#we’ll meet again on coronation street

[bitchsister]

i saw a post you made with ariana’s ‘fantasize’ and it reminds me SO much of how you write curt. its how I discovered the song & all I can think about is him. sex worker! curt and lonely rich businessman (or business owner!!) bucky who falls in love with curt and (or) vice versa. maybe bucky just wants someone to spend time with or talk to. doesnt have to be sex ( but would absolutely love if it was . . Obvi )

Oooooh boy oh boy oh boy.

I have so many ideas right now.

Okay. Here we go. 🚀

(If you need a bop refresher)

Also, anon, you’re welcome for the fucking banger from Mrs. SquarePants.

We’ll call this the Pony AU.

You’ll see why in a minute.

Curtis had found his way, against all odds, in a city that could have swallowed him whole if he didn’t find the right people to lean on. He’d chosen his own family, his own destiny, and made his own money the only way he knew how without a diploma or a degree.

Curtis was smart. He knew how to flip tricks just like any other good street boy did — though, after a round or two of some unfavorable clients he stood firmly on his rules.

His clients needed to be handsome, or he simply didn’t want them. They needed to have nice, perfect teeth. No rings on their fingers, (though the best ones always hid them away in their pockets.)

Bonus points came into play for nice aftershave, and if they were still wearing their suits from the office.

John had aced every test, passing with flying colors.

With him, Curtis had won the jackpot.

“Ah, look at you.” Bucky whispered, eyeing Curtis who slipped delicately into a barstool beside him, late as could be, but stunning as ever.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Curt pushed his hair out of his eyes and sighed, looking disheveled but trying his hardest to hide it. He’d ran blocks just to get there, the bar of the Plaza Hotel where he and Bucky would meet once, sometimes twice a month — depending on his travel schedule. “I had to make it home for dinner, or mother would have lost it — woulda thought the Pony killer got me, or- or somethin’. Shit, who knows. All she does is worry about us-“

“Hey,” Bucky placed a hand over Curt’s wrist, his brows narrowed. “S’alright, honey. I’d wait until the coroner came.” His tone was light, his skin just as glowy and gorgeous as it always was. He’d been drinking, so it seemed, but Curtis always liked a looser Bucky who didn’t check his watch every minute, counting down the hours until a phone call home was due to send the kids off to bed. “What’s the Pony killer?”

Prostitutes of New York.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Curt turned back to Bucky once he’d greeted the bartender with an ecstatic chirp and his signature nose-scrunching grin.

Hey, Mikey! It’s good to see ya. I’ll have a rye manhattan please. Up. Oh! And can I have extra cherries? Like last time?

Anything for you, Curt.

He turned back again, leaning closer to Bucky. “He’s after the girls, anyway. You don’t gotta worry.” Curt squeezed his knee beneath the bar top and pretended not to notice the flinch it’d caused. “Don’t act like I’ve hit ya, man.” His hands picked at his hangnails in his lap again, feeling small. “Geez.”

“No,” Bucky turned, pressing his knees into the side of Curt’s left thigh. “It isn’t like that. It’s just been awhile since I’ve see you, is all. When you touch me — it’s just — it’s-“

“C’mon, John.” Curt shook his head, lowering his head to sip at his Manhattan without using his hands. “Don’t get all sappy on me again.”

Bucky nodded slowly, denying himself the pity party and forcing his head not to hang. “Just missed you.” He drawled, pressing his knuckle into Curt’s side. “Am I allowed to say that?”

Curtis chuckled, plucking one of his cherries off of the silver cocktail pick with his mouth. “Yeah.” He whispered, “You’re allowed to say that.”

In Bucky’s presidential suite, he knelt in front of Curtis and held him by his midsection, breathing him in, holding him by the back of his thighs, his ass, anything he could grab from his position. “I worried when you were late.” He confessed, his voice muffled into the shirt he shoved his face into.

“Why’s that?”

Curt ran his fingers through Bucky’s buttery, chocolate curls, tugging gently to pull him from his hide, their eyes meeting again instead.

“Thought maybe you got tired of me.”

“John,” Curtis warned, his tone carved with a jagged edge. “What did I tell ya about gettin’ sappy?”

Alcohol was one hell of a thing, and it seemed, just like most of the general population, the consumption of it had caused Bucky to grow more raw and honest.

“I know what you told me.” Bucky breathed, his neck craned when Curt tugged again at his scalp. “But I’m beginnin’ to care less and less what you say about it.” He blinked slowly, staring up at him from where he stayed knelt on the plush white carpet beneath his knees. “I’m a man, Curt. I’m human. I have feelings. Is it a crime to express them?”

“A married man.” Curt barked.

It seemed alcohol had a whole different effect on him.

“I — it’s —“ Bucky whined, feeling pathetic. There was little he could say back to that, because it was the damned truth. However, It wouldn’t stop him from trying. “We met in high school, Curt. We aren’t the same people we were back then. We’re from totally different planets, her and I.” He pulled Curt closer, pressing his chin to his stomach, his eyes staring upward. “She eats breakfast without me. Makes coffee, drinks the whole pot. I’m a burden to her, you know? And I’m lyin’ if I say I don’t feel the same.”

“But you got kids together, Bucky.”

“Exactly.” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to forget the image of his children lying in bed while their father kneels at the feet of a beautiful, charming, angelic call boy. “And at this point, it’s like playin’ house, you know? We pretend to be normal for ‘em.”

“Until when? Until they’re old enough to see the two of ya can’t stand the sight of one another?” Curt released his grip, touch trickling down further to caress the softness of Bucky’s cheeks and his pillowy lips stained a light shade of red from an entire bottle of Cabernet. “What happens then?”

Bucky turned his head, trying to kiss the pads of Curt’s small, stubby little fingers. “At least then maybe they’ll be old enough to understand, baby.” He reasoned.

“Understand what?”

A silence crept between them, only the sound of the city sirens and beeping cars zipping by muffled in the thick, heavy oxygen they shared.

“That sometimes love just isn’t enough.” Bucky kissed Curt’s sternum against the fabric that separated lips and skin. “But other times, it’s everything.”

Love isn’t for boys like Curt.

And this kind of love, if you asked him, wasn’t for men like Bucky.

Proprietors, the owners of major businesses.

A successful man.

He worked for everything he had, but had felt like nothing but a fraud for most of it. This very thing was the type of scandal that could burn everything he’d ever known to the ground.

Johnathan Egan, sole proprietor of Harmony Pharmaceuticals seen with PONY in Manhattan.

“If anything in my life feels real. Anything. I just want you to know — it’s this.”

Curt wanted to push him away, dart through the door and into the elevators that would spit him back out into the hotel lobby where he’d run into the street until his lungs bled.

But, he didn’t.

He froze instead, holding John by his cheeks, his blue eyes meeting the pair of green ones that stared at him as if he’d created this little universe of theirs.

And in a way, he had done just that.

Curt had taught Bucky so much about a world he never knew existed. Ballrooms, houses, mothers. Chosen family, love that ran deeper than blood or genetics. He learned about fashion, and what Curt would wear and what he wouldn’t be caught dead in.

He’d been exposed to a vast and beautiful night sky, having felt as though for the majority of his thirty years of existence he’d been stuck inside of a black hole — not one star in sight, until he met Curtis.

“What are you saying?” Curt whispered, his thumbs caressing the soft skin beneath the eyes that never dared to look away from him, and wouldn’t, if he had a say in it.

“I think you know, Curtis.”

“No.” He shook his head, though he knew exactly what Bucky was trying to tell him. “I don’t think I do.”

Once more fell the silence until Bucky spoke again, his chin tilted, the heat between them blazing. “I’m saying — all you need to do, Curt… All’s you gotta do is say the word.” His jaw clenched but immediately relaxed again once he continued. “We can have it all. The life we’ve always wanted. The life we both deserve.” He held Curt closer. “Just say the word.”

[youstupidplonk]

Gene Hunt

Character Associations (This actually contains massive spoilers for the show so proceed with caution. Also it’s the longest one yet)

In Life

- Raised in a two up two down on the edge of the city centre. His father wasn’t good to the family and there often wasn’t any money to spare. His mum did odd jobs for the neighbours such as laundry and mending.  Gene got his first job as a paper boy at twelve. 

- By fifteen his father was gone. One night he disappeared without a trace, and it fell to Gene to be the main provider for the family. Leaving school he began to work as an dogsbody in the local police station. Making tea, fetching files and sometimes answering phones. It gave him his first taste of the career he would dedicate his life to. 

- Although there wasn’t a lot of money, Gene was allowed to keep some of his income to spend as he please, and it was with this money he would take his brother, or occasionally a girl, to the cinema, where he developed a love of Westerns. 

-At eighteen he began to train as a Bobby. He was often invited to share drinks with other officers, as most of these men were older, it lead to him to develop a taste for scotch, so he could continue to fit in. 

-In June 1953 it was decided that extra man-power was needed to keep the streets in order during the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. He and his mentor Morrison were sent to the village of Farringfield Green. As it was so quiet Morrison decided he could stop for a tipple....the rest is history. 

In Death

- While living his “life” Gene saw projections on how he felt his world would have changed. His younger brother, in the absence of a positive role model, turned to drugs, leaving his mother broken hearted. 

-After meeting “Mrs Hunt” Gene became adamant the he never wanted children, due to a consuming fear that he would become like his father. Mrs Hunt did want children, which was one of the first cracks in the glass of their relationship. 

-As he grew older he began to form a band of brothers, like they did in Westerns, this group was the most loyal, dedicated team he could ask for. 

-Moving to London after the tragedy of losing Sam proved to be one of his most significant changes. It was in London he met Alex Drake, the women who would make him remember, who would be the first step in helping him find his own peace and also the first person he would ever properly fall in love with. 

Favourite Films

I’m going to skip favourite books as I do not see Gene Hunt as a reader, at least not reading anything beyond the paper. Films Howeber

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly and High Noon - Goes without explanation

It’s a Wonderful Life - Despite everything he exuded to the people around him, the idea that someone, somewhere was watching out for him and the people he cared about was comforting. Especially in the aftermath of remembering who he was

Peter Pan - An unusual choice, but as the last film he took his brother and mum to see before going to work on Coronation Day, he always held on to it. 

Favourite Songs

We’ll meet again - Vera Lynn

Hound Dog - Elvis Presley

The Promised Land - Bruce Springsteen

Wild Horses - The Rolling Stones

Paradise by the Dashboard Light - Meatloaf

Heroes - David Bowie

Casino Royale - Herp Alpert and the Tijuana Brass

December 1963 (Oh What A Night) - Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons

My Way - Frank Sinatra 

War Baby - Tom Robinson

Ok, I think that’s everything I have to say about Gene. Honestly this is making me want to write a fic about his life before he died, I feel like there’s SO MUCH there. 

If you’ve made it this far then thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this :D (a Sam associations is in the works!!!)

[artcalledtattoo]

New Pain Endeavors My Painful Endeavors Bethlehem steel works Single entity Sharpened for precision of piercing Surgical stainless Porcelain vase’s The vice’s upheaval -ed Evil to new pain endeavors Externalize For profits Excrement piss and sweat Lowest level of pyramid Lower vials All pain for endurance At cheapest of cost Garment worker paid .33 Garment sells for 89.50 Thief skills steals car for exchange of $100 To purchase said garment The profits still pyramidal focused Thee gridlocked society We need more human spraying of DDT Add the lead again Who’s the focused on water Minuscule parts of millions Our global industry Climate endangered endeavors We’ll still questionable Tornado alley turned to other paved streets Specifically East side Flooding also & in West North glacier’s melting Southies move upwards New laborers Jobs not wanted by settled in Americans The human inclinations Hold strong New pain endeavors Are Bath salts still sold locally? I feel face biting being a necessity! I’m a nagging product A CEO was interviewed Yearly wages expressed just in smile But bonus was given in dollars signs $$$,$$$ “The Capitalism is the greatest known Universe for any man. You can ask my friends and family! Wants & needs created is money paying. Those mangers make everything happen below, my managers are everything! “Sit on top of a pyramid, the foundation to hold you up is / are the managers for support on every step. ^>%@“ Given in symbols Upper right percentage at The profits are momentousness Bonus so important from top to the below A Leader should be bonus-less Not a trick in skateboarding What yearly for taking Not enough? Leaders need a bonus!? So medieval In 2024 Pay my prestige self Will Trump be on air ? Longer than OJ? Everyday now! Go to Tumblr For that out of air Atmosphere Meet required blogs A plus for healing that new piercing Can we let spin a corporation I’m the fan selfing Energy coolant lubrication all needed Takes tension of the belts Engine giving In all blogs conveyor-ing Conglomerates Tattoo barcodes on newly arriving Tattoo barcodes on newly arrived Tattoo barcodes on new array Trust in barcodes Trust in barcodes Trust in lines All profit Lock heeds & column combines Capital coronation Of such a young country New physical exercise New P E Let’s extend out before spinning Line up for USA dancing DLC bonus Defenders offended Offenders defended In Capitol States Are you an ally, or in alley? You could just be tentative? In sympathy New pain endeavors

[classic-corrie-things]

so i read “we’ll meet again on coronation street” by maggie sullivan - here are my thoughts on it!

in my opinion this book did what it set out to do, which was to provide a lighthearted, sentimental tale, reimagining the residents of coronation street just after the second world war. it was a nice historical insight into the post war era and also introduced new characters to the street which was fun.

wendy was likeable, and it was good to see the street from the perspective of a newcomer. i enjoyed seeing her confidence grow as the book went on. i was definitely rooting for her and hoping she and richard (another new character) ended up together. denise can fight me she had no business being that annoying. she was one of wendy’s colleagues who frequently undermined her and competed for richard’s affections and was wonderfully, comically antagonistic, although i did feel a bit sorry for her in the end.

i think it provided an interesting contemporary perspective on some of the original characters too.

for example, frank barlow’s patriarchal and controlling behaviour was called out and the story really made me as the reader sympathise with ida on a deeper level. my heart really broke for ida at times but her arc had a satisfying ending and it was done very nicely. i think the story really empowered her as a character and i’ll definitely view her scenes in the show with a new found appreciation after that. a very young ken also causes a bit of mischief in this which is amusing.

i found elsie’s portrayal interesting, she’s certainly one of my favourite characters and its clear the writer is very fond of her as well. she definitely captured her bold, lively spirit and heart of gold. i also liked the feminist interpretation of her character, even if some of the dialogue felt a bit repetitive at times. the unreliable love interest getting drunk and embarrassing her was certainly...a choice (although taken at face value george’s antics staggering about blackpool did provide some comic relief)

it was also nice to see albert tatlock have some happier moments in his younger years and the role bessie had in his life and the community back then.

overall an enjoyable read, the plot was a bit on the weaker side but i loved the way the characters were written, it definitely gave me a warm feeling inside. like if you want to read about women’s darts tournaments, a wholesome trip to blackpool and women supporting women, all set in the 1940s then definitely give this a try.

[haitanirindo]

zukka fics that live in my head rent free! 

1. what did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth (what were you digging) by draco_sollicitus status: complete (18k words) rating: mature pairing(s): sokka/zuko  summary: Sokka is immortal; it's been tested, he knows that he can't die. He's immortal, but he's not quite a god like his sister, Katara. He's immortal, but he's not quite powerful like his friends Aang and Toph. He's just sort of Sokka: good at fixing things, good at playing pranks, good at helping people. When a bet against Toph goes horribly wrong, and an attempt to save him goes even worse, Sokka finds himself the unwilling guest of the Lord of the Underworld. And, strangely enough, every story Sokka's heard about Lord Zuko seems to be ... completely wrong. (Also, he's really handsome. Why does he have to be handsome?)

mythology nerds come get y’all juice. a very good fic. 10/10

2. Where I Want to Be by through-the-stars-to-the-pavement status: WIP (83k words) rating: explicit pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: "'The fog was where I wanted to be.'" Everything is different. The pitch of his voice, his posture. The auditorium goes silent. No one can take their eyes off of him.… He's amazing.  Zuko had to perfect the art of acting as a child to survive the horrors of his homelife. When he got older, it was only natural to take his talent to the stage for entertainment and escape. Enter Sokka, a craftsman and set designer with a giant heart who is haunted by plenty of ghosts of his own. A tale of trauma, disability, family, creativity, and love. 

this is one of my all time favorite fics. it’s seriously so good and i think about it often

3. Teaching a Heart by @i-write-shakespeare-not-disney status: WIP (114k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: Sokka is asked to go to the Fire Nation to teach the crown prince how to sword fight. When he arrives, he's surprised to learn he has to pose as a companion before he can teach the stubborn prince because he rejects every teacher. Far from home and among new customs, Sokka struggles to gain the prince's trust and friendship despite the uncertainties of the customs and dynamics he sees. As he slowly finds answers to his questions, his bond with the prince grows until it becomes something far more ardent than friendship. Doomed as it may be with the prince's approaching wedding ceremony and coronation, Sokka and Zuko find themselves consumed by what they find in each other.

i have no words, i just love this fic and it makes me weep.

4. The Road Between Action and Inaction by @donvex status: complete (17k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: Sokka does a shitty k turn in the parking lot across from the bus station, pulls up to the curb where the boy is looking determinedly at his phone, and rolls down the passenger window. “Hey! Which way were you going?” He may die, but at least his conscience will be clear. The guy blinks at him. “Don’t.” Oh, he’s prickly. Or: the hitchhiker au, featuring Sokka and Zuko falling in love without even realizing it.

a classic. roadtrip fics own my ass. 

5. purrfect for eachother by lesmiserablol status: complete (3k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: “Let me teach you how to be a cat person,” Zuko says. “Learning from the master himself,” Sokka grins. “Alright, this can’t be too hard. Show me what you got.” (because sometimes, it takes going to a cat café four times to realize you're in love with your best friend)

this whole series is adorable, reading it is self care

6. Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by @muncaster status: complete (47k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko, aang/katara, mai/ty lee summary: Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes? (AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

i think this is the longest one-shot i’ve ever read and it’s so worth it

7. a study in matchmaking by @verdanthoney status: complete (12k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko, aang/katara, bato/hakoda summary: Zuko and Sokka try to play matchmaker, but things don't go exactly as planned.

this fic makes me want to scream, in the best way. it’s so cute

8. A Predictable Story by mindbending status: complete (7k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: "On this night, you shall share a kiss with a great love of your life!” That lying, scummy Aunt Wu predicts a grand romance for Sokka. To disprove her "fortunetelling" once and for all, Sokka decides to spend the night with least romantic person he knows. Zuko.

again, i have no words. this fic is cute as hell

9. that’s murder, buddy by @bisexual-atla status: WIP (14k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: Throughout the streets, on quiet nights, it was rumored the screams of those missing could be heard. Some say the sounds were coming from underground. Where were the young girls? And what was happening to them? Was an evil spirit haunting Gaoling, or something more human? More sinister? My name is Zuko, and you’re tuning into another episode of ‘That’s Murder, Buddy’. Or: Sokka has no idea that his crush is the host of his favorite podcast. (But everyone else knows.)

i love the entire concept of this one, we love oblivious sokka

10. We’ll play hide and seek (to turn this around) by @crosspin status: complete (5k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko, bato/hakoda summary: Sokka gave him a sheepish smile. “It’s…well, you see, there’s this boy…” Hakoda sighed and set down the sports section. This was going to take a while. “He works at Barnes & Noble. At the big information desk in the middle. Every Saturday. And I really want to ask him for his number, but it’s super awkward because there’s always this other guy working the information desk at the same time. He’s old, like you. But I have a plan." Sokka’s eyes lit up deviously. “You come with me to Barnes & Noble today when they’re working and distract the old man. And while you have him distracted, I’ll swoop in and get the goods!” Sokka has a plan to ask out the cute boy at the bookstore. Hakoda is a begrudging participant until he meets the boy's beautiful older coworker.

this fic!! this fic! adorable, incredible, magnificent

11. feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe status: WIP (88k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: [Time passes oddly. Between one second and the next, Sokka has the Fire Lord pinned to the wall with his hands around the bastard’s throat. Golden eyes (one gold eye, his mind whispers) widen in shock. “Sokka?” he chokes out. And then he smiles. What the fuck? “Sokka, I—” Sokka slams his head against the wall, once, twice, and the smile wipes off his face. Good. “What,” Sokka bites out, “have you done to my sister?”] Or: An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends. Yeah, nah.

if you’ve been following me for a while you know this fic fucks me up beyond belief

12. breakable heaven by @fruitysokka status: WIP (43k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

this just in: sokka and zuko being oblivious makes me want to yell

this turned out a bit longer than i expected but it also doesn’t even cover all my favorites. i had to stop somewhere, or i’d be here forever. maybe i’ll make a part two someday.

anyway, enjoy!

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Custody Battle

An outline for an atla fic that I will probably never write but was fun to make anyway.

when Zuko first becomes the Fire Lord, all the other nations are, of course, not super excited that the previous Fire Lord’s SON is on the throne. I mean, seriously Aang, didn’t we JUST fight a war to get rid of this guy’s father? why would we expect his son to be any different?

He is, Aang says. You’ll see.

The Earth Kingdom is the first to get a visit from Fire Lord Zuko after the coronation. even without super secret scary police agents ready to brainwash ppl at a moment’s notice, they have quite a large army. lots of guards. lots of pointy weapons on show when Fire Lord Zuko steps inside the gates. He is wearing the yellow and green clothes of the Earth Kingdom peasants. Nobody knows how to tell him he should probably change. 

Are those swords made of stone? Fire Lord Zuko asks. That’s amazing. Can I see how you do it? Are they heavier than Dao? How do you carry them around?

Uh. Says the Earth Kingdom. They’re more for show than anything else. We fight with regular steel, not that a firebender would care.

Bending can be taken away, Fire Lord Zuko says. Steel lasts. Sorry about my dad btw.

Yeah he was kind of a dick, the Earth Kingdom says.

Yeah he banished me when I was thirteen, so like. I get it. Fire Lord Zuko says.

How old are you now? The Earth Kingdom asks, not really wanting an answer.

Sixteen. Hey can I spar with someone with a stone sword, says an extremely young and polite Fire Lord whose father abandoned him as a child. There a rumors about his scar.

 Fire Lord Zuko stays for a long time; he likes to mingle with the townspeople. He gives out way too much money and he sits with the wounded soldiers--soldiers his father sent men out to kill, soldiers who probably would have killed Fire Lord Zuko in a second only weeks ago--and he tells stories to children in the street and gives them sweets and offers to help them find their mothers if they’re lost. 

Hey can we have our Fire Lord back now, says the Fire Nation. It’s been like, a month. 

No. Says the Earth Kingdom. He’s ours now.

We kinda need him, the Fire Nation says.

We kinda don’t care, the Earth Kingdom says. And if you try to take him back it is officially war again. So there.

Hey Southern Water Tribe, could you help us out, asks the Fire Nation. We don’t want to start a war again.

Oh sure, hang on. The Southern Water Tribe says. Sokka says he’s cool so we’ll send our chief out to get him. 

Hey I’m here to take you home, says Chief Hakoda. Get in the ship.

Okay, says Fire Lord Zuko, oblivious to the battle between the Earth Kingdom soldiers and tribesmen behind him. Wow, I haven’t thought of the Fire Nation as a place that wants me back in a long time. Oh hey, your ships are made of wood. How do you build them? Can I see? I could help with rigging, I sailed around the world looking for the Avatar for three years.

Aang only came back like, a little while ago, Hakoda says.

Yeah, I wasn’t actually supposed to find him and come back home, says Fire Lord Zuko. How are Sokka and Katara?

Hey Southern Water Tribe, where’s our leader at, says the Fire Nation. We hired you guys like three months ago, come on man.

No idea. Haven’t seen him, says the Southern Water Tribe. 

Fire Lord Zuko says he’s never worn blue before.  He has to have help figuring out a parka and he looks like a disgruntled turtleduck the whole time. He gets into snowball fights with kids and lets them tackle him into the snowbank. He’s pretty good at fishing. Their hearths are never cold. 

Southern Water Tribe we know you have our Fire Lord the Earth Kingdom won’t shut up about it. The Fire Nation says. Give him back. 

Suck our collective dick, says the Southern Water Tribe.

Northern Water Tribe? Asks the Fire Nation. We are literally begging at this point.

We’re staying out of this. Says the Northern Water Tribe. But the Southern Water Tribe is out sister tribe anyway, so like. Suck our dick too, I guess.

Avatar, says the Fire Nation. They won’t give our leader back.

I told you he was cool, says Aang when the nations have a meeting (it is a ransom for Fire Lord Zuko and no one wants anyone else to collect the money. Although the Northern Water Tribe is willing to take it). But also we did just finish a war so like. Please don’t start one again.

We want joint custody, say the other nations.

Absolutely not we had to go through this guys dad and his sister to get him back, says the Fire Nation. Give up or shut up.

Hey, say the Kyoshi Warriors. We stole the Fire Lord when you weren’t looking. Later losers.

Oh for fuck’s sake, says the Fire Nation.

[onlyfreds]

Chapter 3 - Running from the Public Eye | TRP

Summary: First lesson to learn when you’re royalty: The press never rests.

Warning/s: a bit of angst, mentions of a scandal

Series Masterlist

“You ready darling?” Fred asked, gently knocking on the door of Ginny’s room.

“Just a minute.” I answered, finishing up my hair and makeup before opening the door.

He grinned, “Love, you didn’t need to doll yourself up for me. You’re already the most gorgeous woman in the world.”

I giggled, “Flatter me all you want Weasley.”

He placed a hand on the small of my back as we walked down the stairs of the Burrow, “Hey! I’m not flattering you. I’m telling you the truth.”

I raised a brow at him, “Oh yeah? Since when did you tell the truth.”

“I always tell the truth.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Give me at least one occasion wherein you told the whole truth.” I challenged.

He gave a small smirk, “The day I told you that I love you, that wasn’t a lie.”

He did have a point.

The smirk of Fred’s lips widened, “Rendered you speechless love?”

