note of the new student listed on it.

“Welcome to Hawkins High. Now both of you have a seat. Don’t make tardiness a habit.” She bit.

Eddie gestured for you to go first toward the back of the room. Once seated, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You couldn’t help the blush that crept its way onto your cheeks. His stare was keeping you from concentrating on Mrs. O’Donnell’s lecture about the debates you’d all be writing and then acting out in a week. You had no clue what the topics were, and you only hoped that she had put all the information on the handout that had been passed back to you.

God you’re so cute. I am so glad it’s you.

A giant shit eating grin enveloped Eddie’s face and you realized he must’ve heard that thought. You realized that you knew his name now, thanks to Mrs. O’Donnell, but he still didn’t know yours. You decided to pull out a pen and your notebook so you could write it down for him.

You caught his attention as you scribbled your name onto the paper, making sure to add a tiny heart next to it. You folded the paper up and passed it to him. If you thought his smile had been big before, well you were wrong, because you were sure this one would split his face in two.

A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

Your face immediately heated and turned bright red. You just had to make it through a few more minutes, then this class would end, and you get to really talk to Eddie before your next one. Only a few more hours and you might actually get to spend some time with him.

You had called your parents after O’Donnell’s class to let them know you’d be getting a ride home with a friend. You didn’t want to tell them that you had met your soulmate just yet, you figured you should get to know him a little bit first.

When that final bell rang you all but ran out the front doors of the school. Eddie had told you to meet him at his van. As you glanced around the parking lot you could see the cliques, jocks hanging out by fancy sports cars, theater kids sitting on the picnic tables in the courtyard, and the Hellfire boys, well, they were loitering around Eddie’s big beat-up van.

His face lit up when he noticed you, that’s when you ran towards him. As you neared closer, he opened his arms and you leapt into them. He spun you around once before letting your feet land back on solid ground.

I want to kiss you so bad.

Please kiss me.

With that, Eddie leaned down and captured your lips in a sweet kiss. Eddie’s friends whooped behind you, which caused you to blush. You could see the confusion on some of their faces.

“Guys! This is her; this is my soulmate!” Eddie announced.

“Holy shit dude!”

“No way.”

“How much did you pay this girl to fake it for you?”

“Dude she’s way out of your league.”

“That’s awesome man!”

Eddie’s friends all spoke at once, it was hard to understand what any of them were really saying. But the gist of it was that most of them thought you were joking. You figured that his friends probably messed with him like this a lot, perhaps this was how their friendship was, lots of joking and messing around. Your heart hurt a little that his friends would assume you guys were lying, but you figured he’d tell you if it had upset him.

“Guys I’m serious! This is her, we met at lunch!” Eddie exclaimed.

“Hi.” You gave a small wave.

Eddie’s friends were bombarding the two of you with questions, faster than you could take in. It was pretty overwhelming, the way they were all talking over one another. Eddie was spitting out answers as fast as they were throwing questions, and your mind could not keep up.

This is…ok. Woah. Slow down. What is happening?

“Hey guys, I would love to sit and chat with you, but I think I am going to take my soulmate here out for a drive.” Eddie said, as his hand moved to your lower back, and he led you to the van.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me; I could hear how anxious you were. They can be a lot, especially when you’re not used to being around them all the time.” He laughed sheepishly.

“I appreciate it either way. The whole shared thoughts thing really comes in handy!” You huffed a laugh.

Eddie put his hand out to hold your as he drove you to wherever you were going…you should probably ask him where he is taking you.

That night, you and Eddie were out well passed curfew. You had talked about nothing and everything. You shared all your favorite things, your hopes and dreams, your deepest secrets. Sharing with Eddie was easy. Talking with him was like breathing, it came naturally – you guessed that was the whole “soulmate” thing at play.

It had been one week since that night and honestly, things had been really good. Eddie picked you up for school (he had yet to meet your parents yet), you sat with Eddie and the Hellfire guys at lunch, he walked you to your classes and waited for you at his van after school.

Things were perfect…or so you thought.

Soulmates had this sort of stereotype behind them. People always said soulmates didn’t fight, that the shared thoughts sort of helped to clear things up before they escalated to a full-blown argument. Things were meant to be easy, simple even. It was the fault of this stereotype that the argument threw you off guard.

The thought had slid into your mind during your last class of the day. You were sitting in history, listening to Mr. Warner drone on and on about a war, you were too distracted to remember which one it had been.

Two pre-rolls and a small baggie of shrooms…shit I gotta meet her in 5 minutes!

What the fuck is that about? You couldn’t help the upset feeling creeping into your veins. Pre-rolls had to be weed, and shrooms? Was Eddie buying drugs? And who is the girl he is meeting to get them from? Your mind was racing with all kinds of questions, you felt guilty about being mad at Eddie, but why would he keep this from you? You two had shared so much with one another in the last week.

When the final bell rang, you took your time getting your things from your locker and then slowly made your way to Eddie’s van.

As you approached it, you noticed a severe lack of brown curls. Your stomach sank, realizing that he still must be with her…whoever she was, buying drugs.

Why would he keep this from me?

The thought had hit Eddie like a freight train. He immediately kicked himself, he knew he should have told you about this side hustle of his, but he was scared you would judge him…but now you’d found out because his thoughts are so fucking loud and he’s a total jackass for keeping it from you.

He made quick work of the deal, it had been with some random theater girl and her boyfriend wanting to enjoy their weekend.

Eddie practically ran to his van to meet up with you and he noticed the far off look you were wearing.

“Hey baby!” Eddie reached to pull you into a hug.

“Hi Eddie.” You returned his hug with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.

“Let’s go for a drive yeah? I want to talk to you about something.” Eddie suggested.

“Oh, yeah, okay.” You nodded.

The two of you got into Eddie’s van and he drove you to the clearing by the lake. There was a heavy awkward silence for a bit, your thoughts just circling round and around in your head. And judging by the look on Eddie’s face, he was clearly experiencing the same thing.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Eddie started.

“Okay…” You waited.

“I realize that a thought of mine may have made its way to you. A thought that had to do with something I have neglected to share with you yet. Listen sweetheart, I uh, I deal. It’s just to make some extra cash, ya know, to help Uncle Wayne out and to save until I have enough to get the hell out of this place.” Eddie rambled on.

“Wait a second. You’re the one dealing the drugs?” You asked.

“Yeah…did you think I was buying?”

“Eddie, you sell drugs? That’s illegal! I don’t understand, you could get a different job if you want to save money. Why would you do something so reckless?” You questioned.

“Woah. What the hell. I know it’s illegal, but I’m smart about it and didn’t you hear me? I am doing this for Wayne…and for us! Dealing makes me way more money than flipping burgers at big boy or renting out movies to asshole pre-teens. You’re my soulmate, I thought you’d at least try to understand!” Eddie snapped.

“Eddie, you purposely kept this from me. Which just proves to me that you know that this is wrong. I know that other jobs may not make you as much money, but at least they’re legal and don’t run the risk of you being sent to PRISON. Because that is where you would end up if you got caught Eddie. Prison! Did you ever stop to think about what that would mean to the people who care about you. To your uncle Wayne, to Dustin, to me? How could you be so careless?” You waved your arms as you spoke, growing more and more frustrated.

