#garrettxreader

[twilightsagasworld]

(The man ) Garrett x Reader

(Requested by @twilightlover2007 )

Part 1

“Single file line, please! The ground is still very wet and slippery”, the bustling of very small toddlers and a single teacher trying to keep them all together was a sight to see at the Forks Museum. (y/n), a young pre-k teacher had finally gotten to take her small class of 10 children to the museum after weeks of waiting for parental approval forms to be brought back. It was the middle of winter and living in Forks meant that there wasn’t alot for a pre-k teacher to come up with to entertain the little ones. The museum was the cheapest option, and guaranteed that the small children would be entertained by the many artifacts and attractions that surrounded them. An aquarium would have been a much better bet, but the nearest one was out of state and very expensive. 

The small group of teacher and students were on their way to the minivan bus that (y/n) had organised when a small hand tugged at her winter jacket, “Miss Johnson I have to make a sissy!”, (y/n) knelt down to the boy’s height, “Okay Troy, but let me make sure everyone is buckled in first and that the nice security man can look after them”.

After that was all organised and the museum security agreed to watch them, (y/n) grabbed small Troy’s hand and guided him to the bathrooms inside the museum. They didn’t take long before exiting the girls restroom that (y/n) noticed the boys untied shoelaces, “Oh, just a second dear, let miss Johnson help you tie your laces…”  

It was a small gust of wind she noticed first, a glance to her left told her that the doors and windows were shut, leaving no room for cold air to pass. She stood up, “Miss Johnson, my-” “Hush”, her tone left no room for a word, she stepped in front of the boy and felt his small hands cling to her leg. She took a steady look around them, they were in a darker part of the building, and the light above them was flickering randomly. Another gust of wind past them, this time with enough force to blow her hair in her face and make the small child yelp. 

“Who’s there?” her voice seemed so quiet all of a sudden, almost out of pure instinct as if to hide where she was. She took a look back down to the boy but was met with bright red eyes the second she looked back, “Hey!” she yelped, taking a big and clumsy step back, careful of the child clung to her. The scruffy-looking man in front of her gave her a wry smile, “My my,  aren’t you a pretty thing?”, she scowled. He stepped forward, dark bags under his eyes making their strange colour stand out so much more, “Stay- stay right there…” The man took a step closer, “But you smell so good… Its been driving me crazy for days!” he made a dramatic gesture. (y/n) was so so frightened, frozen in a state of shock she could barely feel the shaking hands around her leg, but the boy’s crying snapped her out of it, and like a mother hen she snapped around and took the boy into her arms, holding onto him for dear life. The man stopped in his tracks, staring alarmedly at the crying child in her arms, (y/n) took her chances, not knowing if they were slim, “Please… don’t hurt us” she pled through her own tears now, her body seemed to be going haywire since this man showed himself like all her senses were telling her she was the prey and this red-eyed man was the predator.

The man said nothing, trying to reclaim his facade, he grumbled and sighed, his eyes darting between her and the child. He waved them off, and without thinking she ran, ran until she was at her van and told the security what happened, all the same trying to comfort a child in distress as the authorities arrived ten minutes later. Parents were called too, and most showed up not too long after the police, led by Charlie Swan. (y/n) was in such a state when she told them what she explained to the security, a tall, rough-looking man with red eyes had shown up out of nowhere and tried intimidating her and most likely worse. Chief Swan had the museum swept through and found no trace of such a man. “Go home, get some rest and tomorrow you come down to the station and we’ll take it from there, aight?” With nothing else she could of done, she drove the rest of the children back to the school and with the school already knowing what was up, she left them in the care of another teacher as she was sent home at just past noon.

(Y/n) locked all her doors and windows and distracted herself with a scalding shower. With no desire to eat or do anything else, and stressed beyond measure, (y/n) put on her cd player in the living room of her small one-story house and ploughed herself down on her coach, heavy blankets following.

She didnt sleep well that night, red eyes filling the dark corners of her living room…

[eliselaserre]

Summer's Dance - Chapter Four

Fandom: Thief (2014)

Summary: A rumour, a necklace and two thieves who are both eager to get their hands on it. You are a thief, as well as Garrett is one. But he is the master thief, you’re not. A strange friendship begins in the night and the past starts haunting you.

Rating: M

Time: Pre-Thief (2014)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Five

Chapter Four

You feel disturbingly light as you open your eyes. The soft ground even intensifies this feeling. Is this heaven?

Strangely inebriated and detached you move your finger over the cloth you're lying on. It's filthy white and incredibly soft. A smile appears on your lips. Yes, that's the way to live. Lying here forever and surrendering yourself to the delirium, so you're totally shielded from the world and all your problems. Safe and sound, just the way you like it.

You can hardly recognize anything with your eyes, just blurred shapes. You see someone walking by. Black leather. The assassin, she hasn't killed you yet, but she is going to do it soon. Or isn't she? She won't do anything to you, you're certain about that. After all, nobody floating a cloud like that, would harm you in any way.

A deep, inner peace grips you. But if that's heaven, why is the woman with you? Maybe she died, too? You're chuckling, this thought satisfies you immensely. But you're getting tired, so tired ... With a content sigh you close your eyes and fall into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes again, you're attacked by a feeling of nausea. With trembling fingers you grab the edge of your mattress and let your head hang down. Beneath you, there is a bucket made of metal.

Your head pulses and when you try to extend your legs an agonizing pain goes right through your body. "Shit ..." you mumble. Everything's spinning.

Where has your cloud flown to? Where is the heaven? Where is this amazing feeling?

After you've managed oppressing your nausea for some minutes, you dare slowly lifting your head.

Just avoid fast movements, or you'll have to fill the bucket, whether you like it or not.

You're looking through a small slit between your eyelids to better your still blurred view. You think you know this room. Bluish light, many showcases. You're lying on a dirty mattress which is on top of a frame of steel.

"You're awake."

You're still so foggy-brained, you don't even startle. As slowly as you can you look farther up and recognize Garrett standing in front of you. He wears a crooked smile on his face and is carrying a poppy in his hand. It's glowing curiously, not red but flashy blue.

You open your mouth and want to say something, but your tongue is too dry and sticks to your palate. With a distorted face you look around, hoping to see a a glass of water, but you don't.

