#I do not harbor any ill will towards you for that. You apologized and owned up

[realsorcerershit]

Hey, I'm gonna make a bit of a long post here. It's going to be ramble-y, it's going to be kind of a stream of thought deal, and I don't really know where it's going to end up as I'm writing this. It's personal, and it's something I feel strongly about, and it has to do with my last textpost.

So. The topic of today is:

I Don't Like Talking About Myself Anymore.

And no, this isn't going to be some post where I'm just venting, but moreso analyzing why. I need to get my thoughts out there on this, and I need to...talk about it, really. Just throw it off my chest, into a wild where maybe six people will read it. So let's get into it.

Last night, in a small bit of frustration, I made a post talking about people trying to over-analyze media, and give it an objective rating of it being good or bad, and indirectly using that as some high ground, telling people that they shouldn't like something because it's "objectively bad". If you want to read that, I'll put a link to it below.

Link to post: Fair warning, I use a bit of harsh language. I stand by it, though.

And ever since I posted this, I've been in a lot of thoughts about it. What brought this surge of emotion up? Why do I feel so particularly strongly about it? Why is this a belief I hold close to my heart? And - the answer isn't really simple. Like most emotions people go through, it ends up being a complex weave. So let's start with the absolute basics.

First thing's first. Part of the reason I feel so strongly about this is, that, there's a natural element of attachment to the media that people enjoy, and that includes myself. *I* have some form of attachment to the media I enjoy. FPSes, the dnd campaign I play in every week, the small bits of music and other games that I enjoy, the people I like watching on youtube or even the small amount of shows I enjoy watching. All of it takes up at least somewhat of a portion of my life, and as such, it becomes part of...who I am, in a way. Media sticks with people, it can influence them in various ways.

And now, we live in a world where people end up trying to analyze everything to a point where nobody can just admit that they *dislike* something these days. There always has to be some kind of justification for their dislike, there always has to be some logical, realistic reason for it that makes sense in their head. So, they come up with reasons why. And those reasons can range from a wide variety of things. For example, if I told someone I liked the genre of metal in music, I could get a response along the lines of, "Oh, metal (the genre of music) is too formulaic. Everything's the same, so it's bad. And, the lyrics end up sounding like a kid wrote them", instead of that person just saying "you know, I really do respect your tastes in music, however, I am not a fan of metal, because it simply isn't for me." The latter of these two responses would legitimately tell me, the person speaking, that, hey. I can respect that this isn't for them, and that I can disengage the topic on friendly terms. Not everyone's going to mutually like the exact same things, and that's part of being human. However.

The first response is where things get bad. Because now, suddenly, I feel confronted. I now have to sit there and justify my like for something, in a heated debate that I didn't want to have in the first place, because here I was, pouring my heart out about something I love. And now, that love is being attacked by someone who had no real purpose in it. And it doesn't even come out of a place of malice, most of the time. People are nowadays super trained into thinking that they have to fit into these very specific camps or else like...they'll be laughed at, or whatever.

So, this all leads me back to the topic at the top of this post. I don't like talking about myself anymore. I don't like going off about the hobbies I have. The OCs whose stories I think about every day, my favorite video games or movies or songs or...any of it. Because the default response these days seems to be that, if I'm not talking with someone who likes the things I like, that I'm going to be met with some form of backlash on it. And it hurts. It genuinely really hurts. I hold up something I genuinely love, and I want to talk about it with people. (At least, when people want to hear about it. Don't force things on people, that also isn't right. Something I'm working on myself, too.) I want to share it, and now I'm afraid to, because at the end of it all, I think I'm going to be...harassed, or chastised, or ridiculed, or some other thing, because that happens to be the default now. And now I feel backed into a corner, where I've put myself in some kind of shame box that I'm only now after maybe 15 years starting to slowly work my way out of.

Just respect other people's hobbies, as long as they aren't harmful. That's all I ask.

[xxchumanixx]

You're absolutely right, Eric Winter is the Godfather of sexyness🔥

Anyway, I hope you don't mind that I came up with with a The Rookie idea 🤗 hear me out my love hear me out:

Reader is a cop. Tim and her secretly harboring feelings for each other but they would never admit it

Everything was fine until one night when they were out with the others to celebrate and then they had a drunken one night stand

The next day Tim tells her that it was a mistake and they should forget about it. Reader is heartbroken and devastated.

Tim is also sad about the situation but he thinks it's for their best, so he even tries to avoid reader at work and she him

Until one day they have to partner up and go on patrol together

Above this uncomfortable situation reader is also feeling under the weather and feeling ill, but she doesn't want to show weakness towards Tim. So she tries to live trough the day despite her beginning to burn up and feeling weak

They got called to warehouse but it's a trap and they got captured

Tim finally starts to talk to her but notices how pale and sick she looks

He goes in full worried Tim mode

He tries to keep her calm and help her in her sick state

He apologizes for his behavior and they talk about their feelings

Reader is starting worsen, Tim holds her

With a lot of drama, sick reader, worried Tim until they're found

What do you think?

Have a nice day 💕💐

Intoxicated

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, mdni!, smut, unprotected p i v (wrap it before you tap it!), slight praise kink, hell of a lot angst, fluff

Word count: 4.939

Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! I absolutely loved it and I hope you'll like the way I wrote it! I don't know how, but somehow this ended up in present tense, not past tense. It's like my brain was offline when I started to write. Anyways, I hope you don't mind!

Im pretty sure I switched somewhere between the tenses, and haven't corrected it yet, so please let me know!

Enjoy!

You can't help the giggle that escapes you, when you try to open your door. Tim giggles along with you, his smile being so much more intoxicating in this moment, than you remember it.

Even though he's just waiting for you to open your door to bid you good night, before he would continue on to his own house, you can't help the exited feeling that's cursing through your veins.

You'd give more than everything to have him stay over. But that's just a fantasy - a very good one, but still.

You are colleagues, nothing more. Good friends, maybe, but that's it.

You're just coming home from a night out with your friends and other colleagues, having had a drink too much.

Tim had to hold you up all the way to your house, or otherwise you would have stumbled and fallen most of the time.

His hands had felt wonderful on your waist, a feeling that would surely burn its way into your brain forever.

When you finally hear the familiar click, you look up at him in triumph. He cocks a brow, huffing a laugh at your proud smile.

Heaving a sigh, you push the door open, turning back around to him. He's still looking at you, his face adorned by a warm smile though his eyes seem darker in the light of your porch's lantern.

The atmosphere prickles like electricity, it's thick - at least it is for you, as you inhale shakily.

He swallows thickly, taking a step closer.

"Are you sure you can take it from here?" he rasps, his voice suddenly hoarse. "Or do you need any help?"

He can't deny that he secretly hopes you would want his help. You had been intoxicating the whole evening, catching his gaze more than once with the way you looked and carried yourself that night.

His fingers feel numb, as the electricity shoots through them, his heart beating unsteadily.

Yours does the same, eyes locked onto his, as you search your mind for an answer.

"Some help would be great." you finally breathe out, watching his adam's apple bob, as he swallows again.

Nodding, he bites his lip, before you walk inside backwards, placing your keys on the dresser beside the door.

Once he crosses the threshold, he pushes the door closed with one hand, gaze still locked on yours.

Your breathing becomes shallow, heart pumping in your throat, as you anticipate his next moves.

Would he really just help you, so you'd be tucked in bed safely, before he left? Or would he help you in the most delicious way, the one you secretly yearn for?

Once the door clicks shut, he closes the distance, his hands grabbing your neck, as he pulls you closer. His lips meet yours like a starved man, not sweet, but hungrily and demanding.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, his sudden boldness leaving you dizzy.

Your hands interlock behind his neck, one of them brushing though his hair, as you tug him even closer.

His tongue brushes over your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You give in more than willingly, sighing into his mouth, as his hands find your waist.

His touch almost burns you, the intensity of his kisses soon leaving you breathless. It's a sensation you're sure you'll never forget.

He pushes you against the wall behind you, hands wandering further down, before they grab your thighs, letting you know that he wants you to jump.

And so you do.

As he walks you towards your bedroom, you can't help but sigh dreamily.

This is all you had silently wished for.

Even though you are drunk, you suddenly feel sober again.

As he lies you down on your bed, his lips leave yours, sucking on your neck instead. You moan as he finds that sweet spot that has your toes curling, causing him to suck even harsher.

His hard-on presses against your thigh, giving you a hint of what lies beneath the jeans - it was a lot.

He grabs the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head, before discarding of it on the floor. His lips greedily trace every inch of skin he exposed, kissing his way down the valley of your breasts, fingers fumbling for the clip of your bra.

Once he opens it, he lets it join your shirt on the floor, one of his hands grabbing a breast, kneading it. It makes you moan, arching your back into him.

It doesn't take him long to move further downwards, getting rid of your pants and underwear, after removing his shirt. He tugs you closer to the edge of the bed with his arms wrapped around your thighs, breath ghosting over your heat.

You are a whimpering mess under him, only growing louder, as his mouth attaches to your clit, sucking and licking, his hands firmly holding you in place.

Your sounds spur him on, his name on your lips; his hips frantically rolling against the bed frame in search for some friction. He hums at the taste of you, the sound vibrating through your cunt, eliciting another string of moans to fall from your lips.

He alternates between licking and sucking, tongue circling your entrance, before he slowly pushes a finger inside. He curls it just right, hitting that spongy spot that has his name cried into the night.

In a matter of minutes he has you coming on his tongue and fingers, riding you through your first orgasm of the night, as you continue to whimper his name like a mantra. He takes everything you give him, greedily lapping at you.

You can taste yourself on his lips, his tongue licking into your mouth. When he pushes inside it causes you both to groan, and he hisses as you grip him so tightly.

Panting, you try to calm your racing heart, as he pulls off his pants, before joining you on the bed again. His lips entangle with yours, as he aligns his cock with your entrance.

Falling into a steady rhythm, your legs wrap around his waist, granting him even deeper access. You can't help but gaze down at where you both are connected, moaning at the sight.

His lips find yours again, before they brush down your throat, kissing and sucking, stars appearing behind your closed eyelids, as your head tilts back.

You moan loudly, when he hits that sweet spot, cock softly kissing it. He does it again and again, hitting it so good.

"You're so tight." he grits out and you whimper in return. "Takin' me so good."

His words send shivers down your spine and you clench down on him. He hisses in return, smirking to himself. "You're doing so good for me, gripping me so deliciously." he praises, drawing a strangled moan from you.

"I'm close, Tim!" you breathe out, gazing up at him through hooded eyes. His meet yours and he nods. "Me too, baby." His lips graze your cheek, brushing up to the shell of your ear. "Come for me." he demands, hips snapping against yours. "Come all over my cock for me."

You cry out his name, following his demand as you come hard, squeezing him and he follows, stilling balls deep inside you, as he paints your walls with his cum.

You pant, shivering as he fills you up, his cum slowly oozing back out of you.

You swallow, heart pounding violently against your ribs. Tim slips out of you and you shudder at the sudden emptiness.

Sitting up, you watch as he collects his clothes, putting them back on. Suddenly it's awkward as you're sitting there, unsure of what you should do.

Scrambling for your own clothes you mimic his actions, until you're standing in front of each other, fully dressed again.

He seems hesitant, not sure what to do or say either.

"I'm gonna head home." he then says, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "See you tomorrow."

You just nod, eyes following as he walks to the door, eyes meeting yours for a split second, before he leaves.

You feel like shit.

Used, that somehow sums it up.

Walking into the bedroom you shed your clothes again, before stepping into the shower and turning the water on.

Trying to forget the gnawing feeling in your stomach, you scrub at your body, trying to wash him off of you.

His touch, his kisses, his scent.

But it doesn't work.

Not even the saltiness of your tears gets the feeling of his lips off your skin.

When you're lying in bed, wide awake, you try to think of anything other than him.

But nothing works.

_____

When the alarm goes off the next morning, you groan, rolling over to shut it off.

You haven't slept much, barely able to slip into the darkness without his face behind your closed eyelids.

Getting ready for work, you drag yourself around the house, before gathering your keys and heading to the station.

Somehow it feels strange, everyone seems to stare at you, like they know what you and Tim did last night.

But they don't, and they're not actually staring at you, barely glancing your way as you bid good morning.

Tim is already there, you've seen his truck when you parked. Dread is eating at you, not sure if you want to see him at all.

Walking into roll call, taking a seat at your usual spot, your eyes scan the room. He isn't there yet, but as you realize he'd sit right beside you - like he usually would - your heart picks up its speed.

Panic suddenly floods you, as you consider if you should go sit somewhere else.

But as the room slowly fills with people, your chance at another seat reduces more and more. When Tim enters the room, you stiffen.

Missed your chance.

He avoids looking at you, only mumbling a good morning, as he takes a seat beside you. Your arms brush against each other, and you flinch back involuntarily.

His eyes find yours at the motion for the briefest of moments, before they avert. Shrinking into your seat, you bite you lip, arms pressed to your body to avoid another touch.

Suddenly, you regret what you did last night. It seems to have changed everything - how could it not, right?

What else do you expect?

Sighing quietly, you wait for Grey to begin, so you could concentrate on him instead.

He assigns tasks, before he dismisses you.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you get up hastily, but Tim has the same idea.

You bump into each other like two teenagers on the run, before he takes the lead, walking out of the room in front of you.

"Tim!" you call out after him, before you can stop yourself, flinching internally.

He stops in his tracks, biting his cheek, before he gathers the courage to turn around to you.

"Yeah?" he asks, taking a step closer. You search his eyes for any indication of regret, unfortunately finding it.

He looks pained, like he wants to get away from this conversation as fast as possible.

"Can we talk?" you ask, voice lowered so other colleagues wouldn't hear. His eyes swipe through the room, before he nods once.

You follow him into the empty break room, stopping when he does.

"What do you want to talk about?" he wants to know, like he doesn't already know the answer.

"Last night." you press out, fighting to keep up the eye contact. He nods, biting his cheek again.

"Look, I know we... had sex, but it was a mistake, okay? It won't happen again." he says, all the while keeping a straight face.

Your heart crushes, but you won't let him see it.

You can't.

Not when he had you moan his name so often last night, that you aren't able to think anything else other than Tim.

Not to mention the way he talked to you. Or more like praised you.

A cold shiver runs down your spine, as you gape at him like a fish.

Cheeks flaming up, you look away, jaw ticking as you try to suppress the tears.

His face contorts, pain flashing through his eyes. He hates doing this to you, but he has no other choice.

Thankfully, you don't see it, as he steels himself, before you look back up at him.

Before you can say anything, someone enters the room, seemingly in search for some bad coffee.

Without another glance, you turn around, leaving him behind to find your rookie, his carefully put up mask crumbling with a pang in his heart.

Finding your rookie - or rather John's, but yours for the day, considering John isn't at the station until tomorrow - you send her a small smile.

"Celina." you greet her with a nod, motioning for her to walk towards the already prepared war bags, gathering them along with the guns.

She carries them towards the shop, storing them in the back, before heading to the passenger side.

"What's up with you?" she asks, sending you a worried glance. Brows furrowing, you get into the shop, buckling up. "Don't know what you're talking about." you give back, starting the engine.

You have been talking to her a lot since she started as a rookie, getting along pretty well.

That she can seemingly read you so well, has you swallowing.

This shift will be a stressful one.

_____

And it is.

You swear at some point Celina's stares have begun to burn holes into your skin.

"What happened?" she asks for what feels like the hundredth time, barely two hours into the shift. "I'm sensing strong discomfort."

Sighing, you grumble her name, though you know she probably won't stop. With Nolan she wouldn't be this forward, but you two had become sort of friends over the past few months.

"Okay, yes something happened." you finally give in with wide eyes and a motion that said 'happy now?', before carefully scanning your surroundings, as a sigh leaves your lips.

"With Tim?" she asks, still looking at you, even though you refuse to meet her gaze. "Did you sleep with each other?"

"No!" you respond a little too fast, eyes widening even more, causing her to tilt her head at you with a cocked brow.

"...maybe?"

Her own eyes widen as well, not having expected to be right with her assumption. "Wait what?" she gasps, leaning forward in her seat.

Rolling your eyes, you silently hope for a call, something to get you out if this situation.

And you're prayers are heard.

_____

It has been a week that feels like a whole month.

Tim avoids you whenever he can, and you do the same.

You should have known it would ruin everything.

Waiting for Grey to finish, you squint your eyes. Everything has been blurry since the morning, your body heating up slowly as time passes.

But you didn't want to call in sick, so you pushed through and to work with a sigh to yourself. You aren't one that gets sick fast, so you intended for it not to stop you.

"Bradford, you're with Y/L/N today." Grey's voice rips you out of your thoughts, gaze snapping up. If he sees the look of disbelief and panic on your face, he doesn't show it.

Or he simply doesn't care, as your watch commander.

Standing, your eyes hesitantly meet Tim's, who's across the room. You had switched seats with another colleague, so you wouldn't be sitting beside Tim anymore.

Sighing, you follow him, as he leaves the room, heading for the shop.

When you both stop behind it, his brows furrow. "Where are the war bags?" he wants to know, and your brows furrow as well. "Thought you'd get them." you mumble, avoiding eye contact.

He groans in annoyance, the sound making you feel worse, before he leaves, going to gather the things you need.

Fumbling with your body cam nervously, you wait for him in the shop, glancing into the side mirror, when the doors slide back open. He stores the bags and guns in the back, before getting into the drivers seat.

You don't talk, as he leaves the garage, driving out onto the bustling streets of Los Angeles.

Sighing to yourself, you adjust in your seat, back aching. His eyes drift over to you for a brief moment, taking in your appereance.

You are looking uncomfortable, but not only from the current situation. There are bags under your eyes, indicating that you didn't get enough sleep. The slightest bit of sweat makes your forehead glisten, and he wonders if you're feeling ill.

But he holds his tongue, not saying anything.

Your heart races, only adding to the uncomfortable feeling creeping into your bones. It isn't only Tim's presence, but whatever you might have caught, as well.

Coughing quietly, you lean forward in your seat; inhaling deeply, when you can breathe again. Yesterday you were feeling good, so why are you getting so sick now?

Tim's eyes wander back to you, brows furrowing, before he looks back out of the window.

The silence is deafening, tension palpable. Your tongue feels like lead, your feelings making it hard to speak.

"Can we stop to get more water?" you ask hoarsely, not daring to look his way. He nods, the crease between his brows deepening, as does his worry for you.

He can't deny that he's worried, not sure what you are going through that has you looking so pale. He's sure it's not only his presence, though.

When he parks, he motions for you to stay in the car, getting out, before you can protest. Huffing, you lean back in your seat, silently grateful that you don't have to go yourself.

Eyes closing, you breathe in deeply, trying to relax and lessen some of the pain in your back. But, when the door opens and Tim gets back into the shop, all relaxation goes out of the window again.

"Are you okay?" he wants to know, handing you two bottles of water. You nod, taking them without really looking at him, shivering as his hand brushes yours.

"I'm fine." you assure him, trying to sound stronger than you actually feel.

His teeth grit, but he doesn't push further - he doesn't have the right to, not when he's possibly responsible for how you're feeling.

With a nod, he buckles up, starting the engine and driving south, when the radio comes to life.

