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your-daily-biaswrecking · 4 years

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Bunny Dance

pairing: Jungkook x female reader

genre: smut, crack, established relationship au

word count: 5k | reading time: 30 min

summary: You really didn't think Jungkook was serious when you made those bets- betting a sexy performance to each other because it was funny. Yet here he was, waiting for you to give him a striptease. And being very serious about it. This is definitely going to end the way you think it is.

warnings: softdom!kook, sub!reader, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, swearing, sexy dance moves (jungkook dancing is a warning on its own!), domestic uwu, it’s super dorky in the beggining and super intense later

Masterlist | Read on AO3

You heard the door shut, so you assumed your boyfriend was home, and then not two seconds later he burst into your bedroom, making you jump slightly.

"What are you doing?" he asked hastily. You were just lying in bed, scrolling on your phone, you thought that was pretty obvious.

"What am I doing?" you murmured, confused.

"You should be undressing right now!" Jungkook exclaimed, and suddenly loud music was coming from god knows where. But not just any music. It was "You can leave your hat on" by Joe Cocker.

"Excuse me?" you shrieked, throwing your phone away and sitting up to stare at him.

Your boyfriend smirked, swaying his hips and shoulders to the rhythm. "You heard me. You owe me a striptease."

Oh, now he had got to be joking. "Do not!" you argued.

"Yes, you do! Don't try to get out of it, sweetheart. You lost the bet and you know what that means."

Your mouth dropped open and you tried your best to look shocked or mad, but it was getting really hard to keep a straight face when Jungkook was doing one of the silliest dances in front of you. You don't think you had ever seen him this excited before. Pushing the covers away and getting on your feet, you fought through the blush creeping on your cheeks by looking away from his stare and shaking your head in disbelief.

"That was just a joke!"

But Jungkook raised a finger in protest. "No! No way! We shook hands on it, baby! You agreed that if I could shower faster than you, you'd give me a striptease. And I was faster–"

"I didn't actually think–"

"–by a full minute–"

"–that you would do it!"

"–and 43 seconds, baby!" Jungkook kept talking over you. "We made a bet!"

"Yeah, but that was only 'cause you always take an hour in there and we had to hurry!"

He shook his head dramatically. "I don't care! It was a bet!"

"And you have short hair so it's normal that you–"

"Nah, nah, I don't care, baby!" Jungkook interrupted you, moving closer and trying to grab your shirt. "You shouldn't have made the bet if you didn't want to."

You quickly smacked his hands away from you. "You!" You pointed an accusing finger at him. "You lost a bet the other week, but I didn't make you do anything!"

The boy just grinned at you with his teeth in full display, shrugging his shoulders. "Not my fault. You should have asked for your prize if you wanted to."

"Oh!" you laughed. "Then you own me a lap dance, too!"

Jungkook started taking his jacket off, and for a second you thought he got right into it. But he was just laughing at you. "No.… You can't just do that now. I asked for my striptease." He threw his jacket on the ground and started moving closer to you again, the action seeming way more sexual than it was just because of the music still ringing in the background. You stretched your arms out to make sure you keep a distance while backing up.

"Yeah, but my bet came first. So your lap dance should come first," you tried to use reason in a completely unreasonable situation. When the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, you jumped on it and stood up, towering over the man that usually was the one on top. You chuckled. Seeing his excited face was amusing all on its own, but the height difference really added to it.

Jungkook hugged your legs so that you wouldn't move farther away from him, gaining a short, high pitch shriek from you. "You're only asking for that because I asked first. It's not fair."

"What's not fair is you trying to get a sexy show out of me when you have deprived me of mine!" you chuckled, holding onto his shoulders for balance.

"You never asked!" Jungkook insisted, strengthening his grip when he felt you trying to get away.

"I'm asking right now!" you called out, almost falling on him entirely.

Jungkook stared at you through his lashes for a couple of seconds, and then, with a quick shift and a yelp from you, swooped your legs up and let your back crush on the mattress. Within a moment, he had caged you underneath him.

"Alright then," he talked slowly, with a low tone and his voice huskier. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as his eyes ran over your body under him. "I'll give you your lap dance. But you have to give me my striptease first."

You wanted to laugh, just like you had been doing all this time, but your boyfriend's gaze on you made you choke. You would never get used to that, apparently. Finally finding the strength to make your arms work again, you pushed on his chest, trying to get him off.

"I don't even know how to do that..."

"Sure you do. You just take your clothes off, that simple," Jungkook smirked. "Now, stop acting like a child, and let me see your boobs!"

"Oh, I'm acting like a child? Do you even listen to yourself?" But instead of answering, Jungkook just pouted at you. Dirty way to play the game– he knew you could never resist that pout. "Alright," you sighed. "But on one condition: I choose the song I strip to!"

Jungkook immediately pulled away, getting up and freeing you from his strong body. "No, no deal," he rejected. "You're going to choose a stupid one like- like that Lazy Town song!" Your mouth flew right open. And Jungkook's did too. "Oh my god, you were going to choose that, weren't you?"

You screamed out laughing then. "We are number one!" you cackled. You couldn't even hear your boyfriend's repeated displays of utter despair and refusal over your awe of how in sync you had been.

Eventually, you calmed down and looked at him. He was still pouting, this time with some puppy eyes thrown in the mix. You got up and wrapped your arms around his slim waist.

"Okay, okay... You choose any song you like, but I can't promise I'll be serious about it," you said and Jungkook glowed up with excitement again. "But it can't be this one, turn this off, please." And he did, right away, turning the famous striptease song off, that had either been playing on repeat by now or was just a lot longer than you remembered.

He started looking through his song library, humming a reaction to every song he had saved under his sex playlist. He looked so enthusiastic but also casual about it, you wondered how many times he had done this before. The thought alone maybe you cower in your own clothes, twisting the hem of your shirt nervously. What if he was used to getting stuff like these from his previous girlfriends and you let him down? Because you had definitely not done this before.

You cleared your throat yet still didn't get his attention. "So... Do- do I change? Into something, you know, else? Or..." you mumbled under your breath.

Jungkook shook his head without taking his eyes off his phone screen. "No, you're fine."

You looked down at yourself. "But... I'm just in my pajamas."

"Uh-huh," Jungkook hummed, still not looking at you.

You cleared your throat again. "Shouldn't I be wearing something sexier?" you gulped.

Finally, he looked at you. His eyes ran over your body quickly before a smirk appeared on his lips. "You look sexy, baby. Plus, it's not about what you're wearing but about what you're not!" He winked at you and went back to searching for a song.

You felt your cheeks flare up at his words and dared to take a few steps closer to him, feeling more comfortable. "You seem to know a lot about this, Kookie," you said raising your eyebrows and he gifted you a glance to check your expression.

He sighed with a smile. "I don't, but I can't wait to find out tonight, baby. What do you think about Or Nah?"

You scrunched your nose. "Oh, no. Absolutely not."

"Rihanna's Needed me?"

You cocked your head to the side, thinking about it. "I guess?"

But Jungkook gasped. "Oh, I know! Earned it. By the Weeknd." You opened your mouth but before you could say anything, Jungkook hushed you. "I know you love this one, come on, baby." He hit play and dropped the phone away, placing both of his hands on your waist, his palms oddly warm on you even over the clothes. "Let me see your body move to this."

You pulled away, still not feeling entirely ready for this, but just the way your boyfriend was looking at you was enough to get you moving. Your fingers found the top button of your pajama shirt and lingered there. The boy in front of you moved to take a seat on your bed, staring at your eyes with his wide and awaiting ones. You didn't understand why he wanted this, it's not like he had never seen you naked before, but you still unbuttoned that first button.

Jungkook took a breath, his eyes falling to your hands on your chest. You unbuttoned another one. You weren't wearing a bra –because who does that inside the house?– and now that was becoming apparent to your boyfriend, too.

"I- I don't know what to do..." You mumbled to excuse the way you were just standing there, in front of him, undoing your shirt with an unknown nervousness.

"Hmm..." Jungkook growled in the back of his throat, a sound that made your stomach flip. A sound that meant he was enjoying his show, even if you didn't understand how or why. "Just do what you want, baby," he told you.

The song seemed to be moving so fast, you thought you wouldn't be able to undress before it was over. So you just ripped the rest of the buttons open. And Jungkook took a sharp breath in as your stomach was revealed to him, up until your round tummy under your bellybutton. His reactions, his hungry eyes, the noises he was trying not to make... it all helped you be more confident. Your breasts were still concealed behind the fabric, and before revealing them, you decided to turn around. Your back facing him. And then you slowly let the silk clothing slip from your shoulders.

"Oh, baby..." Jungkook inhaled through his teeth when he realized you were teasing him. Seconds ago you were a shy, awkward mess who didn't want to do this, and now you were giving him a seductive, piercing gaze over your shoulder as your back was getting bare inch by inch. You let the shirt fall completely to the ground. "Turn around, sweetheart," Jungkook said in a raspy voice, which only made you giggle.

Instead of listening to him, you let your head drop back. Back until your hair was falling over your shoulder blades and his eyes could almost see more than your neck. You raked your fingers through your hair, moving it around in what you hoped was a lustful way before you let your hands travel down your body. You felt your breasts, your stomach, your waist, your love handles… You touched all of you the way Jungkook only did. Your fingers slid under your pants and you started pulling them down, slowly, while moving your hips to the rhythm.

Jungkook groaned your name, getting deliciously frustrated. He could see your underwear, some plain black cotton panties covering up half of your ass, and it felt like such an achievement. The moment your pants hit the floor, you stepped out of them and turned a little to the side, allowing him the view of your side profile, the swell of your breast, the bump of your ass.

But the song started fading away and you quickly covered yourself with your arms, turning away from him again.

"Oh, it's over!" you called.

"No!" Jungkook jumped up. "No, no, c'mon. That was such a short song, no, you have to finish!" he objected, again and again.

You shook your head and laughed. "Oh, it's not my fault you chose a short song." The music had moved on to the next sexy song, but you just stayed still.

"Baby, you need to finish," your boyfriend said in the most demanding voice he could muster at that moment, but you were unmoved. You glanced at him over your shoulder- he was pouting, with his eyebrows frowned and his chest swelling. You had to bite your lip. He looked so hot. You let your eyes drop lower, and lower, until they reached his crotch.

"I can't believe that worked..." you mumbled at the sight of a very hard Jungkook, straining through his grey sweatpants. You had barely done anything and yet your boyfriend looked ready to risk it all for you. It astonished you, truly, how easily this boy got turned on by you. He must truly love you, you thought.

"Baby..." he started to say.

"It's my turn now!" you informed him and quickly bent down to grab your shirt. However, Jungkook had different plans.

"Oh, hell no!" he exclaimed as he jumped from the bed, grabbing your body from behind and immobilizing you. "If you're not going to at least finish getting undressed for me, baby, you're not allowed to put anything on."

"Jungkook!" you whined.

The boy just buried his nose behind your ear and planted a soft kiss on your neck. "I'm not taking no for an answer," he whispered in your ear. "If you want me to give you a lap dance, my condition is you stay exactly the way you are right now."

Defeated, you dropped your arms from your breasts and stood straight up again, pressing on his body more while doing so. Feeling just what you had caused down there, flushed on your lower back. A moan was caught on your throat.

"Alright," you whispered back. "Do I choose the song?"

You heard Jungkook sniff your hair before he gave you another kiss on the back of your neck and pulled away. "Sure. Choose whatever you want." It was said in a warm whisper. Then he walked out of the room. You frowned at the open door for a second, wondering where he was going.

You took his phone in your hands, pausing the random song and thinking what you're going to put on for your price. Low-key wanted to just go for the obvious choice: Pony by Ginuwine. If Jungkook was even slightly aware of the famous dance from Magic Mike, you would definitely want to see him do it. But then again, you thought, you wanted something with a slower beat. Get him to go slow so you can savor every second of it. Is there a song like this that also happens to last, say, 10 minutes?

Your boyfriend walked back in with a chair in his hold. "What's this?" you asked.

"If I'm giving you a lap dance, I'm doing it the right way," he explained as he planted that chair in the middle of the room. He looked at you, eyes glistening, glancing at your exposed chest and back at your flustered face. "Did you choose?"

You felt frozen for a moment, paralyzed at the sight of your way too confident and ready-for-this boyfriend. Exactly what was he planning to do? "Uh... Yeah," you said, and you looked at the screen, looking at the first song that was on it. "All Mine, PLAZA." Sure, that's good enough.

Jungkook nodded. He walked to you and took the phone from your hands. "Sit," he ordered.

Without waiting to be told twice, you slid on that chair, holding your hands over your well pressed together lap. You stared at Jungkook examining his phone from the corner of your eye and you gulped. He pushed his hair back with one hand and pressed play with the other. His eyes were immediately on you.

Jungkook dragged his feet through the floor until he was in front of you, grabbing the hem of his black t-shirt and lifting it to reveal half of his torso in a quick tease. He swayed to the music some more, giving you a couple more choreographed moves before he dropped down to a handstand at the first sound of the lyrics. His hands on the floor, as he came down slowly to grind on it, and then thrust a couple of times powerfully. He twisted and slid on the tiles, grabbing the legs of your chair to lift himself, crotch first, until he was towering over your seated form. His eyes found yours and you couldn't help but feel your whole face burn, a moan, or perhaps a prayer of his name, threatening to escape your lungs.

He straddled your lap and you suddenly didn't know what to do with your hands. As if reading your mind, Jungkook grabbed them, intertwining your fingers fast and pushing your hands behind your head, while he started grinding on you. A shaky breath left from your parted lips as his grinds became more aggressive right before he released you and got up. He walked behind you until you couldn't see him. But then you felt him, his hands traveling down your sides, his breath hitting your ear. Suddenly, you yelped as you felt like you were falling backward, and grabbed onto his arms for protection. But Jungkook was the one who pushed your chair back, just like he pushed it back down as he jumped in front of you again, using your hands to pull you close to his body. He grabbed your jaw and brought it close to his, his lips only a breath away from your own, as the rest of his body slowly moved farther away.

With the chorus dropping, Jungkook held the back of your head while he thrust up in the air, his crotch coming dangerously close to your face. And just as fast, he was gone again. You whined as you saw him perform for you from a distance that offered no physical contact. His hands danced under his shirt, riding it up, until it was caught on his head and forcefully thrown across the room. You drooled over your boyfriend's body, over the way his muscles moved along with him. No matter how many times you saw him, you would never get used to this view. That, you could promise.

Your boyfriend got on his knees, crawling fiercely to you. His hands landed on your legs and, without missing a beat, he forced them open.

"Jungkook," you called, but he wouldn't listen. He buried his face right into your center. You moaned loudly as he ground his face on you a couple of times, and then moved higher. His back arched and your hand in his, Jungkook guided you to feel him up, run your fingers down his abs, grab the hem of his sweats, and pull down to reveal the beginning of his pubes. You called him again, but he didn't stop.

He was gone again. Moving to the rhythm of the song you had chosen, his eyes always on your own, his intentions always feral. He was truly giving you the worst he had to offer, in the best way possible. And you couldn't understand how you were the one who asked for this. Or, better yet, how you hadn't asked for this earlier.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire and you couldn't even register everything that was happening. He was there, then he wasn't. Jungkook's hands were on you again, playing with your hair, making you beg. Beg for something not even you were sure what it was. He was grinding on you and thrusting in the small space between you, and all you could do was stare. Until he grabbed both of your arms and pulled you to your feet.

You were terrified, your legs could barely work by then, but Jungkook held you by the waist and moved his hips on yours, making sure you could feel just how hard he was for you. His hands traveled south until he grabbed your ass, squeezing it, and then he pushed.

You gasped as he made you jump, wrapping arms and legs around his body. His face was all over your breasts, grinding and licking. You felt something cold touch your back and you squealed. You were being pressed against the mirror.

"God, Jungkook," you gasped, as he adjusted himself to be able to thrust on you in beat with the song. Your head fell back, your eyes literally rolling up until all you saw was darkness, an animalistic growl roaring out of you. "Oh my god, Jungkook, please just fuck me already!"

You heard a groan, and immediately your back was being released from the mirror and meeting the floor instead, one hand protecting the back of your head from the abrupt collision. Then your wrists were pinned over you, then one leg was pushed up until your knee hit your chest while the other made room for him to grind his dick right on your clothed clit.

"I'd be fucking you already if you had finished getting undressed..."

Your wrists strained against his hold in a pitiful way. "Please..." you begged, and he stopped moving. His eyes examined your burning face with a smirk.

"You enjoying the show?" he asked, out of breath, realizing the song was coming to an end. He lowered his face in your neck and started sucking and biting down on it.

"Hmm, please..." you murmured again as if it was the only thing you knew how to say, and you raised your hips to grind on him, already addicted to the feeling.

"You gonna take those panties off for me now?" you heard his voice come muffled between the kisses on your collarbone. As a response, you ground harder on him, and Jungkook suddenly pulled away. He looked at you, growled, and grabbed your black panties from the sides. Moving away from your legs, he pulled them down until he could throw them away completely.

"C'mere, babe," he mumbled to himself as he grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you suddenly with force until your naked pussy was flashed against his crotch. Slowly, he moved over you, his hard dick inside his sweatpants poking at your clit on purpose with the most agonizing pace, as he hummed and moaned, watching your desperate form squirm, your unfocused eyes water, your open mouth, your burning skin... Stalling as if he had all the time in the world. "Did you like it, baby? My dance?" he asked and all you could do was moan in response. This wasn't the time to make small talk.

Your nails dug in his bare back. "Please, Kookie... I need you."

"I know you do, baby." Jungkook pulled his hips away and looked down. There was a dark grey stain right on the tip of his dick from your juices. "Fuck..." he groaned. "You're so wet for me, baby." So wet he didn't have to do anything to prep you. You were literally oozing out your want for him to fill you up. With his right hand, he pushed his pants down until he was able to pull out his dick. He wasn't wearing any underwear, had taken it off when he was gone to get the chair.

Jungkook grabbed the side of your neck with one hand, almost half choking you, while he pumped himself a couple of times with the other. He brought the tip to your folds, moving it up and down to coat himself in your wetness, to grind on your clit one more time and gain another moan from your pretty lips, to torture you a for little longer.

"You want me to fuck you raw, baby?"

"Yes, yes!" you exclaimed, anguished. "Just fuck me already!"

He pressed his thump on your neck a bit more, while clicking his tongue disapprovingly. "Such a desperate little slut, aren't you? Careful," he warned.

Finally, he aligned himself with your entrance and pushed inside of you slowly.

"Ohh... Fuck!" you moaned, your nails marking him even further as your head fell back. His hand released your throat to grab your breast and squeeze hard as he started moving. He pulled all the way out, then pushed all the way back in until he bottomed. He ground in there a couple of times, nudging your cervix softly, then pulled all the way back out.

"Faster, Kookie" you whined.

Jungkook stopped. He grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. "You don't get to give orders here," he told you. And gave you a hard thrust that made you scream. "I do what I want, yeah?" Another hard thrust.

"Oh! Ohh, yes..."

"If I wanna fuck you hard and slow, that's what I'll do," he added, but in contrast to his words, he started picking up the pace. He buried his face in your neck, his warm, quick breaths tickling your sensitive skin. You moved your hands to his hair and started pulling. His pace kept getting faster and his moans sounded like he was already about to cum, but he didn't falter at all. Your mouth found access to the top of his ear and you bit down on it.

"Shit!" Jungkook exclaimed and pulled away, hovering over your face and staring at you. "Babe..." He mumbled, grabbing the back of your knees and pushing toward your chest. When he thrust inside of you again, you could feel him so much deeper than before.

"Oh my god, Kook," you moaned, trying to move along with him to better hit the part inside you you most needed.

"I- I can feel it," he mumbled, biting his lip and rolling his hips inside of you, instead of pulling out and thrusting back in.

"Ah, yes, baby! Right there, make me come," you asked. Ready to please, Jungkook pushed two fingers inside your mouth for you to wet them, then pressed them on your clit, rubbing slow circles.

"Is that what you wanted, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning down and smirking at you.

You nodded deliriously. "More," you rasped.

With a groan, Jungkook made his thrusts quick and hard, his whole hand pressing down over your clit so much that he could feel himself inside you. He growled at the feeling -at the idea- of him being so deep.

He gave you a little kiss. "Is that enough, baby?"

You had to put so much effort into keeping your eyes on his. "Ah, yes! So good! Baby, you're so good." Your boyfriend smiled at the praise and kissed you again, more deeply. He pushed his tongue against yours aggressively in the exact way he knew you liked, trying to get you to cum. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you were getting so close you had absolutely zero control over your own body.

"Are you about to cum, love?" Jungkook pulled away to ask. "Sh- fuck! I can feel it. Cum- cum for me, baby. Let me make you feel good, yeah?"

The moment you opened your eyes, and you saw how your boyfriend's dark, blown, dangerous eyes were staring at you as if you were the most gorgeous being in the world, expecting to get an orgasm out of you, that was the moment you peaked. And you screamed his name but were silenced by him kissing you to amplify your pleasure. Jungkook picked up his pace, fucking you hard through your high until he couldn't take it anymore, so he pulled out and immediately came all over your tummy.

Your boyfriend fell next to you, facing the ceiling and trying to catch his breath. You turned your head just enough to be able to see him through your peripheral vision because your body was absolutely incapable of doing anything more than that. He looked so beautiful, you noticed. His hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his eyes shut closed and his nose scrunched up in an expression that seemed almost painful, yet you knew it was because of his orgasm. His Adam's apple bopping up and down every time he swallowed a breath whole.