Garrett lays the poppy down on the floor and hushes away. Awhile later he comes back with a silver pocket bottle, which he hands you without hesitation.

With fast gulps the contained water runs down your throat, but you choke and cough. Your throat burns terribly and you're gorge is rising again. This time you don't manage withholding and you vomit, fortunately, into the bucket.

You clear your throat a few times before you put away the pocket bottle. You feel terrible, anyway, you can't withhold your curiosity. Why are you at Garrett's?

"Garrett," you caw with a quiet voice. You sound just as bad as you feel. When you try to sit up, your whole body starts aching. You look at yourself for the first time. You don't wear a lot more than a white under dress. Your hands are bandaged, as well as your legs. The bandage on your left is a lot thicker. Stunned you stare at your left limb. Why ...? Exhaustedly you let yourself fall, but even that hurts. You caw pitiably. Helplessness and panic are written all over your face.

Garrett's kneeling down right next to you trying to help you to sit up. You barely realize his empathic gaze, because you're getting another idea.

“You don't belong to her, do you?” you ask feverishly. Panic swings inside your voice and mirrors in your face. “You don't want to kill me, do you?”

His confused gaze should be enough of an answer, but you're still to exhilarated to notice it. You try to distance yourself from him as far as you can. Tiresome you slowly glide away from him till your hands feel the edge of the mattress. Nervously you throw your view over your shoulder. The bed ends here, behind you, there's only a gap and then a wall.

You're scared to death. Pictures appear in front of your eyes again. The woman holding a knife in her hands. Fire ruining everything that was important to you. Blood, so much blood. Everywhere. On the floor. In the kitchen. How it dropped out of your mother's throat. The shocked expression on your father's face. Your sister would be looking like she she'd be sleeping peacefully, except for the cut on her throat. Your brother, how he tensely stares death in the face. The few servers that had wanted to escape. And so much blood. It had been everywhere. Everywhere. A yelp.

The master thief slowly lifts up his hands. “Quiet. I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Why were you there? Why am I here? Where is she?” Your voice almost overturns itself because you're so hysterical. “You work together, don't you? You wanted to kill me, just the way you slaughtered my family!”

When Garrett sits down on the mattress and slowly creeps towards you, you want to back off. But you can't. You've reached the end of the mattress, as well as your nerves. With the last of your strength you manage to stand up. Your knees tremble and hurt but you don't instantly collapse. Thoughtfully the master thief, too, stands up, stares at you, and hesitates for a moment before he takes you in his arms and holds you close to him.

Surprised by his actions you don't even defend yourself. Your knees bend and the both of you fall down on your knees. You breathe transiently and countless feelings overwhelm you. Tears gather in your eyes and you don't even try to blink them away, but start to cry uncontrolled. Uncertainly you're clawing on to him and dig your face in the bend of his neck.

The only thing interfering the silence is your heart-breaking sobbing because Garrett remains silent and holds you even closer. You cling on to him just as if he were a sheet anchor, while you let out your long-buried feelings. You find it good to let all of them out. To know, somebody's there for you, even if it's just that one moment. You're more vulnerable than you think and pretend to be. Your seemingly careless way is just a cover-up, a little relict of your former self. Like an alter ego.

You don't take long to recover and until your tears stop running down your face. But Garrett doesn't urge you. He doesn't let you go, but holds you close to him.

“I'm sorry,” you mumble with a raw voice after you were able to calm down to some degree. Still you're shaken by some heavy sobbing and you're trembling all over your body. Your fingers are totally cramped already, but you don't want to let him go anyway. Out of the fear of him leaving you.

Carefully he lets you go and brushes over your cheek. “There's nothing you have to apologize for.” His second hand grabs your shoulder. “You're heavily wounded, what happened?”

You gulp hard, your throat's still hurting. Cautiously you expand your wounded legs. You laboriously let go of him, but your wounded and cramped-up fingers torture you. You ignore that.

Garrett carefully bandaged your wounds, but he can't do anything about the burns and itching. He sits down more comfortably, still watching you.

“I.. don't know,” you admit and try to remember. “There was this woman..” Frightened you look at him. “She had slaughtered my whole family.” You quietly start telling. “She had killed them all, out of reasons I don't even know. I hadn't been home at the time. I was busy.. running errands.” You become silent thinking of that.

Apples. Pears. Carrots. Leek. That's what had been in your shopping basket. You had let all of it fall down onto the floor, when you had been walking into the kitchen and had seen the first victims. But you hadn't cared at that time – you still don't care. Everything that matters is your ruined existence.

“She threatened me,” you go on and your voice becomes a quiet hiss, “she wanted to kill me. Then there was this oil and she knocked down a burning candle. Instantly it just burned everywhere, and I wanted out, but couldn't. She sliced up my leg.”

Garrett slowly nods. “When I came, nobody else was there, except for you.”

“She had been there, Garrett. She had been there!” you desperately protest. “Right before I passed out, I had heard her.”

“You had heard me,” the master thief responses. “You had heard my steps.”

“Why were you there?” you want to know. Gradually your throat stops hurting or you're just getting used to it, you're not quite sure.

Garrett sweeps his gaze away and looks out of the window. “I had seen it burn. And if my memory wasn't completely failing, I was was sure, even you wouldn't be that careless to burn down a whole shack.”

Guiltily you lower your view. So it hadn't been the woman. She actually left your life to chance. Anyway, you don't believe a word Garrett says to you. There has to be something else. Or, is it just you who hopes for something else to be there?

You have no idea how much time passes by, but it's getting darker. Both of you remain silent. Words are just out of place. Finally, the master thief glides of the edge of the bed and stands up. “I have to go,” he says sparing of words and turns away.

You feel panic rising and faster than you could have ever imagined you're on the edge of the mattress. You get to grab his wrist. “Don't!”

With one move he takes away his hand and looks at you. He hurriedly coughs and touches the joint of his hand. His disturbed look hits you hard. He doesn’t like being touched. You watched that on him more than just once. Whenever the body contact is initiated by him, he doesn't care about it. But when he's surprised by a touch, he reacts in an almost panic way.

You gulp and pull away your hands. “Don't go, Garrett,” you're mumbling and lowering your gaze. “Please. Stay.” The fear of the woman finding you again is bigger than your pride. The pride which is hurt ever since the assassin surprised you in your hideout. You always thought, nobody would ever find you, if he didn't already know the location. Generally your angry with yourself, because you didn't notice the pursuer.