"7-Adam-100, we have a reported dispute, possibly armed, at a warehouse, 5601 Pico Boulevard. Do you copy?" "7-Adam-100, dispute, possibly armed, at 5601 Pico Boulevard." Tim speaks into the radio. "Copy, we're on it."

You rub your temples, clearing your throat, as you try to clear your head as well, shaking off the uneasy feeling.

The drive is quiet, except for the sirens, adrenaline pushing through your veins, alleviating some of the pain and aching. When you arrive, you draw your gun, hopping out of the shop and quietly following Tim.

Heading inside carefully, you start to clear the place, brows furrowing at how quiet it is.

How odd.

That is, until something heavy hits your head, and all you suddenly see is darkness.

With a groan you startle awake, sight blurry, as you try to make out your whereabouts. The air smells dusty and bad, brows furrowing. Pain shoots through your head, and you groan again.

What happened?

Blinking, you try to clear your vision, slowly making out another silhouette. "Tim?" you breathe out, once you're able to make him out in the light above.

He grumbles something, before his eyes meet yours.

"Hey," he brings over his split lips, blood already drying. "You're awake, thank god." You try to swallow the dryness in your throat away, but it makes you cough.

You feel feverish, body aching to the bones. You swallow again, in desperate need for some water. Sweat trickles down your neck and forehead, hair sticking to your skin.

You feel like shit.

"I'm not feeling good, Tim." you mumble, head lolling to the side. "Hey, stay awake!" Tim demands, causing your eyes to snap back to him.

He's bound to a chair, diagonally sitting beside you. Eyes widening, you realize you've been captured.

"Either they hit you real hard, or somethings up with you." he speaks, trying to analyze you from his position. "Either way, you're not looking good."

You huff, anger bubbling up beside the sick feeling in your stomach, vision lightly turning, but you try to keep it together. "As if you care."

He looks genuinely taken aback, forgetting he's being held captured for a moment. "Why wouldn't I?" he wants to know, leaning forward as best as he can.

"Because you refuse to even look at me." you retort, looking away, trying to inspect your surroundings instead. It's dark, except for the lamp dangling above you. "Because you refuse to engage with me no matter how."

You hear him swallow, as he licks his lips.

"That's not true." he mutters, inhaling shakily. Your gaze snaps to his, disbelief painted on your face. He holds your gaze, his own hardening slightly. "I do care. I care enough to end things before you can regret them."

You laugh dryly, anger seeping through.

"And what's with fucking me?" you ask, biting your cheek. "What about that?"

He flinches, swallowing again, as his gaze wavers. "We were drunk." he tries to play it off, shaking his head with a frown. "We weren't that drunk." you give back, leaning further back in the chair.

It's quiet for a while, your body growing hotter, the more time passes. You cough, groaning at the sick feeling that's making your stomach turn like a washing machine.

"You're sick." Tim realizes, eyes widening and you chuckle coldly. "No shit, Sherlock."

Someone chuckles behind you, causing you to jump in your chair, the wood scraping over the floor angrily. Heart racing, you try to catch your breath, head turning to watch the man come up in front of you.

"Well, that's the wonders of our chemical knowledge." he speaks, his accent thick. It sounds Italian, you think, as your brows furrow, same as Tim's.

"A bit of this, a bit of that, and you have a potent poison that makes you feverish, nauseous and sick."

Breath fastening, you swallow thickly, glancing at Tim. He fumes in his seat, eyes shooting daggers at your captor, who seems unfazed by it.

Panic grips at you with its iron claws, shivers running down your spine.

"Don't worry, it's nothing too serious." the man explains, grimacing. "Wouldn't want a dead cop on me, no. It'll wear off, but it gives me the perfect opportunity to tell you-" He cuts himself off, a sick grin splitting his lips, revealing pearly white teeth.

"Whups, maybe it is deadly. Should have read the description better, I guess."

Tim leaps forward, only held back by the thick ropes around his wrists. Fire spits from his eyes, and something tells you he'd kill the guy, if he wasn't restricted.

You try to focus, failing as you begin to hyperventilate.

I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die.

You hear the man laugh heartily, like he just heard the best joke on earth. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can only partly make out the mans frame slowly stepping back into the darkness, eventually slamming a door behind him somewhere down the warehouse.

Tim yells after him, tugging on the binds, the chair scraping over the floor with the sheer force of his tugs.

When the tears start to fall, you hear a crack, followed by a grunt.

Tim has managed to tip the chair over, bringing enough force with him to break a part of it, using it to free himself.

"Hold on Y/N." he says, working on the rope with the wood. "I'm here with you."

You sob, dread eating you alive. You are gonna die, and you didn't even have a chance to really live your life.

Another grunt, and he has freed himself.

Making his way over, he starts to untie the ropes around your wrists, but the fever burning your whole body blocks the feeling of his skin on yours out. When he's kneeling in front of you, his hand softly connecting with your forehead, you flinch at how cold he feels.

"Fuck." he mumbles, knowing that your skin was way too hot.

He helps you down from the chair onto the cold floor, fishing for his back up phone, that was clipped to his body, where your captor didn't find it.

He dialed the station, calling for an ambulance.

Breathing heavily, the tears run down your cheeks in cold tracks. When he ends the call, he brings you into his arms, embracing you in a hug.

"I'm so sorry." he mumbles into your hair, his breath cooling your burning skin. "I'm so sorry."

You sob, choking on your tears.

"Don't be." you whisper, hands fisting his shirt. "It's not your fault." But he shakes his head, something cool hitting your skin - a tear.

"I shouldn't have distanced myself from you." he speaks, tugging you even closer. "I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry."

Shaking your head, you rest your forehead on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "You didn't want to be near me after what happened, I don't blame you." you tell him, swallowing, but he shakes his head frantically.

"That's not true."

Your brows furrow, lips trembling. "What do you mean?" you rasp out, coughing once. "I mean that I didn't want to distance myself." he explains, a shaky hand brushing through your sweaty hair. "You have no clue how badly I wanted to be near you. But I didn't want to ruin what we have, I didn't want to face the possibility that you'd regret what we did. So I tried to give you space, telling myself, that it was the right thing to do."

A sob racks through your body, shaking him with you.

"But I don't regret it." you tell him, more tears falling. "I don't, because I love you."

It's now or never.

He stiffens, before he's the one shaking you now, with a sob of his own.

You are in his arms, dying, and you just told him what he was wishing to hear from you for god knows how long.

But you are dying.

"I love you, Tim." you tell him again, lifting your head to rest your cheek on his shoulder, nose brushing his pulse point. "And I don't regret it, not for a second."

He breathes out shakily, holding you against him. "I love you too, Y/N." he rasps out, smiling despite the situation you were in. You breathe a sigh of relief, and it let's you see a light at the end of the tunnel, if even for just a moment.

Black splotches obscure your vision, the world around you slowly fading. But you don't care anymore, not when you are held by the man you so deeply loved.

"Hey, hey!" you hear him say, his face coming into view, as he pats your cheek. "Stay with me, Y/N." You nod, trying to follow his demand, but it gets harder with each passing second.

You hear sirens in the distance, shouting, as Tim rocks you in his arms, after pulling you back into them.

As your world slowly turns black, you can't help but smile.

He loves you.

_____

A strange sound wakes you, it's steady rhythm calling you back into consciousness. Bright light blinds you, as you try to open your eyes, making you groan in discomfort.

Something beside you shuffles, a chair being moved closer.

"Hey." you hear him say, before your vision slowly clears and his handsome features come into view. Sighing dreamily, you try to sit up and he helps you, moving the bed up so you can sit more comfortably.

He holds out a glass to you, moving it to your dry lips so you could take a few much needed sips.

"How are you feeling?" he wants to know, putting the glass back on the table beside him. "Like shit." you mumble, sighing again. He nods, biting his cheek. "But at least I'm alive, right?"

He huffs, elbows coming to rest on the bed. "They arrested the man, Damiano- I don't know what, and he's in custody right now." he tells you, hands wiping over his face.

You nod, relieved. "That's good." you say, sending Tim a small smile. He nods, barely registering. "He almost killed you." he mutters, frustration and anger clear as day on his face. "We barely managed to get here in time, to give you an antidote. And all just to teach the police a much needed lesson."

Carefully taking his hand, you give it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm alive." you remind him, and his gaze turns to you. "But-" "I'm. Alive."

He halts, swallowing, before he nods slightly.

It's silent for a moment, as you tug him closer. "Please tell me I didn't dream all of that." you tell him, trying to avert his attention. He huffs, a small smile gracing his lips. "No, you didn't." he assures you.

Your smile widens, tears burning in your eyes.

"Can you say it again?" you ask him quietly, sitting more upright. He chuckles, leaning more towards you. "I love you." he says, and you chuckle in glee. "Again."

He huffs playfully, scooting closer, so his face is inches from yours.

"I love you."

Pushing forward, your lips graze his. "I love you, too." you say, before he closes the small gap, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, a silent promise.

He'd never distance himself from you again.

Not now, not ever.

He simply couldn't.

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm @augustvandyne

@rookietrek @dhunhdchrih @nachofriess @dtftheavengers

[terraliensvent]

Transcript of the new ownership announcement since i forgot to post it (announcement was made apr 14 at 7 PM EST from tycho)

Regarding Ownership

Hello everyone, To start, I believe that it is important to first and foremost issue an apology for the state of the server and species from last night up until now. Things got significantly out of hand- and they should have been handled differently. We have a lot of cleanup to do in the server and on the website, so please know that things will not be back to normal for a good while. I and everyone on the Terraliens Staff- whether they have departed or not, want to formally apologize for all of those affected by the chaos. If you have had any issues that need further resolution regarding last night, please create a ticket & ping me immediately (emergencies only, please).

On that note, I and a few other staff members have had a discussion with Coy regarding the statements made by us as of last night. We have reached a term of agreement that the species and server will be handed over to me, Tycho, and to Temul. This change has already been made, and I fully own the server/species minus the Lorekeeper which is due to technical issues with coding stuff out of my knowledge. Regardless, I still own the species itself and have full permissions on the Lorekeeper.

Regarding Coy, PLEASE READ.

The situation with Coy regarding their dog has been resolved, there was no harm done. The choice of wording on their behalf was poor & conveyed a serious situation when there really was none. We have since reached out to Coy and have received clarification on the matter, it is entirely our fault for not having done so to begin with. We want to formally apologize for the misinformation regarding this situation, and have apologized to Coy privately, who has accepted. Please do not harass or message them, nor spread this information around any longer. It has been cleared up.

Coy has apologized privately to the staff team regarding the statements made last night. We accept their apology, and ask that NO HARASSMENT is sent towards them or anyone else involved in this situation. We have met with Coy & have created a new agreement regarding the ownership of the species, which is pulled directly from the one sent by Temul earlier this week. In this agreement, we agree that the server & species will go to Temul and I. We will get free will over the species, & Coy will retain a limited adopt posting rights and custom rights- lining up with our schedule and approval system. They will no longer be involved with our species outside of this. Additionally, regarding Civet- they will be following the same rules & guidelines as Coy whilst being recognized as our species Creator. They are not involved in the ownership of this species, all decisions will made are finalized by Temul and I. They were not involved in this situation.

Final Notes

We want to thank you all for the support during this time, and we want to make things right from this point onwards. We harbor no ill will towards Coy, & we ask that those of you in the server do the same. It will take us a while to get through to fixing everything, please be patient during this time, but we hope to be back soon. Additional announcements will be sent out as time goes on- including one addressing the sudden influx of MYOs/Terraliens on our website soon, as well as ones regarding rule changes for both staff and members, as well as further clarification on where the species will be going after this. Thank you.

Please do not post anymore unnapproved concepts or advertisements from here on out. For anyone who has voided a Terralien, there will be free unvoidings for 48 hours after this message goes out. Please make a ticket to claim- thank you.

[ambling-in-ambarino]

"And I know that you think about everything I did wrong...

... but I do, too,"

Today, I had an anxiety attack while driving. I won't divulge in the details, but it's when things like this happen that really open my eyes up to just how marred by our years together I've become. Still, I don't blame you, nor myself. We were naïve, blinded to what we were doing to each other. At least, for the larger portion of our relationship.

I harbor no ill-will toward you, but when things like this happen, or when I'm invalidated for how I feel, whether it be positive or negative, I can't help but become wrought by my own emotion.

This isn't something I've come out and openly discussed with anyone, the things that happened between us. In the beginning, it was difficult, but I find myself checking your socials less and less - I'm moving on, I think. Finally.

However, it is in times like these that I want to write out everything on my mind, everything that occurred from start to end. It would be lengthy and teeming with bits of ugliness, resentment, sorrow, guilt, and relief, but I'll do my best to keep it concise and free of raw feelings.

You're not going to find and read this; at least, I don't think that you will. In the unlikely scenario that this letter dedicated to the void does make its way to you, well, I suppose that you've received the closure you've so much as wanted. It's something that you deserve, and I'm sorry that I'm denying you of it, but let me explain why I've decided to trudge down this course instead of confronting you. This will not provide comfort, nor do I intend for it to inspire hope. Purely, this is for myself.

I can only vaguely recall the last conversations we shared together, but it's the very last one that sticks out the most to me. As a hypochondriac, I took some things you told to me very, very seriously: I sought out help. It wasn't immediate, of course - I had to wait for responses, so I vanished. I didn't think at the time that, that would be the last we'd ever speak to each other. However, upon speaking with this professional, I found that I was validated in what I've expressed to you a couple times in the past; that we weren't compatible any longer and were only causing more harm than good.

We both exhibited harmful behaviors toward each other that will leave lasting wounds on our persons, and I sincerely apologize for that. I know what I've done wrong and I'm working very hard to be a better person as a result. Unfortunately, our time together has come to an end. I don't want to hurt you any longer, and I'm sorry that suddenly pulling away the way that I did evidently brutalized your person.

It wasn't intentional, and I've hurt myself in the process, but I had to do it this way because I recall attempting this twice before, trying to leave so that we both may be at peace. In the end, I was always looped back in, believing that you would improve and that so would I, or burdened with waves of guilt for what you might do should I leave you and start on my own path.

In the most painful way possible, I am an empath; I am far too in-tune with peoples' emotions, to the point that I cast my own wellbeing to the wayside for the sake of others. It was time to be selfish, for my own mental health.

There is no resentment on my end and I do very much cherish the good memories we created together fondly. Again, ending 15+ years worth of friendship wasn't something I inherently wanted to do. In checking your social media, I see that, amidst the struggle to adjust to my absence, some positive things have cropped up in your life. I am proud of how far you've come as an individual and I am glad of all that you have achieved, almost to a point of envy but only because of how much I set on the backburner to uplift you.

On the other end, I have read some of the more raw and venom-infused letters you've left for me, perhaps thinking I wouldn't see them. You're very validated in how you feel, and, once more, I apologize for the pain I've caused or the waves I've created in your life as well as personal progress.

In the end, I did what I did to put an end to the hurt that we were unknowingly doing to each other. I hope you continue to grow, prosper, and do things for yourself. I sincerely wish that someone, or multiple people, step into your life and cast a new light upon you. I only added to the already existing difficulty you face when it comes to trusting individuals, but I do believe you will find your people.

I did what I did because I care.

[finsterraria]

stories of the present: that time a kid accidently invented russian roulette but with creampuffs

Paper: Bildernia City News

Headline: Popular Bakery Closed Temporarily Due to Pinerose Invasion

Date: month 3, Day 16, Y1545

Writer: Newtmore Marker, photos by Nicote Marker

The popular Sweetflower Bakery on Main Street has been temporarily closed due to a pinerose invasion.

The owners, the Flicke family, say that the bakery will reopen by next week once the Commission gives the all-clear.

The incident was caused by a "mystery treat" promotion that the bakery's staff had thought up a few days before the incident Treats included puff rolls, cream tarts, sugar biscuits, and other popular menu items. Customers would purchase a "mystery box", inside which one or two treats could be found. Up until this afternoon, the sale had been going well.

"There are of course no pineroses in any of our food," head baker Carmi Flicke told the News. "The only person who had authorization to pack the boxes was my assistant, since some of our own workers liked the mystery as well and didn't want to be spoiled. Also...some of them are very bad at lying and we didn't want to give anything away. If they didn't know, they could buy them themselves and not have someone specifically picking out boxes, to keep it fair and fun. Well, our assistant had to babysit her little sister and brought her along and along the way....well, we do extend our greatest apologies to Mr. Marker for the bugs in his mystery box."

Mr. Altado Marker, who runs the local handyman shop, says he harbors no ill will towards the bakery as no one was harmed and he "quite enjoy the baked goods I pick up for breakfast nearly every day". A new rule about nonworkers being in the backrooms unsupervised has been put into place in the meantime.

[Attached to the freshly-printed news clipping attached to a small box left on a front porch:

"Hey Al,

Here's the article. Nic says he'll get you a proper copy later, but thought you'd want this a little early since the paper's sold out everywhere else. Don't worry, the buns are completely safe, Nani made them herself.

Tell Zena to behave herself. We're not bailing her out of this one, and we'd much rather she be at your place and not Dad's.

We'll try to visit soon. Do you know anything about boat materials?

-Newt" ]

[back-and-totheleft]

"How many cars can crash?"

Oliver Stone settled into a sofa on the terrace of the Radisson Blu Hotel in Cluj, Romania, apologizing for the jetlag and gazing at a downcast sky that had briefly parted over the Transylvanian hillside. “Let’s see if we can find some blue,” he said, describing himself — despite ample evidence to the contrary — as a “hopeful” person. But after a week of steady downpours in this picturesque medieval city, the weather refused to cooperate. From the hotel terrace it was gray as far as the eye could see.

Stone was in Romania to receive a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Transilvania Film Festival, which also programmed a small retrospective in honor of the three-time Academy Award-winning director including his latest film, the pro-nuclear-energy documentary “Nuclear Now,” which Variety’s Owen Gleiberman described as an “intensely compelling, must-see” doc after its premiere at the Venice Film Festival last year.

Before receiving the award, Stone sat down with Variety to discuss Hollywood’s long-running resistance to nuclear power, from fear-mongering movies such as “The China Syndrome” and “Silkwood” to the horror schlock of the 1950s, whose giant irradiated insects and mushroom clouds tapped into the subconscious fears of Americans in the nuclear age.

Though it would be hard to characterize those fears as misplaced after the horrors of Hiroshima, Stone nevertheless insists that nuclear energy has been unfairly vilified and argues that it is not only clean, abundant and safe, but perhaps mankind’s best hope to avert the impending climate catastrophe. “I like nuclear. You can eat it for breakfast,” he said. “But they don’t like nuclear energy [in Hollywood] because nuclear scares them.”

The director described the process of making “Nuclear Now” as a “fucking ballbreaker beyond belief,” after he was repeatedly turned down by anyone who would listen to his pitch. “It was rejected. It was rejected at birth,” he said. “No financing. No company wanted to do it. No Netflix. It’s crazy.” (At an appearance with festivalgoers the following morning, Stone went on to say: “People in showbiz are idiots. They just go with the trend, they just go with the fashion — it’s a fashion business.”)

Stone has spent much of the past decade on the margins of the movie biz, although he insists he harbors no ill will toward Tinseltown. “I’ve gotten along in the business,” he said. “I’ve always survived.”