“Jesus. Of course you don’t get it!” Eddie sighed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You couldn’t believe him right now.

“You were born with a fucking silver spoon in your mouth babe. You have never wanted for anything. Your parents are well off and you have always gone to good schools with new supplies and a nice backpack. I mean fuck, your parents moved you here, set up this incredible room for you, bought you a car, and still ask you what you need or want. I live in a trailer and before that, I was growing up in an even smaller trailer that my parents were doing and selling crack out of. I am doing what I have to, to make sure I am set up when it comes time for me to leave Hawkins.” Eddie was practically yelling by the end of his rant.

You sat there, your mouth opening, then closing again. You weren’t sure what to say. Eddie had clearly gone through some really difficult shit that you hadn’t been aware of, but he was also assuming that your life had been perfect, which couldn’t have been further from the truth.

This conversation had truly made you feel sick to your stomach. How was this meant to work. How was Eddie meant to be your soulmate if he thought so little of you. And how were you meant to be his soulmate if you couldn’t agree with what was clearly a part of his life. You clearly had a lot to think about and you couldn’t do that right now, not with the tension that was beginning to suffocate you in Eddie’s van. So you did what you thought best.

“Take me home please.” You whispered.

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ladykailitha · 3 days

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Omegaverse BTS

I was loving people's reactions to the final chapter but wanted to talk a couple of things the name of Steve and Eddie's kid and Tommy Hagan. Because in this 'verse he's so fascinating. Thanks for the comment @eyehartart!

I went back and forth on this so many times you have no idea. At first Dustin (as in Henderson) was their son because the only ones mentioned of the Party are Max and Lucas. So I thought why not be the reason Dustin is never mentioned is because he isn't born yet.

Then when I first started writing the sequel I wanted the whole party at the wedding. And after much thought, their first child is merely named after Dustin and will be explored deeper in the sequel.

Tommy, Carol, and Steve (Nancy and Jonathan, too, just not Corroded Coffin and Chrissy and Jason or Robin) all went to the same high school. All born to rich parents.

It was expected that Carol would be the omega and the two boys would be alphas.

Steve presented first and got tested 24 hours after his first heat. Carol and Tommy commiserating with him being infertile.

Then Carol presents as an alpha, so now everyone expecting Tommy to be an omega as Tommy and Carol are the top couple at school (after Steve and Nancy broke up).

He presents as an omega and then he too is infertile (actually infertile none of the other omegas you meet in the story who are escorts aren't golden omegas, just Steve.)

Carol immediately dumps him and starts sleeping around with fertile omegas.

Also, like Steve's parents Tommy's parents blew up when they found out he was infertile, but they did the golden test. So not only were they "saddled" with a "broken" omega they were out a lot of money too.

Tommy actually wanted to be a wet nurse for the elite, as his tough guy persona was just that, an act. He wanted to go into one of the other nurturing fields but his parents forbade him.

They were going to get their money back from having such a useless son.

They were expecting him to get at least close to Steve's million dollar cherry price, but only got a third that.

His parents were livid again. But they took their money and never looked back.

In the eight or nine years it's been since they were auctioned off, Tommy's parents have never contacted him. They made sure he got into the best schools for the skills he would need as an escort, paying for it out of his bid price. But he's never received so much as a post card from them.

It took him three years to pay off his debt while it only took Steve less than one year.

So despite all the training and everything he got, he was never as popular as Steve.

Resentment grew.

He stayed with Starcourt Services because he had to prove to Carol, to his parents, to the world that he was better than Steve. That if he just had more time, he could beat Steve as one of the top earners at the agency.

It never happened. The wage gap between Steve and Tommy grew with each passing year.

And then the events of the story take place and Tommy does not have a good time.

So when Starcourt washes their hands of him he becomes a teacher.

His first year is tough, but rewarding. Only on the last day Tommy gets told he might not have a job come August. And he just breaks down. A parent of one of his now former pupils comes in because she left her jacket in his class. The parent is a single female alpha whose bondmate died shortly after the birth of their daughter due to complications.

And she just helps him through it. Then over the summer she helps him get a job at another school and they fall in love. Since now he's at different school then her daughter Tommy doesn't feel like a conflict of interest and they bond.

Now that's not to say that all this justifies Tommy's behavior. Because it absolutely doesn't. But I wanted him to find a happier life outside of being an escort as sort of a "this job can chew up and spit out and you still be a person at the end of it all".

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee

@littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt

@apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr

@ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf

@melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium

@lexirosewrites @lawrencebshoggoth @lingeringmirth

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #bts

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odyssean-flower · 2 days

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The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 12 - Summer: Photos

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: The date has ended successfully, but it also brought about an unexpected turn of events

Warnings: None except for the fact that this story is 50% written based on vibes Note: This chapter isn't beta'd so sorry in advance for any typos or rough edges Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette enjoying some tea

Previous | Next

“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?”

Neuvillette raised his gaze from the documents spread out before him. Furina was standing on the other side of his desk. Of course, he had heard her enter his office before she even spoke, but he was so used to her unannounced intrusions these days that he treated it as a part of his daily routine now. I only hope that she makes this quick. I have a rather heavy agenda today, and I would like to return home before dark.

Furina leaned over his desk, her heterochromatic eyes eagerly scanning the desk for some sort of incriminating evidence to grab onto. Of course, she found none. Neuvillette wasn’t so foolish that he would make such a careless mistake.

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.”

“Indeed, I have, thanks to your urging. I believe you’ve already read the note I left you.”

“Ah, yes, that sorry excuse for a note,” Furina sniffed. “‘Will be away for a day due to personal reasons.’ No mention of where you’re going or who you’ll be with.”

“I see no reason why I should have included either of those things. I followed all the necessary protocol for requesting leave, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Oh, I am. I’m overjoyed to hear that you’ve been picking up new hobbies lately. It must be the influence of your new wife. If only you’d allow me to meet this remarkable woman so I can thank her.”

“New hobbies? Whatever do you mean?” Neuvillette ignored that last part.

“Why, your new hobby of photography, of course!” Furina propped her head on her hands, affecting an air of nonchalance, but her eyes gleamed like a cat that had a tantalizing mouse set in its sights. It was a look that Neuvillette was all too familiar with. “I’ve heard whispers that you’ve sent off a large number of photos to be developed, and that you’ve gone on a recent shopping spree for photo albums. Your day-off seems to have been very fulfilling.”

“It was, indeed,” Neuvillette nodded. His face gave nothing away. This was also not a surprise and was in fact well within his expectations. He had felt the gazes of Furina’s spies more frequently as of late, but it was not a difficulty for him to evade them. The one who developed the photos for him was a trusted agent of the Marechausee Phantom, and the envelope that contained the finished products (which he had fortunately received well before Furina’s intrusion into his office) hadn’t been tampered with.

“Oh, I know it was. A boat ride on the sea, huh? How romantic! I didn’t know you had it in you, Neuvillette. All those romance novels I’ve supplied you with seem to have paid off. Oh, if only there had been someone there that day to take a commemorative photo of such an astonishing sight, the Iudex taking a human out on a date!”

Neuvillette went very still. “Get to the point,” he said, his voice cold.