The master thief seems to be able to guess the reasons of your fear. He kneels down and looks you right in the eyes. “You're safe here. Nobody will find you.”

Slowly you're shaking your head. “Stay. Or take me with you!” you beg but to no avail. Garrett presses you back towards the bed and throws a blanket over your body. Then he sweeps a hair out of your face.

“Nobody will find you,” he assures you once again. “The only one who will come is the Queen of Beggars. She's already treated your wounds and is going to look after you.”

“Queen of Beggars?” you anxiously dig deeper. You have already heard of her, but you mostly avoided the cemetery, where she resides. She doesn’t quite appeal to you because of the abilities, circulating rumours deal with, which are too abstract for you to believe. Garrett's connection to her astonishes you.

“After I carried you here and gave you the opium I needed someone who knows something about disinfectant solutions,” he explains to you and gets up. “I'll be back before dawn.”

“Opium?” you ask distrustfully. That would absolutely explain your state of mind at the time you woke up from your deep sleep. The cloud was just an illusion. Garrett nods and finally disappears into the dark of the night. You feel lonely, but at the same time you know that this is about Garrett's existence, not just about yours. He has to struggle to survive and now you're even holding him down.

A lot of time has passed by till you hear a sound. Though you know that it's probably just the Queen of Beggars, you jump out of your bed and spy over the balustrade. You distort your face because of the stabbing pain and collapse. Coughing you try pulling up yourself again, but your burned hands don't quite want to hold tightly enough. It's hurting too much.

Two shabby men accompany an old woman and help her walk up the stairs until they finally stop in front of you. With clenched teeth you look up to them. You feel the blood pouring through your bandage and colouring it in a dark red.

The two beggars let go of their Queen coming straight toward you. The way she moves and lifts up her hands tell you that she's blind. Additionally her eyes glow in a strange bright white, so you can't even see her pupils.

“Girl,” she starts with her voice which sounds surprisingly young for somebody as old as her. “I told Garrett to pay attention to you not getting out of your bed. Your leg can't handle that kind of effort.” She moves toward you, but you only glide away from her. You don't know if she works with the assassin. If it was her who's treated you wounds or not.

When she notices that you don't want her to touch you, she stops and thoughtfully glances at you. “We have to heal your oppressed body. Otherwise you'll never get it back.”

“Get what back?” you confusedly ask. Your hands feel your bed and with a lot of struggle you manage pulling up yourself and sit down on the edge.

“What you desire mostly.”

The beggars accompanying the Queen lift your mattress and lay her down onto it, against all of your protests. You distort your face and fizzlingly breathe in.

“Careful;” the woman warns them and starts loosening the bandages with trembling hands. With one movement of her hands she points one of her men to come over. Just now you realize the bag dangling at his hip. “You have to rest, or neither your body nor your mind will be able to recover their inner balance.”

She pulls a little jar out of the man's leather bag and starts smearing an orange-colored compound onto the cut on your leg. It burns and makes you startle.

“Quiet,” she admonishes you and one of the beggars grabs your leg and holds it tightly. You feel captured. With a sorrowful face the old woman stares at the wound which has just stopped bleeding. “We have to sew up the cut. You shouldn't have gotten up.”

“S-sew?”Stunned your view jumps from one person to another. Both of the men in their shabby clothes nod slowly and start preparing everything.

“I don't want to be sewed up!” you protest.

The Queen of Beggars ignores your objection. With all the peace in the world she disinfects a needle.

Bit by bit you feel your leg becoming numb. Obviously this compound takes a numbing effect.

You don't dare look at her drilling the needle into your skin and you don't feel it, either. At least it's not nearly as painful as you thought it would be. It feels like someone's tickling you. The procedure takes a long time, not least because of the trembling fingers of the old woman.

In the meantime you passed out again and again, which is why you startle when she suddenly sweeps your hair out of your face.

“Has something happened?” you ask dizzily and look around concernedly. You notice that she's newly bandaged all of your wounds. The new bandages are lighter than the old ones.

“No. But I must tell you to stay in bed and rest,” she quietly responses. “The world is a dangerous place. You mustn't expose yourself frivolously.”

You frown. What did she just say?

She ignores your confusion and continues. “Earlier he stole to live, now he lives to steal. The City needs Garrett. Garrett needs you. And you need him to find peace.”

To find peace? That sounds as if you were to die soon. “I-I .. No. I don't want to die.” You gulp and watch her anxiously. “I don't want to die!”

She forces herself to smile. “No, love. You won't die.” She agrees and lays her hand on your heart, “but you'll find your inner peace.”

You blink at her, confused about her statement. “Garrett needs me?”

“He needs you as much as you'll need him,” she repeats cryptically and another sorrowful watch is laid on you. “In a few weeks you'll be able to walk again. Until then, you have to be very careful. I must go now, other things needing my help await me. More urgent than you needing me but I had been in his debt.” One last time she sweeps across your cheek. Then she points her beggars to accompany her to the exit.

You're confused. Garrett needs you, as much as you'll need him. What does that mean? You highly doubt that he'll ever need you for anything. Anyway, you only cause bad luck ever since you came into his life. Bad luck, wounds and the loss of a pile of gold.

Lost in thought you stare out of the window waiting for the master thief's return.

“Welcome back,” you kindly greet him when Garrett finally climbs up the stairs. “You have been gone for a long time.”

Suspiciously he eyes you and opens one of his showcases. “The order demanded more time,” he grumbles.

You nod though he can't see it. He's too focused on the new piece of jewellery, he carefully lays down into the showcase. Earlier he stole to live, now he lives to steal. This statement makes even more sense to you now, because he doesn't do this any more to survive. He's a master thief because he loves stealing. He would never hold back his twitching fingers and never let something precious slip away.

“The Queen of Beggars was here,” you inform him. You don't know, if it matters to him but maybe he'll tell you about his tour. When he remains silent, you guess he won't do so.

“Did she say anything?” he inquires and sits down next to you on the bed.

Shortly you consider telling him about the strange talk. Would it change anything at all? Probably it won't though you decide not to tell him. “Not much. She sew my wound and newly bandaged me.” You shrug. “Then she needed to go to some other people.” That would have needed her help a lot more desperately ...

“Did you know the assassin?”