I couldn’t help but give a small smile, “Shut up.” I said, lightly smacking him on the chest.

“My oh my.” Ginny mused from her spot on the couch, “Freddie, where are you going with the lady dressed in red?”

My boyfriend grinned, keeping up the act his little sister has started, “Why, Miss Ginevra, I’m taking her out and showing her a good time.”

The youngest Weasley then turned to me, “And may I ask Miss Y/N, that out of all the people in the world, why would you choose him to show you a good time?”

I laughed, “Miss Ginevra, whether you believe it or not, your brother is a very charming, and may I mention, handsome man and I couldn’t imagine anyone else showing me a good time.”

“Come on guys.” George said as he entered the room, plopping down on the space next to Ginny, “Drop the posh accent. You’re making my head ache.”

“And, on that note.” Fred said, “My sweetheart and I better be going. We still have a date to go to.”

George pretended to puke at what his twin said, “Go on, don’t let us stop you. Your mushiness makes me sick.”

Ginny smacked his shoulder, “Just wait ‘til you have a girlfriend yourself. Then we’ll see about that mushiness.”

After bidding the bickering two goodbye, we headed on to the muggle town just a few blocks near the Burrow.

Fred and I walked through the town, the two of us finally having some times for ourselves.

“Did I ever tell you how lucky I am to have you in my life?” Fred asked, interlacing our hands together.

I giggled, feeling a blush rising up to my cheeks, “And did I ever tell you how much of a blessing you are to me?”

He grinned, leaning forward and connecting our lips into a sweet, slow kiss.

I held onto his shoulders to maintain my balance, smiling into the kiss as he placed his hand on the small of my back.

We didn’t care that we were snogging right in the middle of the street. Besides, we have always lived in the moment.

At the back of my mind, I knew that this was somehow a bad idea. But the rest of my mind, was filled with nothing but the man kissing me as if there was no tomorrow.

Fred Weasley had completely taken over my senses. All my thoughts were filled with nothing else but his smell, his touch and his kiss.

We pulled apart as our lungs started to demand oxygen and my mind, once again, reminded me why it was such a bad idea.

I glanced at my side, and from afar, I could spot a group of people. They didn’t even need to come nearer for me to know that they were the press.

“Darling, are you okay?” Fred asked, seeing the worried expression on my face.

“A bit uneasy.” I admitted, grabbing his hand and running, “Come on, we’ve got to go before they catch us.”

“Who exactly is going to catch us?” Fred asked as we weaved through the crowds of people.

“The press and the paparazzi.” I said, silently being grateful for all those times we had to run away from Filch, that really gave us so much practice.

“Well, we better hurry up then.” He said, pulling me towards a deserted alley.

The both of us leaned against the wall, trying to catch our breath, the paparazzi just nearby.

“Have you seen where the princess has gone?” One of them asked.

“They just disappeared.” Another answered.

“I think they went this way.” Another one from the group said.

Their clamoring then died away as they kept on their wild goose chase.

Fred and I breathed out a breath we didn’t realize we were holding.

“So,” He said with a small laugh, “this how a day in your life is huh?”

I smiled, leave it up to my boyfriend to enlighten the atmosphere with a joke. But that’s what I loved about him.

“Yeah.” I said, “I’m pretty sure half my life was spent running from the public eye.”

“I’m also pretty sure that we’ll be making the headlines tomorrow.”

Fred chuckled, wrapping an arm around my waist, pressing a kiss on the top of my head, “Let’s go home. I think we’ve had enough of an adrenaline rush for one day and if I didn’t know better. You would just want to cuddle and watch some movies.”

I smiled, leaning into his touch, “You know me so well.”

--

Remember what I said about Fred and I making the headlines?

I was right about that.

“Well, you look at that?” Ginny said amusingly as the rest of them took turns looking at the paper, “Freddie has been deemed the mysterious companion of the princess.”

Fred chuckled, “Let me have a look at that.” He said, snatching the paper from Ron, as he read through the article.

“The least they could do was say that I was good-looking.” He jokingly scoffed.

I rolled my eyes at him, “That’s because the press has to worst taste.”

“You know.” Hermione said, “I’m quite surprised that your parents haven’t been asking you about it yet.”

Just as she uttered the last word, we heard a small thud and saw that Hedwig was by the window of the Weasley’s kitchen.

I opened the window, letting the owl plop the letter into my open palm before she flew towards Harry.

I opened the letter, already suspecting was what written in it.

The letter was from my sister, she said that our parents was furious about the headlines and they were calling for me immediately.

“Right on schedule.” I muttered, throwing the letter on the table.

“What did they say?” Fred asked, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I sighed, “The letter was from my sister. But my parents want me to head over to the palace asap. They want to speak to me there.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asked.

I shook my head, “I’ll be fine Freddie. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He placed a peck on my cheek, “Okay then, but if they lock you up in the dungeons just tell your sister to send me an owl and I’ll be there to rescue you faster than you could say royalty.”

I laughed pressing a brief kiss on his lips, “I’ll keep that in mind Freddie.”

--

That’s how I ended up sitting in the “meeting hall” of the palace.

“Do you know that you’re giving a press an opening for a scandal?” My mother spat as she threw the newspaper on the long table in front of us.

“What kind of scandal?” Christel voiced out the question I had been wanting to ask.

My mum softened her gaze as she looked at Christel, “Well honey, you know how the press are. Once they’ve found something interesting, they won’t care about the facts. They’ll write any story as they please. And if they find something that will definitely pique the interest of everyone, there’s a sixty-five percent chance it’ll be a scandal.”

As she stated the last sentence, she shot me a death glare from across the table.

“You should know better.” My father said from my mother’s right, “You’ll be crowned Queen soon. You know that you should avoid a scandal at all costs.”

I sighed, “Look, it’s not a scandal. There’s nothing the press can say about it. Fred and I were just hanging out.”

“In a crowded place?” She taunted.

“You always told me that, in order to avoid the press, I should always be in a crowded place.”

“You know that it’s a case-to-case scenario.”

I took a deep breath, “Look, Fred and I were just hanging out. We were doing anything that we’re not supposed to do. There’ll be no scandal, or anything like that.”

“How sure are you?” My father asked.

Silence overtook the atmosphere.

He had a point. How sure was I?

“Then, we’ll just have to trust Y/N’s word. If she says that there’ll be no scandal, then we’ll just have to take her word for it.” Christel came to my defense, giving me an encouraging smile.

I gave her a grateful smile, silently thanking her for her support as mum and dad continued to discuss about the planning for the coronation.

--

“How was it?” Fred asked as I climbed in bed next to him.

“As expected, they were furious. Saying that I’ll be causing a scandal and all. But, don’t worry, I sorted it all out.” I reassured him.

He kissed the top of my head as I leaned against his chest, “Just remember dove, I’ll always be here for you, no matter what the world throws at us.”

He took my hand, raising it up to his lips as he kissed along my knuckles, “It’ll always be us against the world.”

I smiled up at him, “Us against the world? I like the sound of that.”

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting​​​​ @wand3ringr0s3​​​​ @famdomhideout​​​​ @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff​​​​  @pandaxnienke​​​​ @escapingrealitybyreading​​​​​ (If you are crossed out, that means I can’t tag you)

[daebakinc]

D-4: Prince

Pairing: Prince Kun x Knight Reader AU: Royalty Word Count: 1.4K

“You! Knight! Champion!”

You freeze, glad your back is turned. Royalty don’t take it well when you roll your eyes at them. Gritting your teeth to keep the long-suffering sigh inside, you force your mouth into a polite smile to face the queen.

“Your Majesty.” You bow at the waist. You know she expects you to kneel, but you’re the prince’s champion, not hers. As such, there are only two people who can demand such: the king and your prince.

“The coronation ceremony begins an hour. The prince must be ready,” the queen says stiffly. Without looking, you can tell she isn’t pleased at your lack of deference, but knows she has no power over you, lowborn as you are. “He’s not in his rooms. Go find him and make sure he is not late.”

“The prince knows his duty, your Majesty. He will be there.”

The queen nods and hurries away, her plentiful entourage trailing after like many lace and powder-laden ducklings. You sneeze at the wall of perfume they leave in their wake. After so many years on the road, you’re not sure you’ll ever become accustomed to the extravagance of court life. Sure the food and quarters are unquestionably better, but the people... 

Well, until the next war, there’s no place to run away to. You’ve stayed by Kun’s side ever since you found each other on the streets and you’re not about to abandon him now. Not when the life and fate you’d both thought were set were turned on their heads, then thrown in a barrel and tossed down a mountainside for good measure.

Rolling your shoulders beneath your armor, you head towards the stables. If Kun isn’t in his rooms, there’s only one of two places he can be. You pray it’s the stables.

Unfortunately for you, the only occupant in Feifei’s stall is Feifei. None of the stable hands have seen him either.

You should be thankful that by the time you reach the top of the sentry tower, you haven’t sweated through your silk tunic beneath your armor. That still doesn’t stop you from leaning against the stone wall, well out of breath, and glaring at your future king.

“The sentry tower?” you demand, coughing to clear your throat. “Of all places, this one? Really?”

Your friend just shrugs from his perch on one of the windowsills. He pulls one leg toward his chest and rests an arm on it, saying, “I knew you would be the only one to think to look here.”

“I’m so honored, your Highness,” you retort, making Kun’s head snap up.

"Don’t call me that.” At your raised eyebrows, Kun quickly looks back out over the city. “I’m not the prince yet.”

In his jet black, scarlet red, and shining gold robes, he certainly looks the part. The simple circlet of gold resting on his head also declares his status, a temporary holder for the crown he’ll receive in less than an hour’s time. 

“You’re going to be,” you remind him. You cross the small room and sit on the opposite end of the window sill. Your eyes rove over the city, a warren you memorized out of survival. Keeping your gaze outward, you ask, “Remember when we stole that whole food cart? And hid it as a manure cart so we didn’t get caught?”

Kun laughs, nodding. In that second, some of the shadow of stress leaves his features. “Smelling like that was worth not being hungry for a few days.”

“We didn’t smell that good to begin with, you have to admit. That was first and last time our stomachs were that full for awhile. What about when you negotiated our first mercenary contract?”

“What’re you doing?”

You meet Kun’s questioning eyes squarely. “Do you remember? That miser only wanted to pay one gold coin a piece for going on a fool’s errand. You made sure we were paid fairly. It’s because of you that we every single one of us young fools survived.”

“What does this-”

“Do you remember what you told the king the day he summoned us and he revealed who you were?”

Kun remains silent. You can tell he’s slowly connecting the parts, but you don’t have the patience to wait until he arrives at the conclusion you want.

“You told him were you go, we go,” you remind him. “You demanded ranks and positions for us, the sons and daughters of peasants who you could have easily left behind like so many others did.”

"How could I do that?” Kun demands, sitting up. “We’ve bled together, starved together. You all are more family to me than these people could ever be.”

“You know what they think of family. People like them would have flung us aside, forgotten. Don’t you see, Kun? Do you? I knew you were something special back then too. No matter what situation we got into, you got us out. You kept us alive, but you never became cruel or cold. You were meant to be a king long before-”

“Before the king realized he could no longer have children so his abandoned bastard would have to do for an heir?” The bitterness in Kun’s words is so palpable you can taste it on your own tongue.

“That’s one way to look at it. Of course,” you wait until Kun’s eyes turn back to you, “there is another way.”

His curiosity gets the better of him again. “What’s that?”

“An opportunity.” You move closer until your face is a breath’s from his. “You finally get the chance to be who you dreamed of. A powerful, righteous man who rights injustices and defends the innocent. All those crazy dreams we had when we were kids, you can make them a reality.”

“I don’t really want to be king of the world anymore.” Kun takes the circlet from his head and turns it in his hands, staring at it. “I don’t even want to be a prince. I don’t feel like I won’t ever belong... We grew up in this city, but it was worlds away from this palace. What if I can’t do it?”

Without a second thought, you slide from the windowsill to kneel in front of Kun.

He jerks away, startled, then instantly puts his arms on your elbows, trying to force you up. “What- Why are you-”

“Kun, all of us know we owe our lives to you in more ways than one. That’s why we’ve followed you for so long, why we still follow you, and will follow you no matter what. No matter what you desire, whether it become king or run away, we will always do our best to ensure your success and happiness. But...” you raise your eyes to look into Kun’s, “I truly do believe you will be the best king this kingdom has ever seen.”

“What of your happiness?” Kun fires back. He pulls on your arms again, but you don’t budge. “Can you be happy here?”

“That doesn’t-”

Kun’s hands shoot to your face, pulling it to his so his lips can fully cover them. Like it’s the first time, his kiss renders you completely defenseless. All you can do is breathlessly sink into him, your fingers twining through his hair.

When he finally draws back, it’s only far enough so that your noses still touch. “Don’t ever say your happiness doesn’t matter.”

Words are hard, but you try. “A king and his champion? Don’t think I’ve ever read that fairytale before.”

“Then we’ll write our own.”

“Pretty sure it’s law that you have to marry a princess though,” you tease.

Your prince draws you up into his lap. After stealing a soft kiss, he replies, “Wasn’t it you who was just reminding me kings can make whatever changes they please? I think we just found the first one.”

[secret-rendezvous1d]

“Don’t die on me - please.”

hello, hi!

found a new bloke to crush on during lockdown, can’t stop watching him on the telly, can’t stop my imagination from running wild with creative writing ideas so here i am. i thought i’d try something new out and step away, to something that is a little different to what and who i’d normally write about. i know it’s not about harry and it’s something much more different to what i usually write about but, if you could give it a chance, feedback would be lovely and much appreciated.

as said previously, this is just a one-off for now and it’s a little tester to see if it is something that goes down well on here and if it does well, then, we’ll see where it lands me afterwards. it could be a fluke moment that won’t happen again or it could be something i carry on. this will help me determine that.

thank you. enjoy.

-

“don’t die on me - please” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert imagine) word count; 2.4k.

* if you haven’t watched criminal minds then this does contain some spoilers to the show that you may want to dodge if you are thinking of starting the series up. *

summary; after spencer’s kidnap, yn gets worried easily when saying goodbye to him before a case.

-

YN hated every moment of saying goodbye to Spencer before he took off for a case.

She knew he could protect himself in tough situations and she knew he could always talk his way out of unknown whereabouts and unnecessary yet scary confrontations, she knew that he had a strong enough team around him that could protect him and themselves when they were vulnerable, she knew had a wonderful mind that could save him when needed to be saved and she knew that he would be back by her side before she knew it because he was clever enough to see right through specifics in a case. Right back by her side to sleep next to her in bed, to eat dinner with her at their dining table, to read to her before bed, to bring a coffee to her desk when she was up to her eyeballs in report cases and to kiss her when she needed a brief escape from a case so difficult to comprehend. Just like he always promised her, with a kiss to her forehead and a squeeze to her hips, and a kiss that lingered and left her lips tingling.

So when he approached her before the wheels of the jet were due up, with a cup of her favourite vanilla latte from the kitchenette’s coffee machine (which was a coffee that she had gotten most of the ladies - and Hotch, even thought he liked to deny it - to enjoy in the mornings) and a sheepish smile on his face with a quick explanation practiced in his head that had her know he was on a different kind of case this day, her mind went into overdrive and her heart almost pumped from her chest. What she made out, from his string of rushed words, a serial arsonist turned serial killer had requested a meeting with two agents of the FBI and Hotch had asked him to be his second aid in the case.

Why did Hotch ask Spencer?

She didn’t want to ask because she didn’t think she would cope with the reason as to why her sweet and innocent boyfriend had been asked to attend an interview with someone who killed women for a kick in their life. She liked to think it was because he was brave when it came to asking the right question, even if it got a worse reaction from the criminal than expected. If he was behind bars that meant he’d been caught but if he’d been caught then it meant he’d done something bad and he wasn’t just an unsub like a usual case but it meant he was away from the streets. However, she knew it wasn’t as carefree and as simple as that and, even though she probably made it sound ten times worse in her head, it was never going to be a smooth enough problem for him.

“I know this sounds like a bad idea to you-”

“A bad idea? Jesus, Spencer, you’re not that far away from being locked in a room with a serial killer. A sadistic, vile, disgusting serial killer.”

“I know, I know. But Hotch asked me, specifically, to be his second agent on this and-”

“I guess he needs your calm brains in these situations,” it was almost like she completed his sentence for him. It was a collective effort to come to a conclusion but he was the brains in the cases he worked on; calm, collected and he had an eidetic memory that helped in more situations than anticipated. “Are you sure you can cope with this? Like, are you sure you’re sure about this?”

“YN, I’ll be fine. I’ve been in much worse situations. Need I remind you of Tobias...”

“Don’t, I try to forget about that.”

She remembered the day of Spencer’s kidnap like it was yesterday.

It was still incredibly fresh on her mind, every moment of the day so vivid in her memory and she didn’t think it would ever go away, no matter how many times she attempted to ignore the dreams and the nightmares that followed suit. Like it was a tattoo permanently etched onto her brain, and even though she tried to push it to the back of her mind and tried to change her thought pattern whenever something brought back the memories, it never seemed to disappear. A strong enough trauma in her life that had her petrified of the possibility of reliving it, someday.

When she saw the rest of the team enter the unit before she packed up her things, with no Spencer following behind and spewing fact after fact on a team that had already endured a plane ride with the same facts being said, her stomach filled with dread.

Nothing but pure dread.

She knew something was off and she didn’t need to look at their panicked faces to know that. He didn’t disappear to go grab some food from the local café down the road because a text would have come through to tell her he wanted to meet her, he wouldn’t have taken the chance to run home to grab something because he would have come back to the unit to take her with him, and there was no possible way he would have stayed behind wherever they had travelled to because… well, that just wasn’t him; if he stayed behind, someone stayed with him and she’d have been informed so she could sleep at night and not worry about him.

“I’m not going to get-” He started his sentence with a little humour to his voice but it came to a halt when he saw the light disappear from behind in her eyes, the usual sweetened look behind her orbs disappearing and he couldn’t deal with her mind going there again. His hands holding hers tightly, fingers locking with hers, “I’m not going to let that happen to me again. I promise it won’t ever happen again.”

“How can you promise me that? Because this job, Spencer, this job scares me and it scares me how I could see you one morning and kiss you when we wake up and then say goodbye and never see you again after that,” she said softly, her words disappearing into the material covering his collarbone, fingers leaving his grip so she could easily wrap her arms around his waist. Cologne sneaking up her nose; her favourite scent to smell. Something she smelt in the morning after he got dressed for the day, something she could smell lingering in the air whenever he passed her desk or took a walk to the kitchenette for a coffee, something that she memorised by heart and liked to think about when he was a distance away. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you in this spot and have that be our last ever goodbye.”

The job came with consequences and, sometimes, they were never good.

The bad side of the job made you question why you stayed around but the good side, well, the good side always made you realise just why you stuck around and kept the job you had.

“It won’t be,” he cooed quietly, “baby, there won’t ever be a last goodbye between us.”

“How can you be so sure?”

His hands held her shoulders tightly and he took a slight step away so he could look properly at her, caring eyes meeting worried eyes, a curved smile from him being enough to have a sigh of relief escape her parted lips.

“Because that team out there behind us, my team and your best friends and our colleagues, we protect each other and we do what we think is right when protecting others. We have each other’s backs and we always look out for one another so we won’t ever be saying a last goodbye to one another because of them,” and, by God, was Spencer right. They hadn’t ever given her a reason to feel like he was unsafe in the field and that he was in danger with every case they worked on away from Virginia and across multiple borders in the neighbouring countries. They kept him safe, they kept her safe and they kept themselves safe and that was enough to get her through the hours she knew Spencer was out there. “I promise you.”

“I know,” she said, reaching back for his waist like a baby reaching for his mother, wanting nothing but the comfort of his body and the scent of his warming cologne surrounding her, “I know, Spence. I just, God, I sit here all day with reports and cases and running to and from the coroner’s office downstairs and all I can hear is Garcia on the phone to you all and it sounds horrible and stressful and chaotic and all my mind can do is run laps with the worst outcomes possible.”

She loved having an office adjoining Garcia's… granted, it was the smallest room in the unit and it only consisted of a table and a chair and an extra chair for when she had meetings (both professional meetings and when Spencer struck it okay to pop in for a catch-up chat and a cheeky kiss when no-one was look) and, heck, the door had no reason to be there with the number of times they were seen chatting, through the door frame and from their desks, over cups of coffee whilst working on computers and checking papers at the same time. Her best friend was a mere three steps away, who was there at the click of a finger when she needed something looked up, who was there to keep her updated with a case that she didn’t need to know about if she wasn’t working on it like everyone else. She loved the flirtatious banter she had with Morgan whenever he rang her number and she loved the awkward flirtatious accidents she had when it came to anyone other than Derek who called her for facts on a victim or an unsub. There was never a dull moment that lingered in the unit and if there was, Garcia always made sure to brighten the space up.

But, in the deepest quarter of her mind, she hated it. The windows gave her the chance to see the distressed look on her face whenever Morgan or Prentiss or JJ called up for a fact on a possible unsub they’ve struck upon, the door wasn’t the thickest door to muffle her voice when she panicked and stumbled upon something she wished she never saw and the blinds never fully hide away what her screens showed so they never stopped YN from imagining what she could have possibly been researching and entering a code for.

“Even when I’m sitting in a room with the family of the victim and asking for run names to be run through the system?” He teased. She leant against the top of her desk, careful not to knock the wooden furniture so hard that her coffee dribbled down the sides of her mug and created a ring-mark on the oak, hands dropping from his waist, palms holding her weight as she dropped them to her sides and become dependent on them. “I panic you when I’m just sitting looking through paper, I see.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled softly and cupped her face in his hands, squishing her cheeks together between his palms to exaggerate the pout on her lips a little more prominently, a grin lacing his features together into a cheeky expression. Slowly, his head edged forward, lips parted and his tongue took the opportunity to dampen his mouth before the inevitable goodbye kiss came along, breath fanning her face as she cupped his elbows and brought him closer. One peck on the left cheek, one peck to the other cheek, one peck to her forehead… that’s how the goodbyes started. Ending with the most perfect, elongated, tongues-included kiss that always had her wanting more.

Except a knock on her office door interrupted the kiss they were just about to endure, a disgruntled pout on her lips and a grumble escaping his mouth, because it really was the worst timing possible. The blinds, which had done their job in keeping them from the eyes of their agent friends as they said their goodbyes to one another but hadn’t don’t so well in disguising where Reid had disappeared off too quickly after the morning briefing, hiding whoever was standing on the other side. And all she wanted, all he wanted, was a little intimacy before they split for the day.

“Reid, wheels up soon. We need to leave,” Hotch said, opening the door up enough so he could poke his head into the room, ‘just to check he had the right room’ he would say, “hello, agent YLN.”

“Good morning, agent Hotchner.”

The awkward greetings were enough for him to disappear and close the door behind him, taunts and teases coming from Morgan on the other side of the door as they realised he’d walked in on a rather intimate moment, enough to make Spencer’s cheeks blush.

“Right, I will be back tonight. That’s a promise. We’ll get Chinese food in as soon as we get back to the apartment, we’ll get wine in and drink the whole bottle and we’ll have a night in together because it’s been too long,” Spencer said, a nod from her signifying she was more than okay with an at-home date night with him. The goodbye kiss, which he initiated as soon as Hotch left the room, was shortened and left her wanting so much more than just the peck on the lips and with that be all - and, he didn’t need the assurance from her that their date night would lead to something much better than Chinese food. “I love you.”

“Don’t die on me today,” she murmured against his mouth, pressing one final kiss to his pink lips and pulling away from him, “Reid, I mean it. Don’t die on me- please?”

He reached behind her and grabbed his FBI credentials from her desk, where he’d placed his essentials upon entering the room, hanging it around his neck. His jacket draped over her chair in the office, because it was something he let her wear around the unit because she was never given one to wear unless she was in active duty and on a case with them, and he always loved to the see the smile it brought to her face when she got to feel the fabric on her skin. Like a varsity captain and his girlfriend wearing his jacket.

“I promise you, I will not die today,” he said, grabbing his gun and his holster and attaching it to his belt, “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Boy Wonder.”

[alivefm]

( megan fox / 35 / she/her ) – ( jolene ‘jo’ munroe ) has been spotted in ravenswood. they said to originally be from ( salem, oregon ) and used to work as ( coroner ). They’ve been in the compound for ( three months ), working as ( fisherwoman ) to earn their keep and since then, others have seen their ( irritable ) but seemingly ( meticulous ) nature.

GENERAL

FULL NAME.    jolene bianca munroe.

NICKNAMES.    jo.

AGE & BIRTHDATE.    35 years old ; june 5.

GENDER & PRONOUNS.    cis female ; she/her.

ORIENTATION.    lesbian.

MARITAL STATUS.    single.

RELIGION.    agnostic.

OCCUPATION.    fisherwoman ( former coroner ).

PHYSICAL

HAIR COLOUR.    dark brown.

EYE COLOUR.    baby blue.

BUILD.    athletic.

MARKS.     faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, a beauty mark on her right hip & left index finger.

TATTOOS.     small black rose behind right ear, faded mc logo on right shoulder blade, dad’s year of birth & year of death written in roman numerals along left side of collarbone, skeleton ribcage intertwined with thorny roses on inner left forearm, zodiac sign on inner right wrist .

PIERCINGS.     lobes ( x3 ), left helix, both nipples.

HEIGHT.    5'4".

FACECLAIM.    megan fox.

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC.    gemini.

ALIGNMENT.    chaotic neutral.

HOGWARTS.    ravenclaw or slytherin.

LABEL.    the facade.

POSITIVE TRAITS.     fervent, incisive, intuitive, meticulous, valiant.

NEGATIVE TRAITS.     evasive, headstrong, inquisitive, irritable, uninhibited.

HOBBIES.    fishing, pitching in her two cents worth with the medics (whether it’s asked for or not), more tba.

BACKGROUND

PLACE OF BIRTH.    salem, oregon.

CURRENT RESIDENCE.    ravenswood, washington.