"I love you so much," you admitted suddenly. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Jungkook chuckled. "Wow, so in sync. I was just thinking that about you." You smiled, flustered by his sweet words. His head turned to your side and he checked you out. "Give me a minute, baby, and I'll clean you up, yeah?" So he also couldn't move.

You bit your lip to stop you from giggling. "So no round two?"

His eyebrows shot up in his forehead. "Oh? Sure, yeah... Are you willing to get on top?"

You both chuckled. You felt like you could finally move your hand a bit, so you raised it to grab his. "You know, that was amazing. Your dancing."

"I liked it," he admitted.

"Honestly, you looked like you've been waiting for this your entire life," you laughed.

"I have, actually!" Jungkook interjected. He stretched slightly. "You definitely know from now on what we'll be betting on all our bets, right?"

You shook your head with a smile. "I could never be as good as you. Did you not see how awkward my striptease was?"

"What are you talking about, that shit was adorable and sexy as fuck!"

You laughed, covering your mouth. You moved closer to him, cuddling his side. "No, but... I definitely don't mind betting lap dances. I mean, I always win, anyway."

"If we end up fucking like that every time, I win even when I don't win!"

You chuckled and gave your boyfriend a small kiss on his cheek. "Yeah, yeah... Anything you say, bunny."

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Text

Misery

Sadistic!Yandere!Diluc x Fatui Harbinger!GN!reader

Wordcount: 6748

CW: torture, sex, foul language, isolation, sensory deprivation, extremely unhealthy relationships, dubcon, mindbreak, violence

Diluc isn’t a cruel person. Not necessarily. He punishes you only when you are difficult and for the last few weeks you tried to stay on your best behavior. Ragnvindr is nice to you, benevolent even, willing to look past your former affiliations and shower you with love. At times his affections seem suffocating and irking, blood red eyes following your every movement and him absorbing your every word as if it is a holy scripture, but you remind yourself that his love is the best thing that happened to you in your whole life.

Truly, Diluc is so kind to take you in and help you fix the errors of your old ways, even when you were snarling and spitting insults in his face, too stubborn to see how wrong your old life was. You were ignorant and ungrateful back then, seeing nothing but a Harbinger title and service to Tsaritsa. You forced Diluc to lock you up to make you realize that you didn't need your title or your vision or your archon. He is there for you and it's all that matters, you can rely on him for everything and he is happy to provide, persistent in his care for you and even now he is patient with your… deficiencies, waiting when you stop staring into the distance with vacant eyes.

You stand in front of an open but barred window, a typically Mondstadtian landscape revealed to you - bright green grass and patches of dandelions and windwheel asters growing in small groups with tall trees of the same shade finishing the picture. A gentle breeze flows through the opening, playing with your hair and caressing your skin, yet you imagine another type of wind - stronger and colder, relentless and carrying small snowflakes on the way. You close the eyes and see another image - tall, leafless trees covered by multiple layers of snow and the white ground between them. Snow shines and glitters under the pale winter sun, and you feel alive and bitter at the same time.

You know the place, having been there once, but your memory now is too blurry and fuzzy. All of the events prior to Diluc fixing you up are too foggy to make out the finer details and it somehow makes you feel sad, when you should be grateful instead. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t make them stop, rapidly going from silent crying to full on hysterics.

You hear Diluc asking what’s wrong with a concern in his voice, his hands slightly shaking your crying form. You can’t answer him, wailing even louder and stronger, hiding your face in both hands, ashamed from the sudden outburst and overwhelmed from unreasoned sorrow and heartache. Only when Ragnvindr painfully squeezes both of your shoulders and demands to know what is wrong with you in that tone that makes you shiver and gasp, do you stop, looking at him with wide scared eyes, hands that were used to cover your face, are now up in the air in a semi defensive stance.

He seems uncomfortable by your reaction, a slight frown appearing on his face, scarlet brows knit together and corners of mouth turned downward. “I am sorry”, you say, voice small and pleading, eyes casted aside not meeting his out of embarrassment. Why did you start to act so childish out of the blue?

“There’s nothing to apologize”, Diluc takes off the glove, using an uncovered hand to wipe away the tear tracks from your cheeks. There’s no irritation in his voice, just concern, so you risk a glance at him, as he continues: “You are just making me worry”

“I am sorry” you repeat, feeling a prick to your heart, as you process his words - Ragnvindr is so good to you, providing with everything you could ever ask of, and here you are, making him concerned and anxious over some silly daydreams. “It’s really nothing, I just need to be more attentive, that’s it”

You noticed that it’s harder for you to stay in the moment as you start to frequently space out, mind too occupied by the memories of days long past - playing with peers, entering Fatui, receiving a delusion. It’s a futile thing, but images still consume all of your attention and focus, keeping you from sleeping and eating.

“[First], I...” he starts, but then trails off, huffing to mask his hesitancy. Instead of talking he takes your face in one hand and leans in, his lips meeting yours. It's a slow and gentle kiss at first, but just like all other things with Diluc it quickly escalates into something more: his hands now take you by your waist and tug you closer to him, making you press with your entire chest against him, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue freely exploring the confines of your mouth as you moan into his from pleasure and such close proximity.

When you two part, Diluc leaves you flushed and dizzy, with heart quickly pounding against the ribcage. You feel a fire of arousal igniting inside of you, it travels from your chest to belly and soon spreads to the rest of the body. Your cheeks heat up as you stand up on tiptoes to whisper “Can we do it right now?” in Diluc’s ear, voice full of both shame and anticipation.

“Of course, my dear”, there are hints of a smile in his tone and he effortlessly lifts you up and heads for the bedroom and as he carries you you can’t help but zone out again, the memories of past days flashing in your mind.

***

Your first meeting happens during one winter night, as you receive the order to deal with him day prior, at a Harbinger meeting in the Zapolyarny palace. Eleven of you stay kneeling in the main hall, awaiting for Her Majesty to come in as Scaramouche and Tartaglia start to bicker as usual.

“I bet it’s about that mysterious person who’s destroying one stronghold after the other” Childe starts, voice full of bravado and smugness, fake smile blooming on his face: “Fortunately, Tsaritsa has me to take on whatever this stranger is”.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Tartaglia”, Scaramouche remarks, almost spitting out the last word.

“Why shouldn’t I? I am the youngest here, yet I am also the strongest. Why are you so upset? Feeling envious of my power?” Childe retorts, voice still sounding too cheery to be natural.

“If there was anything to envy. You may be the best at fighting among us, but it’s the only thing you are good at”.

“Huh, it seems I was wrong. Maybe little Scaramouche wants to be as tall as me and that’s why he spits out his funny silly slander”.

It must have struck the nerve, as Scaramouche snaps back with an angry tirade, from which their exchange escalates into a heated battle of barely hidden insults. You, just as the rest of other Harbingers listen to their conversation, half amused and half irritated, lifting the brows at the creative mockings.

“Silence”, domineering and overpowering voice says and you still yourself, eyes casted downwards, as Childe and Scaramouche stop their exchange at the same moment. Footsteps echo throughout the hall, as a feminine figure takes its place on a high throne in the middle of the hall. Tsaritsa has arrived.

“As I can see my children already know about the perpetrator attacking my servants” archon starts, divine power and absolute authority evident in each syllable. You feel how the deity’s eyes look at all of you, despite still keeping head bowed and stance obedient.

“Innamorati”, you hear your title and lift up your gaze, ready to take whatever order the Goddess has for you.

“I entrust you with this task, don’t disappoint me”.

***

Diluc is not a coward and he never was one, but now he can’t help but feel a pang of fear, looking at your approaching form.

“Let’s test our delusions, shall we?”, you almost purr, voice soft, silken smooth and full of unspoken threat. It sends shivers down his spine, yet he still equips this cursed thing and braces himself for the upcoming battle.

There’s a stillness in your moves, a confidence that whatever Diluc has in his arsenal, you can endure and answer with something deadly in return. This dangerous calm both disturbs and excites young Ragnvindr.

He lashes out on you with a stream of accursed chains, filling the air with the sickly sweet scent of mist grass. You easily side step his attack, letting out a cheerless laugh and then come back with a cold gust, frost air currents easily cutting through his skin.

He barely dodges the attack, slowly registering the pain from injury. It’s a shallow cut and a testament to your strength, Diluc thinks, as he touches the scrape, marvelling at your speed. In the end, Diluc can’t stand against you - you’re stronger, have more experience and infinitely faster than him, bringing down one overwhelming attack after the other, a catalyst shining and glowing as you do so.

He jumps and ducks and runs, avoiding one hit after the other, yet there's only so much his body can do. Soon his limbs grow heavier and his breathing labored, Diluc slows down and that's when your attack finally strikes him. It pierces his body, pools of blood quickly forming under him.

Diluc falls down, his battered body no longer able to stand. Memories and regrets alike flood his mind, reminding him of deeds he wishes he did and deeds he wishes he didn’t. He remembers his childhood - all daydreams and high hopes, the world around him bright and friendly. He remembers his father's dying face and Kaeya’s guilt-ridden expression. He remembers overwhelming helplessness and grief transforming into righteous anger and hate.

It all seems so pointless now - leaving the Mondstadt, breaking all bonds with Kaeya or spending years in a mindless massacre, satiating his thirst for revenge by destroying one Fatui stronghold after the other, with no regard for his body or spirit. What was the point of it all, if he's still there, lying and bleeding to death, as you look down on him?

He throws, what he thinks, the last glance at the world, a strange thought appearing in his mind as he looks at you: I want them. As Diluc's consciousness fades he misses a sound of an observer's footsteps.

Later, as he gets saved by the said third party’s observer, who commented and praised Diluc’s methods, he replays the encounter in his mind, getting confused at this particular thought. Why would he want you? Maybe he wants you to die or maybe he wants to see you defeated, but in no way he sees you as desirable. In the end he blames everything on his oxygen deprived brain at the time, explaining the strange attraction he felt for you at that moment.

Having a near death experience and a taste of his own dying regrets, he decides to return to Mondstadt and as he does, thoughts about you continue to pester him. They fly around and buzz, reminding Diluc of your face, eyes and voice, of your body and skills and that terrifying speed you attacked him at. He swats them away like a noisy, annoying flies, suppressing and burying feelings deep, deep down, and naming his interest in you “a desire for revenge and retribution”.

***

Your second meeting happens once the news of a sudden Stormterror attack reaches Tsaritsa’s ears - a perfect opportunity for acquiring anemo archon’s gnosis and a new step in her rebellion against Celestia. She thinks about sending La Signora at first, as your fellow Harbinger is fast and ruthless, able to complete a job no matter the cost, but soon archon changes her mind and picks you instead. For secrecy and subterfuge, she adds, don’t disappoint me.

I won't, you promise more to yourself than her, as Tsaritsa never asks but orders. With your head bowed in deep respect and the heavy gaze of the goddess on your form, you decide that you will do your best to bring cryo archon's vision into reality. You are dispatched to Mondstadt the same week, first by ship, then by carriage. Pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya quickly morph into bright Mondstadtian green, and you finally arrive.

Despite or maybe because of Mondstadt having almost nothing similar with Snezhnaya, it steals a breath from you for a moment - city stands on a lone isle in the middle of deep blue lake, tall windmills and bright red roofs seen from a distance, along with a giant statue of Barbatos blessing the city.

Acting Grandmaster Jean greets you, her stern blue eyes intently observing you, as she says standard Favonius salute and you return your own cliche lines - about Tsaritsa’s concern and a peacekeeping mission, empty phrases that don’t elaborate on what actually Fatui will do. She fails to suppress a frown upon hearing it, sensing your real intentions, but you pay it no mind - Jean has no way or reason strong enough to ban you from Mondstadt without causing a diplomatic conflict.

You turn on the heels after brief negotiations, heading for the Goth Grand Hotel, mind already full of plans and schemes of obtaining the Gnosis. Before you departed, Tsaritsa shared a very interesting fact to you - throughout the centuries Barbatos used only one mortal form, disguising himself as a young cheerful bard named Venti. You dispatch a couple of agents and cicin mage to look for a person fitting the description, and then turn your attention to the rest of the fatuis.

You scold Anastasia for unprofessional rudeness towards Jean. “We need to maintain a benevolent image”, you say to her, right before demoting her and temporarily sending her off to Dragonspine as a punishment. Under your rule fatuis cease sneering and belittling Mondstadt in public, lessening no doubt growing ire of locals.

All goes well, until several events happen. Stormterror attacks the city and some blonde foreigner fights off the dragon, wielding mind blowingly strong anemo powers and riding the wind, like a flying bird. Then your agents finally find a bard, reporting that “Venti" prefers to spend a considerable amount of both time and mora in two local taverns - Angel’s Share and Cat’s tail.

You don civilian clothing, heading for the former tavern and send off a couple of other disguised agents to the latter one. Now, stripped of your mask and harbinger attire, citizens stop gawking and staring at you, their eyes passing your form, as you make your way as an ordinary passerby.

No one pays you attention, as you enter the tavern, save for the strange six fingered bard at the entrance. He tries to sell you his performance, but you wave him off, heading for the bar. And here you see him again - you recognize the unknown attacker, his bright red hair and eyes betraying him the same second. Your faces mirror in recognition as a tense silence settles between you.

“So what is Fatui doing in this tavern?”he asks loudly and half of the customers stop drinking and stare at you. You sigh “enjoying” the atmosphere he created, and utter a premade excuse: “Mondstadt is known for its wine industry and the best wines are sold by Dawn Winery. It would be a shame if I left the city without tasting its finest drinks first”.

You glance at the red gem on his collar, an obvious heirloom of a famous clan: “Didn’t know that Ragnvindr heir would spend his days working as a bartender. You must be Diluc, then. Am I right?". He doesn't dignify you with an answer, preferring to wipe the glasses and serve other customers, his eyes still observing you from time to time.

You quit the tavern early, as “Venti”, as it turns out, leaves the same second he hears about your presence. You order agents to spy on him, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, that you don't get a chance to act on.

You get attacked by Diluc on your way to the Windrise tree, where according to your intel, Barbatos decided to go. He slowly pulls out his claymore and you notice a difference between old and current him.

He is calm this time, his movements lacking fervent hatred and anger that was present during your first battle. He must have gotten stronger then, if he feels so confident, entering a battle with you. Or grown foolish, your mind supplies.

You start to fight, exchanging one blow for another, as he surprises you - there's no barbed chains rushing into your direction, only an orange light fire surrounding the claymore. A pyro vision dangles on his waist, glowing and shining as he activates it's powers. You masterfully dodge his hits, shooting combined anemo and cryo attacks from the catalyst.

Suddenly you step on a burning grass, and hiss and close your eyes from the sudden pain. Diluc uses this time to disarm you, his heavy claymore crushing a delicate catalyst into small pieces. It happens so fast, that you are left speechless at the sudden turn of the battle tides.

With no weapon left, all you can do is dodge and run - you almost reach the city again. it’s walls become visible as you do your best to push your body beyond limits, fatigue weighing down on every muscle. Diluc sends a phoenix - a damn phoenix! - on your way. Fire licks your skin and scorches ends of your hair, but you manage to dodge it too - if only by a small chance - and fall to the ground, mind drifting off to the unconscious world.

***

You come up to your senses slowly and gradually; first there are sensations - a rough rope around your wrists, wet, yet rugged stone walls, then the smells, tastes and sounds - stale, musty air, a coppery blood on your tongue and a shift of a fabric, and then the images at last - dark basement and a bright red blotch, that after a time becomes a head.

There’s a man sitting beside you, Diluc Ragnvindr, your memory supplies. You feel calm and confused for a moment until you remember the fight you both had. Seems, he finally overpowered you.

“You are awake” he says, voice grim and quiet.

“It seems I am. Let me guess, you dragged me here because you want to know what this big bad harbinger plans to do?”. Control your breathing, don’t let him hear the tremble of your voice, don’t let him see the fear in your eyes.

He looks at you with an unreadable gaze and you hold his stare, looking absolutely untroubled in return, a knowing and somewhat self-confident smirk playing in your lips. No matter his status in Mondstadt, Diluc kidnapped you, one of the fatui Harbingers and a close associate of Tsaritsa. His action, no doubt, will force Fatui to severe action, an action that neither his nation nor his people will be able to withstand.

“Think bigger”, he finally says: “I don’t care what you planned to do. I already have you here, weak and helpless. No, what I want is intel on what your goddess and organization are after”.

“Oh, mister Diluc, you want to play a big game? It’s dangerous in case you didn’t know. Maybe after I tell you all of our wicked plans, you will wish you had never asked” you purr, sensing how it grates his nerves, despite him keeping his face and stance impassive.

“How so?”

“Tsaritsa is the greatest of all seven, her vision is absolute. Even if you learn of her plans I doubt you will be able to stop any of them”.

“I asked what the plans were, not what you think of cryo archon”. Diluc’s voice becomes a tone louder, the already present frown on his face subtly deepening.

“Then I am afraid you won’t get any from me”.

He suddenly gets closer to you, his hand yanking you by your head. You hiss, trying to free the bound hands, as he drags you to a nearby barrel with water by hair and then he dips you in it. You instinctively jerk in his hold, a cold water seeping in your nose and mouth as he holds you underwater. Ten second passes, twenty, thirty, you jerk again, your head throbbing and aching from the lack of air, he pulls you upwards.

You nearly black out from the abrupt change, gulping down in the air and coughing out water. He repeats his question and you deny him again. He dips you more, each time becoming a bit longer than the last, only to repeat his query. You lose how many times he lowered you into liquid, absolutely wet and shivering now, when he finally stops and ties you up to the same place you woke up to.

“We will continue tomorrow, I have business to attend to. I suggest you use this time to rethink whether you want to tell me Tsaritsa’s plans or not, as I can get much worse” He heads for the exit from the basement, as you greedily inhale the air.

“Wait”, you say, still breathing heavily: “Aren’t you afraid of the punishment? You kidnapped me, a harbinger, and then proceeded to torture me. Tsaritsa will have your head for this slight against her.”

“Tsaritsa won’t find out. Your Harbingers won’t find out. No one will find out if there’s no evidence”. He steps closer to you, his voice becoming firmer with each word.

“And how do you think you will manage to hide the evidence? You left the knights years ago, you are nothing but a businessman at this point. I doubt they will cover up for you”.

“How did..”

“Oh, Diluc, people talk and I am very, very nosy. That girl, Donna, she told so much to my subordinates about you ”, you mock her, imitating her high breathy manner: “Oh Diluc, he was the youngest captain, but then he left. I wonder why he left? Maybe the knights wronged him!”

“Honestly, with the amount of ire you subject poor knights to, only a deaf and a blind won’t know about how much you despise Favonius Order'', you continue, anger and hatred seeping into your voice.

“I still have connections”, he says absolutely nonchalantly.

“Oh, do you bribe them, then? You criticize the knights for being corrupt, yet you are willing to ask them to hide my abduction? It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

Diluc doesn’t answer this time, finally stepping out of the room and locking the door. You sit alone in a dimly lit room, water still all over you and heart quickly beating in your chest, trying to calm down. Later, when your heartbeat stops booming in your own ears, you pray to Tsaritsa, asking Goddess to grant you strength and endurance.

***

You manage to doze off once your clothes are almost dry. The dreams you see are vague and murky, dripping with a sense of unease and anxiety, you see dark silhouettes that morph into looming shadows that later transform into phantasmagorical monsters. It must be why you wake up the same second door opens with Diluc entering the room.

He looks grimmer now, more determined. You brace yourself for his hands tugging at your hair again and lungs burning from lack of oxygen, but none of it comes. He uses a dagger to slice your clothes off, careful not to damage skin underneath. Out of pure nerves you quip some stupid joke about dining first, but he pays you no mind, his hands soon touching your bare legs and looks at them with a filthy stare, his red eyes consuming revealed flesh.

You still under his stare, heart pounding as you try to distract yourself from the thoughts of what he might do to you right now. Almost a minute passes, when he finally stops staring at your legs and begins to move his arms, caressing your inner side of the thigh instead.

You shift from the discomfort, alarmed when his palms start to heat up. He wants to burn me, you think and barely stop yourself from screaming by biting your lip. A disgusting smell of burnt flesh fills up your nose as tears start to travel down your face. He removes the hand, revealing two angry red imprints with a collection of small blisters already forming. Diluc, again, asks the same question, and just like the last time you refuse to answer.

He does upkeep his threat of becoming much worse, with his hands burning your naked body - he targets sensitive spots or joints,so everytime you shift or move they throb and burn, disturbed at the smallest of motions.

“You're not the one to think about the consequences, are you?”, you ask when he finishes, voice quiet and raspy from screaming.

"No one will find you".

"I am one of the Tsaritsa's most trusted servants, of course they will find me", you pretend you don't hear desperation in your own voice.

"Time will show", Diluc says philosophically, looking as gentlemanly as possible despite him torturing you seconds ago.

"Yes, it will", you agree with him, picturing the bastard's face once he gets thrown in prison.

He leaves the room and you allow yourself to slump, careful not to move burned areas too much, and then he returns again, this time with food and medicine. He works fast at bandaging and disinfecting the burns, seems he is as intent at patching you up, as he is at tearing you apart. As he swathes another burn, you look at the brought food.