It’s a perhaps uncharacteristic understatement for a notoriously outspoken director who during a torrid moviemaking run in the 1980s and ’90s was one of our most essential filmmakers, with a string of critical and commercial hits including “Platoon,” “Wall Street,” “Natural Born Killers” and “Born on the 4th of July.”

None of his films in recent years, however, has had quite the same impact. Whether Stone is out of touch is debatable, but he is nevertheless by his own admission flummoxed by the pop-culture zeitgeist.

“I saw ‘John Wick 4’ on the plane. Talk about volume. I think the film is disgusting beyond belief. Disgusting. I don’t know what people are thinking,” he said. “Maybe I was watching ‘G.I. Joe’ when I was a kid. But [Keanu Reeves] kills, what, three, four hundred people in the fucking movie. And as a combat veteran, I gotta tell you, not one of them is believable. I realize it’s a movie, but it’s become a video game more than a movie.”

Stone wasn’t done. “It’s lost touch with reality. The audience perhaps likes the video game. But I get bored by it,” he continued. “How many cars can crash? How many stunts can you do? What’s the difference between ‘Fast and Furious’ and some other film? It’s just one thing after another. Whether it’s a super-human Marvel character or just a human being like John Wick, it doesn’t make any difference. It’s not believable.”

If that sounds like sour grapes from the 76-year-old director, however, Stone says he’s “not complaining.” “I made 20 feature films. Maybe I’ll make 21 before I go. That’d be nice,” he said. “I have one in mind but I’m not going to tell you what it is.”

Perhaps Stone is frustrated with the studio system, perhaps that system has wearied of his increasingly cantankerous takes. (“As I got older, I became more angry, not less,” he said. “I was a conventional boy. I wanted to be loved. But I realized I can’t be loved.”) In recent years, the director has instead found a platform for his often polarizing political views with documentaries including “JFK Revisited: Through the Looking Glass,” “The Putin Interviews” and “Snowden.”

Stone cut his teeth at a time when independent American filmmaking was ascendant, long before the rise of $200 million, CGI-fueled, comic-book blockbusters with publicity costs to rival the GDP of a small island nation. “When they make movies now, they want to think about how do we market it, who’s going to watch it? Of course, that’s a consideration. But it becomes the sole consideration,” he said. “You really have to have a bigger and bigger hit, which ruins the business because it makes the margins bigger, and of course that makes the cost of the film bigger.”

Sixteen years ago, Stone was set to make his highly anticipated drama about the My Lai massacre, “Pinkville,” when production was shut down by the last writers’ strike; the film was later dropped by United Artists. Asked about the current strike, the director didn’t pull punches.

“The studio would always argue, ‘We’re losing money.’ They always lose money. You can never make money if you go by their standards,” he said.

-Christopher Vourlias, "Oliver Stone Sounds Off on ‘Idiots’ in Showbiz, ‘Nuclear Now’ Doc," Variety, June 19 2023

[velvetwarfare]

How humorous.

The way he felt for Val — it BURNED. She could relate all too well to the ENVY THAT SCORCHED ONE’S SOUL AND CORE. THE ATTACHMENTS THAT ATE AWAY AT THE HEART AND MORE OFTEN THAN NOT, DESTROYED BOTH PARTIES IN THE WRECKAGE OF UNADULTERATED OBSESSIVE LOVE.

She felt like this toward not just Val — BUT ALL THREE OF THEM. It was HELL to handle ALL THREE ATTACHMENTS AT ONCE — but she clung onto Valentino the most, simply because the two matched personalities, and her soul was owned by him. Velvette, she adored their girl nights filled with makeup that she couldn’t put on herself due to lacking a reflection, gossiping, dress up, drinking, all sorts of vibing. It was nice to have a woman in the mix of men.

Vox — Vox, by proxy. He was part of the Vee’s, therefore he was also included in her object of strong infatuation. Despite her holding the least attachment to him, she admired him from afar. His stern personality, how agile and methodical he was in his work, his style, the fact she LOVED his dramatic reactions to her jackshittery, his voice — Betty loved to hyper-analyze people. Notice the small details, hone in on them rather than the picture itself.

But he DID NOT FEEL ANY OF THAT TOWARD HER. He seemed to LOATHE her. AND IT WAS SLOWLY DESTROYING HER, YEARNING FOR APPROVAL FROM SOMEONE WHO ALREADY HARBORED ILL FEELINGS TOWARD IT. SHE CRAVED HIS PRAISE, HIS ACCEPTANCE — AS HER WHOLE LIFE SHE HAD BEEN FIGHTING TOOTH AND NAIL FOR HER PEERS’ LOVE. NOTHING WORKS. NOTHING WORKS. A FUCK UP. NOTHING BUT AN ANNOYING, STUPID CORPSE WASTING BREATH.

“ I am — SORRY, “

A SHRILL, DELAYED HISS followed the apology, her ears SHUDDERING AND BRISTLING WITH FUR — only for her to take a deep breath, the fur vanishing back into flesh and her voice lowering back to it’s natural octave.

“ Do you not ever think about how I feel about YOU?

I try EVERYTHING to get you to like me. I try to talk to you during our off times, you brush it off. I notice the looks you give me when I talk to Val. I try to include you, you want NO BUSINESS with me. I try to check in with you, I get brushed off AGAIN.

I JUST WANT TO BE ACCEPTED BY YOU. I HATE THIS TENSE, COLD CHILL. WHAT AM I DOING FUCKING WRONG?

I — I LOVE ALL OF YOU. I AM NOT A NORMAL SINNER. I AM A FUCKING CREATURE OF WAR, LOVE, AND PASSION — INTENSELY. I FEEL LOVE EXTREMELY HARD. MY PASSION AND LOYALTY KNOWS NO BOUNDS. I AM EITHER ATTACHED FOR ETERNITY, OR I FEEL NOTHING TOWARD SOMEONE. VAL OWNS ME — I AM THE VEE’S PROPERTY! I AM YOUR STUPIDLY DEVOTED ATTACK DOG! YOUR PRETTY LEETLE DOLLY! I AM THE OBNOXIOUS, INCESSANT IDIOT TRYING SO HARD TO JUST GET YOU TO SMILE AT ME! BECAUSE I HAVE HAD FUCKING NO ONE COHERENT ENOUGH TO HOLD A CONVERSATION IN MY LIFE — FOR THREE! FUCKING! YEARS!

I WANT. TO BE. LOVED. “

A SHARP INHALE — IT WAS GETTING SO DIFFICULT NOT TO SNAP AND LOSE HER ILLUSION SPELL.

Instead, she begins to COWER back away, unable to meet his eyes.

“ …Perhaps I should have never came to the Vee’s. It was a MISTAKE.

I — I can leave first thing tomorrow morning, I will go back to the hotel. You and Val can go back to fucking in the dressing rooms or whatever the hell you do.

I AM SORRY. “

She’s DESPERATELY searching for an emergency exit to flee at to not worry the other two.

Her smile promptly faded into a cocky frown, one hip arched out for her palm to press against it in a stance of utter disapproval toward his overzealous reaction.

All her performative life she had been subjected to flashy, over the top entertainment — why was this any different? She’s seen other sinners break into a musical number with grumpy counterparts plenty of times — and it seemed to always break at least some of that hard exterior away. Why was HE so different? This very quickly became more AGGRAVATING than FUNNY.

She simply doesn’t understand that not everyone can be fixed by song and sunshine-esque dramatics. It’s always worked in the past.

—

“ Vox… “

Approaching him back stage, Betty sighed and ran a hand through crimson locks, standing a good distance away from him in case he felt like LUNGING at her still.

“ Look, I am sorry. You just NEVER smile. There is always SOMETHING WRONG and even when we are all hanging out, you look…MISERABLE.

Valentino and I dance and sing all the time. Occasionally Velvette, but it is usually diss tracks — you, I do not know. The only time I ever heard an equivalence of singing from you, it was that entire roasting session live on the radio and TV. And even then you did not seem like you were having FUN. “

Genuine concern and guilt washes over her irritation, now rubbing her arm,

“ I am TRYING.

I am a part of you three now. I kind of HAVE TO BE BECAUSE OF MY CONTRACT AND AFFILIATION.

So let us just…TRY to get along? “

[akirakurusuimagines]

had the idea of reader getting marin karin'd and it not wearing off after leaving the metaverse so our dear boy helps her out by gently overstimulating her in front of a mirror 👉👈

I'm sorry for how long it's been taking to get this out! Hopefully the others won't take as long. Please enjoy! (minors DNI)

It only takes one mistake for everything to fall apart.

Akira believed they were sufficiently prepared to waltz right into Mementos and explore the depths that opened after the public’s response to their latest and greatest heist. He disregarded Morgana’s incessant warning that he was running low on ailment-curing items and revival items, reminding the cat that he was already planning on putting him and Makoto on the front lines this time so there was nothing to worry about.

So really, this mess was his fault. As leader, he knows he shoulders the responsibility of anything and everything that happens, even if his teammates don’t blame him.

It began to storm back in the real world as they reached the end of the current depths⁠; a painstakingly slow thirteen floors⁠ to comb through in search of treasure and experience. Everyone was nearing their physical and mental limits for the day, but at the sight of a rare challenger on their way back, they let their youthful recklessness seep through. One more, they all thought, one more to end the trip on a high note.

The high note they sought after quickly⁠ and almost comically⁠ became shrill.

The battle turned for the worst: unable to find a weakness, you and Mona were left with minimal SP, Queen had suffered an ill-timed critical attack and was knocked out cold, and Joker himself was running on fumes. Mind scattered in desperation, Joker attempted to regain some footing by attacking the particularly strong enemy with Marin Karin, hoping to charm it.

He didn’t expect that the enemy would end up reflecting it back at him.

Nor that you would take the brunt of the attack by jumping in front of him last-minute.

Joker and Mona finished the battle through sheer dumb luck, and all of the thieves expected things to return to normal. Queen stood up on shaky legs and thanked Panther for medicine, but when they turned to look at you, their hearts dropped.

Your face was flushed and eyes glassy, no different than how you were in battle. The unspoken rules of Mementos was broken⁠—somehow you didn’t come to once the fight finished.

Joker took to your side immediately, helping you up but freezing at the garbled moan that slipped past your lips the moment his hands landed on you. The others looked on with concern and fear, not understanding why this was happening, but it was obvious to everyone that they needed to leave immediately. He apologized to them and announced that he’ll be taking you home to make sure you’re safe and resting while the others research the strange divergence.

His arm wrapped loosely around your waist, keeping you steady as you mindlessly clung to him, and ushered you out of Mementos and towards the trains.

Akira felt like he was suffocating. If this is how he was feeling, he could only start to imagine what you’re suffering through right now.

He kept you hidden from view as best as he could, squished in the corner between the door, the seats, and him. Akira put you in a spare face mask he had and slid his glasses over your nose, hoping to protect your identity in case any snooping individual lingered on you two a little too long.

“Hold on just a little longer for me, okay? We’re almost there.”

He watched your knees buckle and your thighs clench together at his words and felt his mouth run dry. Akira willed himself to stay calm, to steady his heartbeat, but it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do when you were in a state like this. Especially considering he harbored feelings for you.

“Please,” you begged. He almost didn’t hear it with how quietly you murmured it. “Akira, I… I need…”

Fuck, you were going to be the death of him.

“Yeah?” he leaned in closer, hoping to catch the rest of what you’re saying.

Your hand grabbed his thigh, tugging his leg closer to you and causing him to stumble forward, balancing with his forearm next to your head. He stared at you with wide eyes as you shifted his leg with no resistance between your thighs and sat on it, slowly and carefully grinding against it.

Akira’s head whipped around, making sure no one was watching as you shamelessly used his leg to relieve some of the pressure that Marin Karin’s charm had on you. He nearly stopped breathing when you whined right next to his ear, a sound too soft for anyone else to notice as the train screeched to another halt.

Your stop was next, but there was no way he was making it out of this without a boner. He looked back at you and swallowed hard, only able to see the way your eyes were screwed shut and eyebrows knitted with frustration and concentration, pressing yourself a little harder against the meat of his thigh.

“Need more, ‘s too hot,” you blabbered softly, hands gripping the lapel of his blazer. ���want you, want you so bad⁠—”

“We⁠—we’re almost home,” Akira choked out, each passing moment more difficult than the last. He wanted to pinch himself, wondering if this was actually some wild porno dream he was having back in Leblanc, but the way you felt rutting against his thigh like this was far too real for him to deny this was reality.

“Akiraaaa...”

He nearly lost himself when he saw your teary-eyed expression, suddenly grateful for the crowded train dissuading him from bending you over the train seats and giving into temptation. Akira wanted to know every part of you: every touch that makes you keen, every kiss that makes your head spin, every position that makes you cream.

Akira almost praised the gods aloud when the announcer comments on your stop, pulling himself off of you despite your whines and taking your hand in his, squeezing it tightly as he nearly runs out of the train the second the doors behind you open.

It was quite the ordeal dragging you back home. Every moment he stopped, your hands would wander, gripping his shirt or his belt loops, sliding your hand underneath to feel the warmth of his skin. You pressed closer and closer against him, your inhibitions far-gone, leaving only your charmed mind.

He grabbed your wrist firmly when you reached for his crotch at the door to your house, sucking in a large breath and hoping you’d be able to contain yourself enough for him to open the door with your keys and lead you inside.

Akira pushed open the door and dragged you inside, kicking it closed and locking it quickly. He couldn’t help the whole-body sigh that passed through him with the relief of privacy.

You, however, took it as your cue to tackle him to the ground and relieve yourself.

“Shit, wait, hold on⁠—” Akira staggered back, gripping your hip and arm and barley catching himself. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t want to try to get… uh… get off on your own?”

“No no no no no⁠—!” you shook your head adamantly despite your slurred voice, the sheer panic in your voice and face surprising him. “Want you, only you, please.”

Akira pressed his lips together in a tight line and hoisted you up in his arms, silently thanking the rough training he’s been enduring with Ryuji. The way your eyes lit up as he carried you to your bedroom made his heart palpitate, the rational side of him quickly losing to the promise of passion.

He really was weak to you.

He grunted as his legs hit the bed, falling down with you on his lap. Akira barely had time to speak before your lips were all over him, kissing all over his face and jaw as you roughly grinded against him. He choked down his moans and tangled a hand in your hair, hoping to slow you down with a sharp tug to your scalp.

Akira felt you seize up the moment he did, nails digging into his shoulders despite the layers of clothing, pressing your hips harder against his, and with a loud cry, he felt dampness against his crotch. It took a moment to process that you came untouched, just from him having you in his lap and tugging your hair.

“Did you just…?” his hand wandered towards your pants, slipping inside your underwear and feeling the sticky substance coat his fingers as he reached your thighs. He pulled them out, observing the strands between his fingers and licking them clean with a low groan. “That’s so hot. You’re so fucking hot.”

Akira palmed your crotch and felt you shudder as you rolled your hips against his again. “But… it isn’t enough, right?”

“Nnno…”

He looked around the room briefly and caught his own eyes in the floor-length mirror in your room.

“Stand up for me and strip, sweetheart,” Akira instructed with a gentle slap to your thigh.

He loved the way you scrambled off of him, shedding your clothes and looking at him with the same hazy doe-eyes that made him spend countless private hours fantasizing about. You looked at him with so much lust, being so obedient for him in hopes of getting another orgasm.

He shrugged off his blazer and tossed it aside, shifting closer to the mirror until it stood in front of him. “Turn around and sit back on my lap.”

Akira steadied you with gentle hands on your hips as you sat on his lap and pressed your sticky thighs together to feel some kind of friction against the torturous heat. He pried them open, spreading your legs to straddle him and spreading you open for the mirror.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he gently chided, “keep these pretty thighs open for me, okay?”

Akira refused to touch you until you nodded.

“Perfect,” he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder, “you’re absolutely perfect.” Akira guided his hands up from your thighs to your chest, brushing against your nipples and continuing his path up until he reached your face. He cupped your cheeks in his hands and tilted your face up, forcing you to look at the shameful display you created with him. “I want you to look at yourself as I touch you,” Akira explained, “I want you to see everything.”

You nodded dumbly, anything to get his hands back to pleasuring you. “Please,” you continued to repeat with breathless whines, “I want more, I want you in me.” You pushed your ass harder against his hard cock, hoping he would take the bait. You wanted to be fucked silly and at this point you really didn’t care how you got there.

Akira sucked in a sharp breath and shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut and stilling for a few seconds as you continued to grind yourself on his dick. “Later, okay?” his voice wavered and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his own word with how enthusiastic you seemed about riding him.

He let go of your face and skimmed your inner thighs, catching the cum from your first orgasm on his fingers and finally touching you properly. You keened, head falling back as he slowly pressed two fingers into your hole. “Yes⁠!” you groaned, spreading your thighs a little further and bucking your hips into his hand, “More, please, oh god it feels so good⁠— hnn!”

Akira’s hand steadied your head, once again pushing you to look at yourself as his fingers thrusted in and out of you. “Come on, baby. Don’t stop watching,” he purred as he scissored his fingers inside of you. “Oh, you liked that?”

You grasped his hair and his wrist, incoherent noises fumbling from your lips as Akira brought you to another orgasm within minutes. Marin Karin had quite the effect on you: keeping your stamina high and your libido higher, giving you more orgasms than you’ve had in your life, emptying your head and leaving nothing but pleasant buzzing.

He stared at you in the mirror, catching your unfocused gaze as your eyes shifted from his face to his hand and back again. “You’re doing so good,” Akira mumbled strings of words he barely paid attention to as you squirmed in his hold. He added another finger, stretching you out further and curling his fingers inside of you. He felt your legs shake and watched your jaw go slack as pleasure only continued to build.

“Again?” he asked, groaning at how you clench around his fingers, barely giving him room to move them. Even still, you continue to thrust your hips into his hands⁠, unsatisfied. “I’ll give you as many orgasms as you need,” Akira promised, kissing your cheek and resting his temple against yours, “I won’t stop until you’re begging.”

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Hello lovelyyy! Could i request a Billy imagine? He makes fun of the reader after hooking up with her at a party and she just playa along for the sake of his reputation but it hurts her a lot. He finds her and apologizes and its all really angsty with a happy ending??✨

Facades - B. Hargrove

I love this req so so so so so so much and I am so sorry I took so long to complete it! If you hate it then I am so so sorry and I hope you let me know so i can send you pictures of baby otters to apologise!

I really hope you like it!!

TW: THIS STORY CONTAINS MENTIONS OF BULLYING, SEXUAL REFERENCES, SWEARING, BRIEF ALLUSIONS TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE / PARENTAL ABUSE, BILLY BEING A BIT OF A MYSOGINISTIC PRAT, Y/N STANDING UP FOR THE LITTLE PEEPS AND BEING A QUEEN AND MENTIONS OF NON-CONSENSUAL STARING AT INTIMATE BODY PARTS.

IF THIS CONTENT CAN POTENTIALLY TRIGGER YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ. YOUR OWN MENBTAL AND PHSYICAL HEALTH IS IMPORTANT, SO PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN.

Original Story by defensive_sarcasm17.

Please do not copy, reproduce or repost without credit or in a manner that removes my username, and/or ownership from the work. Stealing is not cool, my loves.

Billy Hargrove was an asshole.

Not just your regular asshole, but the kind that knew he was an asshole and allowed his severe longing for attention to control his every action. Whether positive or negative attention, he craved it; he reveled in it.