You shake your head. “No,” you answer and add sarcastically, “else, everything about here would have been a lot easier, don't you think?”

Garrett pulls up on of his eyebrows but doesn't react to this snappy comment. “Did she mention when you 'll be able to walk again?”

“In a few weeks.”

“Very good.”

Taken aback you watch him closely. “Do you want to get rid of me?” Well, if he wants it he can have it. You throw away your blanket to the side, slide off the edge of the bed, and try to get up. “I'll leave now.”

Before you even manage to set one foot on the floor, the master thief pulls you back. “You stay here. Safe and sound,” he hisses into your ear and it gives you goose bumps. He throws his arms arund you and breathe out into your hair. “I still need you,” he mumbles.

You wonder if he's still sane. Maybe the wound on his head damaged him more than you thought in the first place?

“Garrett?” you carefully dig deeper and frown.

He sighs and lets you go. “I know where Summer's Dance is at. And I need you. Healthy, good on your legs and primarily mobile.”

As fast as possible with your injured calf you lift yourself up and sit down in front of him. “Where is it? And how did you find out?”

“It's been a well-hidden secret in the City and a few weeks from now it'll be presented at a ball. Probably to give the nobles back the hope of a not so shabby city.” He leans back against the wall and stares at the ceiling. “I have a plan.“

You can guess which direction this talk will take. “You want to steal it during the ball?” His tell-tale grin assures you, that you guessed right. Though another idea comes to your mind. “Isn't it obvious? The thief-taker general will clearly know about the dangers in this situation.”

“Exactly. And that's where you come into play.” He hesitates and looks at you. “We're going to blend into the common folk. We're going take part at the ball, as if we belonged there.”

“But … They'll recognize you, Garrett,” you throw in. “Anyway, your face is to be seen all over the City.”

The master thief nods. “In that part our fortune takes over. The Count loves to play around in costumes, which is why he organized that ball in the first place.”

Your face instantly lightens up and you gleam at him. “Garrett, that's fantastic!” You start jumping up and down. The frame of the bed squeaks ceaselessly and your afraid of it breaking down. Anyway, it doesn't really look that steady with its thin bars made of iron, some of them are even rusted at the ends. “That's fantastic!” you repeat and something dawns to you. “But we don't have costumes ...”

“I already arranged for that. When Basso told me the necklace reappeared, I went straight down to the jeweller.”

“You bought … them?” stunned you ask. Your face is distorting and aghastly you look at him.

Garrett pulls up on of his eyebrows. “No. But I took inconspicuous masks, so we're not paid too much attention at the ball nor should we be caught by the jeweller I stole the masks of and who will be attending the ball, as well.”

He just took the masks. You blink three times, before you glance at him with a mixture out of wonder and surprise. If he was able to steal more than just one thing in one night, he had to be fast. Too fast. In just a few weeks, you would hold Summer's Dance in your hands again. In just a few weeks, your conscience would finally be relieved! You can't hold back your grin.

“That's incredible, Garrett,” you loudly add to your thoughts and lift yourself up the head end of the bed.

You're tired, anyway, you had hardly been sleeping since he left. All day long you've been waiting and have stayed awake in anticipation of somebody coming back. Be it Garrett, the Queen of Beggars or the assassin. You hadn't wanted to rest until somebody else was with you.

With your healthy foot you kick at Garrett's expanded legs and crawl back under the blanket, when he pulls back his extremities.

“I'm tired,” you tell him yawningly and roll yourself together. “Good night.”

“Rest well, and tomorrow you'll start to practice picking a safe.” Garrett slips towards the edge of the mattress and stands up.

You tiredly blink at him, before you close your eyes.

Heat wakes you up. Heat and the evening sun gleaming through the window right on your face. An unnatural weight lays on top of your upper body and you can barely breathe.

When you try to get up, you notice that the heat is radiating from a human body. Particularly Garrett.

With his head on your breast and bend knees he sleeps next to you. Carefully you lift his hand and sweep away a few of his hairs dangling in front of his eyes. His half-long hair is soft and feels good.

His face is relaxed and not as hard as usual. With a little smile on your face you watch him and don't move another centimetre.

You look out of the window. The heaven is darkening bit by bit and you fear a possibly upcoming rain. Actually that shouldn’t matter to you, because your safe in the clock tower.

A bird flies through another window and lets something fall down. In wonder, you eye the poultry. It's a magpie, easily recognizable because of its black and white colour.

Garrett's woken up by the bump of the fallen thing. He startles up and is looking at you for a second. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles and jumps up. With surprisingly light steps he walks over to the bird and pets its head. “Ah, Jenivere.”

Jenivere? So the magpie has a name? You shortly chuckle. So Garrett has pets. A thievish magpie, just one like him. Then you see what the animal has just let fall down. A box of matches.

“Your bird isn't quite specialized on sparkling things, is it?” you banter with him and throw the blanket away.

You're tensed up and want to get out of bed, to do some walking around to relax your muscles.

With an upraised index finger, Garrett comes towards you. “Don't get up.”

You're wearing a pout and punish him with an uncomprehending look. “But I want to,” you counter him defiantly. When you try to lift yourself up in spite of his warning, he pushes you back easily. Your right eye twitches as you glance at him.

“Or you won't ever be healthy,” is what he mumbles.

Concentrated he eyes the little box in his hand and gives it to you. He sighs hard.

Erin asked for Summer's Dance. - B.

Erin … You know this name. You've already heard it but you can't quite remember when and where.

“Who's Erin?” you ask because of that and return the little box to him. “And who's B.?” With aching arms you sit up in a more comfortable position, but you're still doubting that's possible any more. You want to stand up and loosen up your muscles, because you've been tired of this sitting and lying for a long time. “B. is Basso,” Garrett explains and takes out a clunking tin from under his bed. With his long fingers he fishes for something that looks like bread crumbs. Carefully he feeds them to the magpie. “That's Jenivere, Basso's magpie. She's transfers notes between him and me.” Almost affectionately he pets her head.

Smilingly you watch him. He seems peacefully though he's not really appearing happy about the note.

“And … who's Erin?” you repeat your question because that name awakened your curiosity. The fact, that Garrett avoids mentioning it by any means confirms your guess of Erin being someone, who Garrett would like to delete out of his memory.