It’s unlikely he would drug it to make you tell the truth, given that he already tortures you and he doesn’t seem to be a type to play mind games. It still could be laced with poison though, not lethal one, that would be counterproductive, but the one that can cause pain and tremors all over your body. You’ve seen such substance at work once, when Il Dottore decided to show you the fruits of his experiments - victims were thrashing and shaking on the floor once a five minute mark had been passed, by the twentieth they already admitted to all crimes, regardless of how innocent they were.

It might be even a new torture method, devised by Diluc, just to strip you from the short respite when you are not in pain. He finally looks up to you, finishing the bandage, noticing the stare you look at the food with. "It's not poisoned" he guesses your thoughts, taking a small bite and a sip to prove his words. A minute passes, then the second and the third ones, nothing happens with him, no blushing or paling skin, no wide blown or pinprick pupils, nothing. It still could be a slow acting poison, but you doubt it - they're usually harder to cure, Diluc wouldn't willingly consume it given the long list of aftereffects that remain even after antidote was administered.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stay to feed you, leaving you with food alone. It’s a potato hash browns, absolutely unseasoned and cold. You almost swallow them whole from hunger, realizing how starved you are once the smell of food reaches you. After a day(?) of fasting, satiation hits you full force, drowsiness pulling at every muscle. The tableware he brought is metallic and easily bends, so you can't smash it and use sharp pieces, nor are there any utensils to weaponize. You lay down on the side, as something falls on you. It's a stone.

Your hands take it, feeling its shape - mostly smooth with one angular protrusion. It's not sharp or pointed enough for you to cut through the bindings, but with enough time and effort it can break the rope with friction alone. You begin to work, grating the rope again and again, fighting off the sleepiness.

***

Diluc nods to Adelinde, as he returns from Mondstadt after signing the contract with winesellers from Inazuma. She understands this wordless gesture, starting to talk: “The.. guest you brought has eaten, last time I checked they still were awake. I did my best to be quiet, master Diluc”.

He dismisses her, thanking for her observations and decides to go down himself. A strange sort of fascination fills him, as he turns the key in the lock, that also prompts a burning shame that he grew accustomed to in the last few days.

It’s an awful thing, to find pleasure in another’s suffering - a trait of a heartless monster, as his father once said, but despite the chagrin he still can’t help but feel a quickening of the pulse as a pained whimper escapes your lips. It’s addicting honestly, to have you of all people, naked and trembling and helpless at his total control, when you were so close to ending his life just a couple of months ago. He supposes it's a type of karmic punishment to you, a fatui harbinger, no doubt a killer and horrible person - you deserve it, he tells to himself - you deserve it for being a fatui.

Moreover, you are not only a terrible, terrible person that deserves much more gruesome torture that he allows, you are also a source of priceless information - how many lives will be saved and avenged if you just tell him what fatuis plan to do. You are a harbinger, you are bound to know something, unlike most of the fatui.

Diluc carefully glances at you as he enters - you are still sitting in the same spot he left you in, head slumped low and shoulders relaxed. It seems you are asleep. He still makes his way to you, steps slow and quiet. Your hands are bound with rope and Diluc knows how much the rough fiber pulls and chafes at skin, grating it to the blood and ropeburns - he needs to use this short respite to quickly disinfect and bandage you again.

Diluc crouches down, as you twitch and then something aims for his head, he flinches a second too slow to dodge. You nearly manage to hit him right in the temple. His head almost splits in half from the burst of pain, vision blurry and disoriented.

You quickly stand, enduring the pain from the burns and make your way to the room. Diluc runs after you, panic and anger distorting his face in equal manner - he can’t let anyone see you like that! - but you manage to lock him in using his own keys. He kicks and thrashes the door, angry at himself for not carrying claymore with him, as something loudly collides with the wall at the other side. He hears a short surprised yelp and whimper - your whimper and the too familiar footsteps descending down the stairs- Adelinde.

“Master Diluc? Is everything okay?”, the headmaid unlocks the room, concern in her voice:”I saw.. the guest running out of the basement, so I pushed them back before other maids could see”

“Everything is fine, check on the Harbinger, I still need intel”.

Turns out, you blacked out upon the impact, a small trail of blood making its way down the head. Diluc is still angry at you, head throbbing and hurting, his hands itching to hit and burn you, but he can’t allow himself to lose control: you are hurt and he doesn’t want to kill you.

In the end, it’s all predictable, Diluc muses, you are an animal first and human second, your allegiance testament to that. He was too soft, too forgiving on you and you decided to twist his kindness like a blade in the back. His head still hurts, but he finally calms, reasoning your attack as an outlash of a mindless beast.

He carries your limp body in hands, finally taking out of the basement and takes you to one of the guest rooms at the second floor of the winery - it’s a risky move, but you injured your head and in Diluc’s experiences such traumas almost always carry a great risk - maybe you will even forget who you are and there’ll be no one for Diluc to interrogate to.

Placing your body on the bed he clasps a cuff around each of your limbs and gags and blindfolds you. After a second, he asks Adelinde for cotton and stuffs your ears full of it.

Human mind stripped of all stimuli is such a dangerous thing, tearing itself apart.

***

You wake up to darkness and silence, head slightly pulsing from pain. You lie on some sort of very soft bed, silk smooth sheets consuming and hugging most of your body as you wiggle your limbs, tugging at the cuffs.

A small wave of panic washes over you, as you remain absolutely blind and deaf to the world, but you try to remain calm, unsure if Diluc is standing near or not. The bindings on your hands are made of iron now, so you soon stop, knowing it's a futile thing. The only thing you can do is wait.

You don't know how much time passes between you regaining consciousness and the air shifting around you. Having been stripped of both sight and hearing, your other senses became a bit sharper, mind focusing on them to compensate. It's a subtle change of pressure but you still feel it, it's enough for you to guess where this person stands. Suddenly hands grope at you, touching and probing the place near burns. You would scream if it wasn’t for the gag, from pain and violation alone. It's a smaller palms, judging by sensations, they change the bandages. After whoever that was finishes patching you they leave you alone, their departure evoking both relief and sadness - they were a source of stimulations, stimulations that your mind desperately needs.

You start to tug at the bindings again - this time to procure pain, just to feel something again. You are bored, you are in pain and you are scared - not the best combination. Soon, you decide to distract yourself from ever increasing boredom with memories. Images of your past life flash and change before you - here’s you playing catch and hide and seek, here’s you receiving a vision, here’s you entering fatui and climbing through the ranks, here's you receiving delusion from Tsaritsa’s own hands and here's you battling Diluc for the first time.

I should have killed him, you think, I should have spent less time talking and more time fighting, the bastard wouldn't live to see another day and I wouldn't be here.

A strange feeling of panic settles in your bones, as you try to occupy yourself, it's subtle but never ending, slowly growing with each second. You try to daydream but you can’t, not when you are cuffed and your body burns. You try to reminisce again, but you can do only so much, memories becoming dull and repetitive. Soon, the subtle panic becomes not so subtle and you realize you are gasping and thrashing, limbs achings as you rub them against the rough shackles.

You must have blacked out or drifted to sleep, because the next time you wake up you feel a bit different - a little cleaner and more sated - they tend to me, when I am unconscious you realize. Diluc wants to limit all interactions I have.

You don't know how much time you spend there in the end, but it has a profound effect on you - at first the concept of sharing fatui plans with your captor seems nonsensical and traitorous, but after a couple of days-weeks(?) of being chained to one place with limited movement and perception, it stops looking like such a bad idea to you.

Time distorts around you, you can't tell how long you were lying there, seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into near eternities. At one point you started to cry again, scared and panicked and then you proceeded to scream.

***

Diluc comes to you again, taking out the cotton and blindfold from your person. Your eyes hurt and your head starts to ache again from the rush of noises, and you blink a couple of times to see the man before you. A strange mix of emotions washes over you - you hate Diluc, you truly despise him with every fibre of your being, yet now Diluc is the only person you have, the only person you see. It’s so confusing and overwhelming that you start to cry, unable to process any of the feelings.

Diluc looks as prim and proper as ever, as he shushes your crying and promises to let you go if only you will tell Tsaritsa’s plans. You almost believe him, Fatui secrets dancing at the tip of his mouth, yet you hold on to the pieces of your loyalty, slowly shaking your head. He asks you again, doubt and concern in his voice. It will be better if you tell me, he says, his hand still stroking you, don’t you want to walk and see again?.

His hand stops stroking you, face turning back to stone when you refuse him for the second time. He fixes blindfold and cotton again and part of you is howling - it’s scary, so scary to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts.

This time you start to break far faster, having tasted freedom for a mere second. You break down and tell Diluc everything you know next time he visits. His hand on you feels like salvation and punishment at the same time. At the end of your confession you are too empty, all of your secrets laid before him, no place for sadness or grief left inside of you. You feel whatever was inside of you was scorched off by Diluc and it left you thoroughly burnt. Dead. Made of ash.

“My name is [First]”, you wail and howl, shoulders slightly shaking as you do. You want so much to have some human contact, to hear someone call your name for once.

It’s cathartic in a way, to tell all the secrets your mind has been bustling with ever since becoming a harbinger. He doesn’t flinch or frown when you tell what exactly you witnessed or did, intently listening to each word.

He keeps his promise and uncuffs you from the bed, but you are still not allowed to leave the room, which doesn’t really disappoint you. There are books and a small barred window that opens a view to the wineyard, a feast for the starving mind. You spend at least an hour standing at the window at first, amazed that you can see people working.

He gifts you clothes and other books, assigns a housemaid to look after you, the same one that pushed you down the stairs when you were running away, she doesn’t speak to you, preferring to avoid your gaze.

Sometimes you do feel sad - you betrayed Tsaritsa, you betrayed your homeland, you lost both vision and delusion - but you quickly shove it down, unable to process feelings properly. You know you are defeated, having seen similar behavior from fatui prisoners, and Diluc knows it too, a malice and triumph and satisfaction burning on his eyes, despite the impassive face.

He sees you as a trophy, a reminder of how he reduced the great fatui harbinger to your current condition. He orders you around and punishes when you disobey, calls it reeducation, calls it teaching you how to be a decent person, calls it a punishment for your sins. A part of you wants to retort and point out his own failings, but you stop yourself at the root, unwilling to be stripped from the world again. You comply, you suppress, you break little by little. It all pleases him.

You learn to love what hurt you the most out of pure fear.

***

“First?”, it’s Diluc, shaking you slightly by the shoulders. You snap back to reality, seeing that he already carried you to bed and undressed you.

“I am here, you can continue” you whisper as he leans down to pepper your chest and collarbone with kisses, and then hiss as he bites you.

“Mhm, that’s good,” he says, warm hands traveling down to your thighs, caressing the inner side: “Could you spread them a bit?”

You obey, equally parts scared and excited.

Truly, Diluc is the best thing that happened in your life.

Note: All fatui harbinger names are taken from commedia dell'arte. Innamorati are a couple of lovers, madly in love with each other and with the idea of being in love. I thought it would be ironic.

#yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #Yandere diluc #yandere x reader #yandere #I am lowkey dissapointed in myself #Both reader and diluc are bad people #My sleep meds stopped working:(((#my writing

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ellavogues · 3 years

Text

what did you wish for? - harry styles

summary: long distance has put a strain on harry and yn’s relationship, especially as his birthday is fast approaching

a/n: last repost from my old blog, i still freaking love this. this fic means a lot to me because parts of it was based off of my own life. as always, ily all <3

masterlist

The light turned to dark as she sat by her phone watching reruns of The Office, waiting for Harry to call her like he did every night. Her day was particularly bad, everything that could’ve gone wrong went wrong - from her forgetting her umbrella when it was bucketing down to her somehow locking her car keys in her car (which led to her incurring a $200 fee for the roadside assist service getting them out). Then, when she trudged home in the pouring rain, clothes completely soaked and her socks inside her shoes wet, she received an email informing her the elevators in her building were out of service. Unluckily for her, she lived on the 16th floor.

All she wanted was to see his smile to turn her day around. Harry never failed to turn her worst days into good ones just by being him, but being in a long distance relationship put a strain on that. Sure, they would visit each other every now and then, but both of their jobs were demanding and meant they couldn’t travel as much as they wanted to. Harry could travel more than she could, but she didn’t think it was fair that he’d always have to be the one to hop on a plane and fly across the world.

The familiar ringtone played and her eyes lit up in excitement. Y/N reached for the phone and answered to hear him yelling some utterance at his friend, to which his friend responded with something equally as snide.

A smile crept onto her lips as she lightly giggled at his attitude to his friend, and she could almost feel them roll her eyes at his snarky remark. Y/N would be lying if she said the huff of annoyance he let out as he returned his attention to her wasn’t hot, as well as the way he ran his fingers over his stubble then through his curly hair.

“How do you want to celebrate your birthday, Haz?” Y/N asked softly, not wanting to make his bad mood worse and hoping the change of subject would make him happy.

Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he composed his answer. “What’s the point?” His tone wasn’t soft like hers, nor was it disappointed. It appeared that he was angry that she brought up the topic. In a matter-of-fact tone, he continued, “You’re not in London with me, you’re in New York. There’s no point in celebrating with you if you’re not here.”

“We can FaceTime?”

He rolled his eyes at her suggestion as if it was the stupidest thing he had heard, and sarcastically laughed at her.

“What’s with your attitude, Harry? I want to celebrate with you! It’s not my fucking fault that I can’t be in London!” She frowned, frustrated that the distanc between them was the topic of conversation, like it always seemed to be.

Harry scoffs in response, the look on his slightly pixelated face dumbfounded that you would even suggest that it wasn’t your fault. “I have offered to fly you out to London many times, Y/N. There are plenty of jobs for you out here that you could apply to and that you know you would get because you’re so damn good at what you do,” he retorted, tired and irritated. Though Harry was usually incredibly patient with everyone, especially her, these increasingly frequent conversations had begun to wear him thin and gradually made him resent FaceTiming her at all, despite still being completely and utterly in love with her. “You’re being stubborn about moving for no reason.”

They were both quite stubborn individuals, but in the past Harry was usually the one that compromised to make her happy. He valued her happiness over getting his own way. When they reconnected a year ago, a few years after finishing school, and quickly realised their friendship was based on more-than-friend feelings they faced the problem of living in different countries. Although it seemed like a breeze at first, Harry scoffing at anyone who claimed long distance would be hard, as their feelings grew deeper and his visits less frequent, they both longed for a more physical presence of the other, rather than just virtual. This was something Harry was absolutely not willing to compromise on. He had his whole life in London, and he knew that he could give her the life she deserves if she would just take up his offer. He knew she was scared of leaving her family behind to move in with him, and he understood. Harry tried to keep his cool about this topic, but eventually he became exasperated.

“No good reason? Why should I be the one to move? Why is it me that has to pack up my entire life just to be with you?’” She scolds him for being so rude, and feels like he’s completely brushing off her feelings. “You are able to work from wherever you are. I am not. you should be the one to move.”

“Me?” Harry was astounded at was his girlfriend’s response, and was indigent at her crazy suggestion. “I can not leave London just because you’re scared of leaving the city you’ve been in all your life. My work is in London, you know this. You know I have to be here to work, just because I technically could still record in New York does not change that the majority of my work and networks are in London. You’re being a bit dramatic and unfair about this, Y/N. I’m tired of arguing about this all the time. Goodnight.”

The fact that he hung up on her makes her see red, blood boiling as she clenched her fists and teeth. He knew what he was asking of her; to pack up her whole life just to be with him. He was being selfish and unreasonable and she was being exhausted of having this stupid argument that neither of them ever won every time they talked. She felt like he never considered her friends here in New York, and that he always brushed off how she felt about the move. This fight had gradually become more tense as time went on, as they knew that a decision would eventually have to be made if they wanted their relationship to grow.

///

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she claimed.

“I know you and H had a fight,” Harry's friend responded, the one on the phone earlier. “He told me what happened and he feels really bad. Like, really. I know he would really appreciate it if you were here for his birthday.”

She sighed, starting to feel slightly guilty too for the way she reacted. She feels even more guilty for the fact that they hadn’t spoken at all in the past 3 days, besides a text from Harry simply saying Sorry for hanging up on you. When Y/N received the text, she was still calming down from their argument, still hurt by the way he made her feel that her career wasn’t as important as his. She still loved him, and she still misses him, though.

“I can’t afford a ticket, you know that. Not everyone makes a fuck ton of money like you and Haz-”

The friend chuckled softly over the phone before reassuring Y/N, “I’ll pay for it. Come and surprise him, he’ll feel a lot better and it’ll give you guys a chance to work it out in person, where you can’t just hang up on each other.”

Y/N knew that his friend was right, she knew that she and Harry needed a face to face conversation about the future of their relationship because long distance hadn’t seemed to be working for them anymore. Their virtual dates, while well thought out and romantic, weren’t the same as being there in person with him. Being there and lightly brushing legs as they sat down at the small table, hearing his laugh without the audio cutting in and out, being able to hold each other’s hands. It wasn’t the same.

Maybe that is why Y/N and Harry had been arguing so much, because their relationship relied on strong wifi connections and the ability to be on their phones all day. And it wasn’t enough for either of them anymore.

“Okay, thank you. I’m really grateful you’re doing this for us,” Y/N finally responded, expressing her gratitude.

His friend felt a wave of relief, ecstatic that Harry might finally get out of his shitty mood. Even though he didn’t mean to take out his annoyances on his friends, and he apologised every single time he gave them an uncalled for attitude, but it seemed his bad mood was never dissipating. When finally asked what was wrong, bursting through his door in a fit of exasperation, he broke down and told her about their FaceTime, and all their FaceTimes before it. About how every subject they discussed seemed to lead to the same topic: the distance between them. He admitted he regretted his harsh words, and regretted him acting like he thought his job was more important than hers.

“It’s really not a problem,” his friend promised. “I’ll email you the flight details and the invite, I can’t wait to see you! It’s been so long!”

“It’s been, like, a month and a half. Not that long.”

“That is so long! I miss you like crazy.”

“I miss you too,” Y/N giggled.

She flopped back on her bed, grinning from ear to ear and excited she would finally be able to see her boyfriend again, yet dreading the impending and necessary conversation they would have to have.

Y/N had anxiously got out of her Uber when she arrived at a friend's house for Harry’s surprise party. She was visibly shaking, stuttering as she said thank you to her driver, nervous that his reaction wouldn’t be good when seeing her. She was scared that he didn’t want her here anymore after their fight, despite his friend constantly reassuring her that he would be over the moon to see her.

She knocked on the front door, which his almost immediately answered. “Hey! Y/N!”

The loud exclamation earned the attention of the other attendees of the party, all shocked to see Y/N after Harry had repeatedly, and bitterly, told them that she was going to be in New York for his birthday.

“Hey,” Y/N smiled, greeting everyone. She glanced around the room, seeing the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, the island bench covered with a gold table cloth, the backyard decorated with gold balloons and streamers. “Woah, the party is super cool! Harry is going to love it.”

“Harry is going to love that you’re here and not in New York.”

When Harry finally arrived, the lights were switched off and everyone scurried to grab their phones out to film. Y/N waited behind everyone as the group gathered close together to surprise him when he walked in.

“Oh my god,” Harry spoke. “It smells funny in here.”

She let out a quiet giggle at his comment, but was quick to muffle it before he heard it was her.

When he made it past the gold streamers that blocked the front door from the living area, everyone yelled out SURPRISE, going crazy and covering Harry with confetti. His face had pure joy, happiness and gratefulness plastered all over it, ecstatic that his friends would do something so sweet for his birthday, although he most likely already knew about the party. He glanced around the room, and almost had to do a double take when he saw his girlfriend. Y/N had told him she wouldn’t be able to make it, making him dread his birthday since he didn’t see a point in celebrating it if it wasn’t with her.

When the crowd had dispersed, Harry made his way over to her and grabbed her chin gently, tilting her face up before saying “Hey, love” and kissing her softly. He broke the kiss and pulled his girlfriend into a warm embrace. She was so glad to see him, in person, to be able to hold his hand and hug him and just be around him. In person.

They were pulled out of their moment when Harry’s friend asked if they wanted a picture, to which Y/N responded no and he responded yes.

“Don’t be shy, love,” he teased, smiling like a cheshire cat as he put her hair behind her ears. “I want to remember you being here tonight, let’s take the picture.”

It wasn’t long until it was time to cut the cake, Harry having Y/N by his side the whole night because he didn’t want to waste a minute he could spend with her. Being with him reminded Y/N why they were dating, and why she loved him. As the night went on, she felt the fight that was seemingly big feel less important, because she realised that she was making excuses as to why she couldn’t move to London with him. She was being stubborn for no reason, and she noticed that the only thing holding her back was her. Not her job, she could find a new one in London, not her family because she barely saw them anyway, not her friends because half of her friends were in London with Harry anyway. When she saw Harry walk through those streamers, it became crystal clear how silly she was being.

Harry knew what he wanted, and being with her that night just made him more sure. He decided he wasn’t going to stop fighting for his relationship with her, and if that meant he had to settle down his requests for her to move to London with him so she felt more comfortable, he would do that. Despite wanting nothing more than to live with her, to wake up every morning and see her face, to Postmate her favorite coffee every morning, to surprise her with spur-of-the-moment dates every now and then. He wanted her, and he was willing to wait if that’s what he needed to do.

After everyone sang happy birthday to him, his arm slung loosely around her, he blew out his candles.

“What did you wish for, H?”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles imagines #one direction imagines

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kyuuppi · 3 years

Text

Unworthy

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (gn)

Contents: hurt/comfort; Reader has mental health issues (depression, social anxiety, possible manic depressive disorder, extreme insecurity)

Word Count: 1.3k

You don’t deserve love.