He knew it was wrong, but simply knowing he was on somebody’s mind in any way filled him with a sense of pride. It disgusted him but the thrill was far too addictive.

And there was sweet Y/N. Anybody could tell that she didn’t fit in. She walked - no, she strut - to the beat of her own drum. The minute he arrived she caught his attention. He had never before witnessed how somebody could be so unique and beautiful, yet remain on the outside. She was a fascinating creature and he hadn’t before felt such an intense desire to get to know somebody.

She was so different to so many people, both in personality and appearance, yet she took care to avoid bringing others down. Her first interaction with him was her reprimanding him for speaking ill of another girl in their grade with his friends. She had overheard the conversation that occurred near to her locker and made sure to discuss it with him away from his friends.

The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him and herself, but she also needed to tell him that his behaviour was unacceptable. He made more of an effort to watch his tongue after that, but old habits die hard and he quickly resorted back to being an ill-mannered asshole.

Just... never to her.

Nevertheless, he was still drawn to her. Their relationship evolved, a few sneaky kisses, hanging out outside of the arcade, or the cinema, or even the one time that Billy was eating at the diner and Y/N took a seat across from him just to babble about some new thing she was doing. If she was anybody else, Billy would have told her to take a hike, but instead, he clung to every word she told.

What Y/N didn’t know, though, was that she had become a butt of some jokes amongst Billy’s friends. Her kind, bubbly personality, her eyes that were often wide in energetic glee, the way she held a cheesy smile on her lips whenever she passed Billy in the hall.

To her it was normal. Never in her the lengths of her imagination would she conclude that the way she behaved would spur other people - people that she has grown alongside - to ridicule and tease her behind her back.

So she continued on in blissful nativity, even going as far as spending a night with the brutish boy - cuddled together, fumbling blindly amongst the rumpled sheets of her double bed. What started as a meaningless conversation at one of the many parties ended in one of the best nights that either had experienced.

She was entirely enamored by him, forming an intense and strong connection with the way he would present himself to her. She quite enjoyed the Jekyll within him.

The euphoria that he felt in her presence wouldn’t fade away like it normally did, even as he took his leave from her.

But when Billy was seen by Y/N’s neighbour, Angela, leaving her house early in the morn, the news circulated with the intensity of a swarm of angry locusts amongst the school.

And when Billy turned up to school late the next day, after a long and enjoyable farewell with Y/N and a quick stop at his own abode to change and freshen up, he was hounded the minute he approached his friends in the cafeteria.

“Please for the love of all that is cool in this world, tell me you didn’t hook up with freaky Y/N,” Tommy blurted in front of almost the entire cafeteria. The frown on Billy’s face did nothing to deter the boy, and from the corner of his eye he could see Y/N still as a statue as she felt most eyes turn towards her. Her tray was clasped between her fingers and she struggled to shift her features away from shock. “I mean, look at her,” he raised a hand as if he intended to whisper, yet the silence of the room ensured everybody heard, “You’d get more satisfaction out of a bean bag chair. She’s a dork.”

In that moment, he had two options: stick up for Y/N and confess to the growing admiration he harbored for her in front of everybody, and remove the cloud of admiration he received from many women and men alike; or do what billy does best-

“Please, I won’t put my dick just anywhere, willingly,” he scoffed, avoiding the burning gaze from the girl. His stormy blue eyes hid the flurry of his neurons, all of them working overtime to one up with an excuse, an answer, anything to avoid judgement from his peers. “She ended up with my jacket at the end of the night and there was no way I was letting her keep it.”

Tommy had an evil smirk on his face, turning his gaze towards Y/N and eyeing her in a grotesque way. His eyes linger on her chest for longer than she deemed comfortable before he snapped back to Billy. “Figured as much, but, we’ve all seen the way the freak looks at you. Even now, she can’t keep her eyes off of you.”

More sniggers erupted throughout the room. Y/N placed her tray down carefully, planning to leave the room as fast as she could, but she stopped when she saw Tommy crook a finger at her. He beckoned her closer, and she wanted nothing more than to shrink down to the size of a mouse.

“Is she dumb?” Tommy grunted as he nudged Billy’s shoulder with his own. “Come here, freaky!” Some chatter resumed in the room, but all eyes were still on her. She slowly stepped towards their table, crossing the few meters difference as slow as she could.

A chuckle left Billy, but he had forced it from his chest. His mind was going through many scenarios in which he could hurt Tommy, his favourite settling on stabbing him in the hand with one of the cafeteria forks followed by a severe pummeling to the face, but the eyes on him sent his adrenaline spiking. He felt horrible about speaking so badly of Y/N, but everybody had their attention focused on him. He was making people laugh, gasp, grumble even. He saw the girls at the table next to them get closer, winking at him and whispering along themselves about Y/N.

It was intoxicating.

“Tell us, freaky,” Tommy drawled, a sinister smirk forming in his thin and cracked lips. “You’re just obsessed with my man, Billy, here. Aren’t you?” Billy didn’t meet her eyes, and she knew - she just knew - that he didn’t enjoy what was happening, but she figured he would have the decency to stop it from continuing.

She had seen many sides of Billy, including the menacing, careless, boarding-on-sociopathic side, but she had managed to convince herself that she was immune to the abuse that tumbled from his lips. Y/N was already scolding herself inside her mind for thinking such discrepancies.

“Look at her, Billy. She can’t even speak!” Billy felt Tommy shove his shoulder with the palm of his hand, dropping the appendage quickly when he noticed the glare Billy shot him. His face paled slightly before the arrogance returned and the smirk resurfaced when his gaze shifted back to Y/N.

She hadn’t moved, her eyes locked on Billy. In those situations, Y/N knew her tear ducts were far to close to her eyelids, often spilling over at the any confrontation. She shied away from it, knowing that it often resulted in heartache and misfortune - but this time she felt anger. She just wasn’t quite sure if the anger was directed at herself or Billy.

Maybe both.

To add fuel to the flame, Billy turned his steely cerulean eyes towards her, raking them along the length of her body before he decided to open his mouth once again.

“Do i make you speechless?” his voice was sultry, warm, juxtaposing with the chill that ran down her spine at the audition.

It took her back to the previous night when he whispered sweet nothings against her skin. But she knew this was not the same Billy. This was the Billy that he would show to everyone. Everyone but her.

This was his Hyde, and she despised it. This was far from her Billy, but she knew how much his reputation meant to him.

He held her gaze strongly, but she could see something else in his expression. He was hoping that she would stay quiet, retreat from any chance of spilling his secret to the entire cafeteria, but part of his mind was telling him that he deserved her to speak the truth.

“I can’t help it, Billy,” she mumbled, hoping that a confession would make everything end. Her face was stoic, jaw set in a tight clench, only relenting to let the words slip out. To the rest of the cafeteria, it would portray as nerves and embarrassment, but to Billy - he knew that something had definitely changed in the usual mild-mannered, kind-hearted woman. Shame was running through her head at an alarming rate, mixed with embarrassment and cut with a growing anger. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long. It’s hard to deny how i feel about you.”

The words hit him like a speeding truck. Despite their activities, she had never once given him an indication for the depth of her feelings, nor had he for her. He had came to the conclusion that she simply knew of his emotions without the audition of them - he treated her so differently, he thought.

Nevertheless, he wanted to believe that her words were the truth, but the fire blazing in her beautiful eyes set his skin alight and had his heart pounding against his ribcage with guilt. She was Y/N. She was kind, she knew him. She knew how much he craved the satisfaction of being on somebody’s mind as if he could sense that he held somebody’s attention.

He knew she did it to help him, and he was somewhat grateful underneath the growing guilt.

“Wow,” Tommy breathed. His face held a look of astonishment, but once again he returned to his stock standard expression. “What an absolute spaz!”

Billy found himself nodding along to avoid the heat-filled stare, swallowing the lump of bile rising in his throat, “Why is it that all the dorks think they have a chance with me? I must have a wannabe-magnet that makes them all hot for me,” his cackle was filled with faux-malice, but the students were none the wiser. His thoughts were roaming around his head, moving faster than he was sure his brainwaves could manage.

He barely noticed when a feminine voice hit his ears and said something about Y/N needing to cool off before pouring a drink over her head. The red liquid was already beginning to stain her shirt and her hair was pushed to the front of her face.

“There you go,” Carol - the girl that had Tommy wrapped so tightly around her little finger that she has a circulation issue - had been the one to spill the liquid over her head. The smile on Carol’s face was dripping with sugar, but Billy knew that it was actually salt.“The red makes you look less like an ugly cow.”

A gasp left her lips, her eyes closing quickly. Y/N knew that the tip of the iceberg was approaching. Everybody has the point in their anger when they hit a point of hypersensitivity. Their body struggling to find a way to release the pent up friction in anyway, and it chooses to take the route of tears.

When she opened her eyes they had already began to blur with tears, yet she could still make out Billy’s figure, but she didn’t stay long enough to hear their taunts any longer. Her feet carried her to her car at a steady pace, where she finally allowed the emotion to escape in any way it pleased.

<><><><><>

He had expected to see her in their next class. Her presence was the only think that kept him from flipping out during their history class. Mr Daniels, the balding, narcissistic, middle-aged douche bag, had it out for him. Billy had often joked that it was because of the hair - pure jealousy, he said. The mere sight of Y/N’s profile managed to keep him occupied, his mind running wild with thoughts of the woman.

But when he had noticed she wasn’t there, all resolve had fled his body as his body fled the school. He had been trying to reach her since he had left, the pay phone on the corner of the block had his attention for nearly an hour, all of his change spent dialing her number over and over again with the same result.

The guilt was eating away at him, shame creeping up his spine.

He was an asshole. Plain and simple.

He had spent nearly his entire wallet on the pay phone, growing more frustrated by the minute. If she were home, she would answer. She always did. She was too kind to ignore a call. Hell, she even stayed on the line with telemarketers until they stopped talking for long enough for her to apologise and bid them goodbye.

The mere thought had him slumping his forehead against the receiver of the phone. His patience had worn thin and he cursed under his breath as he reefed his keys from his pocket and set off towards his blue camaro.

He needed to see her. The image of tears running down her cheek was burned into his mind, occupying all of his thoughts as his subconscious mapped out the route to her house. He had only been there once, maybe twice after dropping her home one afternoon, but he had the way etched into his hippocampus alongside many things about Y/N.

He had barely pulled in to the curb before he shut down the engine and stomped to her door.

His knuckles were rapping on the door before he knew it.

He knocked again, and once more. But no answer. Her car was parked in the drive way, he knew she was home. He picked up on the faint sound of music playing, some indie band that she was fond of. Not Billy’s taste.

“Y/N?” He called, fighting the lump that had swollen in his throat. “Y/N, please, I need to talk to you!”

The door opened slightly, just enough for Y/N to stare at him with innocent eyes full of shame before the chain stopped it from advancing further.

“I think you’ve said enough, Billy,” her voice sounded broken. Shattered even.

Her hair was still saturated, the T-Shirt she wore was stained, and he faintly recognized it as one of her favourite articles. A from was deeply carved into her features and he had to restrain his mind from thinking about how she adorable she looks with a crease between her brows and a dimple forming on her chin with growing anger.

“Darling, please let me in. I need to talk to you about something,” he flashed a charming smile. His pink lips contrasted perfectly against his sun-kissed skin. He was a delectable sight and he knew so; he made sure to dress to impress on the daily. He craved the looks of lust and jealousy. Like neon straight into his awaiting veins, it was his drug. Even the way Y/N glared up at him made his ego hum, but his heart ached with the disappointment she showed. “What happened in the cafeteria... it’ll never happen again. I just, I couldn’t-“

The door abruptly slammed in his face silencing his words in an instant. He froze, the sound shaking his spine and clearing his train of thought, only for the sound of a chain clicking and the door reopening capture his attention back.

There she stood. Hair drenched beyond all hope, clothes stained a bright red, throwing off the aesthetic of her outfit for the day. Her makeup was smudged more than he originally thought, as if she had been furiously scrubbing at her eyes with her hands. His heart ached, but he couldn’t deny the excitement in his nerves when she gave him her full attention.

Her hand reached out to grab his shirt, pulling him inside faster than he thought possible.

“Couldn’t what?” She snapped at him, venom coating her words in a way that made him recoil. “Couldn’t resist making fun of me? Couldn’t resist having every single pair of eyes on you? Couldn’t resist taking the piss out of me, just like you have done for months?”

She wasn’t meant to know about that, he thought. She was meant to be none the wiser. His face paled, eliciting a dry laugh from her chest. She felt the pressure of the forced omission in her stomach, the muscles aching from the furious sobs that racked her frame moments before.

“All of this time, I was trying to be your friend, Billy! And you!” She waved her hand at him, pointing at him in a manner dripping with unbridled anger. “You were playing me for the fool! I’ve been the butt of all jokes between you and your asshole friends since the minute I opened my big mouth to talk to you, haven’t I?”

He knew he was in the wrong. He knew that he should have punched Tommy in the face for even bringing anything up in front of her. His friend had noticed that he had abruptly halted the jokes surrounding the girl in question, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit the real reason why. He was falling head over heels, but he just didn’t know it yet.

Now he felt like his heart was ripping in two at the sight of her blotchy cheeks and red rimmed eyes, and he was the reason.

“It started as a joke, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you,” His voice was full of pain. Self-loathing. “Yeah, Tommy and I used to make fun of you for a while, but...” his words faded away.

The chuckle that left her lips this time was a hearty one, more like she was laughing at an actual joke than their humourless situation.

He didn’t realise how intently he was staring at her sock covered feet until he brought his eyes up to her face. She was genuinely laughing, but the tears that he didn’t realise were falling down her cheeks made his arms twitch from the need to hug her.

“My god,” she huffed, bringing her palms to her eyes and pressing hard, almost as if trying to hold her tears back. Her voice deceived her, and she sobbed for - what felt like - the millionth time that day. “I’m such an idiot.”

His hands connected with her shoulders and he brought her in against his chest. The hug was all he could do to comfort her, for he knew so little about his own emotions to even begin to understand another’s pain.

“Every time we spoke, every time we hung out together...” she pulled herself back from his chest. She couldn’t stand the contact that she craved so much, for she knew that it was unrequited. “Every time I kissed you.. last night. It was all bullshit!”

“Princess,” his own voice began to shake, feeling overwhelmed and anxious, “Every moment I have ever spent with you has been because I want to.”

She worked her hands into her now half-damp hair, pulling it back from her face in a tight grip, “Why? You and your friends needed some new material?” She released a heavy breath, her lips trembling. “Nancy told me about all of the jokes last week, yet I still went home with you last night. I still played along while the entire cafeteria stared me down because I know how much your reputation means to you. I know that I am at the very bottom of your priority list, Billy. Everything you do is for a purpose, and your purpose with me was just to make me feel worse than literally everybody in that school already does.”

He reached for her hand slowly, as if he were afraid she would pull away from him forever. He was never sure of his emotions, but this time, he knew that he would watch the world burn just to make her happy. He hated himself. He hated Tommy, and the girls that embarrassed her further. He hated Neil, and he hated his own narcissism. He hated the world for making such a beautiful soul so miserable, but he especially hated how he knew right from wrong and still chose the latter.

His fingers laced with hers, but her hand remained slack in his grip. It was better than nothing, he thought.

He cleared his throat, the organ feeling as stiff as a piece of cardboard, his mouth dry. The next words would be difficult, but they were honest. She deserved honesty.

“When I first met you, I didn’t know who you were, and I didn’t really want to. You were kind and thoughtful and you pulled me aside to chew me out for talking shit about some girl, but you did it where you knew my friends wouldn’t hear, just so you could spare my reputation. For the first little while, yeah, we made jokes. I made fun of the weird way you dress and the horrible music you listen to, and how you are the nicest person I have ever met, but the it stopped. The things you did stopped being funny to me, and the way I felt when I was around you changed completely.”

“Billy, what are you talking about?” Her tear-filled eyes wrinkles, her brows furrowing deeply.

“Tommy and the rest of the assholes, they noticed that I didn’t want to talk shit about you, or that I didn’t like when they would talk about you in the way - in the way we talk about other girls. Its hypocritical, but they dropped it. Until today. All because Angela couldn’t keep her big mouth shut.” He caught the look that she sent him, frowning slightly. “Sorry. Because Angela told them that I left here this morning, and they wouldn’t shut their stupid mouths the minute they saw me. I told them that I had nothing to say about you, but they wanted answers and I said shit that I never wanted to say.”

She watched him intently. Tommy had made a lot of comments about her over the years she had known him. The other guys had too, but she did notice that they started backing off lately. She hadn’t paid much attention to the fact, secretly hoping that they had begun to mature, but to think that Billy made them stop - well she didn’t know what to think.

“Why did you make them stop?” her mind was running faster than her mouth, but she still couldn’t put it together. If Billy was anybody else, she would maybe think that he reciprocated the feelings she expressed for him in the cafeteria but he isn’t - he is Billy Hargrove, and he doesn’t have feelings for anybody.

He laughed for a second. A soft, disbelief fueled cough. His eyes seemed to shine bright in the dull lighting of her house. Neither of them had realised the time that has passed, it was now nearing the afternoon. He looked down at her, his stomach full to the brim with an odd sensation.

“You really don’t know?” he seemed to have stepped closer to her, only slightly. His shoulders were slightly shrunken in. She shook her head softly, the crease returning to between her eyebrows as she thought. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Never in his teenage life, had Billy feared rejection from a woman. His mother had given him all of the rejection he needed for a lifetime, but now, as he stared into Y/N’s eyes, his lungs seemed to constrict.

It was as if her world froze for a moment. Not only did Billy Hargrove, possibly her best and only friend, confess that he has feelings for her, but he said that he loved her. To say she was at a loss for words would be an understatement, but she stood in front of him gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing every time she wanted to say something.

“I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same,” He spoke, slightly lower than when he confessed to her. He turned away from her slightly, releasing her hand and using it to rub the back of his neck. His skin felt like it was aflame and he started to sweat. “I just wanted to let you know, especially after what happened today. I-I’m sorry for the shit I said, and I am gonna kick Tommy’s ass for this. And I’m sorry that you had to say that stuff today. I know that you just said it to help me, and I appreciate it but you didn’t have to -”

His words fell short when he felt arms wrap around his waist. It was a soft, slow gesture, new, but not entirely uncomfortable. If he had to put money on it, he would say that she could feel exactly how fast his heart is beating.

“Those things I said today, about my feelings for you...” she began, head pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, princess?”

“They were all true.” He pulled her back slightly to look at her. It was his turn to look confused. “Last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, Billy. Being around you just makes my heart swell and everything better.”

His heart started to beat impossibly faster, but there was still hesitance in her voice. “I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming.”

“But I can’t deal with this split-personality bullshit, Billy.” He had never heard her curse before. It was music to his ears, exciting, entrancing, but he also knew that she meant business. She was incredibly serious. “The person you are when you are around me, that is the guy I am obsessed with. Who you are when everybody else is around... I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of that now, and I hated it.”

“I know, darling. I’m so sorry for that, I promise, I will be better. Even if you won’t have me, I will be better. For you.” His eyes held an honest strength. It was as if he were selling his soul to her, right there in her entry way, where they had stood since she wrenched the door open in a fury. “But, if you will have me, how about I take you out tomorrow night? If you don’t want to, then I understand.”