He deeply breathes in and out. The master thief hesitates before he's sitting down on the bed in front of you. “Erin … was an apprentice of mine,” he finally admits. He's whispering so quiet, you can hardly understand a word he says.

“Which reminds me of Erin, the little thing.”

“But she isn't like her. Erin's more aggressive and doesn't shy away that fast.”

“Well, Garrett, I asked myself if you wanted to train her?”

“You know what has happened to Erin.”

“Yes. And I know that the both of you aren't a team anymore, but look at it like … a second chance?“

The memory floods your mind and throws you back a few weeks. Basso spoke to Garrett about you, when he wanted him to teach you. That's how you knew that name, but why did he finally agree? He seems to wince at the thought of teaching someone again, because of fear, that again it could happen … Has it even been his fault?

“Garrett, what happened between you and Erin?” You don't speak loudly but still, he startles. He rises his head and looks at you with a tired face.

“Erin is hotheaded,” he begins softly. “She's undergone a lot of things and rules I made for her weren't observable. In the contrary, she's broken every single one of them. Rebellious, as she is ...” He becomes silent.

He used the present tense, which has to mean, she's not dead yet. You gulp. “And?”

“We stopped working together, when she wasn't stopping killing people.” He looks at you with a broken view. He seems to be more affected by this than you've thought in the first place. You've never seen anybody as vulnerable as him in that moment. Suddenly you understand why he cares so much about you.

“You couldn't help her,” you say cowardly and try to touch his arm, but you stop as it comes to your mind, that he doesn't like being touched. You slowly lower your hand again. “She didn't even want to be saved.”

“Or I tried it the wrong way.”

You shake your head. Indeed you don't believe in Garrett's guilt in that situation. “Many bad circumstances have brought all of this forward.”

With an elegant rotation he turns toward you and grabs your shoulders. “Bad circumstances,” he repeats almost hissingly. “Everything is a bad circumstance.”

Surprised you blink at him. It's giving you goose bumps, you're cold and bit by bit you have to admit that he frightens you. His uncontrollable trait doesn't fit to rest of his character.

“This situation here as well?” you aspirate. Amazedly you discover, that you're exceptionally not afraid of his answer, because you already know the sound of it.

A self-complacent smile decorates his face and his hands frame your head. “That depends on which situation your pointing at.”

Right on cue your left calf starts to hurt, but you ignore it. “You and me,” you mumble embarrassedly and lower your gaze.

There it is again, this electric tension between the both of you. You hear it cracking, how it almost overloads itself. It's going to explode some time soon.

Garrett softly sighs and blows his breathe into your face. He's already so close. Why does he do this to me, you ask yourself silently. Thousands of emotions overwhelm you and you start trembling.

You feel brought to bay in a pleasant way. Your thoughts flip over themselves, but you're still at ease knowing you can escape anytime you want. Just a word would suffice.

The master thief's starry eyes are becoming soft as you blink again at him. “This is not a bad situation.” He says barely comprehensible.

You resist the urge to nod. Probably you even have succeeded anyway, his grip is just too tight now. If he now ...

“Let me go,” you whisper contrarily to all of your wishes. What the ... You're confused by yourself. You don't even want that. “Please let me go.”

Wonder is mirroring in Garrett's face, which you can completely understand. You're not feeling any different.

Instantly he lets his hands fall down and jumps up. Nervously he's wandering up and down. He lets his fingers crack, stresses and distresses them, while his gaze roaming through the room.

“What are you afraid of?” he hisses finally. You see how he has to restrain himself and ask yourself what's going on inside of his mind. “What are you afraid of?”

You lower your gaze again, because your afraid of looking into his eyes. You can't answer his question. You have no idea. On the one hand you're upset, on the other hand you're sad about it. Oh, how much you would like to tell him! How much you would like to get rid off this burden.

“Every time,” he spits. “Every time I come closer to you, you reject me again. But I can't let go of you. Every time something happens to you, I'm blaming it on myself. Every time you're indicating in some way, I'm confident, you allow it this this time. Every time, when –”

“I'm afraid of losing you!” you scream at him and start crying. When you say it out loud, you know, that you're throwing the truth right into his face. “I lost everybody, so why shouldn't I lose you?”

Silence spreads around you, while Garrett still can't believe his ears. The silence is just interrupted by your sobbing from time to time.

All of a sudden you're feeling lonely. This long-suppressed awareness only now floated towards the surface and all you can do now, is giving free rein to your tears, just the way you did the day before that. Your depleted, tired and hurt, you don't even have the strength to pull yourself together in any way.

The master thief see-saws undecided on his feet. “Shit,” he finally swears and walks toward you.

Hastily he takes your head into his hands and presses his lips onto your mouth.

Shit, you repeat in your mind.

[twilightsagasworld]

Garrett x Reader part 5

Tags: @scuzmunkie

The crisp, wintry air nipped at (Y/n)'s cheeks as she and Garrett strolled through the dimly lit streets of Forks. Flurries of snow danced around them, a stark contrast to Garrett's icy, marble-like skin.

"So, England, huh?" (Y/n) mused, her fingers intertwined with Garrett's. "I have to admit, I didn't peg you as the type to settle down in one place."

Garrett chuckled, his crimson eyes flickering with a hint of nostalgia. "It's not so much about settling down as it is about... finding solace in the familiar," he explained. "England is where I just took to after I was “killed”, guess its the thirst for revenge ." His expression darkened slightly. "During the Civil War, you see. I was turned while fighting those Red Coats."

(Y/n) felt a shiver run down her spine, and she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I can imagine that's not exactly a pleasant memory."

Garrett nodded, his gaze distant. "No, it's not. But England is where I've always found myself drawn back to, even if I can't quite stomach the English these days." He flashed her a wry smile. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

As they continued their stroll, (Y/n) couldn't help but notice the way Garrett's attention seemed to drift, his eyes scanning the surrounding area with a subtle alertness.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern. Garrett's lips curved into a faint smile. "Oh, it's nothing to worry about, my dear," he assured her. "I'm just mindful of our proximity to the Cullen territory, that's all."

(Y/n) tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "The Cullens? I thought you said you tried to avoid them." "It's not that I'm scared of them," Garrett clarified, his tone thoughtful. "We've had our fair share of... disagreements over the years. But the truth is, I'm more concerned about drawing the attention of the Volturi."