Furina’s grin widened. The cat was getting ready to pounce. “It just so happens that a subordinate of mine was out at sea on the very same day that you were out and saw that astonishing sight for himself,” she took out a photo from her pocket and slapped it onto his desk. It was a clear picture of him helping his wife off the boat after they returned to the docks at the Court of Fontaine.

Neuvillette’s blood ran cold. How could this have happened?

“Not the most fashionable, is she?” Furina peered at the photo. “I don’t recognize her, so she must not come from a very important family, either. But putting that aside, what a charming couple the two of you make! Honestly, Neuvillette, I do wonder how--”

"Leave my office. Now.” Neuvillette’s palms slammed against his desk as he rose to his full height, causing Furina to back up a few steps despite herself. He felt an absurd urge to cover the photo with his hands, to protect the image of you from the scrutinizing gaze of an outsider. “You've seen her face now. Be satisfied with that and resign yourself to the fact that you will never meet her.”

A startled expression appeared on Furina’s face before it was quickly replaced with a smug smile.

“My, my, Neuvillette,” she purred before plopping herself down on the couch next to his desk and crossing her legs. “I would reconsider, if I were you.”

"Have I not told you to leave—”

“Now that I know what your wife looks like, it’ll take very little effort on my part to find out who she is soon enough. My network of informants is extensive, as I know you’re aware. But I’m a magnanimous god, so I shall give you a week to think it over. If you won’t allow me to meet your wife by that time, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands and find her myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I had expected better of you.”

“Oh, don’t give me that!” Furina suddenly stood up and marched over to his desk. “You’re the one who won’t agree to a simple meeting! I’d expect you to be more grateful, considering how I’m the one who pushed you to get married! If it weren’t for me, you would never have even thought of approaching this woman, who you clearly care for a great deal, and you’d probably spend the next five hundred years continuing to mope about on your own, never knowing what you could have had!”

There was a long, tense silence after her rant. “Are you finished here?” Neuvillette said, struggling to suppress the violent tempest of emotions swirling inside his heart.

“I suppose I am,” Furina stood up. “By the way, Neuvillette, you should be thankful that it was a subordinate of mine who took this photo and gave it directly to me, and not someone from those third-rate tabloids you despise so much. I’d love to see you ignore that scandal away.”

Neuvillette said nothing, simply glaring at her. His hands were curled into fists at his sides.

“See you in a week, my dear Iudex. Do pass on my regards to your wife.”

After saying that, Furina spun around and strode towards the door. It was only after the door closed behind her firmly that Neuvillette leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

Torrential rain beat against the large window behind him. He wanted to walk into it, to wade into the sea.

I was too negligent, he cursed himself in his head. I should have been more careful.

Throughout his long career, he had become adept at evading reporters and paparazzi. And yet, somehow, this happened.

Anger and fear gripped his heart. He didn’t care what the papers said about him. But the thought of you becoming fodder for them was intolerable.

The sight of your tear-filled eyes had been like daggers to his heart. He never wanted to see them again.

He took a sip of water (imported from the frozen rivers of Snezhnaya) to cool his head and gazed at the painting hanging near his desk. By a fortunate twist of fate, you hadn’t signed it. However, its usual calming efficacy was diminished today.

Neuvillette had wanted to look at the photos again during his break, but now he was too on edge to even think of opening his desk drawer and taking the envelope out. It felt like just the act of it would be exposing its contents to danger, even though he knew that was irrational.

He could sense the clouds covering the sun outside the window behind him. There would be a downpour on this fine evening, and he silently apologized to the people of Fontaine, and especially to a certain young lady who was doubtless in the garden right about now.

The sooner I finish my work, the sooner I can return home, he thought, in a vain attempt to calm himself. And give the photos to her. I know she has been waiting for them eagerly. I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed…

Unconsciously, his feet began tapping against the floor.

This can still be salvaged, he told himself. Nothing has happened yet. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her peace.

Switching back into work mode, Neuvillette sat up once more—and let out a pained grunt. His hair had gotten caught in the cracks of his chair.

“Where is this rain coming from? It was clear just a few minutes ago,” you grumbled as you stared up at the lead-colored sky. It had been a beautiful day like it had been for weeks, but for some reason, the clouds decided to unleash their water just as you had finished taking the daily sunflower measurements.

I bet Neuvillette is enjoying this, you thought as you went to stand under the eaves. It hasn’t rained in quite a while.

“Madame, it’s raining,” Marie opened the porch door. “You didn’t get wet, did you?”

“Just a little bit, but it’s nothing too bad. Marie, could you fetch me my umbrella?”

“You’re still planning to garden in this weather, Madame?”

“I just want to take one last look. I’ll be done soon.”

After Marie gave you your umbrella, you marched back out to the plot of sunflowers again.

The sunflowers were coming along nicely. They now reached the height of your hip and formed small, tightly closed buds. There were no yellow petals peeking through yet, but you were confident that they would appear in the coming weeks.

You brushed your fingers against the leaves. They were the size of your palm now. You could see little bug bites dotting them. Perhaps you should ask Marie if there were any pesticides on hand.

It was the evening hours now, though the sun had been in the sky until a few moments ago. Neuvillette should be back by now. Maybe he had a lot of work today? You couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. You had been looking forward to showing him the buds.

It had been a week since the date. Neuvillette had sent the photos out to be developed, and you would be getting them today. You were a bit excited to see them. I don’t think I’ve ever taken so many pictures in my life.

After you finished taking the last measurements, you returned to the house and went up to your room. Your eyes automatically went to the plump azure flower tucked into a vase on your desk. It brought a vibrant splash of color to your elegant but sparse room, and you liked looking at it. It gave you a sense of pleasure. You wondered where Neuvillette put his flower.

I wonder if it will deflate like a balloon if I stuck a pin into the middle, you thought as you sniffed the flower’s cool fragrance. That would make it easier to press, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps it was because you talked about pressing flowers on the date, but it had been on your mind lately. Your fingers itched for your old flower press, sitting in your closet back home. The lily would look striking against a white page. If only you picked some of those wildflowers you had seen on Erinnyes and in Merusea Village... they could serve as accompaniment to the lily, which would obviously be the centerpiece, and a strand of blue leaves from the Weeping Willow could be the finishing touch, forming a wreath that framed everything neatly. It would be a beautiful memento of one of the most magical days in your life.

We picnicked together and took pictures of each other, he showed me all sorts of sights…he even held me in his arms…and I cried in front of him… Gah…

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands. The memories of what you said and done still mortified you a week later. It had been even worse when you got home and was left alone in your bedroom. How you got to sleep that night, you didn’t know.

You would rather take a dive into the sea than cry in front of people, especially someone like Neuvillette. But on the other hand, if you had to cry, you would rather it be in front of him. Not your parents, not even your sister, but him. You weren’t sure why.

Neuvillette hadn’t said anything comforting or encouraging, and his hug was honestly a bit stiff and awkward, like he wasn’t used to doing such things. And yet, you felt as though the weight on your shoulders had been lightened just a bit. It wasn’t until then that you realized how you were barely holding yourself up by sheer force of will, like a sunflower with shallow roots and a too-heavy head, on the verge of falling over without a support.

Neuvillette never brought up that moment again, for which you were grateful. Although, even now you still couldn’t really look at him without a tingling sensation in your heart. He, on the other hand, seemed unchanged. Well, of course he would be. It would be problematic if he did start treating me differently, you told yourself.