“I would love that,” she smiled up at him, the expression growing wider as a matching one took over his face.

He couldn’t help but lean forward slowly, giving her an opportunity to pull away. When their lips connected, he melted into the touch, moving with such intensity it was as if he were repeating his apology and his promise into the kiss.

She had never felt more wanted before, and he had never felt more safe.

When their lips parted she rested her forehead on his for a moment, basking in the silence and the ambiance that surrounded them.

But of course, Billy had to ruin it.

“So, you are obsessed with me, huh?” She could feel the smirk against her cheek as he nuzzled his nose into her temple.

She turned away from him so fast that the wet ends of her hair slapped his face.

“Where are you going, princess?” He followed after her, long strides catching up with her faster than she wanted.

“I’m going to have a shower. If you want to join me, you can leave that bad attitude at the door along with your shoes,” She sent him a sly wink, a smirk on the lips that Billy wanted to taste once again.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and his shoes went flying into the hallway.

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[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

(iii)

Yeah, ok...

Alright. Where would you like to begin?

I've come to terms with what happened to Rantaro and the others that died tonight. It's exactly what I was hoping to avoid by going in alone...and it stings to think about it now, and I still feel bad about it. Same goes for Mukuro, but now she's back. She never actually died, and she's come home to support me again.

But I keep getting told the same thing. He understood what he was going into, and his death was not my fault. Shirogane did it, and I...I should simply let it go, right? Even after what I did, I don't believe he ever harbored any ill will against me. Neither did Hibiki Otonokoji. And obviously, Mukuro never did either.

I believe "forgiving oneself" and "letting go" are distinct concepts. Trying to "let go" of your guilt about Ikusaba and Amami may end in burying those negative sentiments rather than finding healthy strategies to deal with them. Forgiveness necessitates admitting mistake and actively working to repair wounded feelings and shattered trust. It is a process that may take some time, especially when dealing with yourself.

Though I'm certain you don't need me to tell you that.

I know but...I was hoping to get better advice that just "Give it time and it'll all work out."

Naegi. Need I remind you that we got out of that factory merely 3 hours ago or so? I'm honestly surprised that you're not lying face down in bed, recovering from all this.

If Kyoko and Sayaka had their way, I might be.

Hm...Yes...I imagine one or both are quite eager to get you into bed.

D-Did you just-!?

Apologies. That was a joke. I was attempting to lighten the mood amidst all the heaviness.

O-Oh...alright? That caught me by surprise. It's not like you to make jokes...

I have the talent of Ultimate Comedian as well, you know?

And that is somehow among the strangest concepts I have heard today...

Let's get back on topic. Speaking of Ikusaba, how is your connection with her now that you have been properly reuinited? Did she have any ill will towards you because of what you did?

Not even an ounce. She was happy to see me.

Then, until you have reason to believe otherwise, you should assume that she has forgiven you and want to reconcile. You have no influence over how others feel; all you can do is trust that if your loved ones have a problem they want you to solve, they will tell you about it.

Let us now move on. Let's chat about the rest of your friends. How do you feel about them?

Same as I always have done. I told myself that all of this was for their sakes. But now, I know for sure that it was for mine and mine alone...And I'm so...ANGRY...at myself for that...

I can't image how Kyoko and the others felt when I hurried off to face Shirogane and Zetsubou alone. They're relieved I'm safe, and they don't show it, but deep down, I know they're still furious, sad, and betrayed, even if they know I did it for love. And I'm equally angry with myself for all of it.

Although I can't speak for Class 78, I think it's crucial that you realize that. Those seem like reasonable responses to being left behind. Although it can be simple to shut people out in an effort to save them from suffering, those who genuinely care about you will want to be there for you through even the most trying moments. Ignoring them will just make the situation worse.

This is something that Hajime Hinata has struggled with as well. He always wants people to shine with their own talents, which is why he holds back so much. But whenever the going gets tough, he puts himself on the front line. It's difficult for his companions to figure out whether he trusts them to defend themselves or not.

Keep in mind that making amends and moping over your setbacks are two different things. It's important to remember not to let your past transgressions prevent you from moving on with your life, especially if your companions have already extended their forgiveness.

And don't forget that Junko is still out there. Even if you dedicate the next few months or so to recovery and getting your life on track, you can't block out any of the issues that are still prevalent in the world.

I won't, trust me...But honestly, after everything that happened tonight, that's why I'm so scared...

I'm not the Ultimate Hope anymore. I don't deserve that honor after what I've done. But as I am now, how can the meager Ultimate Lucky Student go up against a titan like the Ultimate Despair?

That's easy. Ask for help.

I get that, but this rivalry between me and Junko has ran deep for almost 15 years now, even long after her death. I can't burden anyone else with-

Yes. You CAN.

Ultimate Hope Therapy.

...

*Shortly after his conversation with Kuripa and Mukuro, Makoto strides down the hallway of the Future Foundation to the Branch 7 department. Towards Miaya's office for some consultation.

...

*There's some chairs outside the office door, which Makoto finds locked, so instead, he sits down on one of them, patiently waiting.

...

You're going to be waiting for a while...

BAH!?

*He falls off his chair as Izuru Kamukura suddenly almost teleports next to him.

Ugh!? K-Kamukura!? Wh-What a surprise, I...thought you went home.

No. Akane and Mahiru want to spend a little more time with the others. In fact, we're debating whether I should be brought back to that house or not. It is quite homely there though, so I believe I will.

That's good to hear.

Are you here to visit Gekkogahara? I must warn you. You may be the only person here, but her waiting list is at least a mile long. It might be a while before she gets to you.

Oh...Right, that makes sense actually. A lot of people were traumatized after the things they had to see today. I guess it makes sense that she'd be busy.

She's doing a group session right now. I'm sure she wouldn't mind you joining in.

No, no...This is a lot of personal stuff. I can wait.

...

Naegi...

Yeah?

Would you mind terribly if I was the one you consulted?

Huh? You!?

It may be easy to forget, given my disposition, but I also have Miaya's talents of therapy, consultation, and psychology. Besides, I heard that you'd already sought help from her once before, and clearly, it did not work out.

That was because I was a bad patient, not because she was a bad doctor.

Not saying I'm against the idea...but why ask me that?

I don't know...It just feels like something that a friend would do. If Hajime was here, I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to help you.

...I'm sure he would...Alright, I'll take you up on that then...

——————————————————————

*Izuru escorts Makoto to a private room. He randomly pulls up two chairs and sits them facing one another. They then both sit down, and Makoto stares shiftily at his new therapist.

...

...

...Ok, this feels a little awkward....Where am I even supposed to begin?

You don't need to feel threatened by me. If it comes to it, just imagine me as a life-sized doll that you can vent your frustrations to.

But if you're having trouble getting started, let me suggest we begin with something simple. How are you feeling right now?

Exhausted, and in a lot of pain. I got light treatment for the injuries I suffered in my fights against Koime and Celeste, but I need a follow up appointment to get properly treated. It's just there's a long list of high-priority patients ahead of me.

In fact I'm fairly sure I shouldn't be walking around like this...I'm worried that if I sit or lie down, I'm not gonna be able to get up for the next two days.

I'm sure you'll manage. You're stronger than you think. But if exhaustion is all that's weighing on your mind right now, then I believe that's a good thing.

[hold-him-down]

57 & 70 for West

this ask thing

57. Have you ever considered just putting Leo out of their misery?

"What?" West raises his eyes, something flickering behind them. "Absolutely not. Leo has a full life ahead of him, that if he plays his cards right, can be a productive one. There's no reason to put him out of his misery." There's venom behind the words.

70. Do you think Leo will ever forgive you?

"I think if Leo harbors ill will toward me, that is his own issue. In the moments where I felt that I pushed him too far, I apologized, and he seemed eager to accept it and move on. For the entire thing? It's complicated. I am at peace with my role in Leo's life, and I'm not asking forgiveness. I gave him nearly two years of relative ease. I gave him Will, who he formed a strong bond with. I gave him food and clothing and access to medical care and shelter. I allowed him to pursue his hobbies. He read frequently, he drew occasionally. He had nearly free rein of my property. He worked no harder than any other blue collar employee might work, and he participated in other more personal services on occasion. I am sorry for those times where I pushed him too far, but I'm not going to apologize for offering him warmth and comfort in a cold world.

[gwynrielendgame]

Nyx and Tamlin’s daughter part 2

Again no one really read the first part, but I don’t care! I have been inspired to write again, so I am just going with the flow. Also, I read somewhere that instead of describing accents you should just write how the accent sounds when the character speaks, but idk. If you think it’s annoying comment and I might change it for the other parts I’ve written.

"I apologize for my parents. They mean well, but I think my mother secretly still harbors negative feelings for your father."

Nyx felt it was necessary to apologize for his parents behavior. They have been less than diplomatic tonight and it must have been because of their pasts with Tamlin. Nevertheless, they invited Tamlin here tonight for peace and instead, offered spiteful exchanges. He glanced at Isa from the corner of his eye as they strolled down the garden path. It was beautiful especially at night. His aunt Elain tended to it often which made the flowers more beautiful than any other garden he had seen. He liked looking at her. Not necessarily for her beauty, although he could say with confidence that she was beautiful. She was not beautiful in the way that Elain or Mor were, but in the way that someone obviously powerful was. It was more about her essence. Everything about her was enticingly unique.

"That is strange, is it not?" She quirked a single eyebrow at him with a smirk lifting the edge of her mouth. He placed his hands in his pockets to avoid awkwardly fidgeting in the way his mother often did.

"What is strange?"

"That your mother left him for another man who zhe iz happily married to with three children, yet zhe haz ill will for him? Zeemz a bit backward, no?"

Nyx gave her a strange look. She had been hiding how heavy her accent truly was at dinner. Perhaps she had dropped her guard now that they were alone or perhaps she was tired of hiding it. Either way Nyx liked listening to it.

"Tamlin was awful to my mother when they were together. She's allowed to feel angry at him."

"Zo the story goez."

Isa stopped to pluck a particularly beautiful rose. Nyx took it from her hands gently. Only to stick it behind her ear. She gave him a small smile before they continued on their walk.

"How have I never heard of you?" Nyx asked the question that had been burning at the back of his mind since Tamlin introduced her. "You must be Pyrinthian's best kept secret."

Again, she sent him a small secretive smile while twirling down the path. Her dress made large swooping motions around her body as she seemed to dance to a song only found in her head.

"It iz tradition that young witchez are raised in their coven, completely izolated from other fae. It iz dangerous for young witchlings when their powers are not yet controlled. 'Unnatural' magic as your kin like to call it, does not lizten to the influence of the witch when their mind iz not strong."

"What can happen?"

"There are stories of young children killing their peers on accident when trying to show off."

"Is that why Fae fear your kind? Because it is unpredictable?"

"All witch magic has a price. The spirits aid us when we call onto them and they seek a price. There iz a method to the price but it iz subject to change depending on the spirit that answers. Your father was not wrong when he said blood magic brings chaos. The reason blood magic iz so feared iz because it can attract all zorts of evil spirits and monsters, which can be part of the appeal." She chuckled as she said this and shook her head. "How many times have your parents required the azzistance from a monster?"

"More than I would like to admit."

"Despite that, not all witch magic iz blood magic. Your father's ignorance iz thinking they are one in the same." Isa took a seat at one of the benches and Nyx followed suit. He sat a bit closer than newly acquainted fae should, but he hardly cared.

"So you were raised amongst your kind? Did you get to see your father much?" Nyx was curious about this secretive female. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

"He caused havoc and mayhem in order to zee me. They refused until my first shape shift when I was two and they realized they did not know how to help that. My mother had been zecretly sneaking me to see him before then though."

"Fascinating."

"How do you know zo much about witches?" She asked while pushing her short hair behind her ear. Nyx reached out and clasped her hand in his. He started to trace a small tattoo on the outside of her pointer finger.

"Honestly? I do not know much. A few of them have given some information over idle pillow talk though." He admitted with a shrug.

"Charming. Speak of your past conquests to your new one." She said it with a wide smile, so Nyx was not concerned that he had actually upset her.

"I would not call you my new conquest." He gave her a cheeky smile that she shook her head to with a chuckle.

"No? Zo you escort me out here to win my heart or from the goodness of your own?"

"Perhaps I escort you out here as a gentleman."

"That iz not what your reputation would suggest." She lifted her eyebrows at him.

"I have a reputation?" Nyx was wholly unaware of any reputation that might precede him unless it had something to do with his parents. Isa pulled her hand back into her own lap.

"Nyx, prince of the night court, zon of Feyre 'cursebreaker' Archeron, high lady of the night court and Rhyzand high lord of the night court. Intelligent and agile. Mediocre combat training, excellent spy potential, enjoys the attention of any and all females, and zuccezzfully gains the attention with uave charm and dashing good looks."

"You definitely did your research." He leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms over his chest as she leaned in a bit more.

"Believe it or not, those words were straight from Lucien before we winnowed here." She mock whispered.

"That seems a bit unfair. He gave me no information on you. I'd also argue I am much better than mediocre at hand-to-hand combat." Nyx felt a bit miffed that he had been described as mediocre at anything, but begrudgingly he knew Lucien was right.

"Be careful, I might be tempted to challenge you." She gave a wickedly mischievous smile before turning her head up to look at the stars. She plucked the rose from behind her ear and began twirling it between her fingers.

"What would we be wagering for?"

"The title of best fighter. Might give our parents zomething to boast about." She continued to look at the sky instead of him.

"Hmm. Not appealing enough. Perhaps for a kiss though?" He jested. Although, he imagined a kiss from her would be amazing.

"I zuppose. If you think winning a kizz will be easier than charming one from me, then you have severely misjudged me."

"Oh I know," he sent a wide, goofy smile her way. "I would need you to kiss the pain away after you kick my ass."

"Relentlezz." A genuine smile finally lit her face up. It made her even more beautiful.

"You are a mind reader, right? Can you tell me what I am thinking of?" She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and rubbed her temples with her pointer and middle fingers. It was the epitome of concentration but it only caused him to laugh and shake his head.

"You mean my daemati powers?" He attempted to infiltrate her mind only to be met with steel mind barriers. He did not think his father would even be able to get past those.

"Daemati?" She drug out the word as if she was testing how it sounded on her lips. "How does it work?"

"For some people, I can slip into their mind and hear their thoughts and experience their memories. Your mind, however," he poked her forehead right between her eyebrows. "Is too guarded. I supposed I will have to get to know you the old fashioned way."

She pushed her bottom lip out in a pout.

"That iz not fun." He laughed loudly at her expression. She seemed truly gutted that he could not read her mind. It was such an opposite reaction to how most people felt of the ability. It seemed like the deepest of privacy invasions to most. It was why he tried to limit using it as much as possible.

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Mediocre damn-ti can be added to your list." She stood up and placed the rose that was in her lap behind Nyx’s ear. He laughed but left it there anyhow. They started back towards the house.

"Daemati. And I would say my inability to infiltrate your mind speaks more to the strength of your power than a lack of mine."

She sent him a mischievous smile before grabbing his hand and twirling herself under his arm as she hummed a tune. She amused him with her peculiar behavior.

"Are you nervous to be High lady some day?" He figured she of all people would understand the anxiety he has been feeling lately to fill his parents footsteps. What if he messed up? What if he failed?

"Have not thought of it much."

"Truly?" She gave a simple nod before responding.

"I worry more about my father's death than the power I would have after it. He iz all I have left."

"I always imagined my parents voluntarily stepping down to give me the title. They seem so invincible. Perhaps that is the child in me." He did not like to imagine their deaths, but even so at least he would have a plethora of help. He had so many mentors that could show him the way. He felt bad that Isa only had Tamlin. Lucien too, probably.

"It iz sweet that you feel that way. I have zeen too much to believe that anyone is invincible."

"I just worry that I will fail. Or that I won't live up to their standards." Nyx had many a nightmares about this specific situation.

"That iz a lot of prezzure considering you are not yet High Lord." She bumped his shoulder with hers. He stumbled a step from surprise, but bumped her back.

"I will be one day though."

"What if one of you zisters get the throne instead of you? And then you wasted all dis time for nothing."

"Neither want it. Even if the power transfers to them, they have both said they will leave the title to me."

"You will probably fail and ruin your parents hard work." She said in a serious tone with a grave look on her face.

"Thanks." He deadpanned.

"But you will have me as an ally, no? And I will be ready dig you out of whatever hole you have dug. I am quite wise and known for my generosity." He could sense a hint of sarcasm with her last sentence, but felt honored that she was so freely giving her support anyways.

"Be careful, you might be underestimating how much trouble I could get us into."

[lumina-rose]

Tear You Apart

Chapter 2/4

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32168824/chapters/79765408#workskin 

Pairing:

Laszlo x Reader

Summary:

Mere months after the conclusion of the Beecham case, Dr.Kreizler and his associates are asked once again to solve a new series of murders that plague the streets of New York. They are joined by the alienist's new assistant, who's presence soon unravels startling revelations. Not only within the case, but also within the mind of one of their own.

(This story is set between the events of Season 1 and Season 2)

Warnings:

Murder Mystery, Graphic Description of Corpses, slight dark!Laszlo (kinda. Think Will “This is my design” Graham), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Minor Violence, Friends to Lovers,Assistant, Boss/Employee Relationship,Tension, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining.

(More Future Warnings TBD)

Notes:

Chapter 2: Love & Hate

It had been a full day since your strange interaction with Dr. Kreizler.

After waiting to for him to gather everyone involved with the investigation, you were troubled when no call came. Part of you worried that it was due to your disturbing experience, but you fought back your anxieties with logic. Even if something had happened between the two of you, Laszlo would never let it interfere with the case. Still, that did not stop you from worrying about the alienist. Your mind constantly returning to that moment.

His tired appearance, caused by countless hours of work and stress, which were aided by sleepless nights theorizing the motives and background of the murderer that haunted New York. The vacant trace-like state that overtook him, as though his actions were being controlled by something else. Someone else. The warm feeling of his palm against your skin, a feeling that would have been calming and welcome, had it not been placed around your throat. Yet, the firm but gentle hold had thrilled you- excited you. But it also frightened you. And even now, you debated your mixed, complex emotions. There was fear, yes, but excitement too. Or was there both? Or were they the same? What was the difference between the two?

You had felt like this before, in fleeting moments and never quite as strong. You had felt it with small admirers from your past, though nothing ever came from these interactions. You had felt it when you first began your work at the Kreizler Institute, upon seeing the care taken to provide the city's troubled youth with a sanctuary, free from the pressures of society. And recently, in small moments with Dr. Kreizler, himself, after working by his side tirelessly. On your trips to the Opera, when you both would be given a chance to simply talk- not about work or the mentally ill- just genuine conversations, discussing your hobbies, interests, and hopes for the future. One particular moment had stuck out to you, thinking back. It had been late, and you had joined Kreizler back at his home after a long day of work. You shared a drink together, when he finally asked you what you hoped to gain from learning from him.

Usually when men asked about what you wanted to do as a working woman, they were against the notion that you wished to become an alienist, believing that a woman could never become a doctor despite the fact that there were a rare few that already were. Indeed, even with the likes of Marcus, Lucius, and John Moore there was apprehension. With Dr. Kreizler, however, he never tried to persuade you otherwise and spoke only with respect and encouragement in regards to your dream. Ever since that moment, you had harbored affection for the alienist, though you would never act on it. If not for the sake of your own feelings, then for Laszlo's reputation.