It is a fact, etched into mind and engraved into your heart after years of painful confirmation. You are not extraordinarily beautiful nor do you have a heart of gold. On the contrary, your face barely passes as “average” and mental illness has rendered your moods a lethal concoction of manic and depressive, the ratios depending solely on the time of day.

Nothing about you is loveable and certainly not deserving of someone like Katsuki.

Bakugou Katsuki, the man who talks big and works more than hard enough to back it up. There is truly nothing he can’t do, nothing he is not the best at. He pointedly steers clear of nonsense, never afraid to call people out on their bullshit. He doesn’t bother with false pretenses, doesn’t bother with things that would get in the way of his goals—

Which is exactly why it’s best for you to leave him alone. You’re weighed down with emotional baggage and weaknesses both mental and physical, you’re just a nuisance and it would only be a matter of time before he recognizes it and promptly cuts you from his life.

You figure it will hurt a little less if you do it first.

That’s why you leave. You skip the date the two of you had planned, the one you had been so excited for just a few days ago, scavenging the mall for hours before settling on what you deemed the perfect outfit. In retrospect it was all pointless anyway, lipstick on a pig is still a pig. Maybe, if you make it home before it starts to rain, you can still return the flowy black dress. Fold it up nicely in the fancy white bag it came in. You’re fairly certain you still have the receipt sitting on the top of—

“Oi!”

Every muscle in your body freezes at the familiar sound. For a moment you think—hope—that you’ve imagined it. The startled jumps and confused turns from the people standing on the busy street corner around you prove otherwise.

“I know ya heard me—if you try to make a run for it I swear to god I’ll hunt you down.”

You refuse to turn around and face his voice as it comes increasingly closer but you can already see the people around shooting you curious looks from the corners of your eyes. A few people step away from you warily, silently wondering what type of dangerous person would warrant the appearance of the Number Two Hero of Japan.

The pause of heavy footsteps is the only warning you get before a firm hand grabs your arm and forces you to turn around. For a moment you look up and meet his eyes, vermillion and boiling with an obvious anger—perhaps if you’d looked longer you would have noticed the worry as well—but you quickly let your head fall back down, too ashamed to meet his gaze full on.

He huffs.

“You better have some damn good excuse for standing me up on our first date.”

A few people around gasp and whisper among themselves, no doubt shocked by the prospect of Ground Zero of all people being stood up on a date by some dull looking person on the street. You suppose you would be surprised as well. For someone who graduated in the top 10 at U.A., Bakugou seemed terrible at cost-benefit analysis when it came to finding a partner.

“Hah?” he urges when it becomes clear you have no intention of replying.

“Don’t just fucking ignore me—and what the fuck are all you extras looking at?”

Most of the people around quickly look away and carry on with what they were doing but Bakugou pulls you away anyway, his hand still firm on your upper arm. He leads the two of you to a more secluded area, a relatively clean alleyway between a convenience store and some apartment buildings. You back is against the wall while Bakugou strategically places himself in front of you but slightly to the left, blocking the sole exit in case you try to escape.

“We can stand here all night, princess,” Bakugou bites out, gaze nearly burning a hole through the top of your head as you continue to stare pointedly at your own feet.

“Now why the fuck did you stand me up? If you didn’t like me you should have just said so—I’m not some loser who can’t handle rejection.”

You huff an involuntary laugh at the thought. How ridiculous—you not liking him? He’s literally perfect, the epitome of everything a pro hero should be and well beyond any normal human. Millions of people worship the very ground he walks on and you’re no different.

“I think its for the best if we...don’t associate with each other,” you finally murmur, struggling to convey your thoughts without stating the obvious ‘you’re way too fucking good for me, why did you even ask me out in the first place? Did you get brainwashed by a villain?’

“The fuck is that s’possed to mean?” he barks back, clearly not satisfied with your vague answer in the least.

“Are ya worried about the villains or something? I can kick anyone’s ass if they try to mess with ya, y’know.” His voice softens along with his grip on your arm, seeming to consider, for the first time, you could possibly just be scared. It would not be unreasonable—he is one of the top pro heroes, a status one doesn’t earn without making a few enemies along the way. It is not unheard of for the most detestable villains to attempt to use the friends or family of heroes as hostage to get what they want. That is hardly anything you care about though—you know Bakugou is strong. You have no doubts he can protect the people he cares about...you just shouldn’t be one of them.

You finally steel yourself enough to look up and meet his gaze as you speak your next words.

“Bakugou,” you start, seeing his subtle flinch at you calling him by his last name for the first time in months since you’ve known each other. “I’m...not good enough for you. You deserve someone strong, smart, and beautiful—someone who deserves to stand by your side, and I am none of those things. I’m just...damaged goods.”

You try to laugh off the last line as if it were a funny joke but your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears.

Somehow, Bakugou looks even angrier now.

“You’re right about one of those things,” you try to ignore the sudden sting in your eyes at hearing your own thoughts coming from him. “You are a huge fucking idiot if you think you get to decide what I do and don’t deserve.”

He steps closer, his firm chest pressing into your own softer body in a way that makes your heart stutter through several beats. Your face heats up on its own accord and you bite your lip in attempt to keep your body from spontaneously combusting.

“One thing I hate more than anything is being told what I can or can’t do,” his voice is low, his hot breath brushing against your cheeks while he pins your gaze with his own.

“I don’t know who fed you this ‘not good enough’ bullshit but I’ll kick their ass for saying it then I’ll kick yours for believing it—I like you, okay? I want you by my side, whether you think you deserve to be there or not.”

You find yourself nodding along dumbly.

#bakugou katsuki #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha imagine #bnha scenario #bakugou imagine #bakugou scenario

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

Flora and –yikes! - Fauna

pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

word count: 3k

read on AO3

thank you @kitcatkim for letting me use your idea with the two flower crowns <3

summary: Jaskier is making flower crowns, naturally. Too bad no one warned him that bugs like to swarm around flowers

Content warnings: bugs, insects

--- "Geralt, wait!"

Jaskier didn't give Geralt the chance to protest or grab the scruff of Jaskier's neck to keep him in place. As Jaskier ran towards the wildflowers blossoming in a patch next to the road he could practically hear Geralt rolling his eyes in the way he grunted.

"Jaskier, we can't keep stopping every other minute just for you to gather flowers." Despite his words, Jaskier could hear him bring Roach to a halt. "What are you even going to do with them? Don't tell me you spent your last coin on a vase."

Jaskier huffed indignantly but didn't bother turning around to fix Geralt with a glare.

"Of course I didn't. If you please to remember, I used it to buy some more bandages because someone didn't bother to restock before rushing into a hunt."

"I remember," Geralt grumbled but there was something strange in his tone. Something that wasn’t gruff or dismissive at all. Something that might have even been the exact opposite of that. Jaskier couldn't name it but it made his heart skip a beat. "But fine. We can take a break. Roach could use it anyway."

She didn’t. She was stubborn enough to make it known when she wanted or needed to slow down and she had done no such thing since the last time Jaskier had made them stop.

"Make sure she doesn't eat my flowers," he called over his shoulder.

His smile widened as he plucked the most beautiful blue flower and added it to his already impressive collection. Maybe he had gathered too many flowers, but how was he to know how many he needed? He had never done this before. It wasn't as if he could just pluck flowers out of flower pots at Oxenfurt and he would rather not dismay a town's residents by raiding their gardens.

Besides, no garden could grow such beautiful flowers as blossomed on their own in the wild. At least that's what Jaskier hoped Geralt would think. He never seemed to appreciate the carefully cultivated beauty of cities when instead he could have the open road and woods.

Jaskier eyed his flowers critically. Though most of them had differently shaped and shaded blossoms, most of them were blue. Perfect to bring out his eyes. Hopefully. Surely.

Satisfied and a little giddy, Jaskier marched over to Geralt and thrust the flowers into his hand.

"Hold this," he said, fighting the unreasonable blush that crept up his cheeks.

Geralt's brows pinched together in confusion and he looked almost flustered. Still, he didn't hesitate to close his hand around the flower stems, perhaps a little too tightly, as if he was afraid of them falling if he didn't clutch them in a death grip.

"I-Jaskier, what are you-"

"I need both hands to do this," Jaskier explained and began searching for the best flower to begin with. Not that he had any idea what constituted as a perfect starter flower, but as long as he scrutinised the bouquet, he surely looked competent and there was nothing more attractive than a person who knew what they were doing.

Geralt frowned. "And what exactly is it you need both hands for?"

"Why, making a flower crown, of course." Jaskier beamed up at Geralt and randomly pulled a flower out of Geralt's grip to begin. "I mean, really, it's a shame that I haven't thought if this before. But a bard out there in the wilderness without flowers on his head? That's just wasted potential."

Geralt gave an amused hum. "Are you sure you want to put flowers on your head?"

"Absolutely." Jaskier's voice left no room for argument. "I am going to look beautiful with it."

Geralt is going to look at him and think him beautiful.

"What does it matter? There's no one here to impress."

Jaskier's hands faltered and just for a second his eyes darted up to glare Geralt.

"Who says I want to impress anyone?" His voice definitely didn't waver and there was no way to interpret his words as defensive. "Can't I just want to be pretty for the sake of being pretty?"

Geralt grumbled something dismissively. It was wishful thinking, but to Jaskier is almost sounded like "You don't need flower crowns for that."

More to hide his burning face than anything else, Jaskier turned his attention back to the flowers and started weaving - or rather chaotically knotting – them together.

Geralt let him work in silence, but whenever Jaskier glanced up to pull another flower out of the bouquet, he found Geralt's eyes on him. It made his neck feel hot and his chest tight.

Somehow, as if by some miracle, he finished the flower crown. It wasn't stunning by any means, but it was passable. Kind if pretty even. Actually, for a first try it was downright amazing.

Filled with excitement about his craft, Jaskier hopped the crown around his arm so he'd have both of his hands available again and made to work on Geralt's crown.

"Looks like you got too many flowers," Geralt said, lips twitching up.

"Don't be ridiculous." Jaskier rolled his eyes good naturedly and bound some more flowers together. "I'm making a second crown."

"You know Roach will eat the flowers before you'll be able to put them on her head.”

Jaskier's hands froze and his heart jumped into his throat. He had forgotten to ask Geralt if he even wanted a crown. Judging from how he didn't even think about wearing the crown himself, it was quite clear just how much he didn't want it.

Jaskier's eyes went to Roach, silently begging her for help, but the horse was just munching on some grass, giving him an unimpressed and perhaps slightly judgemental look.

"It's not for Roach." Jaskier blurted, thoughts stumbling over each other to find an excuse. "It's for me. They’re both for me. Obviously. Why would I wear just one crown if I could have two and be doubly pretty, am I right?"

He grinned at Geralt in a way that begged please kill me now and let this embarrassment be over. But Geralt didn't grant him that mercy but at least he didn't call him out in his nonsense either. Instead his lips quirked up and he handed Jaskier another flower, unprompted.

While working on the second crown, Jaskier started talking again. One might also say he was rambling. Anything to distract Geralt from the way Jaskier's cheeks were bright red and he was still cursing himself for his stupidity on the inside.

He told Geralt about how he had always wanted to wear flower crowns ever since he had read a story book about a princess with flowers in her hair as a child.

Occasionally, Geralt would grace his tale with a hum or a barely noticeable upwards quirk of his lips.

Jaskier took that as encouragement. He continued to talk about how his sisters used to wear flower crowns when they were young, about how Jaskier had always been envious about how pretty they looked with pink, blue and yellow flowers in on their heads. He reminisced about all the times he gifted flower crowns to his dance partners during Belleteyn and never got any in return.

More than once it looked as if Geralt was going to open his mouth, but then he always thought better of it and contented himself with listening to Jaskier.

It was only when Jaskier eventually ran out of flower related things to talk about that Geralt spoke up again.

“You’re getting better,” he commented, nodding towards the now finished second crown.

Jaskier’s face lit up but he forced his voice to sound nonchalant and teasing. “Why Geralt, is that a compliment?”

Geralt’s lips twitched. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, that’s exactly where it’s going.” Jaskier winked and put both crowns on his head.

He felt a little stupid wearing both of them, but the sheepishness was quickly overshadowed by the giddy excitement of finally making his childhood dream come true.

A small giggle escaped Jaskier and he didn’t care how silly he probably looked; there was just too much joy bubbling up inside him that needed to be released somehow. He twirled and threw his head back laughing. Quickly he realised his mistake, when the crowns threatened to fall off. His hands flew to the flowers to hold them in place.

When he came to a stop, he found Geralt’s eyes fixed on him with an unexpected softness, though he quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression when he caught Jaskier’s eyes. It wasn't fast enough for Jaskier to miss and try how he might, Geralt would never be able to hide such a fond look from Jaskier.

"So?" Jaskier made a point of fiddling with the crowns as if he was righting a fancy little hat. "How do I look?"

Geralt contemplated him a long moment with a complicated expression. "Happy."

Jaskier's moth went dry. The way Geralt had said it made it sound like he meant so much more.

"Geralt-"

He let go of the crowns, but the universe saved – or damned - him from doing something stupid like take Geralt's face in his hands and kiss him. Now that he wasn't holding onto the flower crowns anymore, they immediately fell over his eyes.

Jaskier let out a little noise of surprise that very much wasn't an undignified squeak.

Geralt chuckled and had Jaskier not been squeezing his eyes shut to avoid having leaves poke them, he would have glared at Geralt.

As if was, he found that he couldn't be upset even when Geralt was making fun of his misfortune. Geralt's laugh was too beautiful a sound to ever want him to stop. Especially if Jaskier was the one making him laugh.

"Guess there were too many flowers after all," Geralt said and Jaskier could practically hear his smug smile.

Jaskier tried to lift the crowns, but he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began and he absolutely wasn't going to risk them falling apart because he tugged on the wrong one.

"I just miscalculated a little," Jaskier grumbled, but his own lips were stretched wide grin. "You know you could do the noble thing and save me from my predicament."

Almost immediately he felt the lightest touch on his cheek. For a second, Jaskier's heart sped up at how tenderly Geralt was touching him. But then it hit him.

Even if Geralt ever were to caress his cheek softly, he would not be able to do it that softly. In fact, the touch was so light it almost tickled.

Jaskier furrowed his brows and his heart began racing in earnest for a very different reason.

"Geralt?"

Something buzzed right next to his ear. Something that sounded very big and very crawly.

"Geralt!" Jaskier almost shrieked, but all the reply he got from Geralt the traitor was another laugh.

Another light touch as something landed on his skin, this time on his hands.

Immediately, he pulled them away from the flowers and clutched them protectively against his chest. He needed his hands. He couldn't let some insect sting his fingers.

He wanted to call out for Geralt again, demand that he help him, but the bug on his face chose that moment to crawl closer to his lips.

Jaskier snapped his mouth shut and held his breath.

"Now there's that blessed silence," Geralt teased as if he didn't even notice the danger Jaskier was in.

Mentally, Jaskier took back everything he had thought before. Right now he wanted to wipe away the smirk that undoubtedly was on Geralt's face. And if Geralt didn’t stop laughing, Jaskier was going to write the most scathing song about him, once he could open his mouth again.

Oh gods, but what if keeping his lips pressed together wasn't enough? What if one of those crawling things decided to go up his nose?

The buzzing around his head got louder. More insects landed on him and Jaskier could do nothing but keep his eyes and lips shut and pray none of the insects were dangerous.

He was tense as a bow string and his heart was thumping like a rabbit’s foot hitting the ground.

He could feel tiny legs all over him, could hear nothing but that horrible buzzing. He couldn't stop the whimper that escaped him.

"Jaskier?" All traces of humour were gone from Geralt's voice. In fact, he sounded concerned.

Oh. Oh no. If Geralt was worried, that could only mean that something truly bad was happening. Maybe one of the bugs had a venomous bite. Maybe one of the things on Jaskier's head was the larva of a giant centipede. Maybe one of them was a were-bug and Jaskier would get turned into a disgusting insect himself!

Jaskier wanted to leave. He just wanted to go back to civilisation where he was safe from those tiny monsters. Adventure be damned. Inspiration be damned. Flower crowns be damned. He would be happy if he'd never have to see another insect again. If being pestered by swarms of insects was the prize for walking the Path, Jaskier would not shed a single tear abandoning it. Good riddance.

If only that didn't mean that he'd also lose Geralt...

"Jaskier?" Geralt repeated, softer this time. He sounded closer.

Strangely enough, the touch if the insects disappeared and got replaced by another sense of tickling, but this was one warm and almost glowing. It washed over his skin and spread wider around him. Slowly, the buzzing grew more distant until it disappeared fully.

A warm hand brushed Jaskier's temple and the crowns were pushed back onto the top of his head where they belonged. Well, we're one of them belonged.

Carefully, Jaskier opened his eyes again. He let out a tiny gasp and then his breath got stuck again for a different reason. Geralt was standing surprisingly close to him, their chests almost touching. The hand not occupied with the flower crowns was twisted into an uncomfortable looking shape.

Quen.

A dome of warm golden light surrounded them. Jaskier hadn't known the sign could be used to keep bugs at bay, but as far as he was concerned insects did definitely count as fiendish enemies and he wasn't about to complain about the protection. Especially not since Geralt was looking at him with his brows knitted together in soft worry and his hand left the crowns to caress his cheek instead.

"I take it the story about the princess didn't warn you about the bugs?" Te corner of Geralt's lips twitched into a half-smile.

Jaskier shook his head and swallowed. "No, definitely not." He leaned into Geralt's touch. It was warm and comforting and Jaskier never wanted him to let go again.

Maybe... Maybe if this touch was the reward he got for bravely withstanding the terror of the insects, he could face the bugs again sometimes. Maybe. Perhaps being in nature wasn't too bad if he had Geralt with him.

"There's one thing the story did teach me, though."

"Oh?" Geralt's brows rose a little.

"At the end the hero gets a kiss." Before his bravery or foolishness could leave him, he leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss against Geralt's lips.

He expected the kiss to be over quickly, little more than a brush if lips, but Geralt's hand on his cheek travelled to the back of his head, holding him close.

Jaskier lifted his own hands, burying them into Geralt's hair. Geralt let out a soft sound and then a second hand found its place at the small of Jaskier's back.

Jaskier pulled back, just enough to speak, his lips nearly brushing against Geralt's with every word.

"Geralt, put the damn Quen back." His eyes narrowed. "I am not kissing you with bugs crawling all over me."

"Perhaps you could give one crown to me and share the burden?"

Jaskier drew back suspiciously. "You mean that?" he asked slowly, his insides twisting in excitement. "You would really wear my flower crown?"

Geralt shrugged. "I don't want you to complain about the bugs and the leaves in your hair," he grumbled, but his eyes shone with a fondness that made Jaskier's heart swell. The hand on Jaskier’s back gave a small squeeze and tugged him closer. "And I happen to like my hand right where it is."

Jaskier lifted his chin defiantly, mischief and another, softer emotion lighting up his eyes. "You can pretend not to like my voice all you want, but you just traded your blessed silence for my comfort. I know where your priorities lie."

Geralt hummed quietly, the smile on his lips getting wider and his thumb caressed Jaskier's cheek, coming to rest at the corner of his lips.

"Maybe I don't mind your voice too much when you're talking about something you like. Or when you're singing. Or laughing." He leaned forward, too fast for Jaskier to react and stole a quick peck. "And I prefer keeping you silent by kissing you."

Jaskier rolled his eyes and snorted. "Who knew you could be such a romantic," he deadpanned and shook his head fondly. "Truly, you know how to charm a man with your words."

"It's working isn't it?"

"Perhaps."

With a mental strength Jaskier didn't know he possessed, he let go of Geralt's hair and lifted one of his flower crowns off his head to put it on Geralt's instead.

For a long moment, he just stared at Geralt, admiring him. The colours of the blossoms contrasted beautifully with Geralt's hair. But that wasn't what took Jaskier's breath away. It was the fact that Geralt actually looked happy like this. Happy to be with Jaskier. Happy to make him happy.

"You know" Jaskier said with smug satisfaction as a bug with shimmering green wings landed on Geralt's forehead, "you're lucky I love you more than I hate bugs."

Geralt snorted. "Now who's the romantic?"

Jaskier could have answered with a quip if he wanted to. He most certainly had multiple quick-witted responses to that.

Too bad that he too liked kissing Geralt's words away.

And so that was what he did.

They only broke away again when Geralt's crown fell into his eyes. Jaskier burst out into a well-deserved laugh at Geralt's dumbfounded look. As much as Jaskier liked kissing him, he found that he also rather liked the way Geralt's eyes lit up when he joined the laughter.

He could get used to this. In fact, as he buried his face in Geralt's chest to stifle his giggles and could feel Geralt's heart beneath him, he knew that he could battle any creepy crawlies if it meant that he got to keep this.

---

tag list: @snowfea @diedfromembarrassmentlikeasim @thebloodletter7 @eleos-fawn @palefuckingmeme @irongal21 (sorry for tagging you unasked, but you seemed to like the idea when I posted it a while ago so I figured you might like this too)

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geraltxjaskier #flowers #flower crowns #fluff #i think #witcher #witcher fic #fic #my writing #jaskier #geralt #bugs #insects

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 10/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Сhapter 9

“Come with me, I’ll show it to you.”

Levi glared at the girl, feeling his eye twitch.

That girl, Ymir, he didn’t like her. She seemed cocky, overly confident and just, plain annoying. She also tried to shoot him and Hange. And she had interrupted their argument, which could have resulted in… some kind of consensus. Perhaps, even reconciliation. A revelation of some sorts. But now they were back to square one, and Hange returned to giving him long, mistrustful look.