NATIONALITY.    american.

ETHNICITY.    white.

PARENTS.   randall ’randy’ munroe ( father ) ; was extremely close to her dad, one of the few people she completely trusted and idolized. biological mom unknown.

SIBLINGS.     tucker munroe ( half brother ) ; same dad, different moms. indifferent to each other growing up, keith’s death brought them together & they shared a close bond. currently mia.

BIRTH ORDER.    eldest.

CHILDREN.    none.

LANGUAGES.    english, broken spanish.

HISTORY

EARLY STAGES.         she was born and raised in salem, oregon without knowing her mother ( who’d abandoned her and her father when jo was just a baby ). her dad, randy, and his family did their absolute best to raise jolene with what resources they had. the munroe’s were engaged in criminal activities, which she adamantly refused to participate in, wanting to separate herself from the stigma attached to the family name by studying and working hard. as family, though, jo felt an obligation to always be loyal, and as a coroner, she would cover up the real cause of death with a fabrication of her own if the truth ever directly linked to anyone in her family.

HELLISH OUTBREAK.    the first interaction she had with the undead was while she was on the clock. a john doe had been brought in, no identification, and it was just her that night, other than the lone security guard. after finishing a routine autopsy and then hearing banging coming from the refrigerated storage, jo’s curiosity lead her into a scuffle with the formerly, entirely deceased. fortunately, the security guard broke it up and saved jo from a lethal mauling. unfortunately, said guard ended up receiving the same mauling he had pried her from. escaping out into the chaos that had been unfolding on the streets, she linked up with her brother and together they abandoned everything they knew in order to survive. 

                                      they would meet up with other survivors for short periods of time, usually just to help each other out if needed, before going their separate ways again. it was the two of them against the world, until it wasn’t. while scavenging for supplies in an abandoned town, a horde of the undead caught them off guard and they were forced to separate, evidently losing each other. jo tried for days to track him down, to find any sort of hint or clue to his whereabouts, but always came up with nothing.

                                      it was while she was on the hunt that she stumbled across a damsel in distress ( @rubydelgado​ ), quick reflexes saving the other woman from a fate worse than death with a shot clean through the infected’s head. while jo had instinctively learned not to trust anyone other than her brother, she didn’t have the heart to abandon ruby, especially considering she was also on her own. with time, jo taught the other how to defend herself, and they stuck together through thick and thin, developing an unbreakable bound by the time they reached ravenswood.

COMPOUND LIFE.      despite the hardships the new world has delivered, jo has softened a great deal, finally understanding that being able to trust good people is the key to strength in a community. she’s very much a team player, and wants whatever’s best for the people she’s grown attached to in ravenswood, but she still holds certain reservations, especially in regards to oversharing the specifics of her family. 

                                        while she has firsthand experience with the deceased, the former coroner doesn’t want anything to do with the animated version, unless she’s putting it to rest. so, instead of volunteering to hop into the medical branch of their community, jo settled on a different way to pitch in; fishing. it was something she learned and mastered as a means of survival since the initial outbreak, and the job itself was a lot less stressful in comparison to what some others were enlisted to do. but that doesn’t mean jo isn’t on standby - when the going gets tough, she’s always ready to jump into action.

CONNECTIONS

HALF BROTHER.    this is definitely not needed, but it would def spice things up and rock jo’s carefully sculpted world. they were distant growing up, but linked up to mourn over their dad and had been close ever since. they were forced to split up and evidently lost each other while escaping a zombie horde, so for all jo knows, he could be dead. or ..... maybe he’s still alive.

FISHING BUDDY.    two pals catching fish, shooting the shit; a wholesome bubble created to escape the insanity around them, if only for a couple hours. this should be a very carefree friendship, relaxed & silly at times. they probably reminisce over the old world and all the simple pleasures they took for granted, maybe they partake in a little harmless gossiping / ‘neighborhood watch’?? anything dumb to keep themselves entertained while waiting for a bite.

ENTANGLEMENT.    a means of relieving high stress is always needed while surviving a zombie apocalypse, which is how this whole mess started. the idea was having something like a booty call, intimacy without the strings because it’s too wild of a life out here to build something solid. they’ve foolishly gotten attached overtime, though neither will admit it, so they’ve never had the “what are we” conversation and, so far, they’re content with that. obv more detail, etc. can be discussed.

FRICTION.    obviously not everything is gonna be peaches and cream all the time, every single person isn’t going to see eye to eye with the next person, and jo isn’t exactly the easiest person to handle. so give me the Tension. whether it’s subtle jabs & 'if looks could kill’, or full blown arguments & destruction, or somewhere in between.

ANYTHING.    literally anything. i blame my groggy state of mind on my lack of creativity rn so please, i’m beggin. if jolene can enrich your characters’ lives in any way, shape, or form, hit me up and we’ll hatch a plan.

[fanmoose12]

Erwin was his King, and Levi was his knight. He was his most trusted soldier and his most loyal subject. Levi took an oath, swearing his life and soul in servitude to his King.

His heart, unfortunately, belonged only to a Queen.

 “Are you serious?” Levi hisses, staring at Erwin and not believing his ears. “Have you really chosen her? Out of a dozen other candidates?”

“My decision is final,” Erwin calmly replies. “Lady Hange of House Zoe will become my wife and our Queen.”

“You’ve gone mad,” Levi sighs, knowing it is futile to try and change Erwin’s mind. “That woman could never become a Queen. She doesn’t seem to know what etiquette is and she has no manners whatsoever! She wore man’s clothes to a ball, for god’s sake!”

“My decision is final,” Erwin repeats in a more commanding voice, getting tired of Levi’s theatrics. “Lady Hange is kind and sympathetic, and she is insanely smart. She will make a great Queen.”

“Are we talking about the same woman? Lady Hange I’ve seen is a complete lunatic with more than a few screws loose.”

“Oi!” suddenly a voice appears from another room. Levi freezes in his place, immediately recognizing that deep contralto. “It’s not nice to talk like that about future Queen.”

Erwin chuckles warmly in his seat, and Levi slowly turns around.

Just as he expected, Lady Hange walks into the room, her loyal knight trudging after her, as always.

Levi already opens his mouth to apologize, even though he feels no inclination towards that woman, he spoke about her with utmost disrespect. Even if she wasn’t a future Queen, she still remains a part of the nobility, and Levi, a street rat with no family name, just offended her.

However, Lady Hange doesn’t seem to be mad. Where any other noble woman would immediately begin screaming, demanding Erwin to behead him right here and right now, Lady Hange just smiles, her eyes sparkling with amusement behind the lenses of her glasses.

“I take no offence at your words,” Hange reassures him. “Actually no one has ever talked about me like that. Especially to my face. It feels so refreshing, right, Moblit?” she turns to her knight, and the man just nods, obviously accustomed to his Lady’s eccentric behavior.

“I should probably introduce myself once more,” Hange curtsies in front of him, and Levi curses under his breath upon seeing how clumsily she does it. “Since I didn’t seem to make much of an impression on you the first time,” she winks at him, smirking, and Levi’s cheeks start to redden.

He remembers their first meeting all too well.

Lady Hange just returned from a hunt with other nobles. She tried to introduce herself to Levi, outstretching her hand to him. And Levi, looking at her hand, which had dirt on it, refused to touch her. He ignored her completely, turning around and walking away from her.

Well, he couldn’t have known that Erwin would decide to make her his Queen, could he?

But now Levi has to repent for his mistake.

So he stands on one knee, taking Hange’s hand in his.

“I deeply apologize for my foul mouth and my improper behavior,” Levi closes his eyes, glad that due to his kneeling position neither Hange, nor Erwin can see his face. They can’t see how annoyed he truly looks and how fiercely he glares at Lady Hange beneath his fringe. “I hope milady would find it in her heart to forgive me.”

Levi hopes she will actually buy his lie.

Hange doesn’t. Instead, she starts laughing, loudly and definitely unladylike.

Levi snaps his gaze to look at her.

“You are a terrible liar, Sir Levi,” she tells, when she finishes laughing. “But as I said, you do not need to apologize. I harbor no ill feelings towards you.”

“I told you she is a very kind woman,” Erwin smirks, as he comes to stand beside Hange.

Levi swiftly lets go of Hange’s hand and gets to his feet. His face still burns in embarrassment.

“And I called you here not just to announce my engagement,” Erwin’s face becomes serious, all signs of mirth and amusement gone, as he is once again wearing a mask of a King. “I need you to look after Lady Hange, at least until our wedding and her coronation. Some people from the court may not welcome my decision, and they may try to harm Lady Hange. You cannot let that happen, Levi.”

“Your Majesty!” Hange’s knight, Sir Moblit, calls. “I am more than capable of looking after my Lady!” he then turns his gaze to Levi, furrowing his eyebrows and staring at him with distrust.

“I’m sure you are,” Erwin smiles at the man. “But Sir Levi is one of my most trusted man, and I would feel much calmer if he looked over Lady Hange,” Erwin turns to look at Levi, staring at him intently. “I entrust you with my future wife’s life and safety, Levi. Do not let me down.”

“Of course,” Levi nods readily. Whatever he feels for Hange and how much the woman irritates him, it does not really matter. Erwin, his King, gave Levi an order. And Levi will do anything and more to accomplish this task. “As long as Lady Hange is beside me, no harm will ever come her way.”

Before Levi walks out of the room, dutifully following after Hange, Erwin gives him another look. And Levi understands its meaning without explanation. There is more to Erwin’s order than he said out loud. There is something else that troubles him. Erwin doesn’t trust his fiancé as much as he has said, so now it is Levi’s task to make sure that Lady Hange is just as kind and trustworthy as she appears.

 ***

“You have to eat, Lady Hange,” Moblit practically pleads, hovering over her.

Hange doesn’t even look at him, waving her hand in his general direction. “Mm, of course, I’ll do just that as soon as I finish this book.”

Levi quietly tsks. He has spent an entire week, following Hange. And that exact same scene repeats every single day.

He had enough of it.

So he grabs a chair and sits next to Hange. “He’s right, you know. You do need to eat. And a bath.”

That’s finally gets Hange’s attention. She turns around, grinning. “Are you saying I smell?”

“I’m saying you reek, Your Majesty.”

Hange doesn’t seem bothered by his rude words. On the contrary, the grin on her face widens. “I’ve told you, you don’t need to call me by my title. I mean, you call Erwin by his name, right?”

Levi’s eyes widen. Had he slipped in front of her? He does call Erwin by his name, but never in front of other people.

Hange’s grin turns into a soft smile, as she sees his troubled expression. “You didn’t do it in my presence,” she assures him. “I just guessed it, don’t worry.”

She’s insanely smart, Erwin’s voice rings inside his head. Of course, how he could forget it.

Still, her knowing gaze disturbs him, so Levi decides to change the topic. “Your knight calls you Lady Hange.”

“She’s a member of a noble family!” Moblit exclaims, scandalized. “I can’t just call her by her name!”

Levi shrugs. “I can.”

Hange nods approvingly, and then returns to her book. She thinks their conversation is over. Levi has a different opinion.

“You still need to take a bath.”

“Sure, as soon as I finish this.”

She doesn’t lift her eyes from that book. Levi starts to get angry.

“Hange, bath. Now.” he says lowly, getting to his feet and looming over her. “This is your last warning.”

“Of course,” she replies. Not even a glance in his direction.

Well, he did warn her, right?

“Levi!” Hange shrieks, as he lifts her from the chair and tosses over his shoulder, as though she’s a sack of potatoes, and not a future Queen. “Let me down! Immediately!”

“I’ll let you down, don’t worry. When we’ll get to your chambers.”

“Levi! This is preposterous! You can’t do that to me!”

“And what are you going to do?” Levi lazily inquires, as he starts walking out of the library. “Behead me? Hang? Dismember?”

Hange huffs, crossing hands on her chest. Levi, that fucker, knows that she won’t do any of those things. The rascal got too comfortable around her. Hange fumes, thinking of a way to get out of this ridiculous situation. She really needs to finish that book.

She has seen Levi train, he is strong, so there is no way she can fight him alone. Her eyes land on Moblit, who is walking behind them.

“Moblit!” she outstretches her arms towards him. “My faithful knight! Save me from this vile man!”

Moblit instantly looks away. “I’m s-sorry, Lady Hange,” he stutters, scratching his neck. Hange really, really doesn’t like the nervous look on his face. “But you do need to rest.”

“I can’t believe it!” Hange screams. “You are in cahoots with him! My knight, my most loyal man has betrayed me!”

“For the love of gods, stop shouting,” Levi admonishes with a tired sigh. “No one has betrayed you. We’re doing this for your own goddamn sake.”

“Nifa drew you a bath, milady,” Moblit says with a sweet smile. “And I’ll bring you food.”

“And if you’ll be a good girl and do, as we say,” Levi adds. “I’ll even bring your stupid book.”

“Fine,” Hange agrees. There is nothing she can do about it, after all. She is outnumbered. “But you’ll bring me all the books I ask.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Whatever it takes to make you clean.”

 ***

As Levi spends more time around Hange, he learns that the most annoying thing about her isn't her over-friendliness, unbelievable messiness or even her apparent disrespect for court's rules. No, it's the fact that she doesn't seem to know what peace is.

She is always running around, rushing from one task to another, taking no breaks and stopping not even for a second.

As he follows after her, getting to know her better, Levi now sees why Erwin has chosen her. Hard-working, diligent and borderline obsessed with her duties, she seems like a more cheerful version of Erwin himself.

She is also smart. It's hard not to notice, especially since Levi spends literal days by her side, sitting with her in the library and watching her devour book after book. She is intelligent and is not afraid to show it. As he listens to Hange trade ideas with the best scholars of their kingdom, Levi starts suspecting that she's smarter than even Erwin.

But there are others sides to her character, the ones that amaze Levi even more.

Hange is kind, Erwin wasn't wrong about it. But he forgot to mention exactly how kind she is.

Hange comes to town frequently, and there she buys fresh bread for beggars and sweets for children. She visits orphanages, bringing toys and books with her. She sits with children in a circle, reading to them, or she helps with their studies, or she runs with them in the fields, as though she is just a simple woman like them, and not the future Queen.

The more Levi watches her, the more apparent it becomes to him just how right Erwin was, when choosing Hange as his Queen.

She is smart and sharp, just like Erwin. But she is also kind, so very kind. And where Erwin cares only about a big picture, she sees all the tiny, but necessary details. Erwin has his goals, important, essential goals. He wants to improve their kingdom, to make it stronger and richer than before. But Hange cares about people, about simple, common people that Erwin so often forgets. But when she'll be sitting on that throne, right next to Erwin, she won't let him forget. She'll remind him what it means to be a King.

But there are other, less regal parts of Hange's personality.

Her sense of humour, for example.

Levi loathes to admit it, but she's the funniest goddamn person he has ever met.

She's sarcastic and cocky, and it’s near impossible to offend her. Whenever Levi slips and insults her, she doesn't reprimand him, doesn't remind him of his place. No, instead she accepts whatever insult he throws her away, and then gives him a much more vicious and cutting reply.

And it's.... It's invigorating. Levi could spend hours just bantering with her.

Hange constantly keeps him on his toes, always surprising Levi with the weirdest shit that comes out of her mouth, and he... He likes it. As annoying as Hange seems, Levi's genuinely enjoying himself when he's with her.

Hange is certainly one of a kind. Levi should have realized it earlier.

After all, Erwin doesn't make mistakes.

  ***

Two weeks later, Levi comes to Erwin’s study to tell him exactly that.

As always, Erwin is working, stacks of papers littering his giant desk.

“Hange is trustworthy,” Levi says, as he takes a seat across from Erwin. “You did not need to worry.”

Erwin raises a brow at Levi’s casual familiarity, but decides not to press it. “That’s not the only thing that made me worry.”

“You really think someone will try to harm her?” Levi asks, slightly taken aback.

“Hange isn’t very popular among other nobles.”

“You know something,” Levi realizes, narrowing his eyes.

“I suspect something,” Erwin corrects. “I don’t have any evidence.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Erwin agrees, his jaw set. Then he sighs and puts down his quill. “There is going to be a hunt before the wedding. It’s an important tradition,” Erwin emphases last words enough to let Levi know what exactly he thinks about it. “Nobles from the whole kingdom will be participating.”

“And you think someone will try to get rid of Hange there?”

Erwin nods, his face grave. “During the hunt, future husband and wife must chase their separate preys alone. And then whatever they catch, they share during the wedding’s feast. It symbolizes the promise to share everything.”

“That is stupid,” Levi huffs.

“It is,” Erwin agrees. “But it is a tradition, and whether I like it or not, I must follow it.”

“So Hange is going to be hunting alone…”

“Not exactly. As members of noble families, we are allowed to take two guardsmen with us. But even so, I’m afraid someone may use this opportunity. And that’s why I ask you to look after her.”

“Don’t you want me by your side?”

“No,” Erwin answers with a smile. “If anything happens, the others members of the royal guard will protect me.”  

“Why don’t you give them to Hange?”

“I don’t trust them like I trust you.” Erwin replies, his blue eyes staring straight at Levi.

“Alright,” Levi sighs, refusing to let the weight of Erwin’s words drag him down. “I’ll protect her.”

“Thank you, Levi,” a smile returns to Erwin’s face.

Levi wants to get up and leave Erwin to his work. But there is something else he needs to tell him.

“I know you’re busy, and, gods my witness, Hange doesn’t stop working even for a second, but,” he begins, deliberately avoiding Erwin’s eyes. “Maybe, you should spend more time with your fiancé. If you keep ignoring her like that, she’ll get… lonely.”

Levi doesn’t understand how that thought appeared in his mind. But the fact remains that it did, and he has been thinking about it for a while now. Hange doesn’t seem depressed or sad, and especially she doesn’t look lonely, but… Erwin and Hange are going to marry. Levi knows that neither of them are doing it out of love, but Erwin is his friend, Levi cares about him and wants him to be happy. And Hange, as annoying as she is, is kind and compassionate. She deserves to be happy too.

“She won’t get lonely,” Erwin replies, his gaze returning to the papers on his desk. “Especially with you by her side.”

Levi doesn’t quite understand what Erwin means by his words, and Erwin refuses to look at him, already lost in his work. So Levi has no choice, but to quietly leave his study.

And as hard as he tries, Levi can’t seem to get those stupid words out of his mind.

***

In the morning of the hunt, Levi checks on his horse, while discreetly surveying his surroundings. Erwin was right, a lot of nobles gathered for this hunt. Most of them talk and laugh, while waiting for their servants to finish preparing the horses.

Almost none of them pay much attention to Hange.

She doesn’t seem to mind, as she chirpily discusses hunting dogs with Erwin and Lord Mike, one of Erwin’s closest allies. Levi cocks his head, taking a closer look at Mike, but, despite being twice as taller and twice as wider than Levi himself, the man doesn’t seem threatening or suspicious in any way.

Levi looks around the courtyard again. Some lords and ladies glance in Hange’s direction, as they whisper something to one another. He tries to remember their names, but is interrupted by a hand that claps his shoulder.

“Sir Levi,” Moblit slightly bows his head. “Are you ready for the hunt?”

“Almost,” Levi replies, tightening the reins of his hours. “Do you wish to discuss something?”

“Just a small warning,” Moblit chuckles. “Lady Hange is a very smart woman. She is wise too, but… not always.”

Levi quirks his eyebrow, silently asking Moblit to be more precise.

“When she gets excited… she can become a little bit careless,” he admits.

“Oh,” Levi breathes out. It isn’t exactly a surprise, but… “Thank you, Moblit. I’ll keep a more careful eye on her.”

“Shall we go then?”

Levi nods and together they make their way over to Hange.

As soon as they’re next to her, Hange turns around with a wide grin. “Ah, my two faithful knights!” she chuckles, wrapping her hands around Moblit and Levi’s shoulders. “My dear husband,” she winks at Erwin. “I’m now ready to start the hunt.”

“Your desire is my command,” Erwin answers with a charming smile.

Then he turns around, addressing the gathered nobles.

And so the hunt begins.

  ***

At first, everything is going smoothly. Levi, Moblit and Hange are riding slowly through the forest. Hange and Moblit are reminiscing about their days in Zoe’s estate, while Levi silently admires the scenery.

It’s peaceful. It’s quiet. Levi enjoys it.

The peace and quiet is unexpectedly destroyed, when Hange lets out a loud shriek. That’s all the warning Levi gets before Hange sends her horse into a gallop. He freezes for a second too long, just watching her disappear into the distance. It’s only when Moblit starts calling after her, as he speeds his own horse, that Levi finally snaps out of his daze.

“Shit,” Levi grunts, as he hurries after them. “A little bit careless my ass! When I get to that fucking idiot, I’ll kill her with my own hands.”

Levi strokes the horse’s nape, whispering soothing words into her ear and urging her to go faster. Where did four-eyes learn how to ride so fast? He can’t even see her. Worry starts to fill his mind, as Levi desperately tries to keep up with her. He promised Erwin, he can’t let him down.

He can’t lose Hange.

Levi strains his ears, trying to hear something else, except the beating of his heart and the sound of his horse’s hooves hitting the ground. He can’t hear anything, but then—then that silence is ripped apart by a panicked scream.

Levi recognizes Moblit’s voice and, for a second, his heart stops beating. The world seems to stop altogether, as he turns the corner and sees this terrifying scene.

Moblit is kneeling over someone’s body. No, not someone’s, it’s Hange, Hange’s body is lying prone on the ground.  

In a daze, Levi gets off his horse and runs to them. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing, doesn’t really register his movements, until he’s kneeling next to Moblit, looking down at Hange’s face.

There is blood, oh gods, so much blood.

“What happened?” Levi asks in a raspy, desperate whisper.

“I d-don’t know,” Moblit isn’t feeling any better than him, his voice shaking and his hands trembling, as he tries to bring Hange back to consciousness. “I f-followed after Lady Hange, but I still was too far away. I’m not sure what really happened, but her horse got spooked by something and it threw her off. Lady Hange fell and the horse kicked her or, maybe, she hit her head against the rock, I d-didn’t get a good look.”

Moblit sounds like he’s ready to cry, so Levi lifts his hand and squeezes his shoulder. “I know that you’re scared and I know that you worry for her,” he locks his eyes with Moblit’s, making him listen. “But I need you. Hange needs you. Can you find Erwin? And get some help for her?”

“O-of course!” Moblit hurries to his feet. “I-I’ll try to be as swift as possible. Please, take care of her,” he says, before he gets on his horse and rides away.

Levi emits a deep sigh. Moblit will get Erwin, and Erwin will help Hange. Everything will be fine. All he needs to do is to sit tight and wait for the help to arrive.

He carefully lifts Hange and puts her head on his knees. He tries not to think about the blood on her face, or the unusual paleness and stillness of her features.

It is just a head wound, Levi reminds himself. He received a dozen like this, when he was training to become a knight. But somehow, Hange’s wounds seem worse, far more severe than any injuries Levi himself had ever received.

Does he feel so, because she’s a future Queen? Erwin’s fiancé? Or because she’s simply Hange, a woman Levi spent his past two weeks with? A cheerful and kind woman, whose smile is so bright, it lights up the whole room? Whose laughter always makes Levi feel just the tiniest bit better? Who doesn’t care if he’s a scumbag from the streets and considers him an equal despite their different upbringings?

Who is Hange for him? Levi can’t quite answer this question yet, but he knows one thing. He won’t let anyone harm her again. And if he finds a person, who did it, who spilled so much of her blood… he will kill them without hesitation.

“You know it’s very rude to stare at maidens with such a scary expression?”

Hange’s hoarse voice brings Levi out of his thoughts. He stares at her, dumbfounded. He didn’t even notice that she came back to her senses.

Levi looks at her stupid grinning face, and relief nearly overwhelms him. He brings Hange closer, until their foreheads are touching.

“You scared me so fucking much, you idiot,” he tries to sound gruff, annoyed and angry. But his words come out in a soft whisper.

“This?” Hange touches her bloody face with a finger and then shows it to Levi. “It’s nothing! I had so much worse when I was a kid.”

Levi moves away, scrunching his nose in disgust. “This explains so much.”

Hange bursts out laughing, and Levi’s so mesmerized by the sight of her smiling face that he almost doesn’t notice Erwin’s arrival.

As soon as he sees him, though, Levi hastily gets to his feet, taking a few steps away from Hange. If anyone would see him, almost embracing the future Queen, people would get wrong ideas.

Levi doesn’t want to encourage that.

Erwin kneels in front of Hange, his brows furrowed in an expression of worry. “What happened?”

“Nothing serious!” Hange assures with a smile. “I just thought I saw a deer and proceeded to chase it. Then my horse heard some loud noise or something and threw me off.”

“A loud noise?” Erwin asks, scratching his chin.

“Your horse isn’t that easily spooked,” Moblit adds, his eyes nervous, as he surveys his Lady’s injuries.

“It isn’t time to think about it,” Levi interrupts, glaring at Erwin. “We need to get her to healer.”

“You’re right,” Erwin stands up, helping Hange get to her feet. He then lifts one of her hands and throws it over Levi’s shoulder. “Get her to the castle,” Erwin orders.

“And you?”

“I need to look around,” Erwin replies seriously. “Take care of her, Levi.”

“Will do, Your Majesty,” Levi gives him a bow.

He hovers over Hange, as he gets her to his horse and then sits behind her, spurting the animal into action.

“Erwin thinks someone tried to hurt me?” Hange asks, as they ride through the forest.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Hange shakes her head. “But he didn’t need to. I’m not an absentminded weirdo everything thinks I am. I notice things too.”

“Erwin doesn’t think you about you this way,” Levi replies. “And neither do I.”

And before Hange can say something, Levi speeds up his horse. “Let’s hurry up. We need to show that wound to the healer.”

  ***

Back at the palace, the healer assures Levi and Moblit, who arrived just after them, that Hange’s wound isn’t serious. One day at the infirmary, and she will be back on her feet.

Still, neither Moblit, nor Levi leave her side, sitting next to Hange’s bed.