"Ms. (L/n)?"

Your mind found its way back to the present, returning you to your surroundings. You stood in the small apartment that had become your home, a space you had rented out from a Mr. Louis Arnett. He was an older man who had been left a widower, and remained unmarried to this day. While he was a bit older than yourself, perhaps eleven years your senior, it wasn't impossible to imagine the possibility of him remarrying. It often made you wonder if his lack of interest in remarriage was due to his age or grief. Due to the sudden passing of his late wife, he had moved to a new house in the city, but offered for you to live in his previous residence, as long as you kept paying your bill on time. Since the Kreizler Institute was more generous in terms of wages, that had never been an issue for you. Still, sometimes the older landlord would come by to check on the space, often taking time to sit and chat with you despite your insistence that it wasn't necessary.

"I must apologize, Mr. Arnett." You sighed, giving a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I'm afraid my mind is elsewhere as of late."

The older gentleman sat at a small table in the center of the room, drinking from a cup. He wore his typical suit, all black- save for one pin attached to his tie. A lily was depicted on the small item, as a tribute to his late wife. You eyed the item warily now, only being reminded of the bloodied bouquets.

He gave an understanding look. "As I can imagine. Nasty business. I must say, I'm rather concerned about that alienist you say you work for....Kreshner, was it? Letting a lady such as yourself work well into the night, with all these horrible attacks going on."

"Kreizler. Doctor Kriezler." You corrected. Another burning heat flashed through you, upon Arnett's mentioning of your employer, wrapping around the collar of your dress jacket. "As for myself, I am capable of finding my way home safely."

"Of that, I am certain. I do hope the man doesn't keep you there too late." Arnett relented, chuckling slightly at your reaction.

You turned to the landlord, scoffing.

"I assure you, if Dr. Kreizler had it his way, I'd be back well before the sun had begun to set. If anything, it's at my insistence that I spent so much time at the Institute."

"Is that so?"

You were used to speaking casually with the older gentleman, during such visits, but your comment seemed to intrigue the man. Perhaps you should be a bit more careful with your words. You stiffened slightly, rushing to correct your mistake.

"With the attack of those four women, I believe we should be using what time we have to catch the person responsible. My beauty sleep can wait, for now."

The man nodded, thinking for a moment, before standing to come closer to my side. Holding a hand out, he gave a quick goodbye. "Very well, Ms. (L/n). I suppose I shouldn't keep you. Though, I do wish you would take care of yourself."

"I thank you for your concern, Mr. Arnett." You nodded. "I should be heading to the Institute soon, anyways. Perhaps I can walk you down?"

"You are too kind, my dear."

You brushed off the endearment, convincing yourself it was merely a phrase he used often, and went to join the man in his exit. Once outside, the sounds and smells of the street hit you, reminding you that even with a killer on the loose, nothing could stop the momentum of New York. You escorted Mr. Arnett on the sidewalk, waiting as he attempted to hail a cab. After a few long minutes of idle conversation, a small carriage approached, stopping before the two of you. You gave a quick goodbye to the landlord, beginning to rush him away, as you grew more concerned with the time. Finally, once the cab was out of sight, you let out a heavy sigh.

It wasn't that the man's company was unpleasant. In fact, you were grateful to find a landlord in the city who was so welcoming and reasonable with rent prices, there was just something about Mr. Arnett that seemed odd. It was as though he sought to interject himself into a person's life, whether or not it was welcomed. Though you were now used to the man's occasional visits, it had been a bit unsettling at first. From what you'd heard before moving here, most people in the city didn't bat an eye when it came to the lives of strangers. Then again, he was a widower, offering up what used to be his home to anyone who would be willing to pay. Maybe having a woman in the house reminded him of happier times?

Now on your own, your mind was drawn back to Dr. Kreizler and the investigation that had taken over your current daily life. You had been a bit untruthful in your conversation with Mr. Arnett earlier, in saying that you needed to return to the Kriezler Institute for the day. In fact, you had been given the day off in advance by the alienist, for what he called a "well deserved break". Nevermind the fact that he had ignored you when you suggested he do the same. Looking back on it now, you wished he had taken your advice. These murders were clearly effecting him, if yesterday was any indication.

The walk to the Institute had been short, given that you only lived a few city blocks away. Even from the sidewalk outside, you could hear the cheers and laughter of the children inside, followed quickly by the voice of one of the matrons. You smiled lightly, knowing that at least the patients of the Institute seemed happy, despite the dark times the city was currently facing. It reminded you why your efforts in the investigation were so important. You faced the ugliest parts of life, so that they wouldn't have to.

When you entered the front doors of the Institute, you were relieved to see that no one appeared to be in the halls. While you usually enjoyed the company of the children, you didn't want to be pulled away from your current goal of finding Dr. Kreizler. You made your way towards the alienist's study, knowing you might find him there. After the fourth victim had been found, there was no doubt in your mind that he had once again stayed up all night, trying to go over every detail of the murder.

You found the door to the doctor's study left ajar, a sight that unsettled you. You crept inside, calling out softly for the doctor, before stepping in fully. After receiving no response, you glanced around. The walls of bookshelves towered over you, but you noticed spaces were there were empty slots where certain books were meant to be, no doubt to help create the ever-growing mountain on the main center table. Papers and pages were scattered about, messily, along with notes and photos from the murder victims. A chalk board had been placed inside the study, and had stayed there ever since the new case began. Countless questions were written, some organized to certain corners, while others were placed haphazardly.

Sleep fascination? Somnophilia?

Meaning of Flowers? Personal or Symbolic?

Physical Strength- perhaps a labor worker or military background?

Love and Hate?

Your eyes landed on the last question, drawing you back to your last discussion with Sara. Only now it seemed the question wasn't love or hate, rather love and hate. Much like your fear and excitement, it seemed Dr. Kreizler was starting to blur the two. In your distraction, you had failed to notice the door to the side laboratory open, where Laszlo emerged from, followed closely by a young girl.

"Ms. (L/n)?"

The gentle questioning tone in words were countered only by the rough, scratchiness in his voice. Turning quickly, you gave the doctor a startled stare. The circles under his eyes were darker, confirming your suspicions, but you were pleased to see that he had taken the time to clean up his appearance overnight.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Kreizler, I had called for you but you never answered." You explained.

"It's quite alright, I was just talking with Loretta." He gave a small smile to the girl, who clung to his good hand. When his eyes came back to you, a small jolt went through you. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Never."

The man quickly told the young girl to go join the other children outside, earning a silent nod and goodbye from her. As she rushed out, her hair bounced behind her, as she eagerly went to find her friends. You couldn't help but grin. Loretta was one of the more troubled youths. After an incident with a wild dog as a small child, she had been left with an intense fear of all animals. That fear later formed into troubling habits of torturing and hurting any creature she came across. Even going as far as to set fire to a neighboring cat's tail. You never would expect such a sweet smile to hide such violent tendencies.

"How did she react to the monkey?" You asked, curiously, looking back at Laszlo.

"She's improved, but is still afraid of them unless someone shows that they're friendly. It may be a while until she can deal with animals on her own." He nodded, mostly to himself, as if making a mental note. He stayed in his spot, by the door, as he continued. "I wasn't expecting you, I'm afraid. I believe I told you that you could have the day off."

"You did."

"And yet, you are here."

Still, he remained in place, as if he wanted to be near an exit at all times. You paused for a moment, stepping back towards the chalk board.

"I wanted to discuss something with you, but if you are otherwise occupied, I can wait." You said.

He stepped closer now, but still a good distance away. For some reason, that fact irked you. "Then you caught me at just the right moment. Tell me, what's troubling you?"

Ah, avoidance.

You didn't miss the fake curiosity in his tone, as he vaguely asked you what was on your mind. It was a test, and you both knew it. Would you mention his strange behavior? Did you dare? Did you want to? Did he want you to, or was this simply an attempt to forget the action, altogether?

You bit the inside of your cheek, biting back a frown. Two could play these games. "I wanted to share a thought I had about the case."

Instantly, Kreizler approached the table, overlooking the piles of read and unread books, in order to watch your expression, gauge your behavior. His expression became serious. "Go on?"

"I was thinking about why the killer used chloroform on his victims, despite failing to render them unconscious." You answered, your eyes meeting his. "I thought about the possibility that perhaps putting them to sleep wasn't his goal, nor was it to be used as a painkiller. As you pointed out, if reducing pain was it's purpose then he wouldn't resort to strangling the women. So then what if his goal was merely to disorient them, to make them unable to fight back? Perhaps the combination of panic and the effects of the drug caused them to go into shock? If that were his goal, then that would explain why he continues to use it."

The alienist pondered this for a moment. "He’s created an obsession with his true target, creating a delusion and using his victims as substitutes for her. If this is true, then perhaps the use of chloroform was simply a desperate attempt to keep them from fighting, from breaking the illusion he's created in his mind."

"That would also explain why he would then turn to using violence against them when they struggled." You nodded. "I suspect our latest victim fought a bit harder than the others, due to the stronger markings on her."

"It also supports the killer’s effort to cover up the wounds of the struggle. It would suggest that the victims didn’t want it to happen, when his delusion depends on their submission to him." Laszlo added, looking over the photographs. "He's become obsessed his target, taking pleasure from the idea that they will accept him, and escalating to violence when he's denied that pleasure."

He moved with a strong purpose, over to the chalk board, writing down a new series of thoughts and questions. There was a serious focus in his gaze, contradicted by a light glint in his brown eyes. You focused on his hand, as he quickly scratched the white chalk against the board's surface, following its path until he was done. The doctor stepped back, his chest heaving up and down slightly. A slight, satisfied smirk on his face.

"How did you come to this conclusion?" He asked, curiously, sighing.

A burning blush had reached your face, and your heart raced at the fact that your theory had brought some level of joy to the man. Blinking, you looked away, slightly embarrassed by your reaction. "I had an idea back at the morgue, before you..."

...before you grabbed my throat. You had trailed off, not wishing to speak the words aloud. Still, It seemed your message got through to Laszlo.

Now his eyes turned away, looking to the ground, as a rosy color reached the apples of his cheeks. There was a mixture of emotions in his expression, ones you could see he was fighting to hold back. Shame, embarrassment, regret, and something more. He no longer stood far away from you, as he had been just a moment before, yet you could tell he wanted nothing more than to be closer to the exit of the room.

“I must apologize, it was improper on my part and disrespectful to your boundaries." A hand went through his hair, a nervous reaction. "I fear I’m not sure what came over me.”

He didn't seem capable of looking at you, and you found yourself desperate to see his eyes. Taking a small step towards him, his head slowly turned to you. You gave him a reassuring smile.

"This case has been disturbing for all of us, Doctor, I won't blame you for being effected by it. Trying to understand the thoughts of the person responsible for these acts has proven to me that there is darkness in all of us... and that it's hard not to be consumed by it." You said, hoping to sound understanding.

You now stood only a couple feet away. His eyes met yours, as his expression gave way to something softer. "I’m not sure how I could make it up to you, after frightening you in such a way. If I still...”

Now you understood. There was the slightest tremor in his voice, but it was there. He was afraid. Afraid of his actions, afraid of how you'd react, afraid that you were scared of him now.

"I don't fear you, Laszlo." You admitted, softly. "I fear for you. If you truly wish to make it up to me, then allow yourself a break, if only for a day."

"I.." He shook his head, stubbornly, and glanced back to the photographs. "I can't-"

"-you will do no good if you work yourself to death before we even find a suspect." You countered, standing your ground. "Perhaps time away would clear your head. Please, Laszlo."

You bit you lip, as you prayed your heart would stop racing. You knew that Kreizler could be stubborn, often not listening to reason once he'd made up his mind. He paused, debating whether or not to listen to your advice. The ghost of a smile flickered over his face, before disappearing just as quickly as it came.

"How long has it been since we last went to the opera?"

You stared, unable to process his question for moment, as you focused solely on the word: “We”. After your initial shock, you cleared you throat. "I..I believe a month, perhaps?"

In truth, you weren't sure. After your investigation began, days and nights began to blur. You knew it had been more than a couple of weeks, at the least. Kreizler chuckled, softly.

"Well, then we must remedy that, shouldn't we?"

You weren't sure why you were so nervous. Going to the opera with Laszlo wasn't a first for you, so why did it feel so different this time?

You stared at yourself in the mirror, after changing into yet another dress for the outing. Perhaps it was because you felt surprised that Laszlo had asked you to join him, after the events of the day before. Or maybe it was because you couldn't get his actions out of your head, constantly thinking back to the feeling of his hand on you. You had been understanding that his action wasn't completely his own in that moment, but had that changed anything between you? Had he thought back to that moment, as you had?

Surely not, since you were about to accompany the alienist for the night. Then again, when you had insisted that he took a break, you didn't think he'd want to spend it with you, and yet here you were: stressing over what you should wear to the engagement. You wondered if you were just making a big deal out of nothing. He had said he wanted to make it up to you, and perhaps this was a compromise he'd found acceptable, allowing you both to have a night without worry or stress.

"Foolish." You sighed at your reflection, and the obvious blush that overtook your features, making it clear that it was not simply makeup that gave your cheeks a darkened color. "Absolutely foolish."

It wasn't often that you wore your formal attire, nor did you have an entire day to prepare for the night ahead. The payoff was that you looked far better than usual, a small comfort for your nerves. Was this too much? The question was now an echo in the seemingly endless cave that made up your mind. You shook your head, turning away from the mirror, once again cursing yourself for thinking in such a manner. Regardless, it was far too late now to worry about these little details, as the clock in your home rang out, signalling the time. You'd have to leave soon in order to make it to the theater at a reasonable time.

Every so often, as you began to gather you things for the night, your mind returned back to the investigation. You'd scold yourself. Tonight was a break, you didn't need to think about the horrors you'd seen. Laszlo needed this. Lord knows you needed this. Despite your nervousness, tonight was just a fun outing with a dear friend. And you intended to enjoy it, while you still had the chance.

A knock at your door startled you, as you prepared to leave for the evening. A shadow danced under the crack at the bottom of your door, signalling that there was indeed someone there, and not just your ears plating tricks on you. Cautiously, you reached for the knob. Was someone meant to visit today? No, you wouldn't have forgotten if Sara or the Isaacson twins were meant to come by.

When you opened the door, a man stood there, smiling down at you.

"Oh, hello Cyrus!" You greeted, sighing in relief.

The tall man gave you a nod, a smile playing out over his features. "Ms. (L/n)."

"Why..I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you, has.. Has something happened?"

Your heart and mind raced together. Had Laszlo changed his mind? No, he wouldn't be so rude as to cancel your plans last minute. Unless there was something important. Had another body been found?

Cyrus chuckled, shaking his head. "No, nothing of the sort. Dr. Kreizler just asked if Stevie and I could take you to the opera."

"Oh." It's all you could say, as you fought back another flush from your face.

"You look lovely tonight, Ms. (L/n)." Cyrus said, comfortingly, before turning his head back to the street. 

There, Laszlo's young ward, Stevie, sat at the driver's seat of the carriage, clearly itching to leave, so that he might race through the streets. You smiled, unable to hold back your joy.

"Thank you, Cyrus."

You had already gathered your belongings for the evening, not that there was really much you could bring, only a small bag attached to your wrist. You stepped out of your home, pausing only to lock the door behind you. You hurried down the front steps to the sidewalk, where you were promptly let into the empty carriage. Once inside and settled, you beamed, unable to contain yourself. You reasoned that your unexpected escort was probably due to concerns for your safety at this time of night, and nothing more. Still, a certain lightness in your chest emerged, bubbling up inside you, causing you to beam as you looked out the side window. 

You heard Stevie cheer out, and suddenly the vehicle pulled forwards. After a moment, you felt the wheel hit a large bump. You laughed after a second of surprise. Maybe your ride wouldn't be as calm as Doctor Kreizler had expected, but you couldn't find it within you to care.

When you finally made it to the theater, you had arrived a bit earlier than you expected. Not that you should be surprised, given how Stevie raced you through the city. On the carriage had stopped, Cyrus opened the door and bid you farewell. You watched the boy-driven carriage disappear into the night, before turning to face the opera house. The building was a towering structure, with large marble beams that made up the entrance. The warm, yellow light from the inside called to you, ushering you to join the fun. Given that Cyrus hadn't told you when Laszlo would arrive, you assumed he was waiting there for you. Picking up the skirt of your dress, you began your climb up the stairs, a slight urgency in your step.

You had found him a few minutes later, standing by the large stair case that lead to the upper level seats of the theater. Before he had seen you, you took a moment to admire his form. You had seen him in his formal suit before, a simple black suit with a white bow tie, but you always had to stop and admire the expensive outfit. He also had his cane with him, the one with the bird handle that you had once said you liked before. The one detail you thought was odd was the fact that he held the item with his right hand, as opposed to his left. Due to the weakness in the arm, he usually kept it close to his side in order to keep from hurting himself. It was only until he pulled a pocket watch from his vest with his dominant arm that you understood the change.

You walked towards him, until your approaching figure finally drew his attention. With a shy smile, she greeted the man. "I hope I'm not too late."

He shook his head, giving you a warm look. "Right on time."

He seemed rested now, compared to earlier, no longer wearing the dark circles that had plagued him for the last couple of days. You felt happy, knowing that he must have taken a break from the day as well.

"I apologize for sending Cyrus and Stevie to you without warning, I thought it'd be best if you didn't travel alone." He explained, before quickly looking over you. "You look beautiful tonight, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Laszlo." You replied, blushing, while clasping your hands together nervously. "Though, you didn't have to go through all the trouble."

"It was no trouble at all. Stevie, in particular, seemed more than willing."

When the crowd of people began to move into the auditorium, you joined Laszlo as he led you up the stairs, towards the direction of the private box seats. You were a bit surprised to see this, given that he had gotten the tickets on such short notice. As you entered the box, you each took a seat next to each other, with you seated in your usual spot on his left. The opera you were watching was Aida, a story about an Ethiopian princess of the same name who was held captive in Egypt, and fell in love with an Egyptian general, Radames, and he with her, despite being promised to the Egyptian princess. As the show began, Laszlo quickly explained to you that the opera had been made by Antonio Ghislanzoni and Giuseppe Verdi, and had premiered December 24th, 1871. You chuckled, mostly to yourself, as you knew he'd be listing off little facts like this throughout the night.

As the show went on, you slowly realized a running theme in the show, in relating to it's star characters. Love & Hate. You found it a bit ironic, given the circumstances. In the first act, Aida, the main character, loves her country deeply but has hate for the Egyptians who have taken her and her people captive. Including Radames, as he continues to fight against her country. Time passes in the story, and the two begin to fall for one another. You were impressed with how the performer playing Aida was able to portray the conflicting emotions of the character- with her love for her country and her love for Radames, as she begins to fall for the Egyptian general. 

One of the reasons that made Laszlo's company so enjoyable was his ability to talk during a show, without taking away or distracting you from the experience. Often times, he'd speak quietly, leaning slightly for you to hear him over the music. He'd go on to tell you the historical origins that the opera was based on, and you had a feeling he had studied the opera before coming here. It seemed nearly impossible for him to know so much, if that were not the case. However, once the music began and each new song was sung, Laszlo's words would fall silent as all his focus was placed on the stage. Occasionally, his hand would twitch in the edge of you vision, pulling away your focus to the watch as his fingers shot up and down in the air, as though he were trying to play something.