You knew very well that you were not the type of person who people like Neuvillette would think of as a romantic partner, much less a wife. But still, after what you had observed of him and what you heard from the Melusines, you thought that it’d be nice if he did have someone like that. After the divorce, Furina would no doubt start pestering him even harder to find a spouse. It would be smart for him to start finding someone soon. He would probably have to wait a bit before remarrying, though.

Neuvillette should definitely find someone who’s more of a romantic than me, you laughed at yourself.

Unfortunately, you were out of your depth when it came to matters of matchmaking. But still, maybe you could keep an eye out for a potential partner. What was Neuvillette’s type, anyway? That would make for an interesting topic to investigate.

You decided to put this thought aside for now. Neuvillette told you that he wanted to take you to a restaurant next time. You had no idea where he would take you. His taste in food was so peculiar, after all. But you were sure that it would be a high-class, excellent restaurant, wherever it was. You would have to get some suitable clothes for the occasion. I want to make a better effort next time.

Neuvillette had given you a quite frankly exorbitant amount of spending money. Maybe it was finally time to use it.

Perhaps it’s a bit pointless…but I still want to do it.

You sat in your window seat, daydreaming about how your second “date” with Neuvillette would go as you gazed at the setting sun, now peeking out of the clouds after the sudden spell of rain had passed.

Neuvillette finally returned home by the time the sky was dark. You had already eaten dinner without him and were reading in the parlor when you heard the front door open.

“Neuvillette,” you called out to him as you went into the foyer. “You came home so late. Did something happen?”

As you approached him, you noticed how tired and tense he looked. But the fatigue in his face seemed to vanish as he fixed his eyes on you, replaced by something that was almost like relief.

“Madame,” he greeted you. “My apologies for worrying you. I had a rather busy day. I hope you’ve already eaten dinner?”

“I have. But have you eaten? If not, I can warm up the leftovers for you, or I can ask Marie to cook something fresh if that’s what you prefer.”

“I’ve already eaten, but thank you for the consideration. Have you gone out today?”

“No,” you shook your head, and Neuvillette visibly relaxed. You definitely didn’t imagine that.

But before any suspicions could form, he spoke again.

“Madame, I have a surprise for you,” he took a pause there. It took you a moment to realize that he was doing it for dramatic effect. So even he has that side to him...how cute , you thought, trying to hide your smile. “ I received the developed photos today.”

He took out an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to you. “They turned out quite well, I must say,” he added.

The envelope was thick and heavy. You must have taken more than a hundred photos.

You decided to look through them in the parlor. Neuvillette followed you, and the two of you sat side by side on the couch as you spread the photos out on the coffee table. He was right, they did turn out well. You had been a bit worried that they might come out blurry or at odd angles, but overall, they all looked pretty good, considering the fact that you hadn’t used a Kamera in a long time.

“You have a very good eye for photography, Madame,” Neuvillette remarked as he picked up a photo of the Weeping Willow. “Have you considered pursuing a career in that field?”

“Oh, not at all. My old drawing teacher was much better at it than me, enough to make a living out of it, and she taught me a few tricks.”

“‘Was’? Do you mean...” Neuvillette trailed off.

“Yes. It was a few years ago.”

“Ah...I see. I'm sorry to hear that.”

There was a brief, awkward silence. Neuvillette looked as though he wanted to say something more. You would rather not deal with that, so your eyes roamed around the scattered photos on the table until they landed on something silver. “Oh, my pictures of you!” you said, leaning forward to grab them. “See, what did I tell you, Neuvillette. There’s nothing more picturesque than beautiful scenery and a handsome man.”

Neuvillette leaned closer towards you to examine the photos for himself. His hair brushed against your shoulder, and you could feel the heat of his body against your arm. A thought suddenly struck you. If you turned your head right now, your lips would brush against his cheek in the same spot where you had kissed it before.

Inexplicably, your face turned warm at the thought. The back of your hand tingled.

Perhaps things didn’t quite remain the same after the date.

It truly had been a spur of the moment move. Your roiling emotions, aided by the instigation of the Melusines, had pushed you to do it.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, your mind replaying that scene over and over to an infuriating degree, you had rifled through all the emotions you had felt at that time. Embarrassment, disbelief, a strange sort of elation…

But the one emotion that had been missing no matter how hard you searched for it, was regret.

Overt acts of affection had never been your forte, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Well, cheek kisses don’t inherently mean anything significant, you had told yourself. Friends do it with each other all the time. And Neuvillette is my friend. A very dear friend. So it’s perfectly fine. Case closed.

Indeed, Neuvillette didn’t seem to look at you or treat you any differently after the fact, so why should you? No doubt he was used to receiving such acts of intimacy—most likely even more intimate—from people who were far more glamorous than you. A brief brush of lips against his cheek probably meant nothing to him.

As for the hand kiss, well, that was something that gentlemen like him did. It also didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

The thought that these kisses were all meaningless did sting a little bit, but considering the circumstances, you had no right to complain.

“I must confess that I do not see what makes these pictures any better than the ones you took of the scenery,” Neuvillette’s voice interrupted your thoughts. His eyes were fixed on the photo, so thankfully he didn’t notice your reddened cheeks. “Or of the Melusines, for that matter.”

“Well, even if you don’t appreciate them, I do. I’ll treat them like a family treasure.”

“A family treasure? That’s a bit excessive, is it not?”

“I don’t think so. These are pretty rare items, aren’t they?”

Since Neuvillette didn’t appear in public much, there were not many pictures of him outside of the rare interview and official events. Hmm, I wonder how much they’ll sell for? Not that I would ever do that, of course. …Well, maybe if I’m in dire financial straits. I’ll ask for Neuvillette’s permission beforehand if it ever comes to that.

You went through the remaining photos. Each one sparked a memory. The Weeping Willow, the sea, Merusea Village underwater—you really had been to all those places. With Neuvillette, no less. The entirety of that day was only known to the two of you.

The days after your date had been so mundane and normal that you were half-convinced that it had all been a strange dream. Thoughts and memories were such mutable things, after all. Someone like you on a date with the Chief Justice? Not even in your wildest delusions would something like that ever happen. But these pictures were proof that it did.

You knew that you would probably think back on that day for the rest of your life, holding it close to your chest like a treasured gemstone and taking it out whenever times got tough. A sparkling memory of your youth that you would smile back fondly upon in your autumn years, a lone glimmering star in the dark that would inspire you move forward…

Wait, why am I getting so sappy and sentimental? Just because of a date? Ugh, come on now.

You glanced at Neuvillette, who was currently enjoying a glass of water (imported from Inazuma). You doubted that he felt the same way as you about the date. It was probably just like a drop of water in a vast ocean to him.

That thought pricked at you, but you chose to ignore it.

You sifted through the pictures until you came across a certain snapshot. Just as you were about to flip it over, a gloved finger pressed down against the photo, stopping you.

“This one is my favorite,” Neuvillette said. Once again, his face was right next to yours, but you couldn’t read his expression.

“Because you were the one who took it?”

“No,” he said, then turned his head towards you. “Because it’s of you.”

“Neuvillette…” you said after a short silence. You fidgeted with your reddened fingertips. “I don’t understand how you can say things like that with such a straight face.”