"The Volturi?" (Y/n) echoed, her brow furrowing. "Who are they?"

Garrett's expression darkened. "They're the closest thing our kind has to a ruling body," he explained. "And they have a particular interest in one of the Cullens – the psychic, Alice. I'd rather not get caught up in that kind of drama, you understand?"

(Y/n) nodded, her gaze searching his face. "So, we're staying on the outskirts of Forks to avoid the Cullens and the Volturi?"

Garrett chuckled, his fingers caressing her cheek. "Precisely. I may have a complicated history with the English, but I'd rather not add the Volturi to my list of adversaries. Especially not with you by my side."

(Y/n) leaned into his touch, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Well, then, I trust your judgment, Garrett. As long as I'm with you, that's all that matters."

Garrett's eyes burned with a fierce intensity that made (Y/n)'s heart race. "And I'll always be here, protecting you," he murmured. "No matter what."

Garrett's grip on (Y/n)'s hand tightened slightly as they walked through the snow-dusted streets of Forks. The crisp, wintry air swirled around them, a stark contrast to the vampire's icy skin.

"You know, (Y/n)," Garrett began, his crimson eyes glinting with a hint of mischief, "I've been thinking about taking a little trip. Back to England.”

(Y/n) felt a surge of excitement at his words, but she couldn't help the hesitation that crept into her voice. "England, huh? I've always wanted to visit, but..." She trailed off, her gaze wandering.

Garrett's lips curved into a warm smile as he gently cupped her face in his hands. "Ah, my dear (Y/n), that's the beauty of it. This won't be a short trip – I'd love for you to come with me, for as long as you'd like."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling within her. "You mean it? You really want me to go with you?"

"Of course," Garrett murmured, his thumb caressing her cheek. "I can't imagine exploring my old hunting grounds without you by my side. And who knows, maybe we'll even stumble upon a few new adventures along the way."

(Y/n) couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, her apprehension slowly dissipating. "Okay, Garrett. Let's do it. When do we leave?"

"How about in a week?" Garrett suggested, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her cheek. "I've been itching to get back, and I'd much rather have you with me."

(Y/n) nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining with excitement. "A week from now it is, then. I can't wait!"

* * *

Weeks later, as (Y/n) and Garrett explored the bustling streets of London, their peaceful getaway took an unexpected turn.

The entrance door to the backpacker's lodge suddenly opened, and three figures stepped inside, their movements graceful and deliberate. (Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat as she recognized Garrett, flanked by two strangers – a man and a woman, both with the same striking golden eyes and pale, marble-like skin.

"Carlisle, Esme," Garrett greeted them, his tone polite but reserved. "I appreciate you meeting me here."

The woman, Esme, offered him a warm smile. "Of course, Garrett. We're always happy to see you."

(Y/n) watched, transfixed, as the trio made their way towards her, Garrett's gaze meeting hers with a reassuring nod.

"(Y/n)," he said, his voice soft, "there are some people I'd like you to meet. This is Carlisle and Esme Cullen – they're old friends of mine.”

Carlisle's gaze shifted from Garrett to (Y/n), his expression one of mild surprise. "Garrett, I must say, I didn't expect to see you with a human companion."

Garrett placed a protective hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder, offering Carlisle a slight nod. "Ah, yes. Carlisle, Esme, this is (Y/n), my... mate."

(Y/n) furrowed her brow, the unfamiliar term catching her off guard. "Your mate? What does that mean?"

Carlisle's expression softened, and he offered (Y/n) a reassuring smile. "In the vampire world, a mate is a lifelong companion, someone with whom a vampire forms an unbreakable bond." He glanced at Garrett, his tone turning more serious. "I must admit, I'm surprised to see you've taken a human as your mate, Garrett. That's quite... unconventional.”

Garrett's jaw tightened slightly, but his grip on (Y/n)'s shoulder remained gentle. "You should understand, given your circumstances… (Y/n) is special to me. And I intend to protect her, no matter what."

Esme stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Carlisle's arm. "We're not here to judge, Carlisle. We're simply glad to see Garrett has found someone he cares for so deeply."

Carlisle nodded, his gaze shifting back to (Y/n). "Of course, my dear. And I'm afraid the reason we've come to see Garrett is a rather serious one. The Volturi are gathering witnesses against my family, because of our... unique circumstances."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened, her heart racing. "The Volturi? What's happening?"

Garrett pulled (Y/n) closer, his crimson eyes filled with determination. "It's a long story, but the Volturi believe that Bella and Edward's daughter, is an immortal child. They're gathering witnesses to go against the Cullens… likewise Carlisle is doing the same, he’s asked me to be one of them."

(Y/n) looked up at Garrett, her own resolve hardening. "Whatever you need, I'm here to help."

Carlisle and Esme exchanged a relieved glance, and Carlisle reached out to gently squeeze (Y/n)'s hand. "Thank you, my dear. Your support means more than you know."

As the four of them sat down to discuss the impending confrontation with the Volturi, (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a mix of trepidation and determination. She may not fully understand the intricacies of the vampire world, but she knew that she would stand by Garrett's side, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

… 3 days later….

As (Y/n) and Garrett settled into her small house on the edge of town, the weight of the impending confrontation with the Volturi hung heavy in the air. Garrett could sense the underlying tension in his beloved's demeanor, and he pulled her into a tender embrace, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Don't worry, (Y/n)," he murmured, his crimson eyes filled with unwavering devotion. "I'll keep you safe, no matter what."

(Y/n) nodded, though a part of her couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness. Garrett seemed to understand, and he tightened his hold on her, determined to provide the comfort and reassurance she needed.

They spent the evening in quiet contemplation, both lost in their own thoughts about the challenges that lay ahead. Garrett's mind raced with strategies and contingency plans, he couldn’t hide that he was semi excited for a fight again.

As the night wore on, (Y/n) eventually drifted off to sleep, her head resting on Garrett's shoulder. He watched over her with a mixture of adoration and protectiveness, his gaze never wavering.

In the silence of the cottage, Garrett made a silent vow – he would do whatever it took to ensure (Y/n)'s safety, even if it meant facing the fearsome Volturi head-on. She was his world, his everything, and he would never let any harm come to her, no matter the cost.