And the fault, in Levi’s opinion, lied entirely on that irritating girl.

Levi didn’t like her, he didn’t trust her and he was adamantly against her becoming a part of their team.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the one calling the shots. Hange was and she was very much pro Ymir becoming a part of their team. And there was nothing he could do about it, except grit his teeth and put on the fiercest of his scowls.

“Where are you taking us?” he caught up with Ymir in a few, swift strides, reaching her and shoving the door she was going to open closed. Levi now stood right beside her, breathing down her neck. Her neck was all he could reach, because, to make matters even worse, the girl was also tall as a fucking tree.

That meant that she could easily look down on him, and that’s exactly what she did, as she stopped and turned around.

“My place,” she answered flippantly.

“Your place?” Hange blinked a couple of times, her mouth slightly open. The expression was endearing, but then again, there was little Levi didn’t find endearing about Hange. Focus, he told himself, forcing his attention back on the conversation. “So this apartment…”

“Oh hell no,” Ymir cringed. “I don’t live in this shithole. I used to live there, but now I simply give that address for the rich assholes I work for. In case some of them actually have heart and decide to pay the poor girl who lives in a basement more.”

“So you use that apartment to scam people?” he couldn’t help his accusing tone. The idea was smart, yes, and Levi was the first person to agree that rich people deserved to have their money taken away, but he was also petty and looking for a reason to dislike the girl even more.

He thought, even hoped that his biting remark would shame Ymir. But all he got in response was an elbow in his side from Hange, and a vicious, “And you’re any different?”

It wasn’t precisely shame that cursed through him after Hange’s words, but it was something similar, close to remorse.

“Who are you, by the way?” her greenish eyes bored into his, as Ymir loomed over him, hands on her hips. “I don’t remember seeing your detective’s badge.”

“Because I don’t have it,” craning his head upwards to scowl at the girl was starting to aggravate his neck muscles just a bit too much, but Levi didn’t allow this little nuisance to break his focus. “As for who I am… you can call me Levi.”

“I can call you Levi? Well, thank you for your kindness.” Ymir cackled, rather loudly. Levi winced at the volume and clenched his fists at the expression of pure mockery on her face. “But I need to know your full name.”

Levi refused to back down or reveal himself so easily. Especially, since… “You didn’t tell us your full name either.”

“Ymir is all I have,” she answered, crossing arms on her chest. In an instant, all signs of mischief were gone from her expression. Now she was staring at Levi levelly, her face guarded and strict. “Orphans don’t have the pleasure of receiving a surname.”

“Oh.”

The soft, quiet sound came from Hange. Levi didn’t need to look away from Ymir to see that Hange was looking at the girl with mix of sadness and compassion. As ready as he was to loathe the insolent brat, he was feeling something similar, a painful clench of his heart that reminded him of his biggest weakness – his unreasoned kindness and desire to help the ones who need it.

Recently, his kindness led him to a fist-fight in the bar. Levi could only guess where this fault of his would bring him this time.

“I don’t need your pity,” Ymir huffed, seeing the sudden change in Levi’s eyes. “What I need is your full name.”

God, she was so tenacious, like a piranha that had latched itself on his leg. He sighed, surrendering to his fate. It seemed like he had no other choice. So keeping his eyes firmly locked on Ymir's, he said, “I’m Levi. Levi Ackerman.”

As soon as these words had left his mouth, Levi found himself pressed against the front door with Ymir once again looming over him. With movement almost too quick for him to catch, Ymir had taken a knife out of the inside pocket of her leather jacket. Now that very same knife was held tightly in her hand, and its edge was pressed threateningly to his stomach.

Hell, how many weapons she had on her?

“Ackerman?” she hissed, her green eyes shooting fire. The knife moved an inch closer to him. “The same Ackerman that had kidnapped Historia?”

It took him a moment too long to get his wits back. He wasn’t threatened with a knife every day of his life, after all. And, by the time, his composure had returned and he was ready to retaliate, Hange decided to take matters in her hands.

Quite literally.

She took Ymir’s wrist and squeezed it tightly, eliciting a pained groan from her. The hold she had on the knife loosened, and it fell down with a resounding sound, barely missing the toe of Levi’s boot.

“We don’t do violence here,” Hange said, her voice tight. “And no, he isn’t the same Ackerman. His uncle is the one who had taken Historia.”

“So you knew about this!” yanking her wrist out of Hange’s hold and cradling it protectively to her chest, Ymir shifted her gaze, turning her anger on her.

“I did,” Hange confirmed. “But Levi knows nothing about his uncle’s crimes.”

Levi stared at Hange wide-eyed, not quite believing what was happening right in front of his eyes. Hange was defending him? She had just protected him from Ymir?

He wasn’t the only who was openly gaping at her, Ymir seemed to have troubles believing Hange was serious as well.

“So you trust him? You, a police officer, trust him?”

“Maybe, trust is not quite the right word,” Hange chuckled, her serious demeanor shifting to present a bashful grin. “But I believe him,” despite the relaxed expression, her voice was filled with conviction. She did believe him, Levi realized, Hange wasn’t simply putting on a show. The revelation caught him off guard. It also made him recall their recent argument. Perhaps, not everything was lost? “We may be chasing different goals, but I believe it will lead to the same outcome.”

“And if working with me goes against all of your morals,” Levi cut in, reverting Ymir’s attention to himself. “Then we should go our separate ways. The tensions,” he chanced a glanced at Hange, surprised to find that she was actually looking back at him. “Are already high. We don’t need any more infighting.”

Ymir considered them both for a moment, her gaze switching from Levi to Hange. Worrying her lip between her teeth, she appeared deep in thought.

“Fine,” she conceded at last. “It seems like I have no choice but to work with you.”

“Want to save Historia that much, eh?” Hange wiggled her eyebrows in an obscenely ridiculous way. Levi couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Ymir seemed to have the same reaction to her antics.

“I owe her. She's in this mess because of me,” she explained, rather gruffly. “And,” a smirk pulled on her lips, reminding Levi that Ymir was an irritating brat who had attempted to shot him, and then had the gall to threaten him with a knife. “She is also extremely cute.”

“Ah, she’s adorable like a princess!” Hange agreed with a wide smile. Despite Ymir being nothing short of nuisance just a minute ago, Hange had now her arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulders, talking with her animatedly.

The two of them walked out of the apartment together, still whispering amongst each other. They seemed to be best friends already, which left Levi feeling oddly neglected.

Gods, just how bad did he have it for Hange?

However, he wasn’t feeling abandoned for too long. As soon as they exited the apartment complex, and Ymir started leading them to the aforementioned her place, Hange left her side and fell in step with Levi.

“Hey,” she started, keeping her eyes locked on the horizon. It showed a pretty sight of the setting sun and the warm glow it emanated, but Hange didn’t seem too interested in watching the light reflected in the windows. She simply appeared determined not to meet his eyes. “During your little clash with Ymir… she didn’t hurt you or something?”

Was it his wishful thinking, or did he actually hear hints of concern in her voice? Whatever it was, it sent an exciting pulse through his heart.

“I’m fine. You intervened just in time. By the way… thanks for that.”

Levi cringed at his own awkwardness. He usually wasn’t that clumsy, clumsiness was a big no in his line of work, but Hange excelled at bringing out that part of him. She made him feel so many contrasting emotions that it was hard to navigate through all of them. Sometimes he felt like he was lost in it, blindly stumbling through the workings of his own heart.

“Well, I couldn’t allow our only way to get to Kenny Ackerman get stabbed, could I?”

Of course, Hange was thinking about the case. That was understandable, logical, expected. And whatever concern he had caught in her voice, it was probably directly related to their case.

Their case, he had to focus on it.

You’re here for Kenny, he reminded himself for the nth time. Kenny, not Hange and the weird feeling she provoked in him.

Kenny, Kenny, Kenny, he kept repeating to himself like a mantra. But with Hange still so close to him, his focus was gradually slipping.

Thankfully, Ymir provided an excellent distraction when she stopped them in front of the shadiest bar Levi had ever laid his eyes on. And, considering the fact that he had grown up in the slams and had just returned from the city, where he himself was working in a shady bar with an awful boss, that was saying a lot.

“That’s your place?” he asked in his most unimpressed voice. “You live in a bar?”

“I work at the bar. And I live right above it. And since my shift starts in less than half an hour,” Ymir shrugged. “I decided to mix business with pleasure.”

“Works for me,” Hange hummed, pushing past Levi to get to the entrance. “What floor your apartment is?”

“Third, the first one on the left.”

“Are you even allowed to work at the bar?” Levi looked critically at Ymir. “I thought you were a teenager.”

“Are you allowed to drink?” Ymir easily parried. “I thought you were a kid.”

Brats and their loud mouths, there was nothing that irritated Levi more. Listening to Ymir’s cackling, he could only grit his teeth. His scowl darkened even more, when he saw Hange high-fiving the insolent girl.

“I’m glad you’re starting to get along,” she chuckled, patting Levi and Ymir on their shoulders. “But let’s move on, there is a girl that needs to be saved.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Ymir mumbled, leading them upstairs.

___

Ymir’s apartment turned out to be a kitchen and a single room that simultaneously served as a bedroom, a study and a living room. In the center stood an old dusty couch with clothes thrown all around it, next to it was a rickety coffee table with a laptop on it, and on the opposite wall, there was…

Wow. So Ymir was that serious about finding Historia?

The wall was covered with newspapers clippings and photos. And the center of it all was the photo of Historia, with various strings attached to it.

“So…” Hange awkwardly shuffled to take a better look at it. “Care to explain all of it?”

“Sure,” Ymir nodded. “But it might take a while. Do you want something to drink?”

“Do you have tea?” Levi asked, subconsciously knowing the answer already.

“Nope, only beer.”

“I’ll have a beer, please,” Hange smiled, and then, to Levi’s horror, she took out the fucking notebook. He was getting sick of it.

Ymir returned from the kitchen, holding three bottles of beer. She handed one to Hange, then turned to Levi, looking him up and down. Levi didn’t like where this was going.

“Do you have an ID, sir?” she asked in the most mocking, annoying voice Levi had ever heard. And he thought that Kenny was the most irritating person in this world. Ymir was proving him seriously wrong.

And Hange’s delighted laugher wasn’t making him feel any better.

“Fuck off,” he snapped, snatching the bottle from her.

“Alright, let’s start,” Ymir waited for Hange to settle on a couch. Then she opened her bottle and pointed it at the photo of Historia. “So you know that Krista Lenz isn’t her real name, yes?”

“Yep,” Hange confirmed.

“And that her father,” Ymir trailed the bottle to the side, following the string to the photo of middle-aged man. “Is Rod Reiss.”

“We… recently found about it.”

“And since an Ackerman is sitting right next to you, I’m assuming you know about Kenny Ackerman as well?”

Before nodding, Hange stole a quick glance at Levi. She turned away before Levi could decipher the meaning of it.

“And you really don’t know where he is?” Ymir directed her question at Levi. “Isn’t he your uncle or something?”

“He is my uncle.” Levi stared at the wall, fixing his eyes on the place where Kenny’s photo should have been. But, apparently, Ymir couldn’t find it, so instead there was a white square with his name written on it. Still, the fact that she managed to find that much information was already an astonishing achievement. It actually made Levi curious… “Where did you get his name?”

As far as Levi was aware, Kenny was obsessively secretive. He might appear carefree and careless, but that was just a façade. He wouldn’t survive for as long as he did if he hadn’t shrouded his identity in the thick fog of secret. The only mistake of his that Levi could remember was his fuck up with Traute, and she was probably already dealt with, in one way or another. So how did a girl find out about him?

“It wasn’t all that hard,” Ymir flippantly admitted. “I was spying on Reiss, and I once saw him talk with Ackerman. It didn’t take a genius to realize everything else. By the way,” she levelled Levi with a hard look. “Thanks for killing my boss. Because of that, I had to return to working at this shitty bar.”

Levi shrugged. He could say that technically he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger and killed that guy. But Ymir didn’t seem too interested in technicalities.

“If you know about Kenny,” Hange began, biting at her pen. “Then do you know why he had taken Historia?”

Ymir shook her head, shuttering Levi’s hope to easily find the answer to the question ‘what the fuck was Kenny doing’. “I guess he had some fallout with Reiss and decided to use Historia as a leverae. And that brings me to my next point,” the beer bottle travelled upwards, to the photo of a young woman with long black hair. “What do you know about Frieda Reiss?”

“Not much,” Hange admitted after studying the photo for a several moments. “She is Reiss’ eldest daughter, isn’t she? And she’s an aspiring artist, if the memory serves me right.”

“Well, you already know more than I expected. Yes, Frieda is Reiss’ daughter, which makes her Historia’s half-sister.”

“And that’s important how?” Levi asked, smoothly standing up in guise of taking a closer look at Ymir’s crazy wall.

He walked up to it, squinted at the various scribblings, and then moved closer to the desk that stood by the window. He leaned against it, pretending to listen to Ymir and Hange’s conversation.

“Out of all of Reiss’ family, Frieda is the only who gives a damn about Historia. If we want to find out about Historia’s whereabouts, she’s our best bet.”

“You think she knows something?” Hange moved slightly forward, in an attempt to take a closer look at the wall and Frieda’s photo on it. “You talked with her?”

Ymir scrunched her nose, making an extremely displeased face. She took a large swing from the bottle, cringing slightly at the bitter taste. “She doesn’t want to talk with me. We had an argument of sorts.”

“An argument…” Hange frowned. “About what?”

While Ymir was busy forming an adequate explanation, Levi discreetly opened the top drawer of her desk.

Once a thief, forever a thief, that was what Hange had told him? No point in going against his own nature then, Levi thought, as he flipped through the contents of the drawer. Inside there were photos, a lot of photos. A dozen, if not even more. They varied in foreshortening, angle, color palette. And yet the subject remained the same.

It was Historia.

There was a picture of Historia from across the street, enjoying a book inside the café. And a picture of Historia, sitting on a bench in the park and eating an ice-cream. There was Historia smiling, Historia frowning, Historia laughing, Historia… oh. So Ymir got that close to the girl she was supposed to be spying on?

Hiding the picture of two girls kissing, Levi closed the drawer and returned his attention to the conversation on hand.

“I already told you Frieda cares about Historia. And when she found out that I was spying on her father, and, subsequently on Historia too, well,” Ymir ran a hand through her hair. “Let’s just say she wasn’t too happy about it.”

“But?” Hange prompted, notebook clenched tightly in her hand. “You think that Frieda knows something?”

“Reiss definitely knows something, I’m sure Ackerman has contacted him with some kind of ransom note.”

“And Reiss didn’t go to the police, because he doesn’t want the world to know about his connection to Historia.”

“Exactly,” Ymir confirmed. “And if there was actually some communication between him and Ackerman, Frieda is the only who knows about it. She’s in on everything her father is doing.”

“But she’s the daughter of an influential politician and she’s a famous artist,” Hange bit at her thumb, her frown deepening. “How the heck we can get her to talk? Especially if her father doesn’t want to involve the police.”

Ymir grinned. “I’m glad you asked.”

Oh no. Levi didn’t like that smile or that tone. An awful offer was going to be made to them. Or, even worse, that would be a demand.

With his stomach sinking, he sighed and prepared for the worst.

Ymir took a step to the side, revealing the last part of puzzle. It was a clipping from a newspaper article that talked about… Levi squinted… an upcoming gala that was going to be held at the Reiss’ mansion. Great.

“Frieda is the one who organizes the gala and she is the one who will be hosting it,” Ymir explained. “Her father won’t be here, and that will give you an opportunity to get closer to her.”

“But won’t there be a security? How can we get in?” Hange asked. “And how will we convince her to share the information with us?”

“I can obtain two tickets for you. As for convincing Frieda… I don’t think she’ll need much of it. She wants to save her sister, just say you’re from police and she’ll probably share everything she knows.”

“And what if she doesn’t want to talk to us? What if she orders the guards to throw us out? Too many unknowns for this to effectively work out. I say the plan is too risky,” Levi concluded, crossing hands on his chest.

“But we don’t really lose anything,” Hange countered. “It’s a gamble.”

“It’s a waste of time.” Levi argued.

“It won’t be a waste of time with you,” Ymir said. “If you don’t succeed with talking to Frieda, then…” she wiggled her eyebrows, looking at Levi.

Hange shot up to her feet. “Oh no. No, no, no. No! I can’t allow you to break inside and snoop around. It’s Reiss’ mansion! If we get caught, I’ll get skinned alive.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Hange,” Levi rolled his eyes. Now that Ymir mentioned the idea of snooping around, he liked the plan a lot more. “We’ve already broken into someone’s apartment, and nothing bad happened.”

“We almost got shot at,” Hange reminded him through the gritted teeth.

“Then don’t get caught,” Ymir advised. “Ackermans were never caught, right? And you have Ackerman with you. I’m sure,” there it was again, that tiny, irritating smirk. “He’ll do his best to protect you.”

“Fine,” Hange ruffled her hair, looking absolutely frantic. She lifted the bottle of beer to her lips, downing half of it in one go. “Fine, fine, we’ll do it your way. But… I don’t know what to wear to this kind of event.”

“Don’t worry,” Ymir gave her a thorough once-over, going from the head to toe and focusing on Hange’s long legs, thin waist and broad shoulders. She licked her lips. “I’ll find something for you.”

“And me?” Levi asked, glaring at the girl who was ogling Hange so shamelessly. “Do you have something for me?”

“You’re a legendary thief,” Ymir scoffed, barely sparing him a glance. “Steal a suit for yourself or something.”

Fuck, how he hated the annoying brats. There was nothing worse than them.

“If we have planned everything out,” Ymir finished her beer and threw the bottle in the trashcan that, to Levi’s disgust, was already overwhelmed with bottles and empty pizza boxes. “Then I need to go. My shift starts in just few minutes. If you need something else, you can use my laptop. There is a rough blueprint of Reiss’ mansion there.”

“How did you manage to get inside?” Hange said, already taking the laptop in her hands.

Ymir winked, the insufferable smirk returning. “Let’s just say that I’m excellent at getting inside ladies' private chambers.”

The horrible innuendo was bad enough on its own, but Hange’s loud laughter made it much, much worse. Levi could only roll his eyes and scoff, apparently, he was destined to be surrounded by annoying people with terrible jokes.

Well, at least, Hange didn’t look so tense anymore. Perhaps, Ymir’s presence was a buffer between the tensions that had been rising all day. If so, Levi was glad to have the girl around, despite tasteless innuendos and all.

“There is left over pizza in the refrigerator and there is booze under the counter if you need it.”

“And you?” Hange turned to Levi. “I can’t exactly let you go home, but…”

“He can go with me,” Ymir offered. “I’ll pour him a drink, keep an eye so he won’t sneak away.”

Spend the evening with Hange or with the brat who would probably continue to mercilessly mock him, Levi knew what option he would choose, but… he wasn’t the one calling the shots.

Hange was.

“Excellent!” she gave Ymir thumbs up and a brilliant smile. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

With that Ymir grabbed him by the elbow and started dragging him downstairs. Levi could only sigh and surrender.

___

“So,” Ymir poured a shot of whiskey and handed it to him, leaning against the counter and studying his face. The unnatural dark red lighting of the bar made her look even more imposing. The irritating smirk was already in place, playing on her thin lips. “What is happening between you and detective badass?”

Color rushed to his cheeks, and Levi thanked the lighting for hiding the unfortunate reaction.

“Nothing,” he mumbled into his drink.

“Nothing? So what about that argument I’ve overheard and the two of you rolling around on the floor of my apartment? You call that nothing?”

“Eavesdropping is bad,” Levi said, but, despite the biting tone, he lowered his head even further down. That was a topic he really didn’t want to discuss. Especially, with a girl he met just an hour ago. “And we weren’t rolling around, I saved Hange from getting shot.”

“I dig up dirty secrets for a living. Eavesdropping is my job. And you could have just shoved her aside, not jump onto her, you know?”

“Shut up,” he put the glass of whiskey up to his lips, finishing it in one large gulp. The bitter, burning liquid travelled down his throat, making him shiver. He pushed the glass back to Ymir. “Another one.”

“Ah ah,” she wiggled her finger. “I won’t let you have another drink until you tell me what the heck is going between you two.”

“Why are so interested in it?”

Ymir looked around the bar. There was just a couple of customers inside, all of them slowly nursing their drinks and seemingly uninterested in ordering something else. As her eyes shifted from one corner to another, Ymir shrugged. “It’s a slow night. And I have a feeling something juicy has transpired.”

“Alright, I’ll tell,” after all, what the heck he was losing? His dignity? He bid goodbye to it a long time ago. Besides, there was something he wanted to get out of Ymir as well. “But in exchange you’ll tell me what happened between you and Historia.”

“Nothing,” was probably what Ymir wanted to exclaim. Her widened eyes and scandalized expression were definitely screaming that. But Levi raised a hand before she could even start denying his claim.

“I found the pictures inside your desk.”

If he thought that Ymir’s face showed disbelief and anger before, now there was pure rage. “Going through other people’s stuff is bad,” she hissed, her eyes narrowed into slits.

“I’m a thief,” Levi graciously accepted the drink she prepared to him. “Going through other people’s stuff is my job.”

“Has anyone told you how irritating you are?”

“Has anyone told you?”

Looming over him with hands on her hips, Ymir stared down at him. Levi stared back, putting the darkest of his glares.