“Is it truly so strange?” Neuvillette looked perplexed. “I was simply saying my true feelings. And it is not as though you have refrained from such comments either.”

“You do have a point,” you conceded, although that still didn’t mean it didn’t catch you off guard. You turned your attention back to the photo of you. To be honest, it didn’t turn out half bad. Sure, you looked incredibly stiff and awkward and your hair was a mess and you had no idea what you were thinking when you matched that sweater with that skirt, but…it could have turned out worse.

“May I keep this photo?” Neuvillette asked.

“Of course, but what will you do with it? Surely you aren’t going to put it on your office desk or anything, right?”

“No, of course not. I would put it in a drawer, so I may take it out and look at it whenever I like.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Is it so wrong for a husband to want to look at a picture of his wife every once in a while? Many of the Palais staff also keep pictures of their loved ones on their desks. Why shouldn’t I?” Neuvillette paused for a little bit before adding, “And it would be one way for me to see your face more often, considering how I don’t get many chances of that during the day.”

“Hmm…very well, then,” you didn’t quite get why he would want to see more of your face, but if it made him happy, then you supposed there was nothing to complain about. Neuvillette is actually quite good at this kind of thing, you thought to yourself. Just imagine what he would be like when he gets married to someone he loves.

Now you really felt bad about your (hypothetical) future plans about selling Neuvillette’s photos. I’m an insensitive boor compared to him.

You reached the last of the photos. It was the one of you and Neuvillette standing in front of the sunset.

“You made two copies for the both of us,” you said as you looked at them. “How thoughtful.”

As you gazed at the pictures, you couldn’t help but feel a complex mixture of emotions. There was a surrealness to this photo that the others lacked. If this were a novel, this would be the point where you would wake up and return to reality after discovering something out of place in your life. No matter how you looked at it, you and Neuvillette were mismatched. Two people who were only brought together because of a weird quirk of fate.

But on the other hand…it was a beautiful photo. You had been somewhat worried that the two of you wouldn’t be centered in the frame, but it turned out well. The sunset made for a lovely backdrop. Even though both of you were looking very stiff, and neither of you were smiling.

You remembered that moment clearly. In those few minutes, you felt as light as a feather, like there was nothing tying you to the ground.

Would you ever feel that way again?

“I’m also very fond of this one,” Neuvillette said next to you. When you turned your head, you saw that he was not looking at the photos, but at you. It was then that you realized you were smiling. For some reason, you turned your head away.

“I just realized something,” you said, to cover up the awkward moment. “I’ve taken so many pictures, but I’ve got nowhere to put them all.”

“Ah, about that,” there was an excitement, subdued but present, in his voice. He sounded the same as he did when he introduced you to some new exotic variety of water. “I have a surprise for you. Please, come with me to my study.”

A surprise from Neuvillette? You had an inkling as to what it could be, but that didn’t stop you from putting all the photos back in the envelope and following him upstairs to his study, a domain you had yet to step into. It was a smaller version of his office at the Palais Mermonia, with its large desk, soft rugs, and tall bookshelves that lined the walls. There was also a fireplace here and a cozy-looking couch.

As Neuvillette went to take something out of a cabinet, you covertly examined the shelves. They were mainly filled with books on law, human psychology, history (most of which you’ve already read, having borrowed them from the library), and other similarly serious topics. Oddly enough, you even spotted a few romance novels. They were the fluffy, self-indulgent kind that your mother and sister liked to read. Should I pretend I never saw them?

“Madame, here it is,” Neuvillette said, and you walked over to the desk, where there was a large, leather-bound album with metal corners.

“Oh, Neuvillette, you shouldn’t have!” you exclaimed, flipping through the album. There should be just enough space to put all the pictures from your date in it. You looked up to thank him, but was met with the sight of Neuvillette taking out yet another album from the cabinet. This one was wider, with a ribbon tied into a neat bow on the spine. Perhaps Neuvillette bought a second album, just in case the first one wouldn’t fit all your pictures?

But, as though to dash all reasonable explanations, Neuvillette took out another album from the cabinet, then another. It seemed never-ending, this deluge of albums. After a while, it became sort of funny, like a comedy sketch. You watched, open-mouthed, as the desk became covered with albums of all shapes and sizes.

Finally, after the tenth one, the deluge stopped. Neuvillette looked at you expectantly. “Well, Madame, which one do you prefer?”

“Wait a minute, let me get this right,” you said, backing up a step and surveying the desk. “You bought all these albums just for me to choose one?”

“Yes, I did,” Neuvillette said, nodding as though this was a perfectly normal thing to do. Was this how the minds of the wealthy worked? It was beyond your comprehension. “I was unsure which one would be most to your liking, so I decided to buy them all.”

“Oh, Neuvillette, you really shouldn’t have…” you said. “This is too excessive. Why didn’t you ask me to come with you when you went shopping? And you know I’d like anything you picked out for me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise…” Neuvillette said. He looked a bit deflated, and you felt bad.

“Can you return them?”

“It would be highly inconvenient for the shopkeeper if I did so,” Neuvillette said, then added in an abashed tone, “And I was told that all sales are final.”

“How unfortunate,” you looked down at the desk again. Was it possible for anyone to fill up all these albums in their lifetime? Maybe if they had a lifespan as long as Neuvillette’s. “Maybe they could make an exception for the Iudex?”

“I would rather not use my position in such a manner.”

“Well then, how about we give them away?”

“Give them away…” Neuvillette considered your words. “I-I suppose that could work… it is a reasonable idea. Yes, quite reasonable indeed.”

Neuvillette…if only you could see the look on your face right now. He looked like a kicked puppy. However, you decided to hold your tongue.

“Hmm, on second thought, it would be quite rude of me to give away presents from my generous husband,” you said. “I’ll keep them all. Thank you, Neuvillette.”

You patted his hand. He looked down at your hand on top of his, his eyes unreadable. He lightly brushed his fingers against your own.

“You need not force yourself to accept them if you do not want them,” he said quietly.

“But I do want them. They’re from you, after all. We’ll just have to take plenty more photos to get your money’s worth.”

“‘We?’”

“Yes, ‘we.’ Did you expect me to fill up these albums all on my own?”

“Certainly, it would be more efficient if we worked together,” Neuvillette nodded to himself. “Very well, then, Madame. I will assist you in this endeavour.”

With that settled, you decided to put the date photos in the first brown leather album. It had a vintage look to it that you liked.

“It’s getting late, Madame. You should be going to bed soon,” Neuvillette informed you.

“What about you?” Neuvillette didn’t seem to be making any moves to retire for the night just yet.

“There are a few more matters that I need to take care of, but do not worry, it won’t take very long.”

“Okay then,” you nodded, stepping towards the door. But just as you were about to leave the study, you thought of something. “By the way, Neuvillette, when will we be going on that restaurant date? I know you’re quite busy these days, so I can wait as long it takes. Do you have a restaurant in mind? I’m perfectly happy to go with any one you choose. Oh, and I know I promised to attend a trial, but I’m not fond of the very loud and chaotic ones, so which of the upcoming ones would you recommend?”

“I’m afraid, Madame, that we have to put a hold on both of those arrangements. A few…unexpected matters have come up, so we will not be able to go anywhere together for a while.”