With a renewed sense of determination, Garrett gently scooped (Y/n) into his arms and carried her to her bed, where he lay beside her, his keen eyes vigilantly scanning the darkness for any sign of danger.

[twilightsagasworld]

Hello! I'd love to see Garrett with a human mate. She's a pre-k teacher and perhaps he stumbles upon her while she's with the kiddos with one clinging to her leg(I have one like this 🥰). Please and thank you!

🥰😭i love Garrett! What a creative request✨ keep an eye out the next 2 days✨🙏

[eliselaserre]

Summer's Dance - Chapter Three

Fandom: Thief (2014)

Summary: A rumour, a necklace and two thieves who are both eager to get their hands on it. You are a thief, as well as Garrett is one. But he is the master thief, you’re not. A strange friendship begins in the night and the past starts haunting you.

Rating: M

Time: Pre-Thief (2014)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Chapter Three

Crouchingly you're sitting next to Garrett's filthy bed entangling your legs as hard as you can. The smaller you are, the better are your chances of him not noticing you.

You remain in this position quietly and rigidly like a statue, while you're watching the master thief sitting calmly in his chair, his chin resting on his clenched fist and staring dreamily out of the window.

Very few rays of light enter through the window into the upper floor of the clock tower, your surroundings seem almost bluish. You barely dare breathing, because you're frightened of the master thief's attention and finally his wrath.

Up until now he's disturbingly calm. His stoic face doesn't offer any room for interpretations, which frightens you even more. On the one hand you're glad he's not going on and on about the important lessons of being a thief, on the other hand you're disturbed by his steadiness which he's countering his emotions with. And that upsets you. That upsets you terribly.

„Garrett?” you ask him and are surprised by your own action. Your voice isn't even trembling. Where is your bravery suddenly coming from? You're not recognizing yourself, but you know about the wrath that's boiling inside you. „Garrett!”

The master thief turns his head infinitesimally in your direction and looks boredly at you. When you see his eyes, cyan blue and brown, you think you see something like pain.

The loss of Summer's Dance is worse to him than you've thought in the first place. Of course, holding such a beautiful necklace in your hands and losing it in such a short period of time can't be very easy for any thief, even less for the master thief. Summer's Dance is beyond comparison and just because of you Garrett has to risk his life again to get it back. If he could just let the matter rest ...

„Are you going to steal it again?” you want to know and pull your legs even closer toward yourself, though you're already sitting there stiffly as a rock, resting your chin on your knee. „You want to have it so badly?”

The sparkle in his eyes increases and he beams at you as if you'd lost your mind. „Of course.”

Of course. Of course, he wants it. Of course, he needs it. It would enrich his collection that you have already been allowed to marvel at, by far. He doesn't miss a lot of things. From The Court of Montonessi he only owns two paintings – both of them he took out of the Calmette-Estate – but you're absolutely certain he would have stolen every single one in the shortest time possible.

A sigh escapes your mouth. „But ... that's dangerous,” you say and shrug. Curiously, you care about him. You don't want him to endanger his life. You want to know him to be safe, safe and sound. Shortly, you're wondering why you care so much, but you blame it on the fact that he's not yet really sane with the wound on his head. Normally he should be lying in bed for weeks and totally should not rob strictly guarded estates. You don't quite understand a lot about medical science, but that's something you know for sure. You almost expressed your thoughts, you want him to know about it. But you don't tell him. It's none of your business.

„The whole being of a thief is very dangerous and yet, you're still one of them” he answers calmly. How can he be without any emotions?

But he's got a point there. You know about the dangers which are why you care so much about him, though you don't care about yourself. Most of the time you're confident about your actions and you know how to prevent from possible dangers.

The master thief is supposed to know this, as well, however, you can't avert a queasy feeling, as soon as you think of him being caught by the Watch.

Improbable but still possible.

„I didn't have another choice,” you try to defend yourself. At the same time you're aware of how pitiable your argument sounds. You’ve absolutely had different choices, but none of which you really seemed to like. So you did, what seemed to be the most profitable and what didn't end with you spreading your legs for every kind of men.

Garrett raises unimpressedly one of his eyebrows. Yeah, your argument really is insufficient.

You embarrassedly bite your lip. „Garrett, I'm sorry,” you say apologetically with all the remorse you can find. Your anger is gone in the meantime. How can you even be mad at Garrett? You absolutely don't have a reason to be mad, it's his own business to be stoic or not.

The master thief surprises you by waving aside. „Apologizing won't help you now. Summer's Dance is gone and we don't know where to.” He sounds depressed. You are, as well, but you are depressed because of your guilt.

„Where would the thief-taker general have put it now?” you think out loud. You didn't even want to say it out loud, but now that you did, you hope it will help continuing the conversation with Garrett. You don't quite know why you would hope for something like that.

„Probably, he took it back to his own place or maybe farther away. Maybe out of The City.”

„Out of The City? Do you think he would go that far?”

„It's Summer's Dance, anyway.”

„Huh ...” you express unconvincedly. The thief-taker general would never allow such a treasure to be brought out of The City, even though it would just be for its own safety. It would be very dangerous to get it back, if not impossible. Many cities hold on to precious jewelry for a long time and don't want to give them back afterwards. „I don't think so.”

„Oh really?“ Garrett sarcastically asks. „Why would you not think so?”

 „Because ...” you try forming an correct justification out of your thoughts. „.. It would be too dangerous.”

It's silent for a while, and then he thoughtfully nods. „Maybe.” You don't answer to that anymore, because his taciturnity can hardly be exceeded by anyone and you don't think you're able to make him tell you more.

You sigh and look around. Countless paintings are hanging on the walls and many treasures are lined up in the showcases all around the room, which you would be pleased to hold in your hands just once. Your eyes wander towards the master thief again. His stoic way, as if nothing in the world would be his business, is driving you crazy again. You can't understand why that enrages you this much.

Maybe you don't like him acting as if you weren't there. You’ve already experienced that often enough.

For a moment you're thinking that he's sleeping because his eyes are closed and you want to stand up. Carefully you raise yourself while your eyes are locked on Garrett. Who knew, maybe he will get the idea of throwing you down the clock tower.

Just as you're tiptoeing your way around him, he suddenly opens his eyes and grabs your wrist. You're shocked and glance at him angrily. „You should stop that,” you hiss.