Moblit reads to her and entertains her with conversation. Levi just sits there, not talking and not taking his eyes off Hange even for a second.

He should go, he knows that. Erwin asked him only to bring her back, he said nothing about keeping her company, but whenever Levi tries to leave, he remembers Hange’s bloodied face and feels almost a physical need to stay.

He can’t let any harm come her way. And he won’t.

In the evening, Erwin comes to visit her. He looks tired, but as soon as he sees Hange, he puts on a warm smile.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks her, as he takes her hand in his.

“Of course!” Hange beams. “I don’t really think I need to spend the night in infirmary, but the healer insisted,” she huffs a bit petulantly.

Erwin brings her palm to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there. “I’m sure the healer just wants to make sure you’re alright. Our wedding approaches and I want you to be healthy during the ceremony.”

“It will be embarrassing, if you faint while reciting vows,” Levi stands up and comes to stand next to Hange.

He doesn’t know why, but he feels uneasy, when all of Hange’s attention is focused on Erwin. They are to be married soon, Levi knows that. And he really wants them to be happy. But whenever Erwin touches her so gently, Levi has a weird feeling inside. It clutches his heart and twists his insides.

The feeling is gone the moment Hange’s eyes are set on him.

“Levi?” Erwin’s voice brings him back to reality. “Can we talk outside?”

Levi nods and follows Erwin into the corridor.

“So?” Levi crosses hands on his chest, staring up at Erwin. “You found something?”

“No,” Erwin shakes his head. “If there was foul play involved in Hange getting injured, I couldn’t find any evidence of it.”

“Maybe, it was an accident?”

“Maybe,” Erwin agrees, although his hard gaze and pressed lips tell a different story. “But in the meanwhile, keep watching over her. At least, until the wedding.”

“As you wish,” Levi promises, before going back to Hange.

  ***

The royal wedding is beautiful. Levi has been living in the palace for almost seven years now, but he has never seen a celebration more grand that this.

Hundreds of nobles come to the palace, all of them wearing the brightest and biggest jewelry and the most extravagant, colorful clothes they have.

The church, where the wedding is held, is the most majestic building Levi has ever seen. It’s big and spacious, the ceilings are high and the windows are wide. The warm sunlight trickles inside, making everything glisten.

Erwin himself is dressed in a majestic blue doublet, adorned with small white wings, which symbolize their kingdom. He wears a crown on his head, and there is a pleased smile on his face, as he stands in front of an altar, waiting for his almost-wife and Queen.

It’s a beautiful day, and it will be a beautiful wedding.

But when those giant doors open, when Hange finally walks in, Levi comes to a realization that none of it – nothing in the world - compares to her beauty.

And it’s weird, because Levi has never thought of her like that, Hange is a million different things – she is weird, annoying, loud, kind, smart, funny or endearing, but she’s never beautiful, not like this.

Watching her walk down the aisle feels almost surreal. That woman in a long white gown, who walks with her eyes slightly cast down, looks nothing like Hange. And even though, deep down, Levi prefers the Hange he knows – the one, who wears man’s clothes to a ball and whose hair always sticks in different directions, he can’t tear his eyes away from her.

And he feels horrible just thinking about it, doesn’t understand, where those feelings even came from, but as he watches Erwin lean in to press a kiss on Hange’s lips, the priest announcing them husband and wife, Levi desperately wants to be in Erwin’s place.

***

The feast that begins just after the wedding is nothing short of horrible.

The dining hall, where it’s being held, is too warm and stuffy, and the guests, who get progressively drunker with every goddamn minute, are loud and messy.

Levi hates it. He wants to leave. He wants to close himself in his chambers, or, maybe, go to the training grounds and let out all of his frustration in a slightly more productive manner.

But he can’t.

Because Erwin has left to talk with ambassadors – or so he claims – Levi doesn’t quite understand how one can leave the celebration of their own wedding earlier, and Moblit is getting drunk with other knights, so there is no one, but Levi, who can look after their newly coroneted Queen.

Who is currently getting drunk herself, seemingly undisturbed by the absence of her husband. As he hears her utter another stupid, and surprisingly vulgar, joke to Lord Mike, who sits next to her and is roaring with laughter at every word that comes out of her mouth, Levi decides it’s time for some intervention.

So he stands behind Hange, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt (thank gods, she changed into her usual clothes earlier, all Levi’s strange feelings are gone along with that dress). “Hange, I think it’s time for you to leave,” Levi resists the urge to gag, as he sees that the front of her shirt is stained with something dark and sticky.

“But Leeevi,” Hange lifts her head and stares at him upside down. Her stupid grin makes something flatter inside Levi. Maybe, he shouldn’t have eaten that fish. “I’m having so much fun!”

Levi glares at the man Hange is having so much fun with. Lord Mike seems as inebriated as their new Queen.

“C’mon, Hange,” Levi lightly pulls on her collar. “Get up and let’s go.”

“Leeeevi,” Hange whines, looking at Levi with puffed out cheeks. It’s an absolutely ridiculous expression, and Levi definitely doesn’t find it even a tiniest bit adorable.

“Don’t make me call Erwin,” he says, turning away. Her stupid pouting face wasn’t working on him.

“You’re no fun at all,” she huffs, but, thankfully, gets to her feet.

She only slightly sways, as she stands up. Levi sighs and takes her by the hand.

It’s good that everyone in the dining hall is too drunk to see that their new Queen is leaving her wedding feast, hand-in-hand with a knight.

"Levi..." Hange calls, as they walk through the palace's corridors. She sounds different than before, her loud mirth is gone, and when Levi stops and turns around to look at her, he sees that her cheeks are slightly red, as she stares at him.

Levi can't quite guess if that's the effect of alcohol or a trick of light.

"What?" he asks, feigning annoyance. In truth, Hange's weird expression makes his heart beat faster. "Don't tell me you're going to throw up."

"No!" Hange shakes her head with a smile. "I just wanted to thank you... For looking out for me. I don't deserve such kindness."

"Don't be an idiot," Levi scoffs as he starts walking again. "You deserve that and so much more."

"What?" Hange pulls on his hand, stopping him again. "What did you say?"

Levi looks at her. Is she really going to make him say it?

He takes a deep breath. "I said that you deserve so much more. You're incredible, Hange, I don't think I need to tell you that, and you deserve so much more than this."

What he means by this - his kindness, or marriage to Erwin, or the fact that he left her on the night of their wedding - Levi doesn't know. But he knows that if he had a chance, just a smallest chance, he'd do everything he could to make Hange happy.

"You really think so?" she asks, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You really feel this way about me?"

As she stares at him with those big eyes and that tiny, shy smile Levi thinks that he wants to kiss more than anything else in the world.

That thought surprises him, it comes out of nowhere, but once it’s there, Levi can't get it out of his head. He needs to finish this conversation, and then he needs to go to the training ground and run as many laps as it takes to get rid of ridiculous thoughts such as these.

"Yeah...I do," Levi nods and turns away, hoping that Hange is satisfied with his answer.

Of course she fucking isn't.

"I thought you hated me," Hange says, her voice is so surprised, as though she really thought this way.

"Idiot," Levi rolls his eyes. "If I hated you, I wouldn't have bothered with your stupid ass."

Levi's mind doesn't completely register what happens next. One moment, he was standing in the middle of a hallway, and in the next he is pressed against the wall, as Hange looms over him. Her hands are on his shoulders. She hesitates for a quick moment, her eyes darting from his lips to his eyes. Whatever she sees there, Levi doesn't know, but in the next second she puts her lips on his.

Whatever Levi has been thinking about comes to a full stop.

Hange... Hange is kissing him. Hange, his Queen, Erwin's wife. He is kissing Erwin's wife. Erwin, the man who saved him, who gave him a second chance in life, who took him out of the slumbers of the lower city. His friend, his King to whom Levi sworn his life. He has sworn to follow him to hell and back, to sacrifice his life without hesitation.

And right now... He is kissing his wife. He has to stop, has to push Hange away. He won't betray Erwin. Not like this.

But just for a moment, just for a second, Levi lingers there, savoring her taste, losing himself in the feeling of her body, pressed against his.

He will remember this, he will remember this small moment for the rest of his life.

His hands tremble with the desire to touch her, to embrace and hold her in his arms.

Instead Levi puts them on her shoulders and pushes her away.

Hange's eyes, when she looks at him, are confused.

She looks so lost, and Levi wants nothing more than to comfort her, to tell her how much she really means to him.

But he can't.

So he puts as much disdain and indifference in his eyes as he can.

"You're drunk, Your Majesty," he says, no, he spits it out.

Hange looks as though he slapped her. There is so much pain and hurt in her eyes that Levi almost starts apologizing. I don’t mean it, he wants to say. I love you more than anything, he wants to confess.

But duty was always more important to him. Before he met Hange, duty was everything to him. He can’t change his priorities now.

So Levi hurries to turn away and close his eyes, before he sees tears streaming down her face.

He won't be able to walk away then, he won't be able to let go.

"Go to sleep," he says at last.

Hange doesn't follow him, doesn't call out his name.

This means that his words had worked.

But it doesn't make Levi feel better.

***

He heads straight into the dining hall, finding it blissfully empty. There a couple of drunkards, lying on the benches, clearly passed out. Levi doesn’t pay attention to them. Hopefully, he’ll soon join them.

He gets himself a bottle of wine and chugs it as quickly as he can. It tastes like piss, but he doesn’t care. He needs to forget, needs to get those big brown eyes out of his mind. They stare at him as soon as he closes his eyes. They judge him, as Hange’s voice whispers that he’s a liar and a coward. That he is the most despicable person in this world, if he dared to hurt her so.

But Levi doesn’t listen. He shakes his head and drinks more.

It wasn’t real, he tries to persuade himself. Hange doesn’t really feel this way about him. She was drunk and her husband left her on the night of their wedding. She was lonely and sad, of course, she tried to find comfort in someone else’s arms.

Hange doesn’t love him. He made the right choice.

She will probably forget about it in the morning, and everything will return to normal.

Levi lifts a bottle to his lips, hoping that if he drinks a little more, he’ll be able to ignore his broken heart.

  ***

In the morning, he feels like shit.

When a servant-boy starts banging on his door, shouting to him that King Erwin wants to see him, Levi starts feeling even worse.

But Erwin can’t know about yesterday’s accident, right? No matter how smart he is, there is no way he found out about that. Or, maybe, someone saw them in the hallway? It wasn’t like him or Hange paid much attention to their surroundings.

Shit, Levi thinks as he quickly puts his clothes on. What if Erwin really knows?

However, when Levi enters Erwin’s study, there is a surprisingly happy smile on his face. He chuckles, as he sees Levi’s annoyed and obviously tired face.

“I take it, you had fun last night?” Erwin asks.

Levi decides not to dignify this with a reply. Erwin really doesn’t want to know what kind of fun Levi was having last night. Instead, he takes a seat across from him. His anger considerably lessens, when he notices two cups with steaming tea. He immediately takes one in his hand, enjoying the warm substance as it runs down his throat.

“So,” Erwin puts a palm under his chin, looking at Levi with warm eyes. That damn pleased smile is still on his lips. It creeps Levi out. “The wedding was beautiful, don’t you think?”

“It was alright,” Levi shrugs. Your wife was beautiful, he thinks, as he takes another sip from his tea to avoid looking at Erwin.

“And how was the feast? Did you enjoy it?”

“If you’re so curious,” Levi scowls. “Maybe, you should have stayed for a little bit longer?”

Erwin chuckles. “I should have stayed longer, shouldn’t I?” he muses. “I hope Hange wasn’t too sad without me?”

“I…” Levi looks at him, feeling lost. How in the hell should he answer this?

“Well,” Erwin continues, seemingly not seeing Levi’s confusion. “I hope you were a good company for her.”

Shit, shit, fucking shit!

Levi narrows his eyes, eyeing Erwin carefully. The smile on his face is still easy and warm, and his gaze doesn’t seem suspicious or angry.

Maybe, just a coincidence?

Levi drinks from his cup, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. “Is there a reason you called me today?” he makes his voice sound as calm as it is possible with his wildly beating heart. “Or did you simply want to discuss your wedding?”

“It’s been a long time, since we were able to just sit and chat, don’t you think? But,” Erwin straightens, as his gaze hardens just a fraction. Levi tenses. “You’re right, there is a reason why I called you here. I want to know what happened between you and Hange.”

If Levi was a bit clumsier, if his reflexes were a bit slower or if he didn’t know how to hide his emotions so well, he’d definitely drop the cup he’s holding. Or, maybe, he’d gasp or curse.

Instead he doesn’t even move, only raising an eyebrow, as he looks at Erwin with a calm expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Erwin looks at him incredulously. “You didn’t have a fight? Then why Hange said to me that she doesn’t want you to protect her anymore?”

Levi’s heart clenches painfully. Sure, he expected something like that, but actually hearing about it? It felt like his heart has broken for the second time.

“I… yeah, we had a fight, now I remember,” Levi says, feigning indifference. “But it was bound to happen, right? Hange and I are just incompatible, I guess.”

“Hm,” Erwin scratches his chin thoughtfully. “I thought you were getting along just fine. Even more than just fine.”

Erwin looks at him, open and honest. He knows, Levi realizes. Erwin knows. There are a dozen excuses on Levi’s tongue, but he doesn’t dare to say any of them out loud. Whatever he says, he won’t be able to fool Erwin.

“It’s my fault,” he admits, lowering his head. Levi knows what Kings do with cheating wives. Even if Erwin is nothing like different monarchs, adultery is a serious crime, and Levi can’t let Hange be punished for it. “I fell in love with her, but Hange doesn’t feel the same. She loves only you, Erwin.”

Unexpectedly, Erwin starts laughing. Levi stares at him, lost and confused.

“I’m sorry, sorry,” Erwin raises his hands in placating manner. “You two…” he shakes his hand, still chuckling. “You two are so worth each other. Hange told me the same thing, you know? When we had a similar conversation this morning, she kept telling me not to punish you and that you have no feelings for her…” Erwin sighs. “Just go and talk with her.”

Levi looks at Erwin, eyeing him beneath his fridge. “You… you are not angry?” he asks slowly. “But she is your wife!”

“She is,” Erwin agrees. “And Hange is a wonderful, phenomenal person. But I can’t be the husband she deserves. I can’t give her what she needs. She knew what she was signing up for, knew that it will be more of an alliance than a marriage, but still she agreed to it. And I’ll be forever grateful to her that she did. And if she found someone her heart is aching for, I can’t and won’t stop her. Talk with her,” Erwin softly repeats. “You both deserve to be happy.”

“Erwin…” Levi whispers, not quite knowing what to say.

“Go,” Erwin urges. “You can thank me later, when you sort it all out.”

Levi nods, standing up. Before he walks out of the room, he turns around and bows. “You’re the best king this country could ask for. It’s an honor to serve you…” Levi pauses, lifting the corners of his lips in a smile. “And it’s an even bigger honor to call you a friend.”

His conversation with Erwin made Levi feel that much better. Now as he wonders through the castle’s hallways, looking for Hange, he is filled with hope.

Maybe, there will be a happy ending to their story.  

  ***

He finds Hange in the gardens. She's sitting on a bench near the fountains, Moblit, unsurprisingly, stands by her side. There is a book open on her lap, but it seems to be forgotten, as Hange is looking down on the flower in her hands.

Unnoticed by neither Moblit, nor Hange Levi stops, staring at Hange from afar.

Calling her pretty or fair would be wrong, Hange is neither of those things. Her nose is too long and curved, her forehead is too wide, and she does nothing to hide those imperfections.

However, as Levi keeps looking at her, he can't deny that he's admiring her. She may not be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but she catches his eye nonetheless. She may not be fairest of the fair, but to Levi, she is the most wonderful person in this world.

He takes a breath and then. He takes a step forward.

Moblit is the first one to see him. He instantly tenses, his eyes flaring up with anger. He lays a hand on the hill of his sword, stepping in to hide Hange behind his back.

And, yeah, Levi should have expected something like that. Moblit is fiercely loyal and absurdly over-protective, of course, he’d get angry at Levi for hurting his Lady.

“Lady Hange doesn’t require your protection anymore,” he declares, as he stares Levi down with righteous anger in his eyes.

Levi can’t help, but admit that he is impressed by Moblit. He must have seen Levi fight during his trainings or during the tournaments. And even if he hasn’t, he most surely has heard the tales about Levi’s skills. And he doesn’t like to brag, but he’s not called the mightiest of knights for nothing, yet Moblit… Moblit doesn’t seem to care about it. And he genuinely seems ready to fight with Levi, to defend his Lady’s honor with all of his strength.

Levi is glad that a man like him defends Hange.

“I just want to talk,” he says quietly.

Moblit continues to regard him with cold eyes until Hange steps in. She lays a hand on Moblit’s arm, smiling at him. It’s a weak smile, so different from her usual ones. Levi hates himself for it, hates that he is reason for the sad look on her face.

“I’ll be fine, Moblit, you can take a break for a while.”

For a moment, Moblit seems hesitant. His eyes dart from his Lady to Levi a couple of times, but then he gives up. He takes his hand off the sword and walks away.

“Thank you,” Levi murmurs, as he sits next to her. He doesn’t sit too close, but even so, when he lowers himself down, Hange slightly, but visibly tenses.

“Maybe, it’s for the best if we talk,” Hange muses, not taking her eyes off that flower. It’s a daffodil, Levi realizes. He briefly wonders, where Hange managed to find it in this time of year. The winter is approaching, after all. “I should apologize to you.”

“Hange, w—” but she doesn’t let him finish.

Instead, she continues, as though she didn’t even hear him. “You were right, it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have kissed you—”  

“Hange—”

“I shouldn’t have forced myself onto you, it is obvious that you don’t feel the same—”

“Hange—”

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortabl—”

“Hange!” Levi raises his voice and grabs her shoulder, turning her to face him. Now he has her undivided attention. Fucking finally. “I came here to talk with you. So,” he looks deeply in her eyes, as his hand lowers, until it is holding her palm. Hange tenses, but doesn’t try to shake him off. “Can I talk?”

Hange nods, timidly. She lowers her head, playing with that damned flower. Levi would have preferred for her to look at him, but well. Maybe, it’s for the best. At least, she won’t see him blushing and stuttering like a fool.

“You are right, you did make me uncomfortable,” immediately, Hange tries to free her hand, but Levi intertwines their fingers and doesn’t let go. “But it’s not the kiss that made me feel this way, o-or, maybe it is, no, wait, fuck!” Levi growls, distressed by his inability to translate his feelings into words. He was never good with either. “Shit, let me start over,” he ruffles his hair. “First, I want to… apologize. I know that I hurt you last night, but believe me I didn’t want this. I hope you can forgive m—”

“Levi,” Hange smiles. It’s a soft, but still disturbingly sad smile. It looks weird on her face. “You don’t have to apologize. I am the one at fault here—”

“For gods’ sake!” Levi exclaims. “Can you let me finish?”  

“Oh, okay,” Hange chuckles, and Levi’s heart flutters at that sound. “Go on then.”

“As I was saying,” Levi begins, glaring at Hange. “Your actions made me uncomfortable, but more than that, my own feelings made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want you to stop, Hange. And, of fucking course, I didn’t want to push you away.”

“Then why did you?” and her voice is so quiet, so small and unsure that it breaks Levi’s heart.          

“Because I thought it was wrong. Because I didn’t want to betray Erwin. Because I was afraid of my feelings to you.”

“And what exactly do you feel for me?”

Levi sighs. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“It would make all of this much easier.”

And yeah, maybe, she’s right, Levi thinks. The lack of communication did bring them into this mess.

He sighs again. “I love you, Hange. More than anything.”

“I see,” Hange whispers, lowering her head. “So kissing you was really a mistake… I’m sorry, Levi, but I can’t… we can’t do that. I can’t give you everything. I am a Queen, I have a duty to this country, and… to my husband.”

“I know that. I also have a duty, and I don’t want your everything, Hange,” Levi lifts their joined hands and presses a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I don’t wish to own you, I… just want to love you and… remain by your side.”

Hange shakes her head, swiftly raising her free hand to wipe her face. “I really don’t deserve you.”

Levi smiles. “Stupid,” he says gently. “I told you yesterday, didn’t I? You deserve the world, Hange.”

Hange slowly lifts her palm to lay it on his cheek. Levi leans into her touch, and she smiles. “I love you so much, Levi.”

That smile is so soft and yet so bright. Levi wants nothing more than to press his lips to it. “I want to kiss you,” he blurts out.

Hange raises an eyebrow. “You won’t push me away this time?”

Levi scowls. “You really won’t let me forget it so easily?”

“Of course, not!” Hange exclaims. “You broke my heart, you know?”

“Well, I wasn’t too happy about it either,” Levi grumbles, even though he feels a prick of shame and regret. He won’t let himself harm Hange ever again.

“Lucky for you, I’m ready to forgive you. On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You have to kiss me,” Hange grins. “Real good. So good it’ll make me swoon.”

“Swoon?” Levi scoffs. “Have you been reading too much shitty novels lately?”

“If you look at it this way…” Hange begins, her grin widening. “I am a Queen and you’re my trusty knight… We are just like the characters from those stories!”

“I’m not exactly your knight. Actually, when I came here, your trusty knight wanted to run me through with a sword!”

Hange shrugs. “It just means that our story is a bit different.”

“Do you think we’ll get a happy ending?”

“That depends. Remember, you have to kiss me really good!”

“You’re insufferable,” Levi grumbles.

But who he is to argue with his Queen? He has no choice, but to kiss her.

“Mm, that was… alright,” Hange declares, when they break apart. The dazed look in her eyes tells Levi a different story, but he decides to humor her.

“Just alright? Does that mean you won’t forgive me?”

Hange looks up, putting on a thoughtful expression. “That was our initial deal, yes, but,” she grins. “I’m a rather merciful Queen. I’ll let you have another try.”

“And if I won’t succeed again?”

“Then I’ll have no choice, but to train you.”

“Truly,” Levi smirks. “Your kindness knows no bounds.”

He lays his hand onto her waist, bringing Hange closer and kissing her once more. In that moment, he feels happier than ever.

Levi’s not the most optimistic person in the world, but when Hange smiles, he’s sure that their story is indeed different. It will have a happy ending.

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Nine) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Sexual assault triggers. Mentions of child pornography. Alluded rape. Please be careful reading if you have any such triggers!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count:  10769

Timeline: Season 1 Episode 22. Right after part two.

Aaron’s chest was warm as we cuddled together on the couch. After the night we just had, there was no way we were moving all the way up to the bedroom yet. We couldn’t even move to put on our clothes, to be fair. We had worn each other out to the point that we just collapsed on the sofa and finally fell asleep like that. I was tucked under his arm, trapped between his warm body and the back of the couch. My head lifted and fell as he breathed calmly in his sleep. It was enough to make me fall asleep only a few minutes after he did.

Just after I managed to fall asleep, the phone on the table behind our heads began to ring. I groaned, still forcing my eyes shut, and patted Hotch’s chest a few times until he woke up again. He sighed and reached for the phone, still half asleep himself. We weren’t expecting a call from the office, not since we were given the two weeks vacation for the team. I wasn’t sure who else would be calling so late at night, but I also knew that it wasn’t my place to know unless he wanted to tell me. So I just tried to fall back asleep as he answered.

“Hotchner.”

There was silence for a minute as he listened to the other end of the call. That meant that it certainly wasn’t from the office. If it had been, the call would’ve been short, and Hotch would have already been throwing my clothes at me and sorting for Jack to stay with someone. Yet, I could still feel Hotch’s chest and arms tensing, specifically when the arm draped over me pressed in to hold me close and safe.

“Who is this?” he asked.

His breath hitched and he didn’t move a muscle. I woke up entirely at the silent alarm his body was sending out. I looked up at his face to see how pale he was. My brows pressed in as curiosity struck me.

“What’s going on?” I asked, resting my chin on his peck.

“I don’t know.”

Hotch reached up again to put the phone back. He carefully moved, swinging his feet off the couch, lifting his arm off of me, and helping me sit up so that he had room to stand. I watched as he went to grab a piece of paper and a pen from a nearby drawer.

“Aaron. Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated while scribbling something down.

“What are you writing?”

“Just one second,” he insisted with a more strict, boss-like tone. I fell silent and pulled the blanket over my body. When he was done writing, Hotch picked up the paper and walked back over to me. He held out the paper for me and I took it eagerly. “That’s everything the guy said.”

“Don’t waste time on the first victims. They were unrepented bad men. She’s the important one. Remember, everything starts at the beginning. There won’t be much time. The youngest holds the key. You must help him save her. Take Agent Greenaway with you. Only the one you love, however. The other one is being dealt with.” I looked up at Hotch. “What is this supposed to mean?” He shrugged while picking up his clothes from the floor. “It could just be a joke. It’s probably just some kids messing around. Why call you when he could call Gideon or anyone else?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”

“So then why are you so freaked out?”

“Because he knows that you’re here.”

“So?”

“That means he was watching.”

I looked over at the window. The translucent white curtains were pulled shut, but the opaque red ones were still wide open. Anyone on the street would have seen our shadows moving as one only a few minutes ago. My heartbeat sped up.

“Hotch,” I croaked. He looked at me as he buttoned up his shirt. “What did he mean when he said ‘the other one is being dealt with’?”

He took a moment to look at the panic on my face while he thought about all of the possibilities. He began to snap the buttons together faster, “I’ll call JJ and Garcia. Do me a favor, there’s a number on the fridge for Jack’s aunt. Call her for me and tell her to pick up Jack in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?”

“She lives two blocks from here. She’ll be here just before we leave.”

I nodded and jumped off the couch. I grabbed my clothes and threw them on in a rush as I hopped my way to the kitchen. The number was on the fridge just like Hotch said it would be. I dialed and Jack’s aunt picked up after the first few rings. I apologized for calling so late and told her that Hotch needed her to pick Jack up in ten minutes, just as I was instructed to do. She sighed on the other end of the call before agreeing to come. I thanked her before hanging up then running back into the living room.