Act Two played out similarly to the first, but showed how Radames fights with his own loyalties. By the end, the Egyptian general asked for the Pharaoh to release Aida and her people, but the Pharaoh would only accept if the general agrees to marry his daughter. Once the woman on stage stopped singing, the curtains closed and lights flickered back on. Already, some of the crowd had begun to leave the auditorium, in order to socialize with the other members of New York's society.

The two of you join them, going out into the crowded halls and lobby in order to celebrate your evening. Drinking champagne, you exclaimed your love for the story so far, as well as the performer's work. Laszlo agreed, complimenting the orchestra as well, before listening to your thoughts on the characters, occasionally interjecting how it's history was exaggerated for the sake of entertainment. Truly, you felt content in this moment, sharing your same passions with the alienist, while being able to give each other new thoughts and opinions. 

You were both finishing up your drinks, when your name had been called from some far off part of the room. Turning, you were shocked to see none other than Louis Arnett for the second time today. The man came over to you, dressed to the nines.

"Mr. Arnett, what a surprise to see you." You greeted, politely. "I thought I recalled you saying you weren't fond of the opera?"

"I've been known to come on the rare occasion." He replied. "It's a pleasure to see you, my dear. Lovely, as always. I also seem to recall the fact that I said you could call me Louis."

Kindly, you shook your head in denial. "I apologize, Mr. Arnett, but I highly doubt that'd be appropriate."

Before, you may have brushed off the endearments, but now they were beginning to irritate you. Especially with Laszlo present. Turning your head, you looked at Laszlo, who's warm smile had returned to his usual subdued expression.

"Mr. Arnett, I must introduce you to Dr. Kreizler!" You said, steering the conversation away from you. Laszlo gave you a confused expression, before you quickly explained: "Mr. Arnett was kind enough to open his home to me for such a low price, when I first moved here. He'll stop by on occasion."

Laszlo smiled, giving Arnett a nod, before placing his cane back into his right hand. With his left, he shook your landlord's hand, introducing himself.

"Ah, the alienist." Arnett hummed. "Tell me, Kreizler, do you always take your assistants with you to the opera? One might think you're trying to keep (Y/n) all to yourself!"

"Mr. Arnett, please." You hissed out, appalled.

Arnett chuckled, but you found nothing about his words humorous. Not only were they rude, given the circumstance, but the implication alone was entirely inappropriate. You also despised how he had spoken as if you weren't right there in front of him. Laszlo was clearly uncomfortable with the man's words, but tried his best to hide it.

The alienist merely sighed. "While it's true, Ms. (L/n) does work with me, It's been a pleasure to enjoy her company. Though she does assist me with my work at the Institute, I'm honored to consider her a close colleague and friend."

The last word was barely more than a small whisper, yet Arnett seemed to catch it. The older man nodded in understanding, before looking to you.

"I understand entirely. I don't blame you for wanting to spend more time with her, especially way from those horrible murders."

You blushed, stiffening slightly at the mentioned case. "Mr. Arnett, I'm afraid the purpose of our outing was to get away from the investigation. I'd highly appreciate it if we could enjoy our night in peace."

"Ah," He cleared his throat, embarrassed at your reaction. His hand went up to smooth out his tie, his thumb brushing over the lily pin. "I apologize. Of course you wouldn't wish to speak of it here. " Something in the distance seemed to catch the older man's eye, drawing his attention. "If you'll excuse me, I must be going."

You found yourself stunned at his erratic behavior, as he moved away back into the crowd. Once out of earshot, you let out a heavy sigh, turning to Laszlo with an apologetic look.

"I must apologize for Mr. Arnett. He has a tendency to overstep in conversations. I hope he didn't offend you too greatly."

Kreizler's brown eyes had followed Arnett, before finally looking back to you. While his smile hadn't returned, the warm look he gave you had. "John has, on occasion, accused me of doing the same. I suppose its only right that I should have to experience the same hardships I deal to others."

With that, the crowd was then directed back into the auditorium, as intermission drew to a close. To your surprise, Laszlo had offered you his arm, as you both returned to the private section. As the curtains rose and the next act began, you found yourself thinking about Mr. Arnett's strange behavior and how he'd spoken with Laszlo. You could understand if the man didn't like the alienist, given that Dr. Kreizler didn't have the best reputation among most of New York. Still, you weren't prepared for how casually he had disrespected him and spoke about you as though you were merely there to entertain them. Your chest felt warm, as you recalled how kindly Laszlo had spoken about you, complimenting your company. However, the way his voice has weakened upon calling you a friend had stirred all your anxieties back to the surface.

As the first song began, you looked to Laszlo, admiring him as he watched the show. Did he truly see you as a friend? Or was his hesitation an indicator of something more?

The third act began, with the story immediately picking up where it left off. Aida and her lover, Radames, perform in a song, where the characters are lamenting their forbidden and doomed romance. Once the song ends, Aida then began to plead with the gods, praying that they take pity on her people and the two lovers. In such dark times, as the one you live in now, you felt as though you would've done the same, had you believed in such a God. 

With the song at an end, you had expected Laszlo to then make another small comment about the show. However, when his gaze remained focused on the stage, you found yourself a little disappointed. It wasn't until you felt a warm brush against your hand, that your attention switched. It was brief, just for a moment, but Laszlo's left hand had touched yours, yet his eyes remained in place. Somehow, it seemed as though he hadn't noticed. Or if he had, he didn't mind. You blinked, clearing your throat silently, before looking back to the stage. The next song began, and followed the story with interest, wondering what would come of the two main characters, and the enslaved people of Ethiopia. 

Once again, you felt his hand against your own. There was no doubt now. Without moving you head, your eyes went back to his hand, a finger draped over your own. Slowly, you moved your hand into his, your palm covering over his own. Your heart raced, and the room felt significantly warmer. You began to doubt yourself, cursing whatever god there was for your foolish actions. But it all stopped, as his fingers wrapped into your own. You felt your breath hitch, but fell into a comfortable silence, watching the opera with a racing heart. As the song came to an end, you weren't sure if you welcomed it's conclusion or mourned it.

Laszlo turned, facing you. Even with the dim lights of the theater, you could make out the pink color of his cheeks and neck, as he continued to stare at you. His eyes held the same intensity as the day before, but that vacant expression was gone, replaced with something much softer. A binding energy trapped you in place, unable to look away. Even as the music began, signalling the next song, the doctor did not break his stare. Instead, his gaze slowly traced over you, a soft caress.

It wasn't until the music softened, transitioning from a loud crescendo to a soft steady melody, that you heard him whisper your name, as if asking something. You responded with his own.

You didn’t know who let go of the other’s hand, but it didn’t matter. Kreizler’s hand slowly reached up to you, the back of his fingers brushing over your cheek, as he pushed back a small section of your hair behind your ear, before finding it's destination against your jaw. He was hesitant to lean into you, not wishing to overstep your boundaries. It until you matched his actions, did the space between you disappear.

It was a small, innocent kiss. Even as you broke away, you felt the soft gentle buzzing on your lips. Your noses brushing, you looked up at him, staring into those brown eyes you've grown to love. You only broke the stare to lean in again, chasing the feeling of his lips on your own once more. You hardly cared where you were at the moment, as you lifted a hand to place over his own. You kissed him gently, not wanting to ruin this moment, as you lightly parted your lips for him. The hand on your jaw fell, finding it's place back against your neck, making you gasp. He seemed to grow more bold, matching your desperate enthusiasm. His fingers then dug down, not harshly but just enough to add pressure. The sensation was enough to send a sudden jolt of heat through you, making a small instinctive whine fall from you.

Suddenly, he broke away from you, a strange glint in his eye. As you caught your breath, you couldn't quite tell if his expression was one of excitement or fear. Before you could even ask what was wrong, the doctor got up from his seat, moving to leave the small theater box, not even stopping to take his walking cane. The light happiness in your chest died as quickly as it was born, and all that was left was the sinking feeling of fear and confusion. You then followed, doing the same, as the same nagging question played over in your mind. Had you done something wrong?

Tears threatened to form, but you fought to keep them down. At least until you had an explanation for Laszlo's actions. You found him just outside, in the empty halls of the theater. As you approached, he looked back at you, a troubled expression on his face. Your heart broke at the sight.

"Laszlo, I.. If I've done something wrong I sincerely apologize. I.. I'm sorry-"

Cutting me off, his head shot up, as if stunned. "You've done nothing of the sort!"

"Then why are you troubled?" You stepped forwards, searching for answer. "If I am not at fault, then you must tell me what it is I have done that has made you react in such a way."

"I just...I don't wish to see you get hurt. By being close to me." Laszlo looked conflicted, pausing as he tried to form his thoughts. His eyes looked to the ground, as he sighed. "By me."

The phantom hold on your neck returned, as you noticed the look of fear in his eyes. This man, who has trouble follow him wherever he goes, seemed haunted by something. You bit your lip.

"I've already forgiven you for you previous actions, as I know they were not entirely your own in that moment." You took a deep breath in order to keep your voice from failing you. "And even if they were, I trust you enough to know that you'd never hurt me, Laszlo."

"And if I wanted to?" He spat it out, quickly. Though the words didn't seem directed towards you, rather.. himself.

You blinked, a blush rushing to your face once more, as you were taken aback. Gathering yourself, you reached for his hand once more, silently. Lifting it gently, you gave a soft squeeze, a comforting gesture. His eyes met your own again.

"I'll trust you even then." You replied, feeling genuine in your response.

His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening as he looked down at you. He squeezed you hand, holding it in a grasp that was almost tight. A warning. Yet you stayed right there, watching as his eyes fell to your lips.

He pulled you forward, against him, as his lips met your own again. Unlike before, this wasn't so sweet and gentle as it had once been. No, now that underlying desperation, that need, broke to the surface as his teeth pulled on the soft subtle skin on your mouth, almost forcing you to open your lips for him, hadn't you not already been willing to. His weaker right arm found a place against your waist, as his left found the back of your neck, a strong hold keeping you there.

You gasped in surprise at the sudden forwardness of the typically reserved man. Your hands fell against his suit, finding a hold on the vest beneath his suit jacket. One of your hand slowly traced a path, running against the hairs behind his ear, as you gently pulled against them. The action sent a groan from Laszlo's throat, an unfamiliar experience for you, as you felt his voice against your skin. And Oh, how you craved more, smiling at how you had earned such a reaction. In response, you felt a quick nip at your bottom lip, a small jolt of pain coming from it, before his tongue ran along the same area. At the same time, the hand around your neck squeezed down. A thrilling chill passed through your entire being, finding it's destination just below your stomach. His lips changed direction, trailing a path from your lips to your jawline. You moaned, quietly, just enough for the alienist to hear.

"Laszlo."

Lust wasn't a look you were a stranger to, but seeing it overtake every aspect of Laszlo's appearance as he looked down at you definitely was. And you had no doubts that you looked the same. He pulled away from his advances, hesitating for a moment, blinking away the haze in his eyes. You leaned up, pressing a kiss against his cheek, as his left hand came down to your waist. As you silently stared at each other, you heard the volume of the opera's music return, reminding you of your surroundings. As much as you wished to continue, you knew you couldn't. Fortunately, it seemed Laszlo had come to the same conclusion, leaning back as he smiled again.

"It would be best if we return, before we are found in such a state..." He sighed, almost sadly.

He was right of course. If anyone had gone out into the halls at that moment, the mere sight of your disheveled states would be enough to cause a scandal, something neither of you wanted for the other. You looked away, nodding in agreement as you blushed, bashfully. As if you hadn't just clung to him, wishing that he'd continue. You returned to your seats, the two of you smooth out your clothes, erasing as much evidence to your actions as you could. Once you returned, Laszlo once again placed his hand against yours, drawing gentle circles against the back of your hand throughout the rest of the show. Permanent smile crept to your face.

The opera ended, with Aida and Radames dying in each other's arms. A tragic love story, doomed to fail from the start. But then again, did it truly fail? After all, Aida's people had escaped captivity and she had found her last moments with the man she loved. Perhaps if you hadn't missed part of the story you would've come to a suitable answer. You didn't regret missing it though, finding comfort in a far more enjoyable feeling in whatever it was that was between you and the alienist by your side.

You left the theater, with your arm wrapped around his own, sharing electric glances and soft touches. Once outside, you saw the familiar faces of Stevie and Cyrus, who apparently had been waiting to escort you back. Laszlo lead you to the carriage, opening the door for you. He took your hand, helping you step into the vehicle, before quickly joining you inside. Once settled, you met his gaze once more.

He smiled, warmly. "I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight. John has told me that the opera can be rather dull, at times.."

You blinked, bewildered. Surely, he was joking. You couldn't help but laugh, as you gave him a strange stare. "You're the alienist, Dr. Kreizler. What would you believe?"

Laszlo chuckled in response, taking your joke as a good sign. Lifting his cane, he tapped the roof of the carriage twice, signalling Stevie to start our journey. Your ride home had been much calmer than earlier, and you enjoyed the comfortable silence that fell over the two of you. However, as you neared your home, you sensed that Laszlo had something to say. 

"I'm sorry if my reaction startled you, that hadn't been my intention. The troubled minds of other have always been something that intrigued me, yet when faced with it myself, I find myself at a loss." He said quietly. "I meant it when I said you could get hurt, being close to me. Someone I held dear was taken from me, and I still fear that the same fate may reach you, the way it did her..."

He spoke as though a ghost hovered over his shoulder, a new level of vulnerability you'd never seen before. You realized that perhaps this is what John meant when he said Laszlo had been hurt the most by the last investigation. 

"I understand," You looked up, reading his expression as you spoke. "But you shouldn't blame yourself for the past. If you truly cared for her and could have changed whatever happened, I know you would have. You cannot punish yourself for something you could not control. If you worry for me, for whatever may come, I know you will work to keep the same from happening."

Laszlo stared at you, a sad smile playing over his face, as he mulled over your words. Once more the silence fell over you. It was only a few minutes more, when you reached your home.

As you glanced out the window, you paused. "Thank you, Laszlo. I had a lovely time, enjoying your company."

"Perhaps we should go to the opera again?" He suggested, hopeful.

"I.." You blushed for what felt like the hundredth time at this point. "I didn't wish to assume."

"Never, kedvesem." He replied, speaking a Hungarian word you hadn't learned yet. But it didn't take much to know that it was an endearment of some sort. "Though, perhaps we should save Delmonico's for the next trip to the opera."

You heart leapt at the notion, sending a rush through you. You gave your farewell, before stepping out of the carriage. Quickly, you did the same for Stevie and Cyrus, once again thanking them for their services for the night. As you watched the carriage disappear into the night, you felt as though you could die from happiness. Stepping into your home, the door being left unlocked, you gave a sigh of relief. The night had been a success and so much more.

You dragged yourself into your private room, tired after the long night.

 And in your distracted state, you hardly noticed the small bouquet of roses on your pillow.

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33-Epilogue

Neither Lucy nor Natsu sat through the closing arguments, but according to Gajeel the defense stood firmly on their case for insanity. Touka’s attorney argued that his client suffered from a disorder that should put her in a hospital for treatment, not a jail cell, and not only that, but the so-called victims in the case drove her to do what she did. It was a very risky move to blame the victims. Of course, the prosecution countered that not only did Touka not suffer from any condition but that this was a simple case of jealousy gone wrong. Natsu and Lucy were innocent victims of a selfish woman who tried to kill them. Period, and for that she should go to prison for the maximum sentence allowed.

The prosecutor implored to the jurors heartstrings. “You saw the effects that Ms. Shiromajyo caused to her victims. The tears shed on the stand and the genuine fear in Ms. Heartfilia’s testimony as she recounted the events in question. Ladies and gentlemen, this young woman stared death in the face and watched her boyfriend almost get killed by the defendant. They had to fight to survive! Ms. Heartfilia and Mr. Dragneel have experienced something that no one should ever go through.” He gestured at the timeline board facing them. “Ms. Shiromajyo stalked multiple people over the course of several years to reach her goal, intimidating people that really had nothing to do with her. Ms. Shiromajyo paid a person to kill Ms. Strauss, threatening and intimidating her. And most of all, ultimately took this whole situation into her own hands when all of her efforts didn’t work out. She is a danger to society. I urge you, the jury to give her victims the peace of mind that she’ll be off the streets in a cell getting the treatment that she needs, and the punishment she deserves.”

It was a nerve wracking time for the victims as they waited outside of the court room for the jury to deliberate. Lucy and Natsu stayed in a side room with the prosecutor along with their closest friends and family there to support them. The prosecutor assured them that they’d done their best and the odds were in their favor. But of course, it only took one hold out to cause a mistrial, and Lucy didn’t know if she could go through this again. She was already unhappy that even if convicted, Japan’s sentencing structures were not as stringent as other countries.

The jury deliberated for four hours before reaching a verdict pronouncing Touka guilty of all charges. Upon hearing the guilty decision, Lucy and Natsu slipped back into the court room to hear the final disposition.

“Rise Ms. Shiromajyo.” The judge then read the decision to the standing defendant. “You have been found guilty by this court of two counts of attempted murder that caused injury. One count of kidnapping for profit. And three counts of intimidation. Do you have any last statement to make to the court before I render sentencing?”

Touka hung her head as if resigned to her fate. “Yes...” Surprisingly, to all those in the courtroom, she apologized for her actions. “I see now how much pain I caused to everyone because I couldn’t control myself and I hope one day they’ll forgive me for it.”

But her words of contrition were too little, too late. The judge sentenced Touka to the maximum of the highest offense, which was 15 years with work, but instead of the work condition, imposed a special circumstance that Touka be ordered to undergo mandatory psychological treatment while in custody and to adhere to any treatments and medications prescribed for her own good.

“Ms. Shiromajyo,” the judge spoke directly to the woman. “You’ve apologized at the end, but I hope you truly feel that way. Based on all of the evidence presented in court, your actions were clearly towards a one-sided love affair with a man who wanted nothing to do with you, and for that you tried to punish an innocent woman who got in your way. I do not believe, and the jury agreed, that you do not suffer from a legal defense of mental defect, however you should spend the time in prison to get your mind right again, so that when you re-enter society in the future, you’ll no longer suffer from whatever emotional problems brought you here in the first place. You are very lucky that I cannot under the law sentence you to concurrent sentences for every single charge. Bailiff, take custody of the prisoner. This case is adjourned.”

As the final gavel bang echoed in the court room, Natsu and Lucy who’d made it in time to hear it all, broke down in tears and elation as the court room erupted in cheers around them. A rarity for the poised population. This case was certainly anything but common for Japan, especially because the perpetrator was a woman and journalists had kept the public up to date with its progress. A lot of people were affected by this case personally, but the fear of what Touka had done rang cold for onlookers too. For the public, the idea that someone you may know could harbor ill will and do something this heinous was a scary proposition.

While the case was now over, Lucy knew her own struggles with anxiety were not, despite the tiny relief she’d felt in hearing the words guilty. She’d made it through the trial by sheer determination, but the experience had set her back in her progress. Reliving all the worst events and being grilled by the defense had re-traumatized her. Not all the way regressed, but the nightmares were back anew, starting immediately after her recall testimony.