Ymir was the first one to surrender, breaking the eye contact with a low chuckle. “Alright, alright, we’re both assholes.”

“That we are,” he agreed, taking another sip from his glass. He put it back down softly, the ice cubes clinking together. “So what’s the deal between you and Historia?”

Ymir took a deep sigh and grabbed the closest glass to her, starting to mindlessly clean it with a rag. The silence stretched, the sounds of tense rubbing of the glass taking over. Levi wanted to repeat his question, but then— Ymir finally gathered enough courage to start talking.

“So you already know that I was supposed to spy on Historia. Reiss had an enemy in the parliament that wanted to expose his secret daughter, and, well,” she shook her head and laughed, the sound devoid of mirth but filled with bitterness. “Whatever pays the bills, right? So I found that girl, took a few photos and then I was asked to bring a DNA sample, to make sure that she really is Reiss’ daughter and it isn’t just a rumor, created by his former maid. I broke inside her room at campus, took a hair out of the hairbrush, and I was already leaving when some clumsy idiot bumped into me and I fell down the stairs. And that how I actually met Historia. Unaware that moments ago I was looking through her things, she brought me to her room and forcefully bandaged my sprained ankle.”

“And that’s it? You literally fell for her?” the story made him chuckle. It also made him remember a similar story – a story about bumping into someone on the street, about falling in more ways than just one.

“Well, Historia made sure to call and text me every day for the entirety of three weeks, because she read somewhere that it takes three weeks for the ankle sprain to heal completely. She also personally checked up on me a couple of times, although I’m not even sure if my ankle was actually sprained. But,” Ymir rubbed the back of her neck, and, perhaps, it was the treacherous lightning, but it looked like she was blushing. “I couldn’t exactly say no to a cute girl like this, you know?”

“And? Did she find out who you actually are?”

“No. But her sister did. I don’t know if Historia knows who Frieda truly is, and I don’t know why Frieda is so obsessed with her, but she found me and threatened to use her father’s connections to throw me in jail. I grew up on a street, so there was a lot of illegal stuff I did, and… I couldn’t exactly risk it. I wanted to sneak into Historia’s dorm, you know, have, at least some kind of a goodbye… but when I got inside, she wasn’t there. The next day I found that she was kidnapped.”

Silence fell over them. What was there to say? Tell that he felt sorry for her? That he knew just how shitty she was feeling right now?

Nothing he could say would make Ymir feel better.

“What about you then? What did you do to make our fierce detective glare at you so much?”

“She was the lead detective investigating out heists. And…”

“Ohh,” Ymir sounded intrigued. “So you seduced her? To get the information out of her? But then fell for her along the way?”

“No. I just fell. Bumped into four-eyes on the street and dropped all of my groceries, so she decided to make it up for me. It kinda went up from there.”

“Oh,” the interest disappeared from her voice completely. “And what happened next?”

“And then she got really close to catching us, and I decided to run away, and then my uncle shot her, and then,” Levi spat bitterly, drowning his misery with another mouthful of whiskey. “And then her boss found out who I really am and I left before I could bid her an actual goodbye. I moved to another part of the world, found myself a job, in a bar, if you would believe me, and then Hange found me and demanded I come back to help her catch my uncle.”

“Ow, that’s rough, dude.” Ymir refilled his glass. “Did you the two of you at least bang?”

“What!” Levi was sure his face was as a tomato. He glared fiercely at the girl, desperately trying to mask his embarrassment and save at least some remnants of his dignity.

“Don’t deny that you haven’t thought about it,” she taunted, grinning wildly, victoriously, like a predator who had just stumbled upon an easy prey. Fucking piranha. “Those long legs and wide shoulders, I bet she has abs too, and have you seen that ass, I’d—”

“Shut up,” Levi growled, closing his eyes to get that image of Hange out of his head. Hange did have a very nice body, he’d have to be blind not to see that, but that’s— that wasn’t the reason why he liked her, and even if he did think about her in that way – which, of course, he absolutely didn’t – Ymir was still the last person on Earth he’d like to discuss that with. Well, maybe, Kenny was the last person he’d discuss that with, but Ymir was definitely near the bottom of that list as well. “I’ve never, ever, thought about me and Hange in that way.”

“Well, well, someone is repressed,” Ymir didn’t take mercy on him, her voice becoming even more aggravating. “It’s not heathy for a man your age, you know? You need to learn how to relax, for example, you can sit in the dark room, think long and hard about hot detectives, imagine Hange arresting you, handcuffing you and then—”

Jesus Christ. Levi didn’t think it was possible for his cheeks to feel that hot. They were just as hot as—

Fuck, even his subconscious was working against him.

Ymir was laughing openly now, doubled over the counter and heaving breathlessly. “Man, you should have seen your face, it’s so easy to mess with you.”

“You’re a nuisance, I can’t even begin to understand how your Historia could have fallen for you.”

“The same applies to you, midget. How could someone as hot as detective Hange end up with a crush on you of all people?”

“Hange is too trustworthy and open,” Levi shrugged.

“And Historia is too kind and naïve.” Ymir agreed with a smile that looked too soft on the face of the girl who just minutes ago was mocking him mercilessly. “So what, it was their shortcomings that let us meet them?”

“Or it was fate. Or just dumb luck.”

Ymir grabbed a glass from the behind her, poured whiskey in it and raised it up. “To their shortcomings then. Or fate and dumb luck.”

Levi chuckled, as he brought his glass to hers. Yeah, he could drink for that.

Their glasses clinked, and Ymir’s expression changed, ever so slightly. The grin was still there, but it wasn’t as annoying as it was before. Now, it almost looked friendly. Levi felt his own lips curl up in a smile. Brats, perhaps, they weren’t that terrible after all.

“I’ll go out for a smoke,” he told Ymir, patting his jacket for a cigarette pack. “If four-eyes shows up…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell her that you just went out, don’t worry. I’m not that much of a nuisance,” she winked at him, following this gesture with another fit of boisterous laughter.

Levi rolled his eyes at the display and hurried to the exit.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief when the chill, night air greeted him. The bars usually didn’t smell all that great, and this one wasn’t an exception. The stench of brewery and the general stuffiness of these places were the main reason why Levi preferred to drink at home. He was never one for the company anyway, and his general disgust of bars only added to his alienation.

Besides, he had a long, long day after a long and tiring flight. It was the first time he was left alone ever since he had walked off the plane, and Levi decided to relish that moment, however short it may be.

He lighted up the cigarette and put it to his lips, deeply inhaling the fresh minty smoke.

Fuck… what a day. And it wasn’t even finished yet.

Levi wondered what was going to happen next, was Hange serious about keeping watch on him? If so, how was she planning to go about it? Make him stay at her apartment? The idea wasn’t exactly opposing to him, especially after seeing the mess that Kenny made of their place.

And, Kenny, what a bastard. Couldn’t he at least try to make looking for him easier? It was just one day, and Levi was positively spent. He felt like he could sleep for millennia.

And tomorrow was not going to be any better, with this whole gala shit. He’d be lucky if next evening wouldn’t end up with him sent in prison by Reiss.

However, he wasn’t going to be the only one taking that risk. Hange was going with him, and if she was caught, she could very well lose her job. If that possibility didn’t scare Hange, he wouldn’t let it scare him as well.

Still… a lot of things could go wrong tomorrow. He had to be ready to tackle at least some of them.

With another weary sigh, Levi took another drag of the cigarette, hoping the tobacco would provide a small amount of comfort. Coupled with all the whiskey he had drunk, the cigarette was doing its job fairly well until—

Until the front door of the bar had opened and Hange had walked out, her eyes immediately zooning in on him.

“Levi!”

She called him Levi, not Ackerman, and she did so with a wide, genuinely happy smile instead of an angry glare. She leaned against the wall next to him, bumping their shoulders merrily, and Levi was ready to triumph but then he caught the stench coming from Hange and saw her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.

So she was drunk. Excellent, just what he needed to end that already horrible day.

“Hange,” he pinched the bridge of his, setting the cigarette aside. Perhaps, he just imagined it. Perhaps, Hange wasn’t actually drunk and her behavior had a completely logical explanation. “Hange, are you alright?”

“Um, sure,” she blinked sleepily, pressing closer to him. She was just a breath away of leaning fully against him. Feeling his heart pound in his chest, Levi tried to stay as still as possible, keeping the contact between them as minimal as he could. His mind decided to suddenly remind him of every stupid thing Ymir had told to him today. Levi never felt so betrayed by his own subconscious. “I’m just tired and a little hungry, and I think I had too much of the rum I found under the counter in Ymir’s apartment.”

And before Levi could react, before he could, maybe, scold Hange for this act of recklessness, she kicked the ground underneath him once again.

“Hey, can I have it?” she pointed to his cigarette, already reaching to it.

Moving the hand with cigarette away from Hange, Levi hesitated. On one hand, smoking could make her feel that much worse, on the other, she could just as well start arguing with him, and that was the last thing he needed today. So he settled on a middle ground.

“You can have one drag,” he allowed, handing her a cigarette.

But Hange didn’t take the cigarette from his hand. Instead, she slightly opened her mouth, as though in invitation.

Fucking hell. Was drunk Hange always like this?

Slowly, doing his best to ignore the trembling in his hands, he lifted the cigarette to her lips. Hange closed her mouth around it, her eyes fluttered shut as she started to inhale the smoke.

Levi watched her, completely transfixed, he never thought that someone could be that attractive while smoking, but here he was…

He was standing close to Hange, so close that he could see every individual eyelash, a small mole at the side of her cheek, the barely visible freckles on her nose, the little scar on her forehead. Her face was illuminated by the blue flickering sign with the name of the bar. The unnatural lighting made her seem even more surreal.

“Fuck!”

The illusion was broken abruptly, when Hange pushed him away and doubled down, coughing fit wracking through her body.

“Shit!” she croaked, in between the coughs. “I didn’t know that thing would be so strong, it’s so—”

“Wait.” Levi was so confused. “You’ve never smoked before?”

“No.”

God, what an insufferable person.

“Then why the hell you’ve asked for my cigarette?”

“Don’t know!” Hange straightened up, spreading her hands. The frantic motion made her stagger. Levi caught her by the elbow before she fell. “I just thought it would feel good. But it didn’t!”

“Idiot.” Levi scoffed. He winced when he realized that there was too much fondness in his tone.

“I’m just tired,” Hange sighed, dropping her shoulders and bending her knees to slide lower off the wall. “I deserve a break, don’t I? I didn’t have one in so long…”

Levi felt like he knew the answer to his question already. Yet, he still asked. “When was the last time you took a break?”

“When you left. As soon as I was discharged from the hospital, I threw myself into my work.”

Ouch. That was probably his fault.

He was contemplating what answer wouldn’t make him sound like an asshole while simultaneously keeping in secret just how much he had missed her during all the months he was gone, when he felt something warm touch his cheek.

He lifted his eyes from the grey, cracked asphalt and—

Cigarette fell from between his fingers.

Hange was closer than she was before, and her palm was resting on his cheek, absentmindedly caressing his skin.

“That thing…” with a feather light touch of her thumb, she traced the already healing cut on his cheek. “Where did you get this?”

“This…” fuck, why Hange’s proximity made it so hard for him to think? His thoughts were sluggish as ever, the neurons reacting with the pace as slow as it was humanly possible. With more effort than he was willing to admit, Levi forced himself to focus. “Would you believe it if I say that I received this thing while defending three teenagers from the local gangsters?”

Hange chuckled, the sound seemed warm enough to shield Levi even from the harshest winds of winter. “That depends… would you believe that, despite everything, a part of me is actually glad that you came back?”

Oh. Levi drew a sharp breath. Whatever he had expected Hange to say, this wasn’t it.

But Hange was drunk, he reminded himself. Hange was drunk and chances were she probably wouldn’t remember this conversation at all. He could take some of the weight off his chest and, perhaps, Hange would be none the wiser.

So he laid his hand on top of Hange’s, and said, “Only if you would believe that I wish I didn’t hurt you. That was never my intention. And I also wish we could have gone on that skating rink date you’ve promised me.”

He expected Hange to lash out. He expected her to push him away and start calling him names. He expected literally anything else but not for Hange starting to recite Shakespeare.

“Oh Romeo, Romeo!” with all the dramatics of the drunken person, she fell against him, a hand flying to her forehead. “Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name!”

“Four-eyes?”

“Sorry,” she laughed, covering her mouth with a hand. Her head laying on his shoulder, she looked up, her eyes sparkling. “It just… It kinda fits, don’t you think? You know if you weren’t Montecchi and I wasn’t Capuletti, perhaps then…”

Perhaps. And, oh, how Levi wished that ‘perhaps’ turned into ‘possibly’ and into actual truth. But— they were who they were, for the better or worse.

And entertaining what ifs would only make both of them more miserable. So before he did something stupid, like press his lips to Hange and taste that horrible rum she was drinking, Levi decided to change the course and the mood of their conversation. He playfully flicked her forehead and pushed her away from him. “I didn’t know that police officers could recite Shakespeare from the top of their head.”

“No one believes me,” Hange whispered with a naughty smile. “But I was a member of the drama club in high school.”

“Did you play Juliette?”

“No, I was Romeo, but,” she winked. “I had a very pretty Juliette.”

“Of course, you had,” Levi had no doubts about it. He did, however, have a regret that he wasn’t there to witness it. Watch lanky teenage Hange jump around the stage, shouting about her love to Juliet and hatred of Capuletti in the most melodramatic fashion possible? What was better than it? “Now, c’mon,” he gently pushed her forward, making sure she didn’t stumble and fall. “Let’s go inside, it’s getting cold.”

“Yeah, let’s—”

Levi’s hand was hovering above her shoulder, but when Hange touched the side of her face and started to slowly crane towards the ground, he had to wrap his fingers firmly around her elbow. With eyes widening in fear, he watched how Hange’s eyes rolled back into her head and she fell limply against his side.

“Hange!” he shook her, but received no answer. His blood started to rapidly turn into ice. “Hange,” he called again, more softly. She didn’t even stir.

Fuck, was she drunk enough to black out? Or did she faint because of the fatigue? Or was it the combination of the two?

Whatever was the case, but he had to, at least, bring Hange back inside the bar. Keeping his hand on her waist, Levi carefully opened the front door and stumbled inside.

All eyes were on him as soon as he walked in. And no one’s stare was as surprised as Ymir’s.

“What the fuck did you do to her?”

“Your fucking fault,” he gritted through his teeth, as he approached the bar counter and pushed Hange on one of the chairs. “She drank too much while she was working.”

“Shit. And what are you going to do now?”

He didn’t have a lot of options. He could let Hange stay with Ymir, he could let Hange crush at his place, or… he could bring her to her own apartment.

The third option was probably the one Hange would be most comfortable with, but there was a tiny problem with it – he didn’t know where she lived.

“She left her bag here while she went outside to find you,” Ymir said, producing the said bag from behind the counter. “Her phone was blowing out all this time, maybe, you should call back? Perhaps, a friend will come to pick her up?”

Levi swallowed. He had a feeling that he knew what friend was calling Hange so insistently. With dread settling in, he took the bag from Ymir’s hands and fished out the phone.

The screen lighted up, showing five missed calls from – surprise, surprise - Erwin.

Fuck, just as he had expected. Just what he was fearful of.

With his insides twisting in a knot, Levi stared at Erwin’s photo, at his relaxed and smiling face. Levi remembered him a little differently. He remembered him as cunning, ruthless and calculating. Their encounter at the precinct was still fresh in Levi’s mind. His words, spoken quietly but with so much authority, were still ringing in his ears.

Leave this city, Levi Ackerman, and don't come back. Stop toying with Hange's feelings and don’t you dare contact her ever again.

As it was evident from the photo Hange chose for him, she saw a very different version of Erwin Smith. She saw him as her caring and kind boss. Levi doubted that Erwin would show the same side of himself to him.

“Would you like to make that call?” he handed the phone to Ymir.

She pushed it back with a short laugh. “I have a feeling that her friend is cop, so, no, I’m not very eager to become his acquaintance.”

Shit. So he had to do it. Fuck, Levi didn’t want to. He really, really didn’t want to.

But he had to do it, for Hange.

That last thought gave him enough courage to unlock the phone and dial the number. He closed his eyes tightly as soon as he did, his stomach was falling lower and lower with each passing beep.

On the third one, his call was answered.

“Hange?” well, now his voice definitely didn’t sound as cold and strict as it did during their last conversation. Right now, Captain Erwin Smith sounded almost frantic. “Hange, where are you? Why didn’t you pick up? I’ve been calling you—”

“Erm,” Levi cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Honestly, he’d rather take on ten more gangsters from Signapore, or have his leg ripped out than continue this conversation. “It’s not Hange.”

“Ackerman.” And there it was, that cold, emotionless tone. Awesome. But now… there was more urgency to it. And much more anger. “Where is Hange? What did you do to her? If you laid even a finger—”

“Jesus, calm the fuck down. Hange is fine.” Except that she wasn’t. Her eyes were still closed as she sat slumped in a chair. “She just… tired herself out. I need you to come and take her home.”

There was a pause, a silence that lasted for a long, long moment. Erwin was probably contemplating if he should trust him or not. At last, he said, “Send me your location.”

He ended the call immediately.

A little shaken after the encounter, Levi thought about his next move, should he wait for Erwin or—

“I would advise against it,” Ymir said, unusually serious. “From what I’ve heard just now, the guy hates your guts. Don’t aggravate the situation any further and don’t make him look for you around the city. He won’t be happy when he finds you.”

Yeah, Levi thought so too.

“Pour me another glass,” he asked, his tone almost pleading. And here he was worrying about tomorrow… and now he could very well find himself sitting behind bars in the next hour.

___

Erwin arrived not even ten minutes later, walking into the bar like he owned the damn place. Last time Levi saw him, he was wearing police uniform, complete with white shirt and dark jacket. Now he was dressed in an unbuttoned coat and grey sweatpants, a combination, which would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. Somehow, Erwin still managed to look formidable.

His eyes were the same icy cold color as Levi had remembered, but, because he was watching him so closely, he could notice the hint of concern that appeared, when Erwin’s gaze landed on Hange.

He crossed the bar in a few short strides, standing protectively over her. He shook her shoulder, then, with more trepidation than Levi would have expected from him, he checked her pulse. The sigh that escaped him was filled with relief, but when Erwin turned to face Levi, none of it was reflected on his face.

“What had happened?”

His voice was quiet, controlled. Even so, the anger was slipping through. Levi suppressed a shiver. He would not let this man intimidate him.

“She exhausted herself to the point of collapsing. Someone must have pushed too much work on her.”

Perhaps, his words were unjust, after all, Levi knew how much Erwin cared about Hange. And he knew that the man did his best to protect her from the burdens of their work. But Erwin didn’t like Levi, and while it was more than understandable, the feeling was also more than mutual.

However, Erwin didn’t seem offended or outraged. He seemed to disregard Levi’s presence completely.

“How much do I have to pay?” he asked Ymir, keeping his hand on Hange’s shoulder.

“It’s on the house,” Ymir replied, almost frantically. If Levi hadn’t been mocked by this girl for the entirety of the evening, he’d say that she looked scared. Even so, it was hard to deny that she certainly was cautious.

“Thank you,” Erwin nodded, “And sorry for the troubles. I’ll take her home now. And you,” he pointed with his chin at Levi. “You’re going with me.”

Levi gulped, but didn’t try to argue. Firstly, he didn’t want to start a scene. And secondly, he wasn’t sure that whatever scene he’d cause, he’d come out of it as a winner.

“Good luck, dude,” Ymir whispered to him. She almost sounded sincere. Did it mean he looked that pathetic?

He reached out to Hange, but one freezing look from Erwin, and Levi pulled his hand back, curling it into a fist.

Fuck, he hoped Hange lived somewhere nearby. Otherwise, one hell of a drive was waiting for him.

Erwin scooped Hange into his arms, effortlessly lifting her up. Her head rolled to his shoulder, nose fitting into the crook of his neck.

In his giant arms, Hange seemed so small, almost vulnerable. As he watched Erwin carry her outside, Levi felt sudden, completely illogical pang of jealousy.

Fuck, now he was just going crazy.

Erwin led him out to the parking lot, where a black sedan was parked.

Levi wanted to help him open the door, but apparently Erwin needed only one hand to hold Hange. As the door to the back seat was opened, he placed her inside, careful not to bump her into anything.

Just before Levi could slide into the backseat beside Hange, pull her head onto his lap, maybe stroke her hair… Erwin faced him once again, his strong jaw clenched and his mouth set in a firm line. “Take the passenger seat.”

Again, Levi complied without another a single complain. The situation was already tense, after all.

As he lowered himself into a passenger seat, Levi felt like his stomach was filled with heavy rocks. As he pulled the seatbelt over his chest, he felt like it was growing tighter with every breath he took.

A moment later, Erwin sat down too, sliding into the driver’s seat and igniting the car. He rode out of the parking lot wordlessly. He continued to drive in the utter silence.

In his life, Levi had enough moments that made his throat seize with worry. He was a criminal, a thief, and their heists didn’t always go according to the plan. But never before he had felt so… on edge. He felt like was standing on the top of the skyscraper, his feet dangerously close to verge of it. A sudden gush of wind, a single uneven breath could send him flying down.

So Levi sat tight, his hands curled into fists at his lap. He stared right ahead, afraid to suddenly meet Erwin’s gaze. He was breathing as quietly as possible, not wanting to upset the fragile balance.