Hotch spun around as he hung up his cellphone and stuffed it in his pocket. “JJ says that Elle was just arrested in Jamaica as a murder suspect.”

“What?”

“She’s arranged for us to fly down there. You’ll meet with Morgan at the crime scene and I’ll get Elle out as soon as I can. Then we’ll come back and deal with our Unsub.”

“He’s an Unsub now?”

“What else would he be?”

“I… I don’t know.”

It was still dark out when Hotch and I got on our six hour flight to Jamaica. We had called Morgan just before take off, and he told us that the local police weren’t going to let him into the scene until a supervisor came by to actually clear him as an agent and not just some asshole trying to muck up a crime scene in order to protect a friend. Hotch sighed and said that we would be able to get him into the scene in the morning, but there wasn’t much else we could do from the plane. Morgan understood and said that he was going to head down to the police station to make sure that Elle was alright during questioning. We thanked him, Hotch hung up the phone, and we were off to Jamaica.

I always thought about visiting Jamaica. I think that was why Elle was so confused when I turned down her offer to go with her and Morgan. Afterall, she was my sister and he was one of my closest friends on the team, and the three of us would have a blast in paradise. But I wanted to stay home because I wanted to be close to Hotch— and maybe it was a good thing that I did stay home. Who knew if it could have been me instead of Elle sitting in Jamaican police custody.

When we landed in Jamaica, we headed straight to the resort that Elle and Morgan were staying at. We flashed our badges at the guards standing out front, and they looked to each other with confusion before letting us in. Morgan was standing in the hallway by the elevators on the floor where the body had been found. It was the same floor that he and Elle had been staying. We walked with him as he told us everything.

Him and Elle were at the beach all day, you know, as one does in Jamaica. Nothing was out of the ordinary. In fact, he went with some girls back to their room, and Elle went clubbing with a guy she met. Morgan thought that everything was fine until he came back to his room late at night to find that his floor had been taped off for the crime scene and Elle was practically being carried out of her room in her underwear by the police.

My blood boiled at that detail.

Morgan said that he tried to talk to the lead detective before calling Hotch, but she wouldn’t let him near the scene, even though he even showed his FBI badge. “She laughed in my face,” is how he explained her response to him. That was when he called and just had to wait for us to show up.

Hotch wasn’t too happy with being dragged down to the hotel when he was desperate to get over to the station to sort things out with Elle. But this detective was being a pain in his ass, and he needed to get us into the scene so that we could figure out who actually did this— because whoever did do this was surely the same guy who called the house when we were sleeping. Right? There was no way the two incidents were connected, especially considering the Unsub mentioned that Elle was “being taken care of”. Was arresting Elle for murder “taking care of her” or did he have a grander plan?

“S.S.A Hotchner,” Aaron said, holding his badge up for the lead detective who met us outside the door of the crime scene, like she was anticipating our arrival. “Seeing as one of my agents is being accused, as her supervisor, I would like to have my team take a look at the scene and report back to me with any of their findings.”

The detective took Hotch’s badge to examine it closely. “You have ten minutes,” she told us, still reading his information.

Morgan and I looked to Hotch, who just nodded his head towards the door, a signal for us to go in. We pushed past Hotch and the detective and headed into the hotel room where the body was. Well, part of a body. Laying on the bed was a decapitated, naked man. His arms were positioned into a T across the width of the bed, while his ankles were crossed over each other. Above him, painted on the wall in blood, it said: “SAVE HER”.

“Walk me through it again,” I told Morgan while putting on a pair of rubber gloves that the coroner had set down on a table in the corner.

Morgan walked around the other side of the bed to inspect the decapitation. “We were at the beach all day. A couple of girls caught my eye, so I wondered their way, but not too far that I couldn’t see Elle. She was tanning in the sun for a few minutes before a guy approached her and asked if she wanted to play volleyball with them. Before I left the beach, I made sure that Elle would be alright, and she told me that she was getting dinner and going clubbing with the guy she met. I know that she can handle herself,” he explained, leaning over the bed to get a better look at something, “so I left. When I came back to the hotel, I found that the police were already here.”

“What did they find and how did they find it? Why do they think that Elle has anything to do with this?”

I lifted the right shoulder of the victim to see if there were any marks on his back to indicate any kind of restraints or defensive wounds. The cut on his neck looked somewhat… old… not like you would find on a body that had just been decapitated the night before. That was concerning to me, but without our own corner or even Reid there to correct me, I couldn’t make any assumptions.

“The trail of blood in the hallway,” he pointed to the door, “it goes from the elevator to this room to Elle’s room. When the police burst into her room to arrest her, they found blood everywhere and another message written in blood that said, ‘It’s been handled.’ Whatever that means.”

“Shit,” I cursed under my breath.

Morgan raised a brow, “What?”

I realized that he heard the concern in my voice, but I wasn’t willing to give up the information about the phone call from the night prior yet. Hotch and I still hadn’t told anyone that we were together— and while it was entirely possible that they had their suspicions, we were waiting to tell the team until we knew that things were serious. And after last night, I was pretty sure that things were serious… But I knew that Hotch was still having a hard time after Haley, and it wasn’t easy for him to trust or fall in love again, and so I didn’t want to rush him. If he wanted to tell our alibi differently than how it actually went down, I wanted to give him that chance.

So I stood up straight and looked Morgan in the eyes. “Let’s look at Elle’s room.”

Morgan agreed, still eyeing me like he knew that something was off, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it yet. He led me down a few doors to Elle’s hotel room. Well, he was right about the blood trailing right to her door and even inside. It was concerning that if Elle hadn’t done this— which I knew she hadn’t— then how did the Unsub get into her room and make it look like a blood bath without her noticing? I guessed that was why the police were so convinced it was her, and rightfully so. All of the evidence led to Elle, and without the inside perspective that Morgan and I had, this would’ve looked like an open and shut case. But FBI agents just didn’t go around brutally murdering anyone. Besides, if they did, they would likely be much smarter about it than leaving a blood trail right into their room. Elle was one of the smart ones. She wouldn’t have ever done such a thing.

Blood soaked the floors and everything around the bed to the point that we couldn’t even step into the room without proper gear, which we didn’t have. And just as Morgan stated in the other room, another message had been painted onto Elle’s wall, just above her headboard. To tell the truth, it didn’t look good. If she weren’t my sister, and she weren’t apart of the BAU, and the Jamaican police had called us down to help close the case, I would’ve said that it was Elle, too. All of the evidence led to her. Well, maybe. Our last hope was any prints, hairs, the Unsub’s blood, etc. Literally any kind of physical evidence that could clear my sister.

“There were no prints,” Morgan responded when I asked. “Not a single hair, no dirt under the nails of the victim, and there’s too much blood to go through all of it to tell what’s what.”

“So we’re pretty much fucked.”

Morgan nodded, “Yeah.”

“Find anything of interest, agents?” the detective asked, sneaking up behind us.

Morgan and I turned to her.

“How did your officers know to come looking in this building for a murder?” I asked.

“My men got a call about eight hours ago from the front desk of the resort, saying that an anonymous man called them to tell them that there was a murder on this floor.”

“So he called the hotel clerk instead of the police,” I told Morgan.

“He?” the detective questioned.

“If someone had come up here to see blood all over the walls, and was suspicious of there having been a murder in one of the rooms, they wouldn’t just calmly go call the front desk. No, they would scream, call the cops, run for help. Literally anything other than stay calm and call hotel management.”

Morgan’s cousin— the one who managed the resort, got them the discount on their rooms for the two weeks, and received the call from the Unsub— walked up to us in a hurry. “The man who rented the other room was named Marty Harris. He checked in a couple of days ago with another man named Frank Giles, and he took the adjoining room.”

Morgan and I pushed past his cousin and the detective and hurried to the crime scene. Morgan fiddled with the door handle that led to the other room, but it was locked from the other side, and there was no time to wait for a key. Morgan took a step back, gathered his strength, then kicked the door in. We pressed into the room, hoping to find Frank Giles, but there was no one there. We searched the entire room and the bathroom, but it was empty, and everything looked untouched. The bed was made perfectly, the chair at the desk was positioned correctly, fresh towels were hanging on the bars, and the complimentary soaps were still in the bathroom. Frank Giles likely never even stepped foot into that room.

“He’s gone,” Morgan stated the obvious. “Let me call Garcia, see if we can find anything about this Giles guy. Call Hotch and see if those Bureau lawyers ever showed up.”

“I nodded an agreement, “Alright,” and headed back through the crime scene and into the bloody hallway. I dialed Hotch’s number and it rang a couple of times before he finally picked up. “Any news?”

“The lawyers arrived a few minutes ago. They’re going to meet me at the police station. What did you guys find?”

“Blood. Lots and lots of blood. The trail starts at the elevators, leads to the crime scene, then to Elle’s room. It was like someone wanted the body to be found and for it to be connected to Elle.”

“Think it’s the same guy from last night?”

“I think so. He wrote on the walls with blood in both rooms. In the victim’s room, he wrote ‘SAVE HER’ and in Elle’s room, he wrote ‘IT’S BEEN HANDLED’. When I looked at the body, he was left almost like Jesus on the cross, and the decapitation wound looked old.”

“Old?”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Hotch, I think this guy has been dead for at least a few days.”

“Go with the coroner and see if they can give you a time of death. If anything, we’ll just have to fly a specialist down here.”

“We don’t have that kind of time.”

“I know, but it’s the best I can do. Take Morgan with you, then come down to the station as soon as you can.”

“Alright.”

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

I smiled against the phone. “I lov—”

“Greenaway, let’s get out of here,” Morgan said, joining me in the hallway.

I paused and thought about how I wanted to tell Hotch that I loved him, too, but Morgan was still standing there, waiting for me to hang up. “I’ll see you later,” I told Hotch before quickly hanging up the phone and stuffing it in my back pocket. “He wants us to go with the coroner to get a T.O.D.”

Morgan sighed. He looked so tired, and I was sure that he hadn’t slept in at least twenty-four hours. But were we supposed to do? There was only so much time we had left to get Elle out of jail and head back to Quantico. There were still things that needed to be sorted when it came to the phone call we got, and how it could possibly be connected to Elle’s situation, 

We followed the coroner to the morgue and waited outside the autopsy room as they completed an entire investigation. I was sitting with my phone in the hands, praying for a call from either Hotch or Elle to tell me that everything was alright and that we could finally just go home and not worry about this anymore. But no such call came.

Once the autopsy was done, the coroner came out while still dressed in a surgical gown and scrubs. They pulled off their bloodied gloves carefully as they explained to us that my hypothesis was correct. Marty Harris had been murdered prior to Elle and Morgan’s arrival to Jamaica. The neck wound was old, yes, but that wasn’t enough to prove anything until he searched the contents of the stomach and only found a meal that Harris had consumed two days before.

I immediately called Hotch on our way to the car and told him everything. Hotch told me and Morgan to meet him at the airport. He hung up first to go tell the lawyers, who would then go tell the Jamaican police and demand Elle be released at once. This was good news. It meant that we could finally get the hell out of Jamaica, which was all I wanted. I was starting to think about how I always wished I could go on vacation there, but now that I had been there because of my sister’s arrest, I wasn’t too keen on the idea of ever returning.

Hotch drove us to Quantico after we landed in mid-afternoon. By the time we had left the house last night, gotten to the jet, and flown to Jamaica, it was around six in the morning there. Then, from landing to arriving at the hotel, going through the crime scenes with Morgan, waiting for the autopsy results, then getting Elle out of jail, it was about three in the afternoon, Virginia time.

We had all been through a lot in only a few hours, so I was surprised that Hotch didn’t send Elle and Morgan straight home. Instead, he took us all the way to Quantico, and waited until we were walking into the BAU to ask if they wanted to go home and rest. And what did they say? No. Of course. Both of them were the most stubborn out of everyone on the team, and they didn’t appreciate that their vacation had been fucked with, so they wanted to stay and find the bastard who did this to them. Elle, most of all, wanted answers, understandably— which was why Hotch decided to not fight her on it.

She wanted to start with the lead that Morgan and I found at the hotel. While on the plane, we told Hotch and Elle everything we saw and leaned. When she had been pulled from her bed in the middle of the night, Elle couldn’t even see what had happened, nor did she get an explanation. So she was rightfully unsettled by the fact that someone had broken into her room in the middle of the night and made it look like the elevator doors in The Shining exploded in her room.

“How do we even find this Frank Giles?” Elle asked, pushing the glass doors to the BAU open for us.

“Already done,” JJ said, coming down the ramp from her office. “He flew out of Montego Bay last night on a red eye— just before you were arrested— and he flew to Virginia.”

“Virginia?” Morgan questioned, just as shocked as the rest of us. “You mean that he’s from here?”

JJ shrugged and handed us case files, “It doesn’t look like he’s from here, no; but he’s here now, at least. And he’s got a huge rap sheet, so we should be able to find him fairly quickly.”

“And what about the victim?” Hotch asked.

“Marty Harris,” JJ hummed, flipping a few pages over to find his record, “was a registered sex offender and had been arrested twice for robbery.”

“And that’s the head that showed up at my cabin last night,” Gideon sighed, coming over to us. “I just got the call that they identified him.”

We were all on the move towards the boardroom. We needed to regroup there while we waited for Reid to fly back from Las Vegas, where he was visiting family.

“So… what? Giles cuts off Harris’s head, ships it from Jamaica to Gideon’s cabin, and blames it all on Elle? Why?” I questioned.

Hotch pulled out the piece of paper he wrote on last night after we got the call from the Unsub. He unraveled it and began reading, “Don’t waste time on the first victims. They were unrepented bad men. She’s the important one. Remember, everything starts at the beginning. There won’t be much time. The youngest holds the key. You must help him save her.” He folded the paper again before he could read the last bit about me.

“What’s that?” Elle asked, setting her bags down on the couch.

“I got a call last night before you called from Jamaica,” Hotch answered, taking a seat at the table.

“Any mention of a ‘her’?”

“You must help him save her.”

Everyone else sat down, too. Not Elle, though. She kept pacing around the room, her mind working overtime to figure this out. I knew that she wouldn’t have cared as much if this guy had gone after someone else. But he chose her, and it was personal now.

“Can I read it?” Gideon asked.

Hotch tensed. “No.” Everyone raised a curious brow at him. “Sorry, I just… My handwriting is horrible, you wouldn’t be able to read it.”

JJ changed the subject first, “Let’s review, where was everyone last night?”

“My cabin in the woods,” Gideon answered, leaning back but still eyeing Hotch. “And I got the wonderful gift of a man’s head and a 1963 Nellie Fox baseball card.”

“Elle and I were in Jamaica,” Morgan said. “We were blessed with one mess of a crime scene and a trip down to the Jamaican police headquarters.”

“Reid was in Vegas with his family,” Elle added.

“We don’t know what he got— if anything,” JJ said, “but a shadow box with a rare butterfly and a note inside was delivered to my office this morning.”

“I was at home,” Hotch said. “Got a phone call.”

It was all down to me. Where was I? What was I doing? Did I receive anything like the others had? I couldn’t tell them that I was with Hotch, right? I mean, it wasn’t against policy for us to be dating. Yeah, it was Gideon’s general rule that he didn’t like dating within the team, but it wasn’t like we could get in trouble or lose our jobs. The issue was that I didn’t know if Hotch was ready for people to know yet. Haley likely knew now since I was the one who had to call Jack’s aunt, and she saw me with Hotch when she came to pick him up. But these were our work friends, the people we saw most of all. In a way, they were our family. Telling them was a huge step in our relationship— more so than saying “I love you” for the first time.

So I had to lie. “I was at home.”

“How did you get to the jet so fast with Hotch, then?” Morgan pried. He knew something was up. He had guessed back in Jamaica, but chose to not say anything until the time was right. He had caught me in my lie and was calling me out in front of everyone.

“I— Hotch called me to tell me that my sister had been arrested.”

“You live thirty minutes away from here if you’re speeding down every road,” Elle commented, also catching on that something was off. “The flight log said that you guys took off only twenty-three minutes after getting the phone call from Morgan.”

“Hotch lives just down the road. He’s the closest out of all of us,” Morgan clarified Elle’s point. They were teaming up on me now. Great. “You wouldn’t have been able to get here on time if you came from your house.”

“What does it matter, Morgan?” I questioned roughly, trying my best to deflect.

“We’ve got a psychopath who’s taunting us, and you won’t tell us where you were. How are we supposed to put the pieces together if you won’t tell us the truth—”

“They were with me,” Hotch admitted. The whole room fell into an uncomfortable silence. “They came over to have dinner with me and Jack. We got the call…” He took a moment to find the right words to explain what we were doing without actually having to say it. “We got the call when we were asleep.” My eyes fluttered as I tried to look at anything around the room but the team. Hotch pulled the note out again and read it in its entirety. “Don’t waste time on the first victims. They were unrepented bad men. She’s the important one. Remember, everything starts at the beginning. There won’t be much time. The youngest holds the key. You must help him save her. Take Agent Greenaway with you. Only the one you love, however. The other one is being dealt with.”

“Love?” Elle chuckled quietly. She couldn’t believe that I had kept this secret from her. She couldn’t believe that I had been dating Hotch all this time and not a single one of them knew about it. It almost made her mad.

“He watched us last night. He knew that we were together and he knew that…” He hesitated again. “He knew that we had just had a certain conversation, which is why he said what he said about taking Y/N with me— whatever that means— instead of Elle.”

“So the call was for both of you, but for different reasons. He told you, Hotch, that you need to ‘help him save her’ and he told you, Y/N, that you’re supposed to go with Hotch somewhere. Now we just have to figure out who the ‘her’ is and where you two are supposed to go.”

“Reid just texted. He landed and he says that he received a skeleton key,” JJ said, looking up from her phone.

“The youngest holds the key,” Hotch quoted.

“There’s something else,” Gideon said, leaning forward after getting lost in thought for a minute. “Nellie Fox was my favorite player on the 1959 White Sox lineup. My father took me to nearly every game that year. So is it coincidence or did he know that about me?”

“Wait…” JJ whispered. She started pushing all of her papers to the side in search of something. She picked up the shadow box that was sent to her and turned it around for us to see. “I used to collect butterflies when I was a little girl. That’s how I knew what kind of butterfly was in the box.”

“So, then, he knows us,” Morgan shrugged. “He knows where Hotch lives, he knew that Y/N was with him, he knows about Gideon’s childhood hero, JJ’s hobby as a kid, and where Elle and I went on vacation. How?”

“Because that’s all listed in the FBI database,” Garcia said shyly as she stepped into the boardroom.

Garcia was never shy. Never. She was always the bubbliest out of all of us. She always came to work with a smile, and she always had a good attitude about everything, even when some of the cases were taking a toll on us. Garcia being quiet was like fire being cold to the touch. It just didn’t make any sense. So not only was something wrong with the entire field team, but now something was going on with Garcia, too. Had the Unsub done something to her? Had he done the one thing that could possibly mortify her? And if so, what was it?

“He hacked me,” she admitted, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“How?” Morgan asked worriedly. He was always protective of Garcia. The two of them were the closest out of everyone on the team. When she was upset, he was upset. When she was happy, he was happy. Since she was clearly in distress, he had jumped into protective mode. “Garcia, how did he do this?”

She looked at the floor for a moment. She was ashamed of the truth. She didn’t want to tell us in the same way that Hotch and I didn’t want to admit where I had been. Garcia sniffled, “I was playing an online video game… He got in through there.”

Gideon sighed with disappointment, and everyone cringed slightly. So that was why Garcia was upset. She knew that she had fucked up and she was scared to admit it. I didn’t blame her, honestly. It was like when I thought that Hotch hated me… It ate up inside because I respected him and I cared about what he thought of me. When it came to Garcia, we were the only family she had. She couldn’t afford to think or know that we were disappointed in her or hated her. So, of course, she was ashamed.

“But I found him. His name is Frank Giles, and he lives four miles from here.” Garcia handed the information to Hotch, not knowing that we already had Giles’s file.

“Garcia, you’re sure that it was Giles?” Morgan asked.

She nodded vigorously. She didn’t understand why we were all scrambling to our feet and rushing for the door. For all she knew, someone could have just died; when, in reality, she gave us every reason to go after this son of a bitch. He just hacked the FBI. We didn’t have anything on him for the murder in Jamaica, but we could get him for this.

The SWAT team went in first, just before Morgan and Elle, who were leading our team inside. Giles was living in a building that was going to be demolished in the two months, meaning that nearly every occupant except for him and one other family on another floor had moved out already. The building looked practically abandoned from the outside— and even on the inside as we started storming up the flights of stairs.

Morgan kicked down Giles’s front door before even knocking or calling out his name. There was no one in the living room, so the team moved into position in front of the closed doors that led to the bedroom. Morgan looked to the SWAT team, then to Hotch and I behind him. Hotch gave the signal, which was a slight nod, and Morgan kicked in this door, too.

“Frank Giles! FBI!” Morgan exclaimed, rushing into the room.

We all followed in, but not as fast as we saw what was in the room. Frank Giles was there, yeah. But not in the way we had expected. He was dead on his bed— which was really the only thing in the bedroom at all. It wasn’t even on a boxspring or a bedframe. It was literally just the mattress with no sheets or a pillow. A mattress and Giles’s dead body pinned to it with a greatsword that you would see in a medieval setting. Above his body, painted on the wall with blood, just like in Jamaica, was a riddle that read: HERE THY QUEST DOTH TRULY BEGIN.

I pulled my vest off so that I could move around the scene easier. Hotch and Gideon called in the forensics team, which included the coroner, who handed out gloves to me, Morgan, and Elle. Morgan immediately went to investigate the duffle bag sitting on the floor to our right, while Elle went to investigate the blood on the wall, and I crouched down side the body to get a better look at what we were dealing with.

Morgan held up two stacks of cash that he had pulled from the duffle bag and showed it to Hotch and Gideon. There must have been thousands of dollars inside of that bag, which meant that our Unsub had paid Giles to go down to Jamaica, kill Harris, then pin the blame on Elle to make sure she was out of the way, for some unknown reason. When Giles returned from Jamaica, our Unsub didn’t want any strings, so he lured Giles in with the promise of payment, then killed him.

“He was strangled,” I said just as the coroner came in. She sat down with me to take a look at my evidence. “The bruises on his neck and the swelling of the glands.” She nodded and started writing down some notes. Hotch crouched down across from us to get a better look, too. “So he was strangled, but there are no defensive wounds. After he was dead, the Unsub came back and pierced his chest with the sword.”

“But why a sword? Elle queried.

“It goes with the motif of medieval times,” Morgan guessed.

“Yeah, but he hasn’t done this until now. Why start phrasing things like this?”

“Because he wasn’t the one sending the messages in Jamaica or to Hotch’s house. Giles did that. Our Unsub sees this as a roleplaying game of some kind. He gives Spencer a key and the rest of us have a quest of some kind to complete. And he’s the ultimate villain,” I said.

“There’s something etched on the sword,” the coroner spoke up.

Hotch leaned in to read it, “To learn of what should be done, leave the blade ‘til the hour is none.”

“Hour be none? Leave the blade? What’s this guy on about?” Morgan questioned, crouching down, too. We were all huddled around the body now.

“He means 3PM,” Spencer answered. “The days used to be broken into hourly intervals, the canonical hours of the breviary. Prime was 6AM, Terce was 9AM, Sext was noon, None was 3PM, and Vespers was 6PM. It was a medieval way of telling time.”

“Medieval,” Gideon repeated with a slight chuckle. “Everything this guy does is a clue.”

“So, what do we do? Wait until 3PM tomorrow? We don’t have that kind of time. Especially when there’s a ‘her’ out there that we need to be looking for.” Morgan pushed himself to his feet.

Reid put his bag down in the corner. “No, no, no. We don’t have to do that. If we have a flashlight, we can imitate where the sun would be at 3PM to figure out what he wants us to be looking for.”

I pulled the flashlight from my FBI raincoat and handed it to him. He thanked me before squatting in the corner with the light on. The coroner and I moved out of his way. As Reid started to move the light up the wall in the same way that the sun would be, Morgan moved the duffle bag out of the way so that he could start tapping against the wall for a rip in the wallpaper or maybe even a hole behind it with another clue. Morgan tapped down the wall slowly, following the shadow of the sword until he found something of interest.

“It’s hollow,” he told us, knocking on the different parts of the wall to show us the sound difference. He pulled out his knife and started cutting into the wallpaper. When he pulled the wallpaper back, it revealed a box that had been shoved into a square space in the wall. “It has Y/N’s name on it.”

I scrunched my brows and approached to see what the hell he was talking about. “What the fuck…” I cursed under my breath, taking the box from Morgan. He eyed me suspiciously as I investigated it.

I could’ve sworn it was my jewelry box that I had growing up. The very same one. But how was that possible? I brought it with me to Virginia when I moved out of my parents’ house. It was in my apartment just yesterday before I left to go over to Hotch’s house. My heart fell to my stomach and I felt like I was going to be sick. The same engraving I had carved into it when I was a kid was on the bottom. It was mine. This son of a bitch broke into my house and stole my jewelry box. The only thing that had thrown me for a loop, which made me originally consider that it wasn't mine, but was instead a replica, was the fact that it had a lock on it. But once I saw the engraving, I knew that it was mine.

“How did he get this?” I croaked, turning it over in my hands.

“Get what?” Hotch asked.

“Elle bought me a jewelry box for my eleventh birthday. We carved our initials into the bottom of it so that I would always have something of her, no matter where I would move or what I would end up doing with my life.” I held the box up for Elle to see, and she looked as pale as I surely did. “He got this from my apartment.”

“Do you have the key?” Morgan took the box back from me.

I shook my head, “No. It never had a lock on it.”

“The youngest holds the key,” Gideon spoke up. He was right. The Unsub had made it perfectly clear that Reid had a key, and we weren’t sure what it was for, but now it was entirely possible that this was its purpose. “Give it a shot.”