“Oh. I see. Well, I suppose it can’t be helped,” a sharp sense of disappointment pierced your heart. It seemed that you had been looking forward to it more than you expected.

“Madame, are you enjoying your life as it is right now?” Neuvillette asked you out of the blue.

“Huh? What brought this on all of a sudden?”

“Please answer my question.” There was an undercurrent of urgency in his voice.

“I…” you had to think about it for a moment. “I do. Of course I do. I never want for anything, and everyone has treated me with nothing but kindness. I can’t even begin to repay them all, really.”

“I see. Then, is this the sort of life you’d prefer to live?”

“What do you mean?”

“A quiet, peaceful life, where you are never bothered by anyone.”

“I…suppose so? I think most people would want that.”

“I see…” Neuvillette stared at his desk, seemingly deep in thought. Then, he looked up at you. “You should go to bed now. It is getting too late.”

“What…” but he was already ushering you towards the door before you could say anything more.

You observed him as he stood in the doorway. He was an unreadable cipher, but you sensed a resolve emanating from him, like he had made up his mind about something.

“Good night, Madame,” he said quietly.

“Good night, Neuvillette.”

You felt like you had to say something, but you weren’t sure what.

He saved you the effort by gently closing the study door on you. The sense of giddiness had all but completely dissipated. You felt like a deflated balloon.

Your unease wasn’t dispelled the next morning.

At the breakfast table, Neuvillette was reading the newspapers. This wasn’t unusual in itself. It was part of his morning routine. What was unusual was how intensely he was looking through them.

You looked at the headlines of the paper he was reading. There was nothing there that would warrant that deep furrow in his brow. At least, not to your knowledge. Perhaps there was some sort of secret investigation going on?

“Madame, would you like to read the paper?” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts. It was then that you realized that you had been leaning forward and squinting your eyes to read the newspaper print. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“Oh, no, I was just wondering if something happened, since you seem to be engrossed in them.”

“No,” Neuvillette paused before replying. “I was simply looking for something.”

“I see,” you said, then cut a piece of pancake and popped it into your mouth. After swallowing, you continued, “Is it work related?”

“I…would not say so,” Neuvillette said. It was strange for him to be so evasive, but maybe it was one of those things he wasn’t at liberty to tell you.

“By the way, Neuvillette, I’m going to start on the albums today. You’ve given me a great burden to carry, but I’m willing to take it on.”

You were teasing him a bit, but in truth, you were a bit excited. Your teacher had a whole shelf of albums that were filled with photos from her travels throughout Teyvat, and you had pleasant memories of flipping through them and asking her the stories behind each photo. Of course, you wouldn’t be able to replicate her on that scale, but the Court of Fontaine was as good a start as any. You had even thought up a sort of system as to which area you would cover each day and what you would photograph, which you explained to Neuvillette.

“You plan on going out into the city today, Madame?” Neuvillette asked after you finished speaking. He put down the papers and stared at you.

“Er, yes?” you answered hesitantly. He seemed strangely preoccupied with your answer. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“…No, not at all,” Neuvillette said after another pause. His lips were pressed together in a thin line. “Where do you plan to go?”

“Just the plaza…” you said, raising your eyebrows at how grave he sounded. “And maybe the Palais.”

“Do not go to the Palais,” Neuvillette spoke abruptly. His face was all seriousness. “Please, promise me that. If you have any business there, ask me. I will assist you with it.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “What do you mean, I can’t go to the Palais? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he said quickly.

“Then why can’t I go there?”

“I cannot tell you, but I assure you that I only have your safety and happiness in mind when I am asking you to not to go anywhere near the Palais. Please, Madame, promise me this.”

You stared into his violet eyes, trying to gauge what he was thinking. There was a note of desperate urgency in his voice you had only heard once before, not to mention the weightiness of his words. “I promise,” you found yourself saying.

“Thank you, Madame,” Neuvillette was visibly relieved. His shoulders relaxed and he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again.

“Neuvillette, what’s going on?” you demanded. “You’re acting strange. Did something happen?”

“Do not worry. I will take care of everything,” he said, not answering your questions at all. He stood up, and you did the same, intending on getting to the bottom of this.

The two of you headed to the door. “You’re hiding something,” you said, glaring up at him. He met your gaze, then looked away. “It has something to do with me, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll take care of it. Please don’t worry,” he repeated, then attempted a smile. “Focus on your photography project. I cannot to wait to see the finished product. And…Madame, if you see any suspicious persons lingering around you, you must tell one of the Melusines right away.”

“Huh?” you gape at him, but he simply bid you goodbye and left the house. You watched him get into the carriage and set off.

For such a stoic man, he’s actually quite terrible at hiding his feelings at times, you thought.

Your outing at the plaza went mostly as planned. You were able to take many pictures of the fountain, the hulking Meka walking around, and the street performers. The patrolling Melusines, once you told them what you were doing, became quite enthusiastic and asked for you to take their pictures as well. It would have been a great day, if it weren’t for the gray skies and the heaviness of your heart.

Neuvillette’s behavior at home did nothing to quell it. Though he did his best to hide it, but he was obviously stressed and worn out. He would eagerly ask you about your day but seemed distracted by his thoughts as you talked, and rebuffed your questions, whether they were innocuous or direct, when you tried to probe him for answers. He came home later than usual and worked into the late nights in his study.

Over the next few days, you continued your urban outings, criss-crossing the city to take more pictures. You ate lunch outside and people-watched as you sat at your table. Often, a Melusine would join you. Being able to spend time in such a carefree, leisurely way would have been an unattainable dream to the past you, but you couldn’t enjoy it fully, not when you were always worried about Neuvillette at the back of your mind. He definitely seems more haggard these days. Is he eating well? I hope he isn’t just drinking water and passing that off as having lunch.

“Are you not hungry, Madame?” a sleepy-sounding voice broke through your reverie. It belonged to Menthe, who was sitting across from you. “You’re not eating your fish and chips.”

You looked down. The savory dish, deep-fried to a golden brown, was one of your favorite treats, but not something you ate often, and yet you found yourself with zero appetite.

“I suppose I’m not,” you sighed. “You can have it if you like.”

“Oh, really, Madame? Thank you!”

You watched as Menthe happily dug in. She had accompanied you to this café after you decided to take a lunch break.

I wonder if the Melusines are in on this too, you thought. It wasn’t unusual for Melusines to come up to you when you were walking around town, but you couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be an awful lot of them at the places you went to. The places where you told Neuvillette you would be.

They were as cheerful and talkative as ever, but you also noticed how intently their bright gazes flitted around, even when they chatted with you, almost as though they were on the lookout for something.

You considered several possibilities and narrowed it down to two: One, there was a serial killer on the loose, or some other crazed criminal, who was after you. Two, your relationship had somehow been exposed to the paparazzi.

It was doubtful that Neuvillette would let you leave the house if there was a killer after you. And why would someone want to kill you, anyway? For marrying Neuvillette? What a lame reason for murder. Then again, some of his more extreme fans were known for their passion…

The second option seemed more likely. However, you had scoured all the tabloids for any articles on the matter, and while you did find some claiming that Neuvillette was involved with some woman or another, none of them were you (although you didn’t feel as relieved as you ought to have, for some reason). If you knew anything about these kinds of publications, it was that if they caught wind of something juicy, like the Chief Justice being in a secret relationship, they would waste no time in making that their headline, no matter how flimsy the evidence was.