But the balance was ruined, destroyed completely, without a hope of salvation, when they heard a sharp gasp coming from the backseat.

Hange’s head appeared in the space between two front seats a second later. Her eyes were shifting from Levi to Erwin, the gears in her head turning so quickly, Levi could almost hear their movements.

The realization came to her way too swiftly, cruel in its suddenness.

“Fuck,” she took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes with a pained expression. “Erwin, listen, I can explain—”

“You will,” he said, meeting her eyes in the rear view mirror. “After I get you home.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, and if Levi thought that the silence was tense and pressing before, this one opened a whole new level. At least, now it wasn’t as quiet as before, because Hange kept shifting in her seat. Levi could practically feel her eyes bore into the back of his head. He would have snapped, would have told her to quit staring like a weirdo, if her unnaturally calm boss wasn’t sitting right next to him.

When Erwin parked the car next to the apartment complex where Hange was evidently living, Levi breathed out a loud sigh of relief. Fuck, it felt like he was holding in a dump for the entirety of the fifteen-minute trip.

Growing up without mother, having only Kenny as a guardian, Levi’s childhood was very different from the other kids. He never shared his classmates’ interests, never went to parties and football matches, preferring to stay at home and help his uncle get ready for his next heist. He never actually had the pleasure to experience the scenario of asking someone on a date. He also never knew the humiliation and shame one would feel if their date was interrupted by his crush’s father. Of course, he and Hange weren’t on a date, and Erwin wasn’t her father, but as the three of them were standing in the elevator, waiting for it to stop at the fourteenth floor, Levi was as worried and mortified as a teenager who got their date ruined.

When they exited the elevator, Hange took the lead, walking towards her apartment with her head lowered and shoulders slumped.

She reached the door and unlocked it, letting them enter first.

“I didn’t expect guests,” chuckling so awkwardly that Levi cringed, she turned the light on, basking her apartment in a faint orange light. “So sorry for the mess.”

Levi would have snort and say that he wasn’t expecting anything else, or he would have scrunch his nose at the amount of clatter that he saw on the coffee table in the living room. However, the presence of Erwin wasn’t exactly making him feel playful.

Hange was either still drunk or the exhaustion was still having its effect on her, but as she walked further into the apartment, she was slightly staggering.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Erwin said, his voice gentler than Levi had ever heard it. With a hand on the small of her back, he guided Hange towards the closed door, where, as Levi guessed, her bedroom was. “You stay here,” he told Levi.

Levi barely resisted the urge to scoff. What, Erwin thought that he was stupid or daring enough to follow? He was certainly not.

After the door after Hange and Erwin closed, Levi continued standing awkwardly in the hallway for another moment. He could faintly hear their voices coming from another room, but they were too quiet for him to understand what the conversation was about.

Ignoring the urge to come closer and eavesdrop, Levi decided to take a look around the apartment.

It was messy – just as Hange had said. Books and papers were scattered around, the coffee table had a a large stain on it, and the couch was peppered with crumbs. But that wasn’t what interested Levi. He was much more interested in learning what her apartment was hiding beyond filth and trash.

Firstly, he headed to the large bookshelf in the living room. As he had expected, there were lots of textbooks there – books on criminology, forensic science, crime prevention and even sociology. The presence of fiction books wasn’t surprising, but the amount of them certainly was. Apparently, the workaholic detective Hange Zoe was also an avid book worm. His lips curling up, he stored that small piece of trivia to the part of his mind that was dedicated to everything he found endearing about Hange.

Next to the books stood a couple of picture frames. One of them showed Hange, squished between two men – Erwin and her other blonde friend, Mike. All three of them were smiling, happy and younger than they were now.

The second photo was of Hange and two adults – her parents, Levi presumed. If the previous photo pictured Hange who was only a couple of years younger, this one showed a much, much younger version. She was barely a teenager there – clad in overalls, with skinned knee, duct-taped glasses and wearing a bright, joyful smile.

Looking at that smile, Levi couldn’t help but smile back.

His mind exhausted and overwhelmed with the events of this day, it started to wander. Levi tried to imagine what would have happened, how different his life could be if Hange had befriended him when they were kids. Would his life be different, though? Or would his upbringing and unfortunate circumstances still bring him where he was now?

There was no way to find out, and that’s why there was no reason to ponder on it.

His curiosity drove him to his next stop, kitchen. He was just about to find out what the great detective Zoe preferred to stash in her refrigerator, when the door of the bedroom opened and closed. Levi heard the sound of heavy footsteps that got closer and closer.

And just like that, his good mood was gone. Just like that, he was on the edge of the skyscraper once again.

When Levi mastered the courage to turn around, Erwin stood at the other side of the small kitchen, hands crossed on his chest. Even in sweatpants and worn-out t-shirt, he still looked as commanding as ever.

“I told you to leave, and never come back. I gave you a chance to escape. Why didn’t you take it?”

Why didn’t he take it? Didn’t Erwin already know his reason?

“I’m sure Hange has explained everything to you.”

“She has.”

And what, Erwin didn’t find her reasoning sufficient enough? Fuck, the blonde bastard pissed him off so much.

“I came because I need to find my uncle and learn what the fuck has happened while I was gone.” Levi said, his anger barely constrained. “My return to the city has nothing to do with Hange or with you.”

Technically, it wasn’t a lie, he did come to look for Kenny. The fact that his and Hange’s goals aligned was a mere coincidence.

“If you have problem with us working together, then go and talk it out with Hange, explain why exactly you don’t trust her judgement. Just don’t pour all of your bullshit on me.”

“I trust her judgement,” in the semi-darkness of the kitchen, Erwin’s eyes flashed brightly, like a lightening during a storm. “I just don’t trust you.”

His anger growing, Levi already had a vicious enough retort, ready to spill out of his mouth. But just before he started talking, Erwin continued, interrupting his tirade. “Hange told me you had helped a lot today,” he tilted his head slightly to the side, considering Levi. “She said that this case can’t be solved without you. And while, I have my doubts about it, it seems that Hange has none. I don’t know what the hell she sees in you, but she trusts you and believes in you. And as I’ve said, I trust her.”

Hange… trusted him? Trusted him enough to tell her boss about it? Did she tell him about it? Or was it Erwin’s own assumption? If so, then, surely, Erwin was mistaken, surely, he got the wrong impression. Could he, though? Could a man as cunning and smart as him misjudge his own friend?

Levi forced these thoughts away, they were pointless and confusing. Right now, he had a more pressing question.

“So now what? You’ll let the two of us continue investigation?”

“I will,” Erwin nodded. “But if you hurt Hange in any way…”

Scoffing, Levi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I got it, you’ll hurt me.”

Erwin’s lips curled up in a smile that was devilish enough to send shivers down Levi’s spine. “In more ways than just one, Ackerman.”

But the moment passed, and the chilly expression was gone. “Hange is asleep,” Erwin said, pushing the hair back from his face. Up until this moment, Levi failed to take notice just how disheveled the other man looked. Was he that worried about Hange that he forgot to fix his less than immaculate appearance? “She told me that you can spend the night here.”

“Will you be watching over me all night then?” Levi asked, his voice still gruff, but not as biting as it was before.

“No,” shockingly, but Erwin sounded more at ease as well. “I entrust this investigation solely in Hange’s hands. She’ll be responsible for the end result and she’s responsible for you. Meanwhile, I need to catch some sleep as well.”

With that, Erwin turned around, walking out of the kitchen and heading in the direction of the front door. Reluctantly, Levi followed after him, cautiously watching him put on his boots and coat. Erwin’s hand was on the doorknob, when he twisted his face to the side, meeting Levi’s eyes.

“I’m giving you a second chance, Ackerman. Fuck this up and I’ll come for you.”

Levi nodded, expecting nothing less. From now on, he had to be more careful, he was sure that Erwin’s watchful eye would be following him everywhere. Just another complication to the already complicated case.

As soon as Erwin left, Levi walked into the living room, falling down on a couch. The couch was dusty, his clothes were filthy from rolling around on the floor in Ymir’s apartment, but he was too exhausted to go to shower, and he had no clothes he could change in, anyway.

Sleep was calling to him, more insistently with each passing moment. But before he closed his eyes and let himself succumb to the darkness completely, Levi pulled a phone out of his pocket. He came here to find Kenny, he hoped he would receive a clue about his whereabouts while searching their apartment. He found nothing there, but perhaps…

He dialed Kenny’s number.

One beep, two beeps, three, four…

Levi kept listening to the mechanic, measured sound until the call was disconnected. So, Kenny wasn’t picking up. Levi was disappointed, but not surprised.

He saw no reason in trying to call him once again and put his phone on a coffee table next to the couch. His eyes were already fluttering shut, when a loud vibration jolted him out of his semi-sleepy state.

Levi jumped a little, reaching out to his phone. He unlocked it, staring at the notifications with wide eyes.

He received three messages. From unknown number.

He hurried to open them.

Don’t go poking your nose into this wasp nest, Levi

And tell that detective of yours to quit either

Stop chasing after me. Leave before it’s not too late

With his fingers trembling so much his phone almost fell down, Levi dialed that number. The call went straight into voicemail.

“Fuck!” he threw the phone back onto the table, with more force than was necessary. Fucking Kenny and the games he was playing. Hadn’t he said that he trusted him? Evidently, he didn’t trust Levi enough to let him help with whatever shit he had involved himself.

Well, whether he wanted Levi to help him or not, it didn’t matter. Levi was coming after him. And he wouldn’t let Kenny’s lame threats stop him. Nothing would stop him, not until Levi found out what the fuck happened to his uncle.

Hold on for me, Kenny, he thought, on the verge of sleep, I’m coming for you.

#i know i've said it's 10k words monster but now the wordcount is actually 11k #enjoy hehe #levihan

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chdarling-tle · 3 years

Note

Hey!! Since tomorrow is James birthday, could you post a little snippet???🥺🥺🥺. No pressure at all, it’s just that am really excited!!!!

Ahaha, well I was originally planning to post the TLE2 trailer for James’s birthday, but once again my impatience got the best of me. And I can’t possibly let my dearest darlingest James’s birthday go uncelebrated so…here, have some early TLE2 Jily. >:)

This scene is definitely spoilery (although all pretty minor in the scheme of things), so if you don’t want spoilers do not click the handy dandy “keep reading” button below.

Excerpt from The Last Enemy: Dark Marks (Coming this June!)

She was halfway through chapter one when a familiar voice pierced through the clamor of the pub.

“Dunne, you can’t do this to me. You can’t do this to Gryffindor!”

Lily looked up from her book to see James Potter a few steps from the bar, locked in an impassioned argument with Burdacke Dunne, the fifth year Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“What do you want me to do?” complained Dunne. “My mother said I have to drop Quidditch this year to focus on my O.W.L.s. I don’t have a choice, mate.”

“Yeah, you do! You can choose to ignore her and play the match anyway.”

“You don’t know my mother. She’s…scary!”

“Dunne,” said James, clasping his hands together as if in prayer, “it’s two weeks until the first match. How am I supposed to find and train up another Beater in that time? McFarlan doesn’t know a Bludger from a broomstick right now. I was counting on you. Gryffindor was counting on you!”

“I’m sorry Potter. I don’t have a choice.” And Dunne pushed past him and disappeared into the crowd.

James collapsed at the bar with a groan. He was blocked from Lily’s view by the bearded warlock finishing his cherry fizz beside her, but she saw Madam Rosmerta bustle over and heard James say miserably: “Four butterbeers and a dram of firewhiskey, please.”

“Try again,” was Rosmerta’s dry retort.

“You’re right,” sighed James. “Make it a brandy.”

“Four butterbeers, coming right up.” There was a tinkle of glass as Rosmerta collected the tankards from behind the counter.

“Aw, c’mon, Rosie. Just this once? I’m drinking away my woes.”

Butterbeer gurgled from the tap.

“Girl trouble?” asked Rosmerta.

“Even worse,” said James. “Quidditch.”

“Well, getting drunk won’t make you fly better.”

“I fly perfectly fine, thank you very much. It’s my Beater who’s just abandoned us.”

“And in a year,” said Rosmerta above the clink of tankards being placed on a tray, “when you are of age, I will mourn with you in the appropriate fashion over a bottle of Ogden’s Old. Until then, enjoy your butterbeer, sweetheart.” And she strolled away across the bar.

“I’ll be seventeen in five months!” James called after her, and Lily could hear his grin.

The warlock beside her slurped up the last of his drink, set his glass down on the bar along with a smattering of Sickles, and shuffled away, just as James was collecting his tray of butterbeer. Lily looked quickly back to her book so as not to catch his eye, but no luck. He had spotted her.

There followed a brief pause as James seemed to debate how to proceed. Then he said: “Did you really come all the way to Hogsmeade to sit alone at a pub and read a book?”

“Maybe,” said Lily, lowering her book and giving him a single, haughty glance before turning to quickly survey the pub for Harvey.

“Always with the book sniffing,” said James with an easy grin. “How does that one smell?”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Like roses.”

“You know, some people believe that the intimate relations between a girl and her literature should be kept to the bedroom. This is a family-friendly establishment, after all. There are third years here.”

“Oh, sod off.”

But James did not sod off. Instead, he moved over to the vacated spot beside her, leaning an elbow onto the bar as he observed her in that infuriating way he had that always made her cheeks grow hot. “So what’s it about? Must be good if you’ve decided to swear off human company for its deliciously-scented pages.”

Lily shoved the book out of sight. “For your information, I’m meeting someone. He’s just running late.”

“Ah,” said James, leaning back slightly. “Who’s the lucky bloke?”

Lily considered him for a moment, then shrugged. “Harvey Harris.”

“No kidding,” said James, looking faintly surprised. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Your face is saying something.”

“No, it’s not. My face is as mute as a mime.” Then: “Just never thought he was your type.”

“What do you know about my type?” demanded Lily, feeling unreasonably nettled.

“Nothing, clearly.”

“Harvey is really nice.” She didn’t like the defensive tone in her voice, but there it was, lingering and wagging a finger at him.

“Absolutely,” agreed James. “No arguments here. You look up ‘nice’ in the dictionary, you find a picture of Harris. He’s like a big, friendly golden retriever.”

Lily wanted to refute this but found she couldn’t quite. It was an annoyingly apt description. Instead, she heard herself say rather stupidly: “Some people like golden retrievers.”

“What’s not to like?”

“Well, what about you? Who’s your hot date today?”

James smirked. “I’ll have you know, I’m here with the most attractive, desired person in this school.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m sure. Who’s that supposed to be?”

James pointed across the pub, where Sirius Black was seated along with the rest of their gang. Sirius, catching his eye, threw up his arms impatiently as if to say, Where’s my butterbeer, you prick? James blew him a kiss.

Lily almost laughed, but she bit it back just in time. “Well, I can’t say I envy you.”

“You might not, but every other girl in school does. Feeds my ego.”

“Yeah, because your ego is starving.”

“Anyway, enjoy your date with Harris. If you get bored, I hear the hill by the Shrieking Shack is great for playing fetch.”

For some reason, it was this comment that made Lily’s temper flare. “I thought you said you were going to leave me alone. You’ve been doing such a good job, don’t spoil it now.”

James’s lighthearted expression stiffened ever so slightly at this. Before he could respond, however, a voice cleared its throat above them. Both Lily and James looked up. Harvey had arrived.

“Potter,” said Harvey, his tone hovering somewhere between aggressive and uncertain.

James nodded at Lily. “That’s my cue.”

#i have not edited this #living on the edge #TLE2 #TLE2 spoilers #jily jily jily

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wave0fg00dvibes · 4 years

Text

Sparks - Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Could you do a spencer Reid x SSA fem!reader where you guys are on a case and he sees the cops flirting with you and gets jealous and reveals his feelings?

A/N: WOW I’m really sorry this was out so much later than I predicted. Life is hard sometimes, y’all! My stressors are gone now so hopefully I’ll be cranking out a whole lot more of these.

Also, I never understood how writers could just start a story they thought would be short and end up with 6K words. Now I know! Whoops.

Please leave feedback if you have any! Lots and lots and LOTS of love, as always.

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

Your favorite part of any given case was closing it.

There was no rush or relief quite like the feeling of taking someone dangerous off the streets. No sensation could match handcuffing an unsub and watching officers escort them to police cars, never to wreak havoc again. Those days were undoubtedly the best part of being a profiler at the BAU. Those beautiful days took away the pain and anguish you so often faced as an agent, even if only momentarily.

Today was one of those days.

The resolution of this case provided the small town a chance to take a deep breath of relief. The killer was locked away, there were minimal casualties, and several hostages had been rescued and reunited with their families. All in all, it was a success.

Normally the team would fly back to Virginia right away, but a large, dangerous, looming electrical storm prevented a safe flight. Hotch made the executive decision to stay another night at the motel, and no one complained. After all, this case had been exhausting and draining for all of you.

It wasn’t until Morgan suggested a trip to the bar next door that the night got interesting.

Classic.

So, there you and Emily were, taking a trek across the street in the pouring rain, clutching your shared umbrella as if your lives depended on it.

“You know; I think I might be getting too old for this.” Emily nearly yelled over the roar of the weather. You laughed.

“Never! Who would be my off-duty partner in crime if not you?”

She shook her head and smiled at you. Strands of lightning lit up the sky and reflected in the many puddles at your feet. As beautiful as it was, you were not particularly comfortable holding a large piece of metal in a barren landscape during an electrical storm. As soon as the next inevitable clap of thunder shook the earth, both of you silently agreed to walk even faster to get to the bar and out of the rain.

“All I’m saying is you’d better start looking for my replacement.” Emily fired back, clutching the umbrella even harder as the wind blew the raindrops straight into your faces.

“As if I could ever replace the best wing woman I’ve ever had.” You shouted back to her. At that, Emily laughed out loud.

“Wing woman? Yeah, right.”

You didn’t have time to question her cheeky comment before the two of you finally reached the door to the bar. Emily immediately sighed in relief and you chuckled, stepping inside to relish in the warmth and shelter from the aggressive storm. Both of you stood in the doorway and took off your rain jackets, thankful to be dry and safe again.

“So, you’re telling me that if I found you someone at this bar…” Emily started to tease you, elbowing your ribs in jest. However, her eyes held an underlying mystery that frightened you. It was as if she was looking directly into your heart, reading your every move, discovering your deepest secrets.

Emily was one of your closest friends, but there was one secret in your heart that you could barely admit to yourself, much less another person. That was not something you wanted to dive into at the moment. It had been such a good day. There was no need to tarnish it with rambling thoughts and uncomfortable feelings.

Did that secret involve romantic feelings for a team member? Maybe.

She couldn’t know. There was no possible way she could know.

“I mean… I don’t know.” You bashfully tripped over your words, knowing she was kidding, but not doubting her willingness to embarrass you.

“Really? A gorgeous, smart, single woman like you, not wanting to find any company?” You blushed at the compliments, but shook your head in denial.

“Nice try, but I am perfectly happy being all alone.” You playfully nudged her shoulder. She let out a big laugh, hooking your arm in hers and starting to head toward the rest of the team at the back of the bar.

“Oh, come on. Don’t feed me that. We all know about you and Reid.” She subtly whispered in your ear.

And there it was.

She knew. Of course she knew. You felt your face begin to drain its color.

“We…” you attempted to launch into your heavily used “just friends” speech, but Emily put a finger up to your lips.

“Don’t even try that excuse with me. Just, don’t. Your self-appointed wing woman knows better.” She smirked and gave you a wink before releasing your arm and taking a seat between Morgan and JJ.

Rolling your eyes at her, you sat down in the only remaining seat, conveniently next to none other than Dr. Spencer Reid. You glared at Emily and she wiggled her eyebrows at you, fully aware of what she had done.

Oh boy. This was going to be a long night.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be around him. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Plopping down next to Spencer was the most comforting thing you had done all day. Though he was deep in conversation with Morgan, he grabbed one of the drinks in front of him and handed it to you without looking. You smiled, taking the glass as you watched his face contort while arguing with his friend. This was undoubtedly a conversation you did not want to interrupt.

You took a sip from the glass, and your heart skipped a beat. He had ordered you your favorite drink without even asking if you were in the mood.

Then again, he’s a professional profiler and one of your closest friends. Of course he knew you needed it.

That’s the whole problem, though. Why fix something that isn’t broken? Why go out on a limb for something that could destroy an already perfect relationship, both personally and professionally? The costs outweighed the benefits in every single sense. It just wasn’t worth it.

But all the rationality in the world couldn’t stop your heart from longing for the fairy tale.

“Hey!” Spencer’s soft, warm voice cut through all of the noise and broke you right out of your thoughts. He had turned to face you, cheeks slightly tinted red, probably from the heat of the bar and the alcohol. His ever-shining smile lit up his face. You couldn’t help but return it.

As always, you were amazed at how one shared moment with him could make every insecurity and anxious thought feel so small.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, the furrow in his brow reflecting his genuine concern.

“Oh, yeah! Just a couple of bumps and bruises. Nothing too serious.” You assured him.

Earlier that day you had been shot by the unsub. Thankfully, all of the bullets hit your vest and not your unprotected body. It wasn’t the first time you had been in a shooting match with a perpetrator, but for some reason this one had really rattled you.

He nodded, taking another sip of his drink before proceeding.

“I looked at your vest. If that last bullet had been just 2 centimeters to the left, it could’ve dissected your subclavian artery, and that could’ve been deadly. Arterial rupture can cause life-threatening hemorrhages, pseudoaneurysm formation, and compression of brachial plexus.” His eyes lit up with excitement as he continued to talk about your circulatory luck of the day, blissfully unaware of how intensely it had scared you.