Reid hurried over, digging in all of his pockets to find the key. Morgan held the box steady as Reid penetrated the lock with the key and turned. The lock popped and released its hold on the box. He carefully opened it, possibly worried that there could be a bomb trigger connected to the lid, that would send us all sky high if he wasn’t too careful. When the coast was clear, though, he opened it all the way and a song began playing.

I had to sit down on the floor. “That wasn’t there before… That song… It was different when Elle gave it to me… I used to listen to it every night to help me sleep.” My head was spinning. How was this happening? Why was this happening?

“It’s called The Trout Quintet by Franz Schubert,” Gideon explained.

There was a note inside that Reid picked up to read. “Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man’s sight.”

“There’s something else,” Morgan said, pulling at something inside of the box.

There was a tab on the lid of the box, which, when pulled down, revealed a hidden space. As it opened, it revealed a CD labeled: THY QUEST, and it had a lack of string pulled through the center circle of the disc. I hid my face between my knees as I tried to calm down. I was rocking back and forth, trying to understand all of this. I didn’t have any personal stake in this until now. Even when Elle was arrested and the Unsub knew that I was at Hotch’s house and we said “I love you” for the first time, I wasn’t bothered. Every Unsub is a sicko and can get to us one way or another. But this…

Hotch’s hand started rubbing soft circles over my back to try to ease my nerves. I kept my head down as I tried to explain why that freaked me out so badly, but I couldn’t find the words. He was trying to soothe me with a calm hush as the others analyzed the new evidence.

I took in a deep breath. “I used to hide things in there when I was in high school. Cocaine, joints, list of boys that I liked. No one knew about it. The day after I graduated, some kid sent instant photos to my house of me at a party with my top off… He said that if I didn’t give him a certain amount of money, he’d send the copies to everyone I knew. Those pictures would have ruined my scholarship and my chances of getting into the FBI. I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t have any money, so I just gave him everything that was in the jewelry box. He said that there weren’t any other copies and that I could keep the photos. I didn’t know what else to do with them but hide them, so I put them in my jewelry box. It’s been so long, I forgot they were even there.” I was going to be sick. Some twisted motherfucker out there had those pictures of me, and he was probably enjoying them as we were talking about them. “Oh, god…”

“We’ve gotta take a look at what’s on this disc,” Hotch insisted to the rest of the team while still trying to console me. I prayed that it wasn’t digital copies of the photos. Anything but that. I might have actually preferred a literal sex tape compared to those pictures. “Let’s bag everything and get back to the office.” Everyone concurred and started to do as they were told. Hotch moved closer to me and whispered, “You’ve gotta stand up.”

“He has those pictures of me, Hotch.”

“I know—”

“They weren’t just topless photos,” I whispered back.

I didn’t want Elle to ever know the truth. If she thought that they were just a few silly photos of me dancing half naked on a table while drunk at a high school party, that was fine. But the truth was worse. The truth was worse than that or even a sex tape. I was in high school. I was just a kid. When it happened, I didn’t understand it, I guessed. But in my line of work, when we would take cases eerily similar all the time, I knew. I knew the truth now. I wasn’t blind. That was what made it so mortifying, though. That was why I was so terrified of him having those photos. While they had left my mind due to suppression of bad memories, this Unsub was likely finding pleasure from them.

Hotch grabbed my hand, “You have to get up, though.”

He understood why I was panicking, and he certainly felt bad for having to pressure me out of feeling that, but we couldn’t afford this right then. There was a lock of some girl’s hair connected to that disc, and we were being told that it was our quest. I could guess that the quest was finding this poor girl, if she wasn’t already dead. Our top priority had to be searching for her, not some guy who stole my high school trauma.

I leaned into Hotch as we both stood. “We’re going to get this son of a bitch, okay?” he whispered, still trying not to draw any attention to us.

We had done so well hiding our relationship. We kept our distance at work, we tried to not favor one another, and we certainly didn’t touch. But now he was going out of his way to touch me and be close to me just to make sure I was alright. The feeling of him being by my side gave me enough comfort to the point that I could slow my breathing and stop the world from spinning around me.

Back at the office, Garcia played the disc for us on the DVD player. I was still shaken up and pale, despite how many times I had washed my face, and how many bottles of water Elle brought over to me. My mind was racing with only the memories of that night and what this Unsub could possibly be doing with those images. The video started, but I was still staring directly at the empty wall space just beneath the TV.

Morgan and Hotch’s voices sounded muffled to me, like they were underwater or stuck behind glass. I couldn’t understand them, and I wasn’t trying to either. I was just… staring and thinking. Then the Unsub started talking.

“Welcome, members of the Behavior Analysis Unit. Welcome. By now, you should know that you’re on a quest to find this girl. Beautiful, isn’t she? Beautiful, but in distress and in need of your help. Her life depends on the success of your quest. In order to complete this quest, however, you must follow my rules. They aren’t complicated, and they aren’t long; so listen closely. The first rule is that only the members of your team can participate in the quest. Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, Y/N Greenaway, Elle Greenaway, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, and Penelope Garcia are the only ones cleared to participate. No outside resources and no media. The second rule is just as simple… Aaron Hotchner must follow my instructions given last night. Without obeying those instructions, your quest will fail. See? Simple. No worries at all. Now, you will be receiving an item soon that will hold the final clue you need to complete your quest. You will also need a book, which has inspired many an adventure like mine. Believe me when I mean that I hope to see you all soon, as it means that this quest has reached a successful end for all of us.” The video cut out the second he was done speaking.

The entire team started talking and hypothesizing again, but it still sounded all so distant. The Unsub’s voice was ringing in my ears, every word echoing through my body. He had gotten to me. He did it. He took something from me just so that he could gain something for himself. Wait— Gain something for himself.

“He wants something in return,” I interrupted. They all fell silent to listen. “He said that he hopes to see us soon because it means that the quest will have been a success for us all. That includes himself. If he just wanted to fuck with us, he wouldn’t have included himself. He has personal stakes in this— That’s why he wanted our attention. He knows that whatever it is that he wants, we can get it for him—”

“Agent Hotchner,” Agent Anderson said, bursting into the room, “there’s someone here to see you.”

“Who is it?” he interrogated.

“I think it’s your son and his aunt? At least that’s what she said.”

“Jack…”

I scrambled to my feet with Hotch, both of us running for the door. Hotch pushed Anderson out of the way and we ran down the ramp and into the maze of cubicles where Jack’s aunt was standing, holding holding hand, both of them looking around for Hotch. I slowed down as relief washed over me when I saw that they both seemed fine. After everything that had happened so far, I wouldn’t have held it past our Unsub to take Jack. In fact, I didn’t hold a single thing past him.

Hotch ran up to her while I stayed a few steps back. “What are you doing here, Jessica? Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine. I tried calling you, but you haven’t been answering your cell,” she explained, letting go of Jack’s hand.

He hurried over to me with his stubby little feet and started pulling on one of my pant legs. I reached down to pick him up. “What’s going on, little man?”

“I brought your favorite dinosaur,” he said, waving the red triceratops in my face.

I laughed and took it from him, “Thank you.”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Jessica continued, catching my attention. “A strange man came to the door, said that I needed to give you this because a girl’s life depends on it.” She held up a large folder that she had brought with her and Jack.

Hotch looked over his shoulder at me and Jack for a moment before turning back to Jessica. “He came to the door?”

“We were at Haley’s place. She needed me to pick something up from there and bring it to her at work.” She turned the folder around to show Hotch the address, “It has Jack’s name on it.”

Jack waved his favorite car in front of my face now, “I brought this one, too. Can we play?”

My attention turned back to him while Hotch kept asking Jessica some questions about the man who came to the door. “Maybe in a bit, Jack, okay?”

Hotch was starting to freak Jessica out. I mean, it was one thing that the Unsub knew where Aaron lived, and it was also plausible if he followed Jessica home after we sent Jack away with her. But to address a folder of some kind to Jack and have it delivered straight to Haley’s house while Jack and Jessica were there? It was unnervingly specific. It meant that our Unsub was keeping tabs on the Hotchner family. And it almost felt like a threat that meant to say: “Remember, if you don’t follow the rules, I know where your family lives.”

He gauged her panic almost as quickly as he recognized mine back at the crime scene. He was pretty good with that kind of stuff. So he offered to talk to her in the break room where she could sit down and have a cup of hot chocolate to warm her nerves. She accepted the idea, but he asked for the folder first. Jessida handed it over, and Hotch handed it to me to give to the team. I carried Jack up the ramp and into the boardroom. JJ turned off the TV as quickly as she could to prevent Jack from seeing the crime scene photos.

“Haley’s sister just dropped this off. The Unsub sent it.” I handed it off to Morgan.

He inspected the cover, “This is addressed to Jack.”

I looked at Jack who was rolling the Hot Wheels Car over my shoulder in circles. I nodded to them, however, and said, “I know.” I carried Jack back out of the boardroom and we went to meet Hotch and Jessica in the break room.

As I walked in Hotch looked up to see that it was me and mouthed, “Thank you.” And I smiled. I set Jack down in one of the chairs next to Jessica and put the red triceratops on the table for him to play with. Hotch continued questioning Jessica to see if he could find out more about the delivery man. He asked at one point if the man looked injured, and when Jessica asked why, I realized that was one of the things the team had profiled while I was out of it a few minutes prior.

“No, he wasn’t injured,” she admitted. “He was just a normal guy who said that he was giving me that folder and that it was important for you to have it because a girl’s life depended one it.”

“That’s unusual,” I commented, sitting down next to Jack when he kept pulling on my sleeve for my attention. He handed me the dinosaur again and started butting heads with it and the Hot Wheels car. “Normally deliveries don’t just come with messages like that. What did he deliver?”

“A piece of paper with a bunch of random numbers on it.”

I played along with Jack, picking up the dinosaur and tilting it to the point that it looked like it was trying to eat the car. Jack tried to roll the car back and jam it into the side of the dinosaur this time. I made a quiet roaring sound as the dinosaur bucked up onto its hind legs before falling over, defeated. Jack did a victory lap with the car around the table, claiming glory for all to see. I smiled and looked up at Hotch again, who was trying to focus on the case, but I was being more than distracting. Honestly, I was just happy that Jack was alright. He had stolen my heart, I swear to god. I’d die if anything were to happen to that kid.

“We’re going to put you, Jack, and Haley in a hotel with a security detail. We’ll send you guys home as soon as we catch this guy. Do you mind staying here with Jack while you wait for an agent to collect you?” he asked Jessica. She shook her head. “Thanks.” He looked to me and gestured for the door.

I gave an acknowledging look before turning back to Jack. “Alright, little man, it’s time for me to go.”

“You can’t stay?”

“No… Your dad and I have to go work.”

“You’re a superhero like my dad?”

That took me by surprise. I didn’t see us as superheroes… And Jack’s comment suddenly showed me how much he loved and respected his dad, even though he hardly got to see him. Jack had no clue why his parents separated— or at least he knew, but he didn’t quite get it. All he knew was that his dad was this awesome super secret agent who was off all the time, busy saving the world; just like Superman or Batman would. He didn’t see a man who was so consumed by his work that he didn’t know how to make time for his family outside of what little he was given. Jack looked at Hotch the same way people looked at Batman. The ultimate hero.

I didn’t know how to answer Jack’s question. I wanted to be nice and play along, say that I was a superhero like his dad, but it felt wrong. It felt undeserved considering how many people we let die or suffer every day before we could pick up the cases. In a way, we were just the clean up crew. Something bad would happen and we’d be called in to fix it. We dealt with the dead bodies and the rape victims. We didn’t beat criminals to the punch before they could do harm. We had to wait for something bad to happen in order to make a difference, and that didn’t feel like being a superhero.

There was a knock at the door that saved me from having to answer Jack. Gideon carefully entered and told us that they ID’d the girl and that the team told him what happened with the folder. He looked to Jessica and told her that he’d have a sketch artist come in to meet with her before she would leave. Hotch tried to tell him that they hadn’t discussed that because the Unsub didn’t want us to go to the press. All Gideon did was look at Hotch and say, “I don’t care,” before trading spots in the room with the sketch artist.

Hotch chased after Gideon, and I used that as my excuse to leave the room, too, but I knew that I couldn’t follow them. I went back into the boardroom to find that JJ had left to go organize the press conference that Gideon wanted, Elle was asleep on the couch, and Reid and Morgan were still trying to piece together something about the video. They were trying to figure out what book we needed in order to complete the mystery, but they were really struggling to find any clues. I sat down and offered to help.

Morgan looked up at me from the shadow box that JJ had received from the Unsub. A smile curled at the corners of his mouth. “So… you and Hotch, huh?”

“Not right now, Morgan,” I hissed quietly.

“Wait— What?” Reid questioned.

Morgan’s smile grew. “Greenaway and Hotch are sleeping together.”

“We’re not sleeping together,” I hissed again. I was really trying to hold myself back from talking about it, as it wasn’t the time nor the place, and we would talk to the team about it when we were ready. Not when Morgan suddenly got bored with the case.

“Oh, yeah? Then what are you two doing? Cuddling the night away?” He puckered and smacked his lips together to make kissy sounds in order to tease me.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the baseball card that Gideon received. “We’ve been dating for four months.”

“Woah—” Morgan and Reid gasped simultaneously.

“Wait. Really?” Reaid asked, totally confused like a lost puppy. “How did we not notice?”

I shrugged.

“Elle,” Hotch said, coming into the room. When she didn’t wake up, he approached her and gently rubbed her shoulder, “Elle.” She sat up straight suddenly and began denying ever having fallen asleep. Hotch wasn’t having it. “I’m sending you home.”

“No…” Elle quietly argued, her eyes still trying to open up and adjust to the light in the room.

“You need to get some rest. You, Morgan, and Y/N are all going home.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” I spun around in my chair, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He stared at me, a challenge that I wouldn’t back down from. I wasn’t going home— especially since the Unsub had taken something from my place. And I wasn’t about to go home with Elle or Morgan either. Elle needed to sleep and not worry about babying me, and Morgan would only pester me for more answers about Hotch. The only other option, realistically, was going back to Hotch’s place, but even then, the Unsub kept taunting the Hotchner family.

Hotch broke eye contact with me, giving up before I could. “Fine. But, Elle, you need to go sleep in your own bed so that you can be on top of your game in the morning.”

“It’s already morning,” she teased. It was two in the morning, she had him there, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, so he started glaring at her this time. She gave in easier than me. “Fine,” she threw her hands up in surrender. “Fine.”

“Morgan,” Hotch urged, gesturing to the door.

“No, sir, you could not pay me enough money to leave right now.”

Hotch sighed, knowing that he couldn’t win. “If anyone else falls asleep, I’m taking them home, no questions asked. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Morgan saluted playfully.

Elle grabbed her bags from the floor and walked with Hotch out of the boardroom. I could hear Hotch outside asking Anderson to drive Elle home, and her arguing that she could drive herself home. She wasn’t very good at arguing with Hotch. She just wasn’t good at arguing in general. She always gave up too easily.

Hotch came back into the boardroom after seeing Elle and Andersoon off for the rest of the night. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to go home?” he asked me. I shook my head. “Alright. JJ’s almost done with her press conference. Jack and Jessica are at the hotel with Haley. My work is done for now. I’ll be in my office, if you guys find anything.”

We all silently waved him goodbye as he retreated into his office and we were left to review the evidence yet again. Morgan was looking through the video tape and again, I was trying to decode the paper Jessica brought in, and Reid was examining my jewelry box. He had tried earlier to find some prints on it, to no avail— just like all of the other pieces of evidence. This Unsub just hadn’t left anything for us.

All we knew as of five in the morning, when the sun was beginning to rise for a new day, was the name of the girl he had: Rebecca Bryant. She had been missing for two years and no one ended up looking for her, but even more concerning was the fact that the Unsub hadn’t killed her yet. Reid always liked to quote the statistics of kidnapping victims' odds of surviving, and living past a year was nearly impossible. Usually, if they were being kept for long periods of time like Rebecca Bryant was, it meant she was being kept as a wife of sorts. But why would the Unsub want us to find her if that were the case? What did he gain from giving her up? What did he want from us?

My head was spinning again, but I didn’t want to fall asleep and have Hotch order me to go home. So I chose the next best thing. “Who’s up for some breakfast?”

Morgan sighed with relief, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Donuts?”

“You treat me just right, mama.”

I chuckled. “Reid, want anything?” He shook his head. I stood from my chair and grabbed my things. “Text me with what Hotch and Gideon want.”

“You got it.” He winked and snapped his fingers at me. I rolled my eyes at him and hurried to the door. “Thank you, Greenaway!” he called after me. That was Morgan for you. He could be deadly focused on a case one minute, then teasing you about who you’re dating the next, then begging for you to get him something to eat. He was just lucky I liked him.

[thoughts-of-a-bibleophile]

confessions under the moonlight

hey. so...it’s the last day of HCS week and i’m finally posting my first fic for day 1. life just really didn’t want me to participate this week aaaaaaaa

the good news is i have three fics basically done already that i just need to reread and look over, so those should be coming either tonight or tomorrow fingers crossed?

this is for full moon! it’s definitely still rough, so sorry in advance, but i want to post something before this week’s over, so i hope you enjoy!

one day i’ll put these fics on ao3.... as soon as i figure out how to use ao3....

summary: may invites steven over to her house for tsukimi (the japanese moon festival). baking and shenanigans ensue.

The sky was clear and blue, the air crisp and the wind sharp in a way unique to only autumn. Rustboro was one of those cities that changed colors with the seasons: Currently, the trees were either yellow or totally barren, leaves scattered along every sidewalk.

Under the eaves of the Kalossian restaurant in a tucked away corner of the city, two trainers sat outside for their weekly lunch. Neither of them knew when weekly lunches had become a regular occurrence, but neither of them were willing to put a stop to them either. So every Tuesday at noon, they met here, partially because Steven only had an hour lunch and couldn’t travel too far from Devon, and partially because May had become quite fond of the little bistro they always frequented.

As they were discussing their plans for the next week over coffee, the late autumn wind ruffling their hair and shifting the curls of steam wafting from their drinks, she mentioned it offhand.

“What are you going to be doing for tsukimi?”

Steven dropped the roll he was holding back on his plate, processing the question.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you and your dad going to be hosting some sort of party? Or are you going to be keeping it between the two of you?”

He blinked. “My father’s going to be out of town on a business trip, but... Why would we have a party? It’s just another Thursday, isn’t it?”

May furrowed her brow. “Wait. Have you never celebrated?”

“I mean, I suppose I went to a festival when I was younger-?”

“You never had the little dumplings? You never had to eat that weird grass?”

“Grass? Why are you eating grass-?”

“Oh Arceus, that explains so much,” she said, more to herself than him.

“What does that mean?” he said, a touch indignant.

She ignored him. “Come to my house on Thursday. You need to experience a tsukimi, Littleroot-style.”

“I don’t need to experience it, May,” he replied. “And I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or your family on such late notice-“

“Are you kidding? My mom is always of the opinion ‘the more, the merrier.’ And she’s been asking me to bring you over to meet her anyway-“

“She wants to meet me?” Steven asked, bemused. Did he do something to offend her somehow?

“It’s not important,” May said quickly. “She just wants to meet, uh, the previous champion and all that, you know.”

He wanted to counter that he had been at her Champion coronation and easily could have met her then, but May switched back to the original conversation before he could say anything.

“Anyway, she has the best dango recipe, which you have to try! She’ll ruin you for all other celebrations.”

“Are you sure it won’t be an issue for your family?”

“No, not at all. Really.”

It wasn’t like he really had anything else to do that night besides paperwork for Devon and it was always nice to spend time with May, he reasoned.

“Alright, it’s a date.”

-

At 4 p.m. on Thursday, Steven stood outside May’s house with a bottle of sake in one hand, the other hesitantly raised up to knock.

The other day, it had been easy to say yes to today, but now that he was here, he felt nervous for whatever reason. Perhaps it was because he wanted to make a good impression? May had said that her mother wanted to talk to him, so maybe he had already squandered that first impression, so tonight he would have to make up for it, somehow. It would be easier to do that if he knew what he had messed up in the first place though.

He shook away his anxious thoughts, realizing he had been standing outside a few minutes longer than necessary, all because he was lost in his thoughts, as usual.

Steven took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was to come, and knocked twice.

No answer.

He frowned, wondering if maybe he hadn’t knocked loud enough. He tried again, a little firmer this time.

Again, no answer.

He... was at the right house, wasn’t he?

One glance at the name plate said that he was at the Hawthorn residence, so he hadn’t messed that up. Did he somehow show up at the wrong time?

“Hello?” he called to the closed front door. Was he supposed to meet somewhere else-?

“Steven!”

His head turned at the sound of May’s voice. She was at the house across the street from where he stood, waving at him.

“I should’ve told you, but things got so crazy- We’re actually going to be celebrating here! Come on over!”

Suddenly Steven felt foolish for knocking on her door for Arceus knows how long. As he walked toward her, he prayed she hadn’t been watching him be an idiot for the last few minutes.

She wore a bandana as usual, keeping her bangs back from her face, as well as a cute red apron that he noticed had a little torchic embroidered on one of the pockets. It was both incredibly different from what she normally wore, but somehow so very May that he couldn’t help but smile.

She was nearly bouncing in place as he approached. Then her eyes noticed the bottle in his hand.

“You didn’t have to bring a gift, you dork,” she said, elbowing him in the side.

“I just thought it would make for a good first impression,” he said, shrugging.

May rolled her eyes. “You worry too much. She’ll love you.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him in. “Let’s go!”

Half-stumbling through the door, it took him a moment to take in the room before him.

To the left, the living room blended into the dining room, covered in moon-related decorations. There was an open archway at the back with voices coming from it that he could only assume was the kitchen. To the right, there was a set of stairs with a string of azumarill lanterns hung along the banister, a door that looked to lead outside at the very end of the hall.

A few people he recognized from Professor Birch’s lab were hanging up more lanterns along the wall as well as other decorations he wasn’t sure of the names of while the few kids that were there folded origami in the living room.

Some looked up at their arrival, casting them - or more likely, him - confused looks that quickly morphed into some form of recognition.

May ignored them all, though, and marched him straight into the kitchen, despite the gaggle of people standing in their way.

“Mom, Steven’s here!” she announced to the three people flitting about in the kitchen.

One woman, her brown hair matching May’s exactly, looked up from where she was stirring what looked to be noodles in a large pot.

“Oh, it’s about time!” She placed her cooking chopsticks to the side and rushed over to them. He was about to hold out a hand to shake before she embraced him in a hug tight enough to squeeze the life out of him.

“Mom, please don’t kill him,” May said from his side, sounding exasperated.

Mrs. Hawthorn released him and he let out a small gasp of relief. “I’m so sorry, Steven; I just get a little overexcited with my hugs, you see. I’m a bit like a mama Ursaring at times.” She laughed. “Oh and you’ve brought sake as well; you’re so sweet! I’ve really been so looking forward to meeting you after everything May’s told us about you-“

“You’ve talked about me?” Steven asked May, glancing at her.

“Only good things, don’t worry,” May said with a laugh.

“I’ve only heard the best things about you, Steven, honestly, you should hear some of the things she says about you-“

“Ooookay Mom,” May cut in quickly. “I’m sure you guys can talk about that later when I’m not here.”

May’s mother gave her daughter a look that Steven couldn’t interpret, then turned back to him, beaming. “We’ll just have to catch up later.” She took the bottle from him. “Please make yourself at home.”

He had a feeling that something had transpired that he wasn’t privy to, but he didn’t think now was the time to ask about it.

May pulled him away before he could say as much, saying, “Sorry about her. She can be...a lot.”

Steven thought about his own father, with his tendency to ramble and his over exuberant personality, and only nodded in understanding. “No, she was great, honestly. Where are we going now-?”

“Steven Stone?”

They both turned to the person addressing him. Professor Birch‘s son - Brendan, if Steven remembered correctly. He took in the two of them, eyes darting between them, to May’s hand on his arm, and then back to their faces.

“Didn’t realize you would be here.”

“May invited me,” Steven replied, not entirely sure why he felt like he was being analyzed.

“Did she?” Brendan asked, smiling in a way that could Steven could only describe as mischievous, his eyes meeting May’s in another look that Steven couldn’t figure out.

“Yes, Brendan, I did, and we’re going to go help my dad decorate now, aren’t we, Steven?”

Before Steven could say anything, May turned them away from the living room and toward the stairwell. He felt like he was missing something here, but he had a feeling if he asked no one would tell him what it was.

The Petalburg Gym Leader and May’s father, Norman, was talking to Professor Birch by the back door by the stairs, a handful of foldable chairs against the wall as well as a coil of lights.

“Hey Professor, hey Dad. I’ve brought you guys a helper,” May said.

They both looked up at the two, Professor Birch with a smile, Norman with ... a much less friendly expression. All of the nerves that had begun to ease after meeting May’s mother immediately swarmed back at the frosty reception. Did Steven mess up his first impression with her father somehow as well? What had he done? He couldn’t think of any animosity between them when he had been Champion, but surely something had happened.

“Steven Stone,” Norman Hawthorn said with a curt nod. “I hope your father is doing well.”

“Thank you. He’s actually in Johto right now on business.”

“Well, please tell him hello from me when you see him next.”

“Of course. I’m sure he would be pleased to hear from you.”

Professor Birch, on the other hand, was quite excited to see him and cut in before the conversation could get more awkward.

“Steven, it’s been so long! How’s your team doing? How’s that little Beldum you hatched?”

“It’s doing well, Professor. Thank you again for watching after him while I was away.”

“Oh, it was no trouble; he was a delight! I’m glad you’re here! We can use all the help we can get!”

“What ... exactly are we doing?”

“We’re setting up everything outside.” Professor Birch nodded at the stacks of chairs beside them. “That’s the best part of the celebration: It’s all about appreciating nature and what better way to do that than outside with food cooked from the garden we’ve cultivated here in Littleroot?”

“What can I do to help?”

“Help set up the lights in the back before it gets dark. Vigoroth will take care of the chairs,” Norman said, pulling out a Pokéball.

“I’ll head outside to grab the ladders,” May said, already halfway out the door.