Thinking back on it now, you and Neuvillette definitely hadn’t been as discreet as you could have been. The two of you had been in public together enough times that someone could get suspicious.

It would be easy to deny it though, you mused. In most of those cases, we were just talking or walking together. Just because a man and woman are together, it doesn’t mean they’re a married couple.

Whatever the case was, you wished Neuvillette would talk to you about it.

If it has something to do with me, then just tell me, you thought. You were now back home and staring up at the ceiling of your room. Why all the secrecy? It’s clearly stressing him out.

Sure, there was probably very little you could do to help, but…but…

Why are you acting so presumptuous? A small voice whispered in your mind. Didn’t Neuvillette say he would take care of everything? When will anyone ever offer to do that for you again?

Yeah, but… you argued back. I shouldn’t just sit back and do nothing! It’s unfair to him.

What does fairness mean in a relationship like this? What can you, a baron’s daughter, do for the Chief Justice of Fontaine that he can’t do for himself? If he doesn’t want you to know about something, it’s for your own good, just like last time. He clearly doesn’t expect you to do anything. What you can do to put him at ease is living your own life carefreely and supporting him at home.

But… you struggled to come up with an argument. Or maybe, you were unwilling to.

Your bed was nice and comfy, and your room was cozy. The sunlight streamed through the lace curtains of the window. If you wanted to, you could run a bath and soak in it for an hour, or read at your window seat, or ask Marie to make a snack for you. You could do anything you wanted.

You continued to lie on your bed until dinner time.

Neuvillette didn’t come home until very late at night. By that time, you were already in bed.

The next day was grayer than usual. It rained all day. As you were in no mood to undertake the challenge of photographing in the rain, you decided to stay home and brush up on your science. You had neglected your studies for far too long.

As you rifled through a notebook, you suddenly came upon a nearly blank page. It was titled “List of Neuvillette’s associates.”

You remembered writing those words all those months ago. It seemed like an eternity had passed since then. You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands again at the memories of your embarrassing behavior. It was a wonder that Neuvillette hadn’t changed his mind and married someone more well-adjusted after all that.

You glanced at the Lakelight Lily on your desk. It looked a little less plump than before, but its refreshing scent was still there. You recalled Neuvillette’s words as he put in your hair.

He was always so considerate and thoughtful. What’s more, you could tell he genuinely meant it. He never failed to ask after your comfort and health. He inquired about your family on a regular basis when he didn’t need to. He even accepted your awkward offer of friendship when he could have just ignored you.

You still had no idea what possessed him to ask you to marry him. He probably would have had an easier time if he had picked anyone else. No, not just anyone. Whoever he married should be just as kind and caring as him. Someone accomplished and beautiful. Someone who he could proudly show off in public as his spouse. Someone who could teach him the “joys of matrimony.”

But until he finds that mythical someone, he’s stuck with me.

Resolve formed in your heart.

Neuvillette came home late again that night, but this time, you stayed up. You listened to his footsteps as he went down the hallway to his study. After you heard the door close, you sat up in bed.

Okay, let’s do this, you cheered yourself on, then put on your robe and slipped out of your room.

You padded down the carpeted floor towards the study. You found yourself walking on your tiptoes for some reason.

The mahogany door seemed to you like an imposing barrier. It wasn’t too late to turn around and crawl back into bed. You were sorely tempted to.

But I’m here on a mission and I’m going to see it through no matter what, you told yourself firmly.

You raised your hand and knocked on the door. “Neuvillette,” you called out. “May I come in? I would like to speak with you.”

A scraping sound came from inside. “Madame?” Neuvillette said as he opened the door. “What are you doing up so late?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your jaw remained hanging open as you took in the sight before you.

Forearms. The words popped into your mind out of nowhere. Neck.

Neuvillette’s usual long blue robes were nowhere to be found. For that reason, he was only wearing a white dress shirt, and his hair was unbound. That wasn’t what made you speechless. You had seen him in that state plenty of times before. No, what stunned you was the fact that his sleeves were rolled up and that the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. Without his clothing obscuring them, you were able to feast your eyes on the sight of his sinewy arms and the smooth, unblemished skin at the juncture between his neck and collarbones.

He was usually so covered-up, even at home, that seeing so much of his skin exposed felt akin to seeing him naked. Oh no, don’t think about that, don’t think about that…

“Madame? Madame, is something the matter?” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts, which were heading in a rather dangerous direction. To your extreme embarrassment, you realized that your mouth was hanging open slightly. No wonder he looked so concerned. I feel like a giant pervert. No, I am one!

“Um, er…it’s nothing!” your voice came out in a higher octave. You took a step backward. This is just wonderful.

“Are you sure? Your face looks a bit red,” Neuvillette stood up. “You shouldn’t be staying up so late, especially if you might be sick.”

“Oh, no, no, I assure you, I am definitely not sick, not at all,” you babbled, even as the words “forearms” and “neck” danced through your head. “I really just wanted to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

“If it’s urgent, then please come in,” Neuvillette gestured for you to enter his study. His shirt shifted slightly with the movement, exposing a sliver more of his chest. You wanted to cover your eyes.

You entered the study. Neuvillette sat back down in his chair and looked at you. You looked at him. Or rather, you looked at the air above him.

“Madame, what is this urgent matter you wish to discuss with me?” he asked. He looked terribly concerned, and you didn’t blame him. The way you were acting right now was definitely a cause for worry.

“I…um…want to…uh…you know…” you gestured with your hands. “I want to…brush your hair! Yes, brush your hair. I’ve noticed how…dishevelled it gets when you come home, so I would like to fix that. Yes, that’s it.”

“You…wish to brush my hair?” Neuvillette repeated, sounding confused.

You nodded vigorously. “And talk,” you added.

“I see,” he still looked confused, but he stood up and went to the door. “I shall go get my hairbrush, then.”

“Please do so,” you said, and watched him go to his room. Once he was gone, you buried your face in one of the pillows on the couch and screamed.

What was going on with you? Why were you getting so worked up over skin? It wasn’t as though you were some sheltered maiden who never saw shirtless men before. And Neuvillette wasn’t even shirtless! And just what would he look like without his shirt on, anyways?

“Stop it,” you told yourself. “Stop it right now. Think about something else.”

“Pardon me, Madame?” Neuvillette’s voice made you jolt upright. “Did you say something? And why are you lying on the couch?”

“It’s nothing,” you quickly got up and clasped your hands together, making yourself the picture of composure and self-possession, ignoring the voice in your head that told you it wasn’t too late to excuse yourself and run back to your room. “Please forget what you just saw. I am perfectly fine.”

You held out your hand for the hairbrush, and Neuvillette gave it to you after some hesitation. The hairbrush was silver, its back carved with a swirling design. It was heavy and cool in your hand. You tried to picture Neuvillette brushing his hair with it every morning, like a princess in a fairytale, and had to suppress a (most likely crazed-looking) smile.

He sat down in his chair, and you stood behind him. You slowly ran the brush through his silver locks, careful not to touch his horns. You did this in silence for a few moments. It had a strangely calming effect on you—you felt your heartbeat settling down, your mind becoming clearer. The fact that you couldn’t see his face was also helpful.