That was one of your very favorite things about him. He took any moment, any situation, any scare, and turned it into a statistic. He put all your irrational fears into rational numbers and ideologies. No matter what happened to you, or anyone on your team, he was right there to make sure you all knew you weren’t alone, even if that meant spouting off facts about arterial dissection in a bar at midnight.

This man was something else.

“Hey, pretty boy!” This time the voice breaking you out of your thoughts was Morgan’s. Spencer’s many statistics halted abruptly as he turned to face the summoning voice.

“What ever happened to that lovely lady you were going to ask out for coffee last week?”

His body immediately tensed next to you. Your stupid, irrational, unforgiving heart dropped into your stomach.

“Um, I mean… I didn’t end up asking her.” His answer was surprisingly short. You had never seen Spencer so flustered and lost for words. You looked up at Emily and saw the delicate look of annoyance in her eyes.

“It’s really hard to date in this line of work…” Emily attempted to defend his decision, JJ nodding and offering noises of agreeance while taking sips of her drink, but Morgan cut them off to press him further.

“Oh come on Reid, you haven’t shut up about her for months!”

“Yes, thank you Emily.” Spencer replied, letting some of the tension go. “I’m not sure I want to take any of my focus away from this job right now.”

“Oh whatever…” Morgan started, but before he could go any further you saw Emily subtly kick him under the table.

She looked up at you, eyes faintly conveying her apologies and intent to knock some sense into the oblivious man. He gave her a confused look, but immediately dropped the subject after meeting her fiery gaze.

“Anyway… are you seeing anyone?” This time Morgan’s question was directed at you.

Nope. Not happening. Where was the alcohol?

“On that note, I’m going to go get a drink. Anyone want anything?” You asked, grabbing your glass and standing up quickly.

Before they could answer, you were on your way to the bar. The first drink was strong, but not strong enough to numb the stupid, unreasonable pain and excruciating awkwardness of what had just happened.

“I’ll have another of these, please.” You asked the bartender, sitting at one of the chairs to help calm your shaking knees.

Breathe.

There was literally no reason for you to be upset. He was allowed to see people. Both of you were single, for crying out loud! There was nothing you were willing to do to make the fairy tale in your head a reality, so why was this weighing on you so heavily?

Breathe. For the love of everything, breathe.

He deserved every happiness in the world, and more. There was no reason for you to be so self-centered and deny him that. Who’s to say he even thought of you as anything more than a colleague anyway?

“Agent?” You slightly jumped and turned to face the familiar voice, recognizing the man sitting next to you instantly.

“Sergeant Jones. Hi.” You presented the best smile you could muster in the moment at the sight of one of the local deputies.

“Please, call me Michael. It’s so nice to see you outside of the unfortunate situations our jobs bring.” His smile was warm, and the hand he reached out to shake was soft.

“It’s nice to see you too, Michael.” You smiled, angling yourself to face him more directly.

Breathe. Distractions are good, especially when they are this handsome. Breathe.

His short blonde hair was combed perfectly, and his blue flannel shirt subtly brought out his eyes. No wedding ring. You could feel your heart ever so slowly begin to rise at the prospect of feeling valued, wanted, especially by a handsome stranger.

Did it take your mind off Spencer? No.

Could anything at this point? Who knows.

“Are you okay?” He asked, the true concern evident in his pretty blue eyes.

No, Michael. You seem wonderful but this is the worst timing.

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s just been a long day.” You lied straight through your teeth like a pro. However, you were captivated by his seemingly genuine integrity.

“You can say that again.” He chuckled. “This town hasn’t seen action like this in the last century, at least.”

Spencer could probably pinpoint the exact date of the last time this tiny town had a historic day like this…

NOPE. Breathe.

“How often does your team handle cases like these?” Michael’s deep voice snapped you out of your racing thoughts.

Okay, this was good. You were good at talking about work. It was basically your whole life.

“Well, we mostly handle serial killer cases. Sometimes abductions, things of that nature.”

Michael was a good listener, and the way his body angled toward yours indicated he actually enjoyed listening to you talk about your gruesome job.

“Cases involving children are the hardest for me, but it’s different for everyone.” You added.

“Yeah, I understand. I know our jobs are of different caliber, but I struggle with those too.”

You were enamored with Michael’s honesty and emotional depth in your short conversation. Compassionate, good at listening, and handsome? The other shoe was sure to drop soon…

The bartender set your drink down in front of you, but before you could pay her Michael handed her some cash.

“Oh no…” You started to argue.

“Please, I insist. It’s been a hard day for all of us.” Michael softly smiled at you. You smiled back, immediately taking a big gulp of the strong drink. Bring on the numbness.

“So, do you have any kids?” His surprising question caused you to choke and begin coughing profusely. He immediately looked alarmed, placing a hand on your arm to steady you.

“I’m so sorry, I just meant because those cases affect you so much… I didn’t mean…”

“No! No, it's okay!” You choked out between coughs. Could this night get any more awkward? You took a deep breath and drink of water before continuing, noticing his strong, soft hand was still on your arm.

“No, I don’t have any kids yet. It’s hard to find time to date in this line of work.”

“Cheers to that.” He smiled, lifting his drink to tap yours.

Feeling the alcohol start to kick in, you closed your eyes and smiled. Finally.

“Hey, I never got a chance to thank you for what you did today.” You opened your eyes to meet his, slightly confused as to what he meant, but he continued. “You jumped in front of one of my men and took those bullets.”

Ah, transference. He’s only interested because he thinks you’re a hero.

“Oh, that’s just part of the job.” You brushed it off.

“No. That was true bravery and sacrifice.” Michael turned completely toward you. “I don’t know many people who would’ve done that. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

...or maybe he’s just incredibly kind?

“Of course.” You laid your free hand on top of his. Thankful for the recognition, but far more thankful that no one had been harmed that day.

“Man if you didn’t have to leave, I would absolutely be asking you on a date right now.” Michael’s undying honesty once again caught you by surprise.

“You’re just saying that because I took a successful risk today.”

“No, I’m saying it because in the last five minutes I’ve realized that you’re smart, along with brave and clearly beautiful.”

All you could do was smile and squeeze Michael’s hand, for though the flattery was lovely, both of you knew full well that was all it could be.

Out of nowhere, you felt the air tense. Michael looked past you in confusion, and all at once you knew who was there. You could feel Spencer’s presence before he spoke a single word. Somehow you could tell he had been there for a short while, and could feel the inevitable speech coming.

“Actually that’s called transference, which happens when material from our unconscious mind is propelled into our conscious mind as we try to deal with the usually painful psychological trauma that we are experiencing. The brain unconsciously re-surfaces and re-enacts conflict-ridden experiences as if the past were the present and one setting were another. We transfer thoughts, feelings, and attitudes, especially about people who resemble others. We assign them roles once played by others. We take on old roles ourselves. All unconsciously.”

Both you and Michael were stunned into silence, staring at Spencer as if he were from another planet.

What the hell was he doing?

You sighed, giving up any hope for a single shred of happiness to come from this night.

“Michael, you remember Dr. Reid.”

“Of course, good to see you again.” Michael nodded toward Spencer, which he awkwardly returned.

“Sorry to interrupt. I came over to see if you were alright after that coughing spell and couldn’t help but overhear…”

“It’s fine, Spencer.” You coolly cut him off, begging him with your eyes to go back to the table and let you make a connection, for once.

He saw the look, understood, and promptly ignored it.

“We should probably get back to the motel. The others left when I got up to check on you.”

“I’m a big girl, Spencer. I’ll be okay.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“I can walk her back.” Michael looked up at Spencer, attempting to analyze him, to no avail.

“That won’t be necessary.” Spencer looked him dead in the eye, challenging him. A sudden look of realization dawned on Michael’s face. He immediately stood up, grabbing his jacket.

“Wow, I’m really sorry for the misunderstanding. I assumed you were single.”

God fucking dammit, Spencer.

“Oh I am! I am. It’s not like that. Spencer is just a good friend.”

Spencer stood there, unmoving, arms crossed, stoic as he could be. Michael gave up the silent fight, putting on his jacket and turning to leave.

“Listen, it was really nice to see you again, agent. Thank you again, truly, for all you did for my team today. Best wishes.” He shook your hand, far more awkward this time, and nodded to Spencer before bolting toward the door.

The prior sadness couldn’t hold a flame to the anger bubbling inside you at that moment. You whipped around to face the ever stoic Spencer, who didn’t seem to care about the fact that you were pissed as all hell about what he had just done. Before he could say another word, you took your coat from his outstretched arm and stormed toward the door, not caring if he followed or not.

Thankfully, the rain had stopped, but the beautiful lightning illuminated the sky as you furiously stomped back across the street to the motel. Normally you would attempt to walk softly in your heeled boots so as to not draw attention, but you couldn’t care less in this moment. You wanted Spencer to know just how royally pissed off you were, and you could tell he was right behind you.

Who did he think he was? Swooping in at the last second to sever the one human connection you’d made all night? Breaking the newfound bond you started with someone to distract from what he had caused?

The anger coursing through your veins seemed to dissolve the alcohol all on its own. You were no longer drunk, you were furious.

Breathe. Assault of a federal agent will put your ass in jail. Breathe.

It wasn’t until the two of you were alone in the elevator that you’d finally calmed down enough to form a sentence.

“What the fuck, Spencer?”

He didn’t answer. You took a deep breath, trying to expel the burning desire to scream. It didn’t work.

Of course, the one time you truly needed his explanation, he refused to offer it.

When the elevator reached your floor, he silently followed you to your room. You fished in your pocket for the key, but before you could swipe it Spencer grabbed your wrist, turning you toward him.

“I’m sorry.” He flatly stated.

Sure. Nice try.

“For what?” You challenged, not breaking his eye contact.

“For not getting you out of that situation sooner.”

You laughed right in his face. Pitiful, loud, uncontrollable laughter.

“Are you kidding me? Seriously? Oh my God.” You laughed so hard you thought you were going to throw up, clutching your stomach and leaning forward. His arms attempted to steady you but you eagerly batted them away.

“What is so funny about that?” You could tell he was getting frustrated.

Were you really about to start this?

You were really about to start this.

“Guess what? Men are allowed to flirt with me, Spencer. Believe it or not some people actually find me desirable.” He was surprised, but not as much as you thought he might be.

He didn’t deny that this was what had struck the nerve and prompted him to get you out of the bar.

“Those cops are bad news.” He broke eye contact, further proving your point.

“Michael was kind to me.”

“He was putting up a front.”

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe someone could actually be attracted to me?”

“He doesn’t even know you!”

“And if he did he wouldn’t want me?”

Spencer opened his mouth to fight back, but immediately closed it, eyes darting between the patterns on the carpet. Your heart cracked.

“I didn’t realize you thought so little of me, Spencer.”

“That’s not what I…” He cut himself off with a deep sigh, putting his hands behind his head and looking up to the ceiling.

“Then what the hell is it, because I don’t have time for this.” You spat, trying to use your keycard once more. Spencer grabbed your wrist again, holding tightly even as you tried to squirm away.

“What is your problem?” You nearly yelled in his face. “I don’t understand why it is SUCH a stretch in your mind that a man could want to spend time with me. Why can’t you fucking accept that?”

This time, as you tried to push him off of you, he grabbed your other arm and pinned both behind your back, pulling you close to him so you couldn’t escape.

“Because no matter who it is, I can guarantee they don’t want you as badly as I do.”

Your entire, sober brain shut down. All at once, the world was spinning, and not from alcohol.

You pushed him away, and this time he let you go, standing at a respectful distance, allowing you to soak in his confession. The wheels in your head weren’t turning fast enough for this.

“But… that girl Morgan was talking about…”

“Yeah. That’s you.”

Wait… what?

You let your hands fall to your knees as you leaned forward. It was too late in the night for this, too wrong a moment for such a bold confession.

So… he wanted to ask you out… but didn’t? When did that happen? When have you ever given him an indication you weren’t interested? But had you ever given him an indication you were interested?

The madness in your swirling thoughts was interrupted by Spencer taking a step toward you. Oh no. Oh dear God no.

Your brain screamed at you to move, take a step, run away, anything. But your heart held its own. In your deepest desires, you had been waiting for this moment since the day you met him.

Now it was your turn to observe the patterns on the carpet. Each and every flower seemed far more interesting now that you were confused out of your mind and your heart was beating at twice its normal rate.

All of the sudden, the toes of his converse lined up with your own, and you felt his hand lift your chin to look him in the eyes. In the low light of the hallway, they almost looked golden.

He moved painfully slowly, as if you would bolt at any moment. Which, to be fair, if your rational brain had anything to say about this moment, you’d be halfway down the street by now.

But, it didn’t. His hands slowly made their way to your waist, delicately touching to make sure you were okay before settling firmly. Your own hands worked their way up his arms and around his neck, feeling every tense, trembling move he made the whole way.

It was as if the entire world was paused, as if everything was in slow motion except for you and him. For the first time since you joined the bureau, you allowed your guard to drop for a moment.

And in that brief moment, his lips met yours.

Alarm bells sounded in your mind as soon as it happened, and you pulled your head away, ending the kiss almost as quickly as it began. You frantically looked into his eyes, still clutching onto him, allowing yourself to let it sink in.

Spencer Reid had just kissed you. Okay, sure.

The part that really scared you was how much you enjoyed it.

Breathe, dear God, fucking breathe.

He held your gaze with a surprising intensity, letting his eyes tell you all the truths he was afraid to say out loud.

You were afraid too. Terrified.

Yet, somehow, standing in that musty motel hallway holding onto your best friend for dear life after just locking lips for the first time felt like the most natural, perfect thing in the world.

Were you really about to continue this?

You bet your ass you were about to continue this.

You grabbed his face and pulled his head back down to yours to kiss him again. Your lips met just as softly, but this time settled into an intimate rhythm. One of your hands made its way into his hair, lightly pulling, causing him to let out a deep moan.

Oh, no. No, no, no. You really liked that.

His hands splayed out over your back, attempting to bring you even closer as your bodies moved together.

So this was what you had been running from all this time, the scariest possible scenario you’d tried so hard to bury.

That fear seemed minuscule compared to the overwhelming feeling of goodness that came from being this close to him, feeling his soft hair in your hands and his beating heart against your chest.

The edge of the abyss grew closer with every soft movement and crash of your lips. The point of no return loomed, begging you to hold him closer, bring him into your room, and cross all of the lines your paranoid mind had set long ago. After all, rules were made to be broken and lines were meant to be crossed, right? By the way he hungrily pressed your body against the door to your room, you knew he was thinking the exact same thing.

But, in true agent fashion, your rational brain caught up to you before you could make the dream a reality.

You pulled away harshly, and he immediately removed his hands and stepped back. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might burst right out of your chest.

He looked so beautiful like this, hair all disheveled, lips big, full, and thoroughly kissed. His eyes held the horror you had grown to know so well, the fear of ruining one of the very best things in your lives. You were positive your own eyes reflected the very same idea.

“Spencer…”

“I know.” He cut you off, closing his eyes.

“We can’t ruin this. We can’t go down that road.”

“I know.”

The charged silence that followed was most unwelcome.

“Why would you say that. Why would you act on that?” Your accusation against his confession was less of an attack and more of a whimper, trying so hard to bury the longing feelings again.

He shrugged, analyzing the carpet once more. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Spencer.” You let his name roll off your tongue softly, gently, longing to somehow take it all back, to push what you had done into some secret place, never to be seen or spoken of again.

He looked up at you, the same emotions swirling through his eyes. He understood.

“I didn’t want to live any longer not knowing, I guess.” He softly admitted.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. There was no way to take it back, no way to fix this, no rational comfort you could offer.

There was nothing more either of you could say.

So, with that, he turned on his heel and walked back to his own room, never looking back.

You stood there in the hallway for a long while, completely stunned. It wasn’t until the subtle bell of the elevator broke your trance that you finally swiped your keycard and retreated to the solace of your room.

Somehow, in the midst of the war going on in your head, you managed to pack all of your things. You wouldn’t remember going through with your night routine or climbing into the soft motel bed, but somehow your unconscious mind led you there.

The tears of frustration didn’t start until about 20 minutes into blankly staring at the ceiling. They rolled down your cheeks and pooled in your hair, but you barely noticed. Every so often, you lifted your hand to your lips, unbelievingly, wishing for some reminder of what it felt like to be connected with him.

How had your pride been so dominating that it thrust you into the very situation you worked tirelessly to avoid? What prompted him to act so impulsively? Why did you just stand there and let him leave?

Most importantly, how in the world were you going to resolve this?

To say it was going to be a sleepless night would be the understatement of the century.

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

As you got on the plane the next morning, Emily was the first one to meet your exhausted gaze. She got up from her seat and walked over to you, enveloping you in her arms.

“I heard the yelling from my room. I’m sorry.” She whispered. You sighed, hugging her back as hard as you could.

So, they all knew. Of fucking course they all knew. Even Hotch and Rossi shot you a look of understanding sympathy as you moved to take the seat next to Emily. JJ patted your knee knowingly, and you gave her hand a squeeze before laying your head on Emily’s shoulder. Maybe now, surrounded by your girls, you would finally be able to get some sleep.

Thankfully, your hope became a reality. The next time you opened your eyes, everyone around you had drifted off as well. You gingerly lifted your head, making sure not to disturb Emily’s fragile sleep.

The plane was peacefully silent, and as you scanned the cabin, your heart ached with gratitude for your team, your family. Getting shot was less than ideal, but the love and appreciation it prompted was most welcome.

You felt Spencer’s eyes on you before you even noticed he was awake.

Turning your head toward the couch he was sprawled out on, your eyes locked with his. He made no move to look away, and neither did you.

Fixing this was a necessity, and you both knew it. There was no space for awkwardness or personal feelings getting in the way of this line of work.

As always, even despite the awkwardness and confusion of the past 24 hours, plopping down next to Spencer was still the most comforting feeling. Looking into his equally-tired eyes provided some comfort. At least you knew you weren’t the only one that lost sleep over the incident.

His eyes were always a home to you, no matter what state your friendship was in. This was uncharted territory for both of you. Simply sitting next to each other, enjoying the presence and absorbing the moment, seemed to kickstart the healing that was sure to follow.

Before you knew it, your arms were reaching out for him, and his enveloped you. Your head immediately fell to his shoulder, letting out a deep breath you didn’t remember taking.

“I’m sorry.” You offered, chuckling at the whole situation. He joined in your slight laughter, squeezing you a little bit tighter as you felt the glorious sound reverberating in his chest.

“I’m sorry too.” He whispered.

You pulled away to look at him, offering a small smile that he quickly returned. It already felt as if 1,000 pounds had been lifted from the air around you.

“It’s just, I would never forgive myself if I ruined this friendship, you know?” You admitted, ashamedly.

“I do. I promise, I do.” He insisted. You knew it was the truth.

The plane jolted from sudden turbulence, and you quickly scanned the cabin to make sure no one had woken up. When you were certain the whole team was still in a deep sleep, you turned back to Spencer, finally voicing the question that had been hovering for hours.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Probably for the same reason you didn’t tell me.” He replied, smirking at you.

Fair enough. You relaxed at the reemergence of his straightforward attitude, refreshed to know that his brutal honesty was unceasing.

The silence that followed held far more meaning than more words could.

There was no easy fix here, even though both of your feelings were now out in the open. Romantic attachment was a recipe for disaster for anyone at the BAU, much less two of its own agents. You both knew that all too well.

So… what now? Logically, you were at a dead end.

Then, in true Spencer Reid fashion, he genuinely surprised you.

“Would you like to get coffee with me sometime?” He unceremoniously blurted. You looked up at him in surprise. Suddenly, it felt as if every logical answer to that question had left your brain.

“I…”

“Don’t think too hard, just reply.” He quickly added, desperate for an answer, longing for a means to an end of whatever this night had started.

“Spencer Reid… are you asking me on a date?”

“Yes, I am.” His golden brown eyes met yours. No hesitation, no jokes.

It’s amazing how the moments you spend so long running from can sneak up on you in a single instant. You knew that every fear you had about taking this path with him was rational. Attachment was a death sentence for one or both of you, in its own way.

Was your heart really worth that risk? Running away from your feelings for so long was exhausting. How much longer would you really want to push it all away?

Well… you were both inevitably going to die anyway. Might as well do it with some love in your heart.

“I’m not asking for forever, I swear. Just for a couple hours of your time. I just think…” He started, but you held up a hand, hoping he would ease up for long enough to let you answer.

Were you really about to take this leap?

“I would love to.”

Damn right you were.

His surprised smile was blinding, and you couldn’t help but match it.

This time, you barely noticed the turbulence when the cabin fell silent. Both of you sunk back into your seats, relief flooding the air. The million thoughts constantly circling in your head all stopped for a single moment, allowing you to finally, blissfully, breathe.

“You know, for two profilers, we really should have caught this sooner.” Your tired eyes began to fall closed again, finally feeling the full weight of the night lift from your shoulders.

“Yes, but as two emotional repressors, I think we did a pretty great job.” Spencer’s sweet, beautiful voice brought you back, and you couldn’t help but let out a joyful laugh at his sassy retort.

Touché, Reid.

You silently scooted closer to him on the couch, laying your head on his shoulder and letting sleep overtake you once more.

“I’m not asking for forever.”

His words, meant for comfort and persuasion in the moment, replayed in your mind as his arms encircled you.

“I’m not asking for forever.”

No, love. Not just yet.

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