“May, I need you in here!” her mother called from the kitchen. May groaned.

“Never mind, I guess,” she grumbled. As she passed him to move to the kitchen, she gave him a half-smile. “I’ll catch up with you later?”

“I’ll be here,” he said, smiling back.

“May!” her mother called again. May rolled her eyes at him before heading to the kitchen. Steven watched her go, only to feel a coil of lights shoved into his arms a moment later. He glanced back to see Norman giving him that frosty look again and Steven cleared his throat, feeling the nerves even more than before.

“Lights, right. Let’s get started then.”

-

Two long tables sat out in the backyard under rows of string lights as the sun set. The sky was ablaze in streaks of orange and peach, the sun turning the trees to gold and everyone outside into long shadows. Steven had thought he had gotten over being impressed by sunsets after his years of traveling, but he had to admit that Littleroot had some gorgeous ones.

As they had set things up, Professor Birch told him that it was primarily the Birches and Hawthorns tonight, as well as a few lab aids and their kids who hadn’t had family to go to for the holidays. Ever since the Hawthorns had moved to Littleroot, they had tried to make it a tradition to hold a big celebration like this, with Professor Birch’s wife taking the lead on dinner while May’s mother handled decorations. Though they had been doing this for so long that they didn’t need directions nearly as much as before, so she normally handled desserts with May.

Once the lights were hung, Professor Birch sent Steven over to help set the table. Brendan was already there, so Steven started at the opposite side.

“Did May’s dad scare you off yet?” Brendan asked after a bit of silence between them.

Steven looked up in confusion. “What?”

“I’m just kidding, dude, don’t worry.” Brendan raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you know how this looks, right?”

Steven’s brow furrowed.

“Oh dear Mew,” Brendan muttered with a sigh. “You’re the first person she’s brought home since she moved to Hoenn and, short of bringing you for Christmas, tonight’s a pretty big deal for her family?”

“She just told me I had to come to try the dango,” Steven said lamely.

Brendan groaned. “Steven, with all due respect, as much as I know you like rocks, I didn’t think you would be as dumb as one.”

“Excuse me?”

“It looks like you’re dating,” Brendan exclaimed, sounding exasperated. “You know, you and May? In a relationship?”

It suddenly felt way too warm for a late autumn night. May and him? Dating? That was ridiculous; she had said so herself that her mother had wanted to meet him and she wanted him to try some sweets. Sure, he admired her in a dozen and a half ways and thought she was incredibly strong, kind, passionate- And he was getting off track. None of those meant that he wanted to date her or that any feelings he may or may not have were reciprocated.

“Th-That’s not what this is,” Steven managed, trying to not sound as confused as he felt. “She just wanted me to actually go to a tsukimi celebration and introduce me to her mother-“

Brendan gave him a look that could only be read as “really?”

“As far as I’m aware,” Steven tried instead. “We are not dating.”

“It sure looks like it, dude,” Brendan said with a snort. “Her mom and dad think so, at least.”

They were done setting the table, but Steven’s mind was replaying several scenes over in his head from the last few months. They definitely could have been seen as dates and that... explained a lot in hindsight, he thought.��

Before he could ask Brendan anything else, Mrs. Hawthorne and May came out with a handful of dishes. Behind them, Professor Birch carried a giant pot with what smelled like curry in it. Once they were placed onto the second table, Professor Birch called, “Dinner’s served!”

May caught his eye across the way and he felt himself smile and raised his hand in a wave. Behind him, Brendan groaned. “Hopeless, the  both of you.”

-

Steven found himself sitting next to May, much to Mrs. Hawthorn’s insistence, and across from Brendan, who kept smirking at both of them.

May ignored him, instead talking to her mother on her right or Steven on her left. Dinner was delicious, but Steven was barely able to focus on that or on the conversations May tried to start, his mind circling back to his earlier talk with Brendan.

It certainly explained why his father always seemed to be asking about May and telling him to bring her for dinner sometime. It also explained why Wallace had asked what was going on with them At the time, Steven had said nothing because he hadn’t thought anything was going on. But clearly something was, whether either of them knew it or not.

“Steven?” He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see May looking concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Suddenly every touch and look from her felt so much more real and Steven recoiled on instinct, only to feel even worse when her brow furrowed at his movement.

“Everything is fine here,” he said, his voice sounding strangely cheery even to his own ears. “Is everything fine with you?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m good.” She frowned. “Did you end up drinking some of that sake? You’re acting kind of weird.”

“What do you mean? I’m acting perfectly normal right now.”

May just stared at him for a moment, searching his face as if she would find an answer to his strange behavior, but then shrugged. “Okay, but if you need to go home early, just let me know. We won’t be upset-“

“No, no!” he interrupted. He was making a much bigger deal of this than he needed to and probably worrying her when she already had so much to think about. What was wrong with him? “I’m fine, really, I’m sorry for worrying you.”

She looked at him for another moment, then nodded, smiling slightly. “Okay, I believe you. But seriously, I won’t be mad if you don’t feel well or need to leave early.”

“Okay,” he said. Brendan caught his eye and mouthed “smooth” and Steven wished the ground would just swallow him up instead of letting him continue to make a fool of himself.

-

Things had gotten easier after dinner: Professor Birch has engaged him in a long discussion on evolution and May’s mother had asked him to help start the fire in the pit they had moved their chairs around. Despite the string lights and the fire, the moon was bright overhead, shining like a silver coin with a scattering of stars around it.

An hour or so after dinner, May had caught up with him and pulled him back into the kitchen. He resisted the urge to pull against her. Because, really, he did want to spend more time with her, but he also didn’t know how to act around her now that he knew what it looked like. Did she know that they looked like a couple? Did she... like it? Did she want to be one?

His head was full of so many what-ifs and questions for her and himself that he didn’t do anything but smile politely as they walked into the kitchen with Mrs. Hawthorn.

“Wait, what are we doing now?” he asked, realizing he hadn’t actually learned why he was there in the first place.

“We’re making dango, of course.” At his confused look, she rolled her eyes. “What, you thought we just bought them pre-made at the store? My mom would kill me if we served store-bought dango.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, May,” Mrs. Hawthorn sighed. “They’re just so much better when you make them by hand, of course.”

“I’ve never made them before-“ Steven started, but Mrs. Hawthorn simply patted his arm.

“Don’t worry, it’s easy! May’s made them for years now, so she can show you the ropes.”

“It’s really not that hard,” May assured him. “If I can do it, you definitely can.”

“Well, I’ll check on you two in a bit,” Mrs. Hawthorn said with another one of those looks at May that he now had a feeling meant she wanted to give them some alone time.

He glanced at her, wondering if he should ask about everything now, but she was instead holding an apron out to him: blue with a little aron embroidered in the pocket, just like hers.

Steven laughed at the sight and May scowled. “What?”

“No, nothing,” he assured her, grinning. “This just reminds me of something my dad would’ve gotten me as a kid. I had so much aron stuff, but I don’t think he ever got me an apron.”

“Well now you can add an apron to your collection,” May said. After he put it on, she grinned. “I’m glad it fits.”

“Wait, did you get this for me specifically?”

“I- Well,” she started, looking away from him and fiddling with the straps of her apron. “We only have two aprons here and they’re already being used by me and my mom, and I knew you would need one, and then I saw that one the other day and I thought it would be cute on you, so... I got it.”

Steven felt his face warm, but just because the oven was likely on and not because he was thinking about her calling him cute-

“Um, thank you,” he tried, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt. “I appreciate the thought- about the apron, I mean. It’s great, really.” Nope, definitely sounded as awkward as he felt.

“Of course,” she said, still not looking at him. “So, um, let’s start, shall we?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak lest he make more of an idiot of himself than he already had tonight.

Theoretically, it wasn’t a difficult recipe: 3 and a half ounces of rice flour, 2/3 of a cup of water; combine the flour and water; mix until it becomes a dough, then form the dumplings.

He primarily fetched ingredients for her, watching her work and mentally taking notes on how it all worked. He wasn’t sure what he was going to use this knowledge for in the future, but he still took notes regardless.

“How long have you made these?” he asked as she stirred in the flour.

“Ever since I can remember, honestly,” she replied. “Even when I was little, I remember my mom sitting me on the counter and asking me to help make the dango into balls, all the while telling me the story of the azumarill on the moon.”

“The azumarill on the moon?” he asked as he watched the last part of the flour fold into the dough.

“You don’t know the story?” May asked. When he shook his head, she simply shrugged. “It’s just a kids story, but I always liked it.”

“Could you tell me it?”

“Do you really want to hear it?” she asked, skeptical.

“I do. Would you?”

There was a moment of silence and Steven wondered if she would decide against it. He then wondered if he had somehow overstepped some boundary that he wasn’t aware of, but after another minute, she began.

“The story goes that there was a hungry old man who asked a vulpix, an aipom and an azumarill for some food.”

She mixed the dough with ease, like she had been making this for ages, which, he supposed she had. The faintest smile was on her face as she spoke and he tried to imagine her as a little girl, wearing an apron just like this, eyes wide as she heard this story for the first time.

“The aipom used his tail to get berries, the vulpix caught him some fish, but the rabbit only had grass to offer,” she continued. “So the azumarill built a fire and then jumped in, offering himself as food for the old man.”

Steven frowned. “This is a kids story?”

“Hey, I swear it has a happy ending,” she insisted with a laugh. “The old man revealed himself to be the moon god and, grateful for what the azumarill had done, saved him from the fire and thanked him. Then the moon god brought the azumarill to live with him on the moon. Legend has it, he’s still up there, making mochi for himself and the moon god. And speaking of-“

May pulled the dough from the bowl and onto the counter with a thump. Steven jumped slightly, too caught up in the story to notice that the dough was finished.

“So I’ll roll this out and divide it into 16 pieces, then we’ll make them into little balls,” she explained.

It was quiet for a moment as she worked the dough, both of them lost in their thoughts. Steven’s had settled considerably - perhaps it had been the repetition of making dumplings that had helped his mind stop running in a million circles.

“It was just a dumb kids story,” she said. “Sorry if I bored you.”

“No, no, that wasn’t it,” he replied. “Sorry, I was just thinking. I liked it, really.”

“I just- I thought it was pretty amazing that the azumarill did so much for someone he didn’t know, y’know?”

Steven was quiet, but May continued. “And then to live on the moon and have mochi for the rest of my life? Sounded like a good deal to me.”

He laughed and after a second, she did, too, and it seemed to break the awkwardness that had been lingering since they began baking. He didn’t know why he had been so nervous before. Even if they looked like a couple and people thought they were, it was nothing a little explanation couldn’t fix. The important thing was that he and May were still friends and that she would still be there for him at the end of the day; that was all that mattered.

“I know I asked earlier, but are you okay, really?” May glanced over at him, worry still in her eyes.

He sighed and leaned against the counter as she divided the dough into sixteen pieces.

“I am. I’m sorry for acting so strange earlier. I was just stuck in my head. We’re okay.”

“Okay, good,” she said, smiling, and he felt himself warm at seeing it. He had felt that before, but he had always just brushed it off as admiration and friendship before. But now he was starting to rethink it all.

“Alright, we’ll each do eight,” May instructed. She picked one of the dough pieces up and began to roll it. “Just fold the piece into itself and roll it between your hands until it’s a smooth ball like this.” She showed him a near perfect sphere, then placed it on the baking tray.

It was simple, really, but some inner perfectionist made him want the spheres to be as perfect as possible, which made him significantly slower than her. When she had finished her batch and he was only halfway through his, she laughed.

“They don’t have to be perfect, Steven. They’re going to be eaten either way.”

“I know,” he said, despite still rolling the ball in his hand because it was a little bigger than the other three.

May grabbed his hands in hers to stop him. He glanced up from his hands to her. She smiled and he could see the amusement in her eyes.

“They’re already great, Steven, really.” She took the dough ball and exchanged it for another slice.

“How’s it going, kids?” Mrs. Hawthorn said, popping her head in the doorway.

“Almost done, Mom!” May said.

Mrs. Hawthorn walked toward them to look over their work. 

“Great job, Steven! I would never have thought this was your first time doing this.”

“Well, May did all of the work,” he said.

“No, I couldn’t have done it without you,” she insisted.

“I just handed you ingredients-“

“Yes, but you’ve already made almost half of the dango yourself.”

“Well, however much work you did, you did very well, dear,” Mrs. Hawthorn said with a warm smile. “I’ll let the others know that you’re almost done.”

They thanked her and went back to finishing the last two slices.

Once they finished, May dropped them into boiling water and cleaned up their space as the dumplings cooked.

“Okay, so it wasn’t just me being in my head,” he admitted as they put away the rice flour. “I talked to Brendan earlier and-“

“Oh Mew, what did Brendan say?” she asked with a laugh.

“He- Honestly, it’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

May turned her full attention to him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What did he say?”

Steven brushed a hand through his hair, wondering why he even brought this up in the first place when they had just dissolved the tension they had had. How did he even explain this without making things awkward again?

“He, er, said that it looks like you brought me home as... your date.”

The bubbling of the water was the only sound between them for far too long. May’s face was red now and she very pointedly looked away from him. Steven’s own face was warm and he knew better than to think it was the steam from the dumplings.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable because I’m here or feel that you’re forced into doing anything or acting in a certain way. I genuinely thought I was just coming over to make these,” Steven gestured to the pot. “I just- don’t want things to get weird between us, if that’s not what you intended.” His voice quieted at the tail end of the sentence, wondering if she had heard him and, if so, if she would explain to him what she did intend.

She still wouldn’t look at him, though, instead stirring the dough balls and fishing out the ones that were apparently done cooking.

“I just want to know what’s happening right now, May,” he said. “Regardless of what happens tonight, nothing will change. At least not for me.”

She let out a long exhale, then glanced over at him.

“I- I really did want you to just experience a Littleroot tsukimi and enjoy yourself,” she started. “I... know what a lot of people have said about us and how this looks, but I know we’re not ... that.“

The question was at the tip of his tongue, but he held it back, waiting as she spoke again.

“I know we’re not and I’m sorry if tonight made you feel uncomfortable or if Brendan or my dad said something that freaked you out. They’re honestly the worst and I can’t believe they would interrogate you tonight-“

Steven touched her shoulder and, like he had earlier, she shied away. His hand held empty air and he was surprised at how much such a small reaction hurt.

“It wasn’t them, May. Sure, Brendan explained things, but he just told me what I probably should’ve known about a while ago. Your dad didn’t say anything. It’s just me. I just want to know ... how you feel. About us.”

He felt foolish for not being able to say it. They were adults for crying out loud; why was it so difficult to ask if she wanted something more, if she did actually want to date him?

You know why, a voice whispered in his mind, all of his flaws and insecurities coming to the forefront of his mind. Flighty even in the best of times, inexperienced in far too many things, travels too much for any steady relationship, hyper focuses on far too many weird hobbies-

May didn’t get to answer, though, because Mrs. Hawthorn popped back into the kitchen just then, her eyes lighting up when she saw the finished dango.

“Right on time! I’ll just take these outside.” She grabbed the baking tray and began walking out. She looked over her shoulder, nodding at them. “And that means you kids too!”

Steven followed her outside, May behind him. He felt less like he was walking somewhere and more that his body was moving for him. There was still so much unsaid between them; would they ever actually have a chance to talk it?

He felt a hand on his wrist pull him back. He looked back at her, but she was very much not looking at him.

“Mom, we’ll be there in a sec,” May said, sounding a lot more normal than he felt right now.

Mrs. Hawthorn smiled mischievously at them. “Don’t take too long, you two!”

Steven shifted from foot to foot once they were alone, just imagining the things she could be thinking about.

It was quiet for far too long between them and he hated it. He wanted to do something, anything, to break it, to go back to the joking and laughing from before. He never should have said anything to begin with; maybe then things wouldn’t be as bad as they are now-

“This is not at all how I thought this was going to go,” May said, startling him from his thoughts. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to go through with this, but I guess now is as good a time as any other.” She took a deep breath, then another. Steven couldn’t breathe.

“I like you. A lot. Like, more than I ever thought I would like someone.” Everything around him froze at her words. Time slowed, yet his heart rate and breathing sped up even further, feeling like an azumarill tapping its foot against his chest.

She was looking at everything but him, her arms crossed tightly in front of her and her face still so red it almost matched her bandana. It was ridiculously cute.

“If you don’t feel the same way, I completely understand and I won’t bring this up ever again, but... I just needed you to know, especially after everything that happened tonight.”

“May-“ He stepped toward her.

“No, no, I also want to say that if you don’t want to be friends or talk anymore after this, I understand that, too, I just-“

“May,” he said again.

“What?!” she exclaimed, finally looking at him. She looked upset, more upset than he’d ever seen her, and he felt horrible for being the reason for it.

A hundred things popped up in his mind to say, things he had heard were romantic or gallant, but all he could muster was a quiet, “I like you, too.”

“As a friend, though, right?”

“No! I mean, yes, of course as a friend, but also as more than that, as more than a friend,” he stammered out. He wanted to hug her and do something to make her feel better, but his hands just fluttered uselessly above her shoulders.

“I- I’ve always admired you; I’ve been in awe of your strength and skill in everything you do since I first met you,” he tried to explain. “I always thought that was all that it was: admiration. But, something changed. I don’t know if it was tonight or if it was on one of our lunch dates that I never realized until now were dates or if it was when you stepped out of the Cave of Origin like a living legend and I realized I was so grateful I hadn’t lost you.” He was rambling, oh Mew, he was rambling; how did people do this?

“I care about you, May,” he said, feeling like something in him had lightened by telling her despite the anxiety he felt for even saying the words. “And whether that’s as a partner or just as a mentor or as a friend, I want to be there for you.”

She still looked at him in almost... disbelief. “You, Steven Stone, like me?”

He smiled, hoping it would quell the doubt in her eyes. “I, Steven Stone, like you, May Hawthorn.”

“Okay,” she said with a breathy exhale that could have almost been a laugh. “Okay.”

Before he could think about what to do next, she flung herself into his arms with a real laugh this time, the one he heard almost daily over the phone and over food, the one that made him want to be the one to make her laugh like that again and again.

They just stood there for a moment and it felt like the puzzle pieces that had broken apart between them earlier that night were fitting themselves back together again.

May pulled back slightly, looking slightly sheepish, though her eyes shone brightly in the moonlight.

“So I know we definitely did this out of order, but do you want to go on a date with me?”

Steven laughed. “After all the apparent dates we’ve been on already?”

May rolled her eyes. “The other ones didn’t count because we didn’t even know they were dates.”

“We definitely did this out of order,” he said.

“Well, now we can do everything in order and do all the cheesy first date things, right?” She bit her lip as she looked up at him, as if she was trying to keep from smiling too wide.

“Right,” he agreed, his mind already thinking of all the things he wanted to do together, all the things he wanted to give her. “Does tonight count?”

She looked above them and the moonlight sparkled in her eyes. He couldn’t look away.

“Dinner under a full moon - not bad,” she said. “But I think we can do better.”

“Tomorrow then. At that sushi place in Rustboro, then a late night flight?”

She smiled and Steven swore it was brighter than the moon itself. “It’s a date.”

-

dango: rice dumplings similar to mochi that are made during tsukimi to represent the moon!

thank you for reading this - i’m sorry again for not having posted anything this week, but i really hope you enjoyed! again, i’m going to try to figure out ao3 tomorrow - work has just been A Mess and i haven’t had a chance to until now.

i also want to thank the discord for helping me work through my writer’s block and just being really lovely <3 y’all are the best!!!

[yourfavoriteagent]

Your Midnight Company Part 4

Hey guys! Sorry it’s been a few days but here’s a little chapter for you!

Also found on my AO3: Here!

Content Warning: None

This was not how he wanted this night to go when he got the call he knew his night was over. Unfortunately, he had to bring y/n with him, not that he didn’t want her to be with him, he just didn’t know what else to do, he wouldn’t have had time to bring her home and he wasn’t just going to throw her in a cab and send her away. So here she was, walking into the doors of the BAU. “She’s with me, can you grab her a pass?” He says to the woman sitting behind the front desk. “Can I see your ID please?” She asks, you pull out your wallet and hand over your driver’s license. He could tell you were nervous, he put his hand on the small of your back and gave you a soft smile trying to comfort you. The woman hands back your license and gives you a small badge that says ‘VISITOR’. He reaches for your hand and guides you to the elevator. “Again, I’m so sorry I didn’t think I would be called in tonight. You can sit at my desk and wait. I’ll be out as soon as I can, I promise.” The elevator dings and opens up into an office room, there were a few clustered of desks and people walking around holding files and talking to people. Morgan walks up to the two of you, “Hotch wants us in the conference room in 5- oh who is this?” He smiles and goes to shake your hand. “My name is y/n.” You reach out and shake his hand, you look up at Spencer for reassurance. “This is Agent Morgan, he’s one of my coworkers.” Spencer awkwardly smiled and lead you to his desk. His desk was a mess, covered in files he needed to read and books he had to reference. He was possibly more nervous than you were, he didn’t know what everyone was going to say, he would have to tell them he was out on a date with you, not that he was ashamed he just didn’t want to scare you off. “Are you okay?” You say, sitting down at his desk, he hadn’t been paying attention at all. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling to be at eye level with you. “I’m perfect, just glad I get to spend some time with you.” You grab his hand and rub your thumb on his palm. He sighs and squeezes your hand gently. “Okay, I have to go, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He walks into the conference room, he hates to leave you like this but he knows he has to. Once he opens the door all eyes are on him. Prentiss was the first one to talk, “So… who’s the cutie?” He can feel himself blushing, “I was on a date when I got the call, I didn’t have time to take her home before I had to be here.” “Pretty boy’s on a date!” Morgan laughs from across the table. “A date?” JJ says, walking into the room. “Guys! It’s not that big of a deal! We went out to dinner and then you called me. So let’s just get this done with so I can get back to what I was doing.” Spencer rolls his eyes and looks out the window of the conference room, he had a good view of you sitting at his desk, you had taken the book he got you out of your bag and began reading it. You looked so pretty when you were concentrating. Just then Hotch walks into the room snapping him out of his trance. “Okay, we have 3 murdered girls in D.C. all dumped at the same time but the coroner’s report says they were killed days apart,” Hotch says, everyone stops messing around and goes into work mode.

——-

This office was nice, a young woman came by and got you some coffee while you were reading. You took the book Spencer had just gotten you out of your bag to pass the time. This wasn’t the first date you had imagined but you didn’t mind too much. He had to do what he had to do, saving people’s lives was far more important plus you had a book to get lost in. You could see him through the window in the room he went into. Everyone once and a while you saw him get up and write something on the board, you couldn’t read it but he looked so serious while he was talking, He glanced at you through the window as well, making eye contact and giving you an apologetic smile.

Soon enough he walked out of the room with 6 others. “We’ll leave at 7 am tomorrow,” A tall man in a suit says and looks at you questioningly. He turns to Spencer and quietly says something to him. Spencer seems to explain the situation to him and he nods and gives you a formal nod. You stand up when Spencer gets close to you. “How was it?” “Pretty intense, we have to leave to go to D.C. in the morning. Luckily we won't be too far out.” He smiles and grabs your hand. “Let’s get out of here.” You smile and nod, picking up your bag before heading back to the elevator. At the last second two other people get in, two young women with blonde hair, one wore glasses and an exciting outfit with spiked hair and the other was in a very professional looking suit with straight hair. “Hi! My name is Penelope!” The woman in the glasses beams at you. “Hello! I’m y/n.” You smile and shake her outstretched hand. “Y/n, what a pretty name! You can call me JJ.” A woman in the nice suit says. You can feel Spencer tense slightly next to you. “It’s nice to meet you guys, you work with Spencer?” You go to reach for his arm but decide against it, you didn’t want to seem to forward or embarrass him, so you settled for holding hand. “Yep, we’re the BAU,” Penelope does a small curtsey. Just then the elevator dings and the four of you step out. “I hope to see you again, y/n,” JJ says and she and Penelope part ways with are. Spencer and you walk out into the crisp night air once again, his meeting only took around 45 minutes which was better than either of you were expecting, too bad you had to say goodbye to him again for who knows how long. “All okay?” You squeeze his hand a little tighter and look up at him. “I’m good, I was just a bit nervous for you to meet them, I didn’t want them to scare you off, you know?” He said, he looked like he was shy about it. “Scare me? Oh no, they were super cool! You don’t have to worry about me, Spencer.” You comfort him. The two of you walk contently, hand in hand, down the late-night streets of Quantico on your way back to your apartment.

[forlornmelody]

Impulse Control--Why Startling Poison Ivy Is A Really Bad Idea

Rating: E (Smut with some plot, for flavor.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Kate Kane

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:  To find Harley, Ivy must make an uneasy alliance with one of the more notorious (and notoriously attractive) members of the Batfamily. A simple, easy in-and-out. But nothing is so simple or easy, is it?

Note: Commission for @rookie009. Dude, thank you so much for commissioning me again. And indulging this weirdness.

->->->

Pam-a-lamb,

I’m doing bad stuff but don’t worry ‘bout it. 

--Harley xoxo

“It’s completely unlike her, right?” 

Jason leans against the doorway, one boot braced against it and the other flat on the floor. He holds Harley’s unfolded note in his gloved hands, narrowing his eyes at it as if the answer lies in the creases. “You know her better. What’s your gut telling you?” 

“She--” Ivy sighs, rubbing circles between her eyebrows--a futile gesture against her impending headache. “--She doesn’t leave notes. Harley just goes . Maybe she texts me while she’s out somewhere because the color of someone’s jacket made her think of me.” Waving her hand at the note, Ivy meets Jason’s eyes. “This…” 

“...is planned.” Jason rotates the note, flipping it forward and back. “You sure it’s her handwriting?"

Honestly, Ivy doesn’t know what to think. “It...doesn’t look any different.” She coughs. “It smells like her.” Like buttered popcorn and Chinese food. Remembering cuts right into her sternum. 

Jason puts a gloved hand over hers. He’s the only Robin who ever dared to touch her. “You’ll get her back. I know you will.”