It wasn’t just the old memories that haunted Lucy, but a new, troubling thought brought out during that testimony. When the defense attorney tried to make her think she was just as bad as Touka, there was a point when she thought... was it true? And the more she pondered, the worst the correlation became despite her loved ones conviction that she was nothing like the woman. Because... why not? If Touka’s deluded mind really believed she was protecting what was hers, well isn’t that the same logic Lucy used to defend herself and Natsu? Then there was the rage she’d felt. Was the attorney, right? If Natsu hadn’t stopped her from beating the woman, would she have killed Touka? Did that mean she had a killer instinct too?

All the publicity surrounding the trial didn’t help one bit. Just trying to get out of the court room after the verdict had been a complete circus of cameras flashing and microphones being shoved in the couples faces wanting their opinions of the verdict. Oh, how Lucy wanted to scream in their faces! How do they think they’d feel?! Yes, it felt great to be vindicated, but 15 years for almost killing them? Where were their assurances that when Touka was released, she wouldn’t pick right back up where she’d left off and hunt them down?

All these irrational thoughts fueling the new regression were different from before. Lucy didn’t feel as anxious. She was a little depressed, but now she was also— angry.

When she arrived at her therapy session without Natsu, Lucy sat on the couch facing the woman with her arms crossed. The therapist was quick to note the way in which she was holding her poise because it wasn’t a comforting arm cross, but a firm one. The muscles in her forearms were tense along with the tight lipped and brows furrowed expression gracing Lucy’s face.

“Well, this is certainly new,” the woman put her notebook down as she spoke. “Something has changed, shall we talk about it?”

Lucy’s hands clenched firmly as her eyes look away slightly. “I had a small argument with Natsu this morning.”

“I get the impression it wasn’t small.”

“Okay! It was a big fight! Happy?!” Lucy’s arms unfurled and gesticulated. “I don’t even know why it got out of hand, but it did.”

“Tell me what happened and let’s figure it out together.”

“Tch,” Lucy crossed her arms again and looked away. “I woke up from a nightmare. He started comforting me like he al—ways does, and I told him to stop. But he didn’t.”

“Why’d you tell him to stop?”

“I don’t know... I was just, irritated.”

“With him?”

“Yes... No— both, I don’t fucking know! Just pissed off, okay?! I was just angry and didn’t wanna be bothered!”

“I see... and how did Natsu react?”

“He, well, um,” Lucy’s shoulders dropped a bit. “He just said okay, I’ll give you space if you want it and left the bedroom. And we haven’t spoken since then.”

“It sounds like Natsu respected your wishes to back off. But why is that making you so angry?”

The therapists question brought instant tears pooling in Lucy’s eyes. She knew why, but she didn’t know why, and holding it in was tearing her apart. But she also didn’t know how to articulate all of the random thoughts plaguing her in a way that made sense. So, at that moment she just broke. Through fitful sobs the cacophony of broken, fragmented thoughts spewed out in no logical manner. Lucy just spoke every word and sentence that came to mind as the therapist sat quietly listening.

This was her first session since the trial had ended, so all of the wounds were painfully fresh. Shouldn’t she be happy it was over? They were free for now and it was time to move forward but all she could think about were the things the attorney had said. And that made her angry with herself. Lucy’s always thought she was so much stronger, yet this experience or rather the effects left her feeling lost and broken, and weak. Even more infuriating for her, she knew these thoughts were completely irrational! It’s one thing to not understand, it’s another to know how stupid it sounded and not be able to fight back against it. Weak. That’s what it made her feel. Stupid and weak for losing herself. They may have won against Touka, but Touka had taken something away and Lucy feared she’d lost it forever.

Who she was.

The therapist moved over to the couch and hugged tightly to a sobbing Lucy, stroking her hair and cradling her head. Comforting in silence allowed the blonde to just cry, as hard as she needed to and release everything that had been held inside where it shouldn’t stay. When the tears slowed, and Lucy’s breathing had the normalized, the therapist spoke softly.

“You’re not broken, Lucy, and you’re not dumb. You’re rightfully in pain after everything you’ve experienced, and that’s okay too.”

“How is that okay?” Lucy sniffled. “It shouldn’t be okay!”

“It’s not fair what you had to endure but being upset and feeling pain because of it means you’re human. Even the anger is a good feeling right now.”

Lucy snorts an annoyed laugh at such a ridiculous sounding statement. Anger being, okay?!

“There are positives we can take from this.”

Again, Lucy huffs. “Yeah, right. That makes a lot of sense.”

The therapist pulls back and settles into a more professional pose to continue. “Your anger means you care. Think about it, if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t get angry, right?”

“I guess...”

“In all these months, this is the first time I am seeing a deep passion coming from you. Lucy you aren’t really lost, and this anger are those feelings screaming ‘I’m still here!’ You can use that same energy to push forward.”

“But what about Natsu?” Lucy’s eyes cloud up. “I think I really made him mad a-and I don’t want to lose him.”

“Did he come with you today?”

“Yeah, he’s in the waiting room.” Lucy mumbled through a frown. “But I think he just came cause he felt obligated.”

The therapists eyes softened along with her tone. “I have a feeling that’s not the case. He might feel hurt and confused right now, but I’m sure he still loves you deeply. Maybe we should bring him in here and talk things over? That way I can help you through it.”

Lucy paused for a moment before nodding weakly. “I’d like that.”

The therapist brought Natsu into the room and as soon as he saw the puffy red eyes and Lucy’s disheveled appearance immediately stumbled over and hugged onto her with tears of his own flowing down, apologizing over and over for upsetting her that morning.

Although Lucy stiffened up at first when he’d hugged her in fear of what he might say, his words instead stunned her. All along she’d felt the fight was her fault, not his. She’d been the bitch to him and now his pain brought her tears back along with a loss of her anger. “It’s not your fault,” she hugged him back. “I was angry with myself and took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

“But I shouldn’t have walked away like I did.”

“No,” Lucy exhaled, “you did the right thing. I... I needed something to wake me up.”

Natsu pulled back in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Lucy smiled weakly. “Coming here mad, I couldn’t hide it so she made me talk about it. Now I see how that needed that to happen and I feel a lot better because of it. I was just worried you’d hate me for the way I acted.”

“I could never hate you,” Natsu smiled and cupped Lucy’s cheeks. “I told you, you’re stuck with me.”

By that point, the therapist had gone back to her own chair and with the session almost over for that day, addressed the couple together. “Lucy right now I think you are at a very good point in your progress. Your anxiety had gotten better, the depression is still there, but it’s not as debilitating as it was before, so now it’s time to take the next step in the healing process. You’d mentioned wanting going back to school and the next semester starts in a month. Perhaps it’s time to consider going back?”

“I-I don’t know if I could handle full time...”

“Maybe reach out to the school and see if they’ll work with you on a modified schedule?”

“I guess I could...”

“And I’ll help you,” Natsu added on as he squeezed Lucy’s hand. “They’ve been really supportive so far.”

Lucy let out a long exhale. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

“I’ve got another suggestion too,” Natsu added. “If you get angry, you could take it out with a physical sport or something.”

“That’s actually a good outlet,” the therapist agreed. “Is there anything you’re interested in?”

“Um...” Lucy thought about for a couple minutes. “I thought about taking self-defense classes.”

“That would be cool! Maybe we can go together?”

“I’d really, really like that.” And first time in a long time, Lucy truly meant it.

[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.

[big-dong-zhong]

Chapter 1 has received a buff and has been posted to Ao3. Here is the link for those who want to view it there. For those who don’t, the modified chapter is under the cut. Apologies for any formatting errors, it doesn’t copy/paste to tumblr very well.

1 - Melt

[This is the First Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Words: 2,648

Rated [T+]  - Here is an explanation of my rating system.

Childe/Lumine, fluff (i guess?), sorry I really don’t know what to say here.

Lumine is ill-prepared for Snezhnaya’s weather.

Tartaglia lay in his childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling. It had been years since he had last slept there, and the scratching of the wool against his skin gave him a nostalgic sorrow, like he had left something behind. The other bed laid empty, another single wool blanket carefully draped over it. He put his arm over his eyes, wondering if it had been a good idea to return so soon. One day wasn’t quite enough to spend any meaningful time with his family, and he wasn’t sure if he was grateful for having any kind of time with his family or if he regretted making the trip at all. He supposed that worrying about it wouldn’t do him any good; they were leaving first thing in the morning anyway. Regardless, his restless mind was robbing him of his much needed sleep.

The sound of the bedroom door opening quietly distracted him from his thoughts. He listened as light and hurried footsteps traveled over the rug and to the other bed. The wood frame creaked under the weight of someone sitting upon it for the first time in years. A loud huff. Tartaglia could feel eyes on him. It was nearly impossible not to crack a smile, but he would pretend that he was asleep for now unless she addressed him.

"Tartaglia?"

"Lumine?" He grinned and quickly pulled his arm from his face and turned his head to look in her direction. Lumine was sitting upright on the bed, completely wrapped in the wool blanket with only her face visible, and she was pouting. Her cuteness caught him off guard and his heart may have skipped a beat or two, but he quickly regained his composure.

"It's cold," she grumbled, pulling the blanket even tighter around herself. Tartaglia laughed at such on obvious statement.

"Of course it's cold! We're in Snezhnaya. I really hope you didn't forget that somehow.” Lumine grumbled and turned her head defiantly to deflect his insult.

“Aw don’t be like that,” he sang. “You could always come over here and I'll keep you warm." He turned to his side and lifted up his own blanket flirtatiously, inviting her to share his bed.

"No!" Lumine whispered harshly. "No way! I am not sharing a bed with you!" She shook her head as she declined.

"Well I guess you'll just freeze then," Tartaglia conceded and rolled back over with an exaggerated sigh. "A shame too. How will I ever be able to explain this to the Knights of Favonius? I guess I'll just have to run away and change my identity. They'll surely come after me if they think I let something happen to you out here." The sounds of the other bed creaking, and then footsteps toward him.

Got her.

"I didn't tell them," she said. He turned to face her again, this time he was confused. What did she mean she didn’t tell them? His puzzlement must have shown on his face because she repeated it.

"I didn't tell anybody I was coming here. Not the Knights of Favonius or even the Adventurers’ Guild. Let me tell you, it was hard enough to convince Paimon to keep this just between us.” Lumine shook her head as she spoke. “It's not everyone's business what I'm doing every second of every day. I'm allowed to do things on my own, contrary to popular belief."

Her gaze was serious. He had thought that when she reluctantly agreed to come to Snezhnaya with him for leisure that it would be a one time adventure, that she only did it because she had promised Teucer. He figured she would have told each one of her friends every tiny detail about the trip as a precaution in case the Fatui made a move on her, but now he was feeling unsure of her intentions. Had she really trusted him, a Fatui Harbinger, enough to travel so far from her other friends without telling them where she was?

Tartaglia snorted, then laughed at the situation. Everyone really wanted a piece of her, didn't they? This girl who looked like a dumpling wrapped up in his brother's old wool blanket pouting at him was so important that several organizations felt the need to constantly keep tabs on her. It was only fair though, he figured. She was incredibly strong, not to mention nobody knew where she came from. She was very intriguing. He wanted to know more about her.

She sniffled. Tartaglia could see that her nose was getting red, and she kept scrunching her face like she felt a sneeze coming.

"Come on," he chuckled, "you can bring the blanket with you; just get in." Lumine glared down at him and very reluctantly sat on the edge of his bed, her back toward him. She scooted herself back on top of Tartaglia's blanket then lifted her legs into the bed and laid down, never once removing the blanket she already had around herself. He laughed.

"Well this isn't exactly what I had in mind. It's not going to make a lot of difference if you're still under just one blanket."

"Then give me both of the blankets," she mumbled.

"Now that's cold, Lumine. You would let me freeze in the night? And after my family showed you so much hospitality. Imagine how upset my poor little siblings would be to find me frozen solid in the morning: a big brosicle!"

"Argh, fine!" Lumine seemed to have finally had enough of him telling her what to do. She jumped out of the bed and threw the second blanket she had wrapped herself with onto Tartaglia's face. "Make it up however you want, just do it fast okay!"

He laughed as he sat up, grabbing the blanket and spreading it out to toss over his own to create a double layer. Once he was satisfied that it was good enough he glanced toward Lumine and saw what she was wearing. A very short, white night dress with a frilled hem and collar, the latter of which rested halfway down her shoulders, exposing bare skin as well as her collarbones. He could see how delicate her legs were beneath the hem, which only barely covered the tops of her thighs. The fabric also seemed to be quite thin; silk from Liyue perhaps? Her arms were crossed over her chest so he couldn't gauge exactly how sheer it was. Unfortunate, but he could live with the mystery for now. He grinned.

"Well no wonder you're cold," he teased her and lifted up the blankets. "Come on now before you freeze." Lumine glared down at him in contempt.

"I'm not going to do anything weird," he insisted with his sweetest smile. She lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Promise?"

"Maybe I wouldn't go that far-"

"I'm sleeping with Paimon and Tonia," Lumine said as she began to turn around.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I promise I won't do anything weird," Tartaglia urged. She pursed her lips into an unsure frown and climbed into the bed, this time facing him directly. He nearly forgot to breathe in that moment she was so close. Her toes brushed against his shin for a moment and he felt how ice cold her skin was. The sensation made him jump.

“Really? You’re not even wearing socks?” he interrogated, moving his shins further away to avoid her toes.

“I can’t sleep with them on,” she rebutted as she continued to pursue his warmth until he finally gave in to the momentary discomfort. She really hadn't prepared for this trip, had she? At least it was just a short leisure trip and she wasn't alone. Tartaglia took comfort in the fact that this exposure would better prepare her for the future.

The future… That was right.

Peaceful moments like this won’t last, he thought to himself. He had enough political knowledge to realize that the world was spinning into chaos, but not enough to know how to stop it. His folly in Liyue Harbor was proof of that. Even the man he felt he had grown close to as a friend was only using him as a pawn in a much bigger scheme, just as so many others had. It wasn’t safe to put his trust in others anymore.

Tartaglia was pulled from his thoughts when Lumine shuffled her arm to her front and placed her hand between their faces, her fingers curled except for one in particular.

"Pinkie promise me you won't do anything weird to me in my sleep."

"You really don't trust me, do you?" Is what he said, ironically, but she had to trust him to an extent. She wouldn’t be there with him in that moment otherwise.

She pushed her hand closer to his face. Lumine was really serious about a pinkie promise, wasn’t she? He was tempted to lightly nip at her finger just to get a reaction out of her, but he knew she would be furious if he did. He wasn't too keen on the idea of chasing her down in the snow in the middle of the night, so he elected not to bite her this time. He sighed with a small laugh and brought his own hand to meet hers. He hesitated at first, his heart skipping a beat when their fingers first touched.

She doesn’t know.

Of course, the traveler from another world wouldn’t have the same knowledge used to trick him over and over. Rex Lapis had fooled her just as well. Would other archons try to use her to their own ends as he and Barbatos did? Tartaglia couldn’t watch that happen.

“I’ll make this promise: I’m going to keep you safe,” he told her in a hushed voice as if any notes of affection in his tone needed to be kept secret between the two of them. “The Knights, the Guild, hell even the Liyue Qixing won’t have to worry if you’re with me. Whether it’s money or strength, you can always rely on me when you’re in need.”

“W-What the hell are you talking about?” Lumine stuttered as her face grew red. “Is this some kind of confession?”

“Hmm,” Tartaglia hummed in response. “Try not to think about it too hard.” He gave her a wink and grinned as he watch her face flush all the way to her ears. He was proud of himself that he managed to get her to make such a cute expression.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “As long as that promise includes not doing anything weird to me in the night.”

“I said I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” A loaded promise, but in the moment he didn’t care.

“How am I supposed to know what your definition of that is?”

“I just don’t want you see you hurt,” he confessed. Lumine’s expression softened into a more serious gaze.

“Just stick with promising me only for tonight, all right?” she sighed.

“All right,” Tartaglia replied to her with a tender smile. In his heart he knew he would promise more, however. He wanted to be by her side more than just a night.

"You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life," he started.

"You break a pinkie promise," Lumine continued and narrowed her eyes, "I throw you on the ice." Their little fingers wrapped around each other.

"The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend." He tightened his grip, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. He wondered if she noticed how fast his heart was beating, and if hers may have been as well.

"The frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again." They unclasped their little fingers and let their hands rest between them, not quite touching, but Tartaglia could start to feel her body heat under the blankets.

"Feeling warmer now that you're with me?" he asked with a smug grin. Lumine nodded and let out a small, breathy yawn that tugged on his heart strings. He wished he could fall asleep as fast as she did. Now that she had fallen asleep, laying next to her made him even more anxious. Every time she let out a deep breath he held his, unsure of what to do. Of course he knew he should just close his eyes and go to sleep, but he couldn't stop looking at her. She looked so small and calm, unlike the fury and excitement she radiated while awake. Tartaglia liked this side of her too. He stroked her arm with the tips of his fingers, feeling the warmth radiating off her skin, the sensation making his heart beat faster. He had promised he wouldn't do anything weird, but he still wasn't sure what Lumine's definition of weird could be. She stirred in her sleep, startling him to pull his hand away from her. It may have been just a nursery rhyme, but he knew Lumine would literally cut his tongue out if he broke his promise.

He held his breath, waiting for her to wake up and scold him, but she didn't open her eyes. Instead she moved even closer to him. One of her legs slid between his, which in turn caused her dress to ride up and expose her abdomen to his own bare stomach. Her hand slid over his navel and reached around to his back under his shirt. The sensation of her smooth skin sent what felt like a bolt of lightning through his body, though somehow far different from any electro powers he’d used. Her face was only inches away from his. Lumine was so close to him that he couldn't breathe for fear of waking her. Yet, the anxiety he felt was invigorating. It was a new and foreign kind of excitement to him that he never even dreamed of experiencing. In fact, he'd never given any thought at all to this kind of intimacy with another person. Lumine. Her thoughts, her feelings, and her body; they were a whole new battlefield for him, one he wasn't sure if he could ever conquer, but that made the idea all the more exciting.

Tartaglia's breath finally escaped his lungs, involuntarily shaky and vocal. He moved his tongue around inside his mouth to get rid of the dryness that had taken hold. Luckily the cold had made it so he wasn't sweating from all of the new sensations he was experiencing. He was starting to feel lightheaded from all of the times he'd held his breath, but that in turn with their combined body heat had also started to make him finally feel sleepy. His breath steadied and Tartaglia was finally starting to relax. Lumine was definitely fast asleep, and it didn't look like she was going to wake up to any small movements he made. He decided that wrapping arms around each other wasn't anything weird and moved his arm to cradle her back.

He already knew that he liked her. Since the moment he'd met her he had wanted to be involved in her life, and fighting her had brought him exhilaration he could have only dreamed of. Now he felt that they could have something even more. Lumine was in his home, in his bed with him, the rest of his family sleeping soundly within the house. She didn't belong and yet she fit in so well. He didn't want to let her go. If they could lie there and hold each other forever he might even have been happy with just that. The tiredness was finally beginning to take over. He was as relaxed as he had ever been in her embrace.

Tartaglia shifted to grace Lumine's forehead with a long and chaste kiss, holding her body against his own. He rested his forehead against hers, and finally he was able to let sleep take him.