“Neuvillette,” you began. “I know that you’ve been hiding something from me. I would like you to reveal it to me.”

You heard him let out a sigh. He tried to turn his head, but you prevented him from doing so. “Madame, I have already explained to you that it is nothing for you to worry about. Please allow me to take care of it. It was caused by my own oversight in the first place.”

“I am allowing you to take care of it. But I would still like to know what it is.”

“It will only distress you, and I do not wish to do that.”

“I will be the judge of what distresses me. And besides, seeing you obviously so troubled by this matter already makes me feel wretched, so there is really nothing to lose here.”

“My apologies. I will work harder to mask my feelings as to not affect your mood.”

“Neuvillette, that’s not the point I’m making,” you groaned as you worked to loosen a particularly tough tangle in his hair. “Right now, not knowing what’s troubling you is causing me more distress than whatever this mysterious ‘something’ is.”

“I do not believe you would think the same way once you learned what it is.”

“How do you know that?” you asked. Realizing that you had raised your voice, you quickly softened it. “Let me put this another way. This is how I’m repaying you.”

“Repaying me?”

“Yes. For listening to me, for allowing me to cry into your arms on our date. Do you know, Neuvillette, that it’s been a long time since I was able to vent my feelings to someone like that? I’ve forgotten how nice it feels. It…really saved me. And I want to do the same thing for you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything, but it’s easier to come up with a solution when you’re discussing things with someone else, isn’t it?”

Neuvillette didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. But you could tell that he was wavering. You picked up the ends of his long hair and brushed them. You needed to give him one last push.

“If you don’t inform me about matters that are related to me, then I see no reason why I should tell you anything more about myself.”

“Madame, what are you implying?” there was a note of what almost sounded like panic in Neuvillette’s voice.

“That’s right. If you do not tell me your secret, I shall not speak to you ever again for the remainder of our marriage. You will lose the privilege of conversing with me.”

You had expected him to let out a chuckle or something. You hadn’t meant it seriously. Well, maybe a little. You were feeling a bit frustrated.

What you didn’t expect was that he would wrench himself out of your grip and turn around to face you. His lips were pressed together tightly, but his eyes were wide. His gaze burned through you.

“I will tell you,” he said, voice almost too calm. “So please reconsider. It will pain me greatly if you go through with it.”

“I won’t,” you said, caught off guard.

He turned back around. After taking a pause, he told you about the photo Furina obtained, and the ultimatum she gave him. You listened to him intently as he talked, brushing the bottom half of his hair and occasionally untangling snarls.

After he finished speaking, you took a few minutes to digest what you’ve just heard.

“So, no one else except Lady Furina has that photo?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t believe that she would lie or go back on her promise?”

“In this matter, I do not believe she would.”

“I see,” you put down the brush, then moved yourself to meet Neuvillette’s eyes. “Then, I agree to the meeting. I think that’s the most reasonable thing to do here. In hindsight, we should have done it a long time ago. It would have saved us all this trouble.”

“You agree to it?” Neuvillette repeated, sounding stunned.

“Well, it was either this or let Lady Furina dig up my sordid past and do whatever she wants with that information, right? Besides, what’s so scary about a meeting? Plenty of people from all walks of life have made appointments with her, including my own great-grandparents. If they could do it, so can I. And I’ll have you there with me, so there’s really nothing to worry about.”

“But once she meets you face-to-face, you will become known to her. You will not be able to live the peaceful life that you desire.”

Oh, so that’s why he asked that question, you thought.

“Well, we don’t know that, do we? For all we know, once she meets with us, she would judge that we are a perfectly uninteresting couple and leave us alone for the rest of the year.”

“That is unlikely to happen,” Neuvillette murmured. “And what if she discovers our arrangement?”

“She won’t if we don’t do anything that would reveal it to her. You know the saying, ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ As long as we don’t do anything that would make her want to go through the records in the license office, we should be fine.” A thought suddenly struck you. “She can’t…prevent us from divorcing, can she? Or force us to remarry?”

“There are no laws that grant her the powers to do those things. But, I expect that she could make life difficult for you, should she choose to do so.”

“Hmm…” you thought. “Well, I’ll just think about what to do when that time comes.”

“Madame,” Neuvillette rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t be so irresponsible about your own future. This is why I did not wish to tell you. I did not want you to push yourself needlessly for my sake.”

“Push myself needlessly? I see things differently. There’s no guarantee that things will go smoothly, but that’s just life, isn’t it? All I know is that if we don’t do anything, it will most likely turn out badly for us. So I would rather choose the other option.”

You sounded braver than you felt. In this cozy, quiet study with Neuvillette, where you were the only people who would ever know the words exchanged in this room, it was easy to feel self-assured and optimistic about the unknown. Perhaps this was also its own sort of danger.

But when you looked at Neuvillette’s worried face, you found it easier to feel brave.

“Neuvillette, do you remember the promise I made to you on that first night? I promised to make sure that your life is as inconvenienced as possible. This is how I’m trying to fulfill it. Will you allow me to do that?”

“You need not go that far. You have never inconvenienced me, not even now. In fact, you have been a reassurance. It was due to my folly that we got into this situation in the first place.”

“If it was your folly, then it was mine as well. I should have also been paying attention,” you let out a sigh. “Look, Neuvillette, we can go around in circles about this all night, but when you get down to it, it is for situations like these that you married me. You didn’t marry me because you liked me in that way. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true. If I don’t do my part, then I’m just a freeloader living in your house, right?”

“I have never thought of you as a ‘freeloader’… I have always considered you as my wife,” Neuvillette said curtly, but then he smiled at you gently. “You’ve made some very good points. You are correct. It was irresponsible of me to hide it from you. I still have much to learn when it comes to how a husband ought to behave, it seems.”

A warm, tingling feeling spread through your body when you heard his words. He thought of you as his wife. Well, of course he did, since you were officially married and all. But hearing him call you “my wife” was an entirely different thing.

“That’s my job, as your wife. To discuss problems and come up with solutions with you. And from now on, please tell me whenever you’re feeling troubled over something. I’m inadequate in many things, but I’ve been told that I’m a good listener,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. You felt your mouth stretching into a wide smile for no reason and looked down to hide it.

“I will. My apologies for all the distress I’ve caused you. I will tell Furina tomorrow about our decision.”

You and Neuvillette held each other’s gazes for longer than was necessary. In the dim light of the study, his eyes looked darker, obscuring his slitted pupils. You felt weak-kneed all of a sudden. You realized that you had been running on adrenaline until now, but you didn’t feel sleepy. In fact, you were wide awake.

“Will you go to bed now?” he asked. His voice was lower, huskier than usual.

You shook your head. “Will you?”

“I still have some work to do.”

“Then I’ll stay up with you. Since I’m your wife and all.”

Neuvillette looked like he was about to argue, but you went over to one of the bookshelves and took out a history book, then went to curl up on the couch. “Feel free to disregard me,” you said, opening the book.

After a few seconds, you heard an exhale, then the resuming of a pen scratching against paper.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but when you woke up, you were in your bed with the comforter neatly pulled up to your chin. You were quite sure you had a dream, but didn’t recall its contents except for the instinctive knowledge that it was a good one.

You also had the vague memory of feeling something warm brushing against your forehead, but it was so brief and fleeting that it might have been part of the dream as well.

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