She watches him step back towards the door. “Not we?”

“Sorry, Red. I can’t help you.” Jason shifts on his feet. To be honest, Ivy kind of expected this. She can still see the scar running down the side of his face, where a crowbar had bashed his head in, and where a coroner had sewn it back shut. Funny how the Lazarus Pit didn’t remove it when it brought him back. “The Outlaws and I have work in Markovia.” Ivy’s teeth grind together at the blatant lie, but before she can speak, he continues,  “But if it’s a gun you need, I’m not the only one in the Batfamily who can handle them.”

“Who--?”

“Don’t worry. She’ll find you.”

He shuts the door behind him so softly Ivy almost doesn’t hear it. The gears in her mind clicking into place drown it out.

You better be joking, Kid. 

 -----

Jason was not kidding. Ivy enters her greenhouse lab, and finds Batwoman herself leaning against a drosera glanduligera . “I’d give Frankie some space if I were you. He finds unannounced guests quite delicious and full of nutrients.”

Batwoman quickly puts distance between them. Frankie’s tentacles sag with betrayal. “Red Hood told me you needed a favor?” Her crimson-stained lips wrinkle with distaste. 

“Harley’s missing. Jason Todd told me you’d help.” It’s an exaggeration of his promise, but Ivy isn’t leaving anything to chance. 

It’s hard to tell with the cowl, but Ivy swears Batwoman’s eyes widen just a little before narrowing into slits. “That depends. Am I aiding you in a crime?”

Ivy turns around, pretending to ignore her as she prunes a mutated rosa gymnocarpa, one that will fire its thorns at will. She’s thinking of naming it Lucy. “Depends on what you consider a crime.” Before Batwoman can answer, Ivy continues. “Is hacking government systems a crime? Is kidnapping?”

Batwoman steps next to her, and nearly fingers the rose petals, but thinks better of it. “You think government agents took her somewhere?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. But I want to find her before someone worse does.”

Ivy’s desk seems like a safe enough place, and Batwoman perches there. “You’re not worried I’m going to turn you in?”

That gets a chuckle out of her. “You’re certainly welcome to try.”

The suggestion rolls off of her like rain on a window pane. “Oh, like Batman hasn’t turned you in several times before?”

Ivy licks her lips. “Only when I wanted him to.”

The vigilante rolls her eyes. “Look. I owe J--Red Hood a favor. So I’ll look into it and--”

“No. I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

“I have to make sure you’re not giving me bad intel.” Before Batwoman can protest, Ivy continues. “You don’t want to disappoint Jason, do you?”

Is it Batwoman muffling her grumble, or is it her mask?

“This  can’t be the Batcave.”

“It’s not. It’s a safehouse. One I will be relocating after this.”

Ivy snorts, eyeing a piece of ancient weaponry, a Roman shield by the looks of it. It seems neither of them trusts the other. She’s fine with that. Not once has Ivy ever appreciated having someone depend on her. Well. There’s always an exception, isn’t there? But that exception is off doing fuck-knows-what, and Ivy’s relying on a godamn hero to help find her. “Nice place,” she murmurs. 

“Don’t touch anything.” Batwoman says quickly, sitting down at her desk, bracing her chin on her elbows in front of her keyboard. It’s so... candid of her that Ivy catches herself staring. Apparently even superheroes let their shoulders roll forward sometimes. Ivy wonders what Batwoman looks like when she finally removes her cowl for the night. The red hair most definitely is a wig--real hair would never hold curls like that. Her hair is short underneath--putting it up would take too much time when an old lady needs help crossing the street. But other than the fullness of her red lips--Ivy has no idea who the woman is underneath. It’s going to drive her crazy--just like it did with her male counterpart. “CIA says she’s been “acquired for a black ops mission out of Bell Reve. But anything beyond that we’ll have to access on si--Are you even listening?”

Ivy shakes it off, pretending to examine her nails. “And why can’t I touch anything if you’re moving?” She’s trying to remember why Bell Reve sounds so familiar. 

“I would like to keep some of it. I like the way it looks. And I don’t want your pheromones on everything.”

Then it clicks. “ Beautiful View. Is that another prison?”

Batwoman presses her lips together, then nods. “Blacksite.”

Fire roils in Ivy’s veins. “Of fucking course it is.” No accountability. No oversight. Whoever kidnapped Harley can do fuck-all with her and get away with it. And Ivy (and Batwoman) have barely scratched the surface.

“Doctor Isley?” Batwoman says, her voice rising and tense.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? The vines in my spider plant look about ready to strangle me.”

Ivy glances over at the chlorophytum comosum, whose children are quickly inching towards Batwoman and her slender neck. “She says you’re smothering her and her babies with the constant watering. And she prefers the name Billie.” Waving her hand, Ivy watches as the spider plants retreat back towards their home, leaving their caretaker well alive, for now. 

 ------

The “site”  is a nondescript cubicle-laced hell in the basement of a social security office. Neither of them can go through the front door--well, Batwoman could if she’d take off her goddamn cowl, but that isn’t happening any time soon. So they pop open a basement window while the mailroom workers are on their lunch. They meander through the maze of modular walls and humming towers, dodging the occasional wayward paper crumble. “Our info should be in that corner office.”

It doesn’t look like much, just an otherwise empty desk with a computer that has dust gathering on its keyboard. The room lacks widows, and Ivy wrinkles her nose at the musty air. It could use a sathiphyullum or two to freshen up. Batwoman leans over the desk, firing up the computer and clacking at the keys. “Almost there….”

Ivy smells them before she hears them--donuts, coffee, and the musk of unwashed skin. Security. “Bats---”

Batwoman doesn’t even deign to look up. “Keep ‘em busy.”

“Poison Ivy?” The first guard fumbles to keep his walkie-talkie in his hands. 

“Good afternoon,” she says neutrally. Batwoman gives her a steel look. “Work here often?”

His mouth hangs open, his thumb still glued to the talk button. He means to ask what she’s doing here, but all that comes out is: “Are you seeing anyone?”

Ivy snorts. “Maybe if you set that radio down, Casanova.” 

As soon as he complies, the radio hisses with static. “Sending backup, over.”

“Ivy!” Bats hisses, glancing over at her. 

She scoffs, listening for the tell-tale thunder of boots down the hall. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you weren’t hung up about property damage.”

“No one can know we’re here, Ivy.”

For the love of pete. Her heart already races out of control, and fuck if Ivy can slow it down now. Harley’s calming techniques be damned. “Well, you’re not going to like this either.” 

“Like what?” Bats says flatly, in the middle of a download. 

“You’ve only two other options, Batsy.”

“Enough with the nicknames, already.”

The backup pours into the room, and the room flashes white, and Ivy swears her eardrums explode with the noise. Her body reacts before her brain can, and the air’s filled with a dusty haze. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

“Sex or murder?” Ivy calls out over the coughing militarized guards. Who the fuck guards a building with a SWAT team? Harley, what have you got yourself into this time? 

“What?” Batwoman yells back, coughing too. 

“SEX OR MURDER???”

“...Sex, I guess?”

Ivy holds up her hands, seeing half a dozen sights aimed at her chest. “It’s gonna be sex with me. You okay with that?”

Batwoman doesn’t look up, but she does stop typing. “Is this hypothetical or…?”

“Not anymore it isn’t.” 

“Are you going to kill me otherwise?” 

Ivy pinches her nose. “ NO. For crying out loud. But we don’t have time to get arrested.”

“HANDS ON THE GROUND.” Ivy and Bats comply. What else are they going to do while they hash this out?

The vigilante rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“ Yes, Ivy. But only if it’s not around these idiots.”

“If you insist.” Ivy waves her hand as subtly as she can, letting the pheromones escape her skin like a fine mist. 

“Uh, boss?” One of the sights drops to her hand. Shit. 

Five more join the first. “Hey! None of that. ”Pigs never were known for their subtlety. 

Ivy plasters on her most repentant expression. “Too late.” And she’s not lying. She can already see the green mist being pulled into the HVAC system. Which is another problem, but one she’s not going to worry about just yet. 

“Plant Lady! Get that shit out of the air!”

One. 

“No can do. Sorry.” Not sorry. Not one bit. 

Two. 

“I mean it, Lady. Or I’ll shoot!”

Three. 

“ Lady, I swear I’ll--”

One piggy turns to the other. “Hey, Frankie?”

“Not now, Mitch.”

“There’s something I gotta tell you, Frankie.” Mitch takes his hand, fingering the clasps on the other man’s armor. 

“Mitch? What hell-- mm. ”

Batwoman holds her flash drive in her hands, stunned by the site of an entire SWAT team playing tonsil hockey with one another. Ivy grabs her by the cape. “That’s our cue!” And she drags her to a cubicle by the stairs. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just left ?” 

“‘Fraid not. Unless you packed an antidote to my new toxin with you.” 

“Actually.” Batwoman fishes around in her utility belt. “Shit.” She turns on her, jabbing a finger in her face. “You were supposed to be on your best behavior.”

Ivy folds her arms, leaning against the cubicle wall. “Wasn’t expecting them to send the SWAT after us.” 

Batwoman takes a deep breath. “So, how does this work, exactly?”

Licking her lips, Ivy answers. “There’s an antidote in my saliva, but it’s the most potent after I’ve had an orgasm.”

“Then why does it have to be sex?” Bat’s candor is refreshing, if not unexpected. “Why not jill yourself off and get it over with?” 

“It’s not so simple,” Ivy chuckles. “My DNA is too dissimilar to yours--”

“But if you have my DNA, aka my saliva , with it--”

“An effective antidote.”

“An effective antidote that won’t cause you serious side effects.” She steps towards Bats, holding out her hand. “Any other questions before we start?”

Batwoman quirks her head at Ivy’s clinical tone. “Will Harley be okay with this?”

Ah. There’s the question of the day. Ivy closes her hand, examining her nails as she shrugs. “She’ll be alive . And free.”

Black gloved hands take her bare ones in their own, squeezing them gently. “You love her, don’t you.”

Ivy swallows, feeling as if the ground is moving beneath her boots. “I’d--” do anything for her , she means to say, and give Batwoman the vantage over her.

Batwoman seals her mouth over hers, muffling her reply. And to think this woman had the more ruthless reputation over her male counterpart. Her slips are soft and full, and the gloss slides between them and tastes like dark cherry. Intoxicating. Ivy dares to dart her tongue between them, and taste that poison just that much more. 

Her pheromones work quickly as they enter Batwoman’s system. Her professional silence slips into wanton moans, and her hands work into the top of Ivy’s bust. She shivers, leaning into her touch, whispering encouragement. “Go ahead. Touch me everywhere you’d like.” 

Nearby, an officer lets out a guttural cry, “Please, baby. Gimme more.”

That pulls Batwoman’s attention away, and Ivy drags it back with the drag of her nails across the material of her uniform. “Shh. Don’t mind them. They can’t even hear us over the sound of their own sex.”

Batwoman’s voice is husky as she pulls the top of Ivy’s corset down. “You sure?”

“Mmhm. Happens all the time.” Batwoman laughs at that, and moans as Ivy’s hands dally around her utility belt. “Now, aren’t these things booby trapped?”

Nodding, Batwoman whispers. “Security disengage: Code Sappho.” The utility belt snaps open falling into her hands. 

Ivy laughs. “Oh my god .”

“Laugh all you want. I’m changing it as soon as this is over.”

Setting the belt aside, Ivy runs a finger down to Batwoman’s crotch. She drinks in the hiss from her lips, adding more pressure and more fingers, drawing heat between her legs and hopefully a little wetness. “You like that, don’t you.” 

“Nn, fuck.” Batwoman leans into her touch. She’s a goner. 

Ivy loves this part of the game, taking the most stubborn partner and watering their desire until it breaks them apart like tree roots in a sidewalk. It’s different from when she makes love to Harley. This is less like romance and more like chess. How many moves until she queens her king? “That’s it. Tell me what feels good.”

Batwoman’s knees go weak, and Ivy shoves her into a rolling chair. She presses the heel of her hand into her groin. “Oh g-- . Mm.” Gasping, Bats grabs Ivy's hand and shoves it into her own pants. 

“Mm, demanding, aren’t you?” Ivy bites her ear lobe. “I like that.”

“Just get it o --oh. ” Bats leans into Ivy’s skillful touch, and she plays her like a violin, basking in the melody ringing from her lips. But Batwoman would never let a bad girl win, now would she?

Teeth graze Ivy’s neck, and the gasp slips from her mouth faster she can stop it. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck yes. Right there.” It no longer registers which goon is saying what. They could all be chanting in unison for all Ivy knows. And she doesn’t care. 

Batwoman licks the red line she’s created, and she squeezes Ivy’s breast through her uniform, just on the edge of too hard . She knows exactly what she’s doing. Check . Ivy catches her mouth, tasting her, drawing quick, tight circles around her clit. Just as Bats quakes in her arms, Ivy pulls back. “Oh come on, ” she groans.

“You get tied up a lot , don’t you?” Ivy glances at the zamioculus zamifolia, potted at the opposite desk corner. “You must enjoy it, then.” Batsy’s eyes widen as the vines stretch towards her. “Why else would you keep going to work?”

“It’s annoying as fuck--” The vines halt their progress, and shudder, and the Bat licks her lips. “--On the job.”

“That’s more like it.” The vines curl and twist around Bat’s wrists, binding her to the chair. Two more bind the chair, albeit loosely, to the desk. Let her move her hips, without letting her roll away. Once she’s in place, Ivy sways her hips, slowly undoing the zipper in her one piece suit. She lets it slide down her skin, and Ivy presses her bare breasts into Bat’s face, and just for a moment her mark closes her eyes, breathing her in. 

Ivy frowns. This won’t do. This won’t do at all. She whisks the vines away, and Batwoman stares at her. Pulling back again, Ivy kicks her suit past her ankles, and tosses the keyboard aside. She sits on the desk with her legs spread wide. “I’m gonna need you to bed over, darling.” 

“I’m not your darling.” Bats turns her chair around, leaning down, and breathing in Ivy’s musk. She barely remembers to tie her up again. 

It occurs to Ivy that she hasn’t let anyone other than Harley get this close in a very long time. Usually Ivy leaves her marks to die after they get her pheromones in their system. There was that one time with Selina when one of their capers went sideways. While Ivy swore up and down, Catwoman pulled her goggles away from her eyes and kissed her full on the mouth. And things escalated from there. But that was before Harley. 

Batwoman takes her sweet time tasting her, and Ivy finds herself gripping the desk with white knuckles. No. She won’t let her know how nice this feels-- oh. Oh God. “ Fuck.” 

And then Batwoman pulls back. “Has Harley been gone that long?”....Did she say that last part out loud?

“Fuck you.”

Tilting her head to the side, Batwoman asks, “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

Oh, but Ivy wants to wipe that coy smile off that face and replace it with her pleas for mercy. “Almost. Do you prefer to be teased or penetrated?” Ivy leans forward with her breasts pressed together, her words clinical and her grin anything but. 

Bats dares to look her over, drinking the sheen on her skin. Her mouth never quite closes. She licks her lips, almost panting as she asks. “Must I choose?”

Ivy takes Bat’s chin in her hands. “Greedy, aren’t you?”

Whatever Bat’s snarky reply is, it’s lost in Ivy’s mouth as she claims her once more. This time neither of them hold back, devouring each other sloppily and noisily. Ivy trails kisses down Bat’s neck, and she summons another vine. The tiniest, softest leaf brushes across Bat’s clit. Batwoman cries out sharply, straining against her bonds. 

“Ready?” Ivy pulls the vine back, examining the wetness dripping down its stalk. Oh, she’s ready all right. But Ivy wants to hear her say it. 

“Ivy .” 

Digging her fingers into Bat’s chin, Ivy nearly growls. “ Beg for it. ” The vine teases her clit faster, not harder, never quite getting her where she wants it. No, needs it. 

Goosebumps run down Batwoman’s arms. “ Please.”

How fortunate that one of the cubicle dwellers has taken to growing a ficus ginseng microcarpa as a bonsai tree. Ivy draws out one of the aerial roots, sculpting it into the right shape. She slides a condom on it, safety first, of course, and lets the plant do the rest. It enters Bats slowly, slowly filling her up. Her eyes bulge as it pulls back, and pushes back in. No sound spills from her mouth, but her hips shift, thrusting with the plant as it fucks her. 

Fuck, but Ivy’s mouth is dry. Her thighs twitch, rubbing together hungrily as she watches. She wants to touch herself so bad but she won’t give Batwoman that satisfaction. She won’t. She...

Batwoman’s face twists, and her mouth pinches shut. Her back arches and the chair squeaks across the floor. The groan rasps out of her mouth as her jaw drops into the perfect Oh. 

“Not bad.” Ivy picks some lint off of her arm, releasing Batwoman from her bonds. “The antidote should be working now. Thank you for the view --” 

The vigilante charges forward, gripping Ivy’s arms and pressing her back into the desk. Ivy watches the monitor crash to the floor. “I’m not done yet.” Batwoman’s signature lipstick has smeared across her chin in a very un-Batlike fashion. Her gloved fingers poke at Ivy’s clit, and she hisses. “Still sensitive, aren’t we? Still unsatisfied?” Her voice drops low and teasing, and fuck, Ivy won’t tell her to fuck off now . 

Those same fingers that cast batarangs and grip grappling hooks dig into her, twisting and pulling. A chorus of cries ring out in harmony with her own, as Ivy lifts her hips off the desk, thrusting into Batwoman’s touch. “Yes. Yes.” Bats grins into Ivy’s mouth, drawing out her moans. Harley would do the same thing, but Ivy doesn’t want to think about her right now. She doesn’t want to think about anything at this moment. She draws up a vine, letting it coat itself in its own juices. Nice and easy , she tells herself, pulling away from Batwoman so she can look her in the eyes. 

The vine slithers between her butt cheeks, small end first. Batwoman raises her eyebrows, but she doesn’t stop her delicious torment. In fact, she licks her lips a little. “Ah, fuck. Fuck. ” Her hand works in tandem with Ivy’s vines, pushing and pulling her hips back and forth like a rubber band. She chuckles into Ivy’s mouth, claiming it again, tasting it again. Only chuckling louder as Ivy begs and begs for release. Batmwoman clenches Ivy’s hip with her free hand, digging in her fingers so she feels that much more used . And fuck her, Ivy loves it. 

If the pigs nearby are still fucking, Ivy can’t hear them. 

She doesn’t even hear herself moaning into Batwoman’s ear. She only hears the slick as she’s fucked from both sides. And oh , the fullness of both . Ivy grips Batwoman’s shoulders to keep from shaking apart, and she bites the skin of her neck as she explodes with the heat of the sun.

Ivy stretches as the vine and Batwoman pull back, and she hums with satisfaction. Batwoman watches her with molten eyes. “Should we go agai--”

Ding! The computer chimes nearby. 

Ivy sits up quickly, shaking off the last vestiges of her afterglow, slinking her one piece on and zipping it up the back. The zipper gets stuck, and before she can weigh the pros and cons of asking , gloved fingers finish the job for her. “Transfer’s done.”

“Finally.”  Ivy grabs her boots, marching to the office barefoot. 

Batwoman clicks a few keys, and whistles . “Mission’s already done. She’s at Metropolis General.”

“She’s hurt !?” A branch snaps in a horrid crack behind them. 

“She was, but she’s being discharged today. Better hurry.”

Batwoman doesn’t need to tell her twice. 

Ivy pauses to don her boots in the hallway. Nearby she hears the sound of a half-a-dozen special response officers zipping up their flies. “Ah, fuck. I lost a button. Anyone see the button to my uniform?”

“Fuck off. At least you’re not missing a contact lens.” 

“Hey! Who stole my gun?”

“Ah shit. Mine too.”

Leaving them behind, Ivy chuckles. The green always knows how to take good care of her. Soon she’ll return the favor.

------

Room 23. The hospital stretches on in an endless maze. Ivy forces herself not to run, to carry her empty clipboard like she’s a doctor making her rounds. Just act like she belongs there and no one will notice. So far so--

Ivy’s heart soars when she spots the room number. 

“Harley!”

Harley shoots up in bed, swaying a little, but her shit eating grin tells Ivy everything will be okay. “Pretty girl!”

Ivy sits on the bed, planting a shy kiss on Harley’s lips. “I need to tell you something.” She explains the events of the past 24 hours, and Harley’s eyes go wide. Twisting her hands, Ivy waits an eternity for Harley to reply.

“Was she good? Do you think she’d be down for a threesome?”

“Harley!”

[handeaux]

Few Cincinnatians Shed A Tear When The Safety Lane Shut Down

Gather ‘round, youngsters and hear tell about a vintage Cincinnati tradition long consigned to the dustbin of history. I refer to the old Safety Lane, gone 40 years this year.

Time was, every automobile cruising Cincinnati thoroughfares was required to show a current sticker proving that it had passed an inspection affirming it was in a condition to be operated safely. A burnt-out headlight, a silent horn, faulty brakes, even shaky alignment earned a temporary tag, giving the driver a week to repair the problem.

The real problem was there were so many loopholes in the Safety Lane system that the whole operation finally devoured itself. But we’ll get to that eventually.

The Safety Lane began as a voluntary service at a time when automobile fatalities were spiraling out of control. In 1934, the city of Cincinnati alone logged 201 fatal automobile accidents. For comparison, all of Hamilton County recorded only 108 auto fatalities in 2019. In 1935, the National Safety Council ranked Cincinnati as among the most dangerous municipalities to drive through.

In response, Municipal Court Judge Elmer Hunsicker created a civic organization known as the Traffic Safety Council. In 1935, the Council opened its first Safety Lane on Court Street, an outdoor, drive-through service offering thorough evaluations to motorists on a voluntary basis.  Perhaps to emphasize the life-saving intent, the lane was operated under the auspices of the County Coroner. On a single day in May 1935, the temporary service flagged defects on 77 of 109 cars inspected, with more than half failing because of headlights, five for faulty brakes and four for poor alignment.

A year later, funded by the Works Progress Administration, the lane moved to the new Union Terminal. The Depression-era service provided jobs for 36 men. As more cars earned failing marks, the city decided to make regular inspections mandatory and located a site along Central Parkway near the Hopple Street Viaduct to build a permanent facility. The new, official, city-operated Safety Lane opened on 21 December 1939. On 1 April, 1940, inspections every six months became mandatory. That’s when the fun started.

Almost simultaneously with Cincinnati, Norwood initiated an inspection program and motorists played the two inspections against each other. If an auto failed in Cincinnati, the driver drove to Norwood and often got a better result. Although a significant number of owners went to Butler or Clermont County to register their vehicles – on the assumption that police would only tag cars with Hamilton County plates – cops learned to run the plates, and issued tickets if a Cincinnati address showed up for out-of-town plates.

The official stickers themselves caused problems. Until 1959, the Safety Lane glued an approved permit onto the windshield. The permits were so thick that thieves shaved them off and sold them to people driving junkers that would never pass inspection. Unfortunately, the replacement stickers were fragile decals that often disintegrated during application.

Citizens resented the Safety Lane’s hours – basically 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. – requiring them to take time from work to have their car inspected. Lunch hours invariably generated featured long lines. For many years, although Safety Lane stickers were dated, the city mailed reminders to motorists when it was time for an updated inspection, adding to the cost of operation.

The city was leisurely about updating its records, resulting in confusion, as reported by the Cincinnati Post’s Si Cornell [24 June 1964]. After waiting half an hour, inching his way forward in a long line of cars, a motorist realized he didn’t need to be there at all. The city reminder he received was for an old car he no longer owned, and the car he was driving had a brand new sticker. He explained this to the inspector, who waved his car through.

“But while Leo was thanking him – another eager attendant leaped into the auto and (as usual) scraped off Leo’s good sticker. They couldn’t give him another sticker since the car hadn’t been inspected. ‘I had to drive around and get in that long line again,’ said Leo.”

Motorists suspected that safety inspections were nothing but a a money-making racket for the city and often complained about suspicious activity. A complaint to the Enquirer’s “Tell It To Bick” column [23 September 1965] is typical:

“Although the Safety Lane sticker on our car had not expired, we put it through the lane – it was passed okay. Then we decided to put on some new tires. One wheel was about to fall off! If we had not put new tires on, there might have been a fatal accident. How can this pass the Safety Lane?”

A bribery scandal in 1960 tarnished the reputation of the safety Lane inspectors. Motorists complained that leaving a “tip” on the seat as the inspector drove the car through resulted in a rubber-stamped approval. One inspector implicated in the investigation killed himself.

Eventually, the cost of operating the Safety Lane far outstripped the funds accrued via nominal inspection fees. Automobiles, once relatively similar, evolved into variants as disparate as subcompacts and hulking SUVs. Equipment capable of testing this range proved expensive and balky. Research showed that driver error rather than vehicle condition caused most fatal accidents. In the early 1970s, the city considered shutting the Safety Lane just as the federal government imposed penalties on cities that failed to meet air pollution standards. New exhaust inspections were added to the checklist. By 1980, the Safety Lane was losing $12,000 every month. After a few tight city budgets, the Safety Lane went on the chopping block.

It was not mourned. The Cincinnati Post [20 February 1981] rejoiced:

“One of the nicest things to happen so far in 1981 was the demise of the Cincinnati Safety Lane. For years it was a place where motorists wasted time, were relieved of their money, and sometimes were humiliated – apparently for no good reason at all.”

Just seven years later, a new inspection program, mandated by state and federal efforts to improve the city’s polluted air quality went into effect. Auto emission testing stations opened at service stations and a few dedicated facilities. Air quality improved and that program faded away, too.

Paul Smith, who ran the Safety Lane for the last few years before it closed, remained convinced it saved lives. He told the Cincinnati Post [2 February 1988]:

“We literally had to take some cars away from people because they were so unsafe. Some people would want to get physical with you about that. But they would come in with literally no brakes. You’d press the pedal and it would go all the way to the floor. And they would say, ‘Yeah, I know. Just hit ‘em a couple of more times, they’ll work.’”