The master thief unimpressedly raises one eyebrow. „Where do you think you're going?” he asks and stands up. Though he's relatively small he's still a lot taller than you.

„Away, simply away from you and …” You fall silent. Being reasonable, you can't be angry at him. Actually, he would have to be the one who's angry at you. But everything you see is a face without emotions. It's going to be for the best, if you go now and never have to see him again. Every time he does anything with you, an accident happens to him. In this case, a life-threatening wound on his head and losing the most precious piece of jewelry he’s ever laid his hands on.

You shake off his hand and sigh. „I'll just leave.”

You're hesitating for a moment and you decide not to tell him, that he better stays out of your life in the future. You don't even want him to. You're touched by an oppressive feeling. „I'm ... going.”

But before you can take one step, you find yourself in a condition you can remember just too well. Pressed against the wall with Garrett directly in front of you. You breathe heavily and look at him feverishly.

Whereas he has a little smile on his lips. But his eyes wander nervously up and down. He tries to examine your reactions. You try to stay steady and you glare at him. You're deeply surprised that you actually succeed in appearing confident.

Unconsciously you lick your lips. You want it. Somehow you do, somehow you don't. Anxiety rises inside of you, you start trembling.

Garrett glances at your mouth and his eyes wander higher till he finally drills you with them. He grabs your shoulders and presses you tighter against the wall. You can hardly move, but you don't even realize it. You're too busy minding his face coming closer to yours.

This ambivalent feeling is terrible. You want it, you don't want it. You want it somehow. You don't understand anything anymore. Such an unknown situation, though you're used to it.

Garrett grins self-complacently. „What now?” he whispers and you can feel his breathe in your face once again. His smell rises up your nose and you enjoyingly close your eyes. Leather and sweat, a strange mix. 

„I don't know,” you whisper back at him and gulp as his nose touches yours for a moment.

„What do you want?” Garrett's lips at your ear make you cringe. You're still shaking and you quietly sigh in relief, as he loosens his grip on you, though he doesn't lower his hands.

What do you want? You want him to never let you go. To embrace you.

In spite of that, you say something you don't even like to say. „Leave,” you're mumbling and look at him. „I want to leave you.”

You can't quite interpretate the master thief's reaction but it's a mixture of surprise and disappointment. He loosens his hold of you and takes a step back. Hastily you run down the stairs till you reach the exit.

You almost knocked over one of his showcases inside. You rub your hurting hand which you grazed an edge with and open the exit door.

It's still dark outside when you enter Stonemarket Plaza. You disguise your face with your hands in one movement and put on your hood. Instantly you're flooded by a well-known feeling of invisibility, even safety.

Stonemarket Plaza is extraordinarily empty and only one Watch is patrolling. You're taken aback by that. Usually the attendants swarm around Stonemarket Plaza, why not today? You blame it on the upcoming dawn, which reminds you of rushing as fast as you can to get into the safety of your home.

Generally you find it odd you hardly meet a Watch, not even as you're walking through Downtown where everything's excessively well protected. Nothing seems to be the way it's supposed to anymore.

With light, but speedy steps you're walking over the roofs of the City while the sun's early beams of light are discoverable on the horizon. Your only hope left is that no one of the Snipers spots you and subsequently shoots you with his crossbow. Once that almost happened to you but you were able to walk around a bend and sneaked off to the opposite direction.

Relieved of the view of your cabin you quietly let out a sigh. This night definitely was hard on you and you're feeling tired. One day of sleeping sounds like music inside your ears.

Though you haven't been listening to music for a long time. Since you're living on the streets, you haven't had the opportunity to enjoy placing a record and listening to the sweet sounds. Lost in thoughts you climb up to the attic and creep toward your mattress. As always, you banish the thoughts that make you believe how unhygienic that old thing already is. But it's the only one you could find in such a short amount of time.

You hardly touch the more or less soft cloth, when you close your eyes and drift off into a disturbed and dreamless sleep. 

  Days go by and you fall back into the usual rhythm of a normal civilian, which happens whenever you're not robbing anything for some time. Your nights are quiet and comfortable, but too long, anyway, you fall asleep instantly every night, as soon as you see your mattress.

One day, as you open your eyes, your neck hurts. You had to have slept all day long because dusk is already viewable outside. Half asleep you start cutting vegetables and throwing them into a pot with water in it. You boil and stir the contents from time to time. Actually, you already hate stew, but at the same time you know, it's the best you can come up with because of your low budget.

After you've eaten your easy meal, you put out the fire place. Instantly it's dark in the attic because you only own very few candles that could lighten up the place. But usually you don't light them. The danger of forgetting about them and eventually being burnt alive is too high. Or the danger of being discovered. 

Anyway, you light one of the candles next to the fire place, otherwise you would have fallen asleep again and you can't bear more pain in your neck.

Diligently you think about what you could do today. Maybe a small robbery. In Auldale, there is supposed to be some kind of event rich people are frequenting. Certainly, the wallets jingle because of all the coins they are containing. Just the thought about it almost makes your mouth water. Your own wallet becomes lighter and lighter, the more days are passing by. When you begin to put on your clothes, you suddenly are having an idea. You break into the rich people's houses, because everybody is at the event anyway! Pleasant anticipation tickles on your skin, and with easy steps you march to the big chest, where you keep your harness.

Without a hectic rush you start dressing. The soft cloth, your leather pants, your harness, your protectors and finally your thick boots made out of leather with a sole of several layers of cotton, so you're able to crawl around in an even quieter way. So, just your coat with the hood is missing, as well as the face mask. Fast you put it on and disguise your face with a well-trained movement of your hand.

Carefully you lift up the small bowl of oil you needed to start the fire. Of course, you could have tried it the old-fashioned way, but you don't have the patience for those kinds of things.

„How are you calling yourself now? Lady?” A taunting voice sounds right behind you.

You wince and turn around in no time. Out of shock you let the bowl fall down and the oil spreads, which you ignore. What makes you tremble even harder is the simple fact that you can't sort out who this voice belongs to. You've never heard it before.

„Who are you?” you're hissing and take a feverish look around to find a weapon, but you can't see one, except for the steel pot. And even that is too far out of reach.

In front of you a young woman is standing, she can't be a lot older than you. She has very short, black hair and wears a black shawl. She's totally dressed in leather, as well as you are, though she shows explicitly more skin and she even wears an almost see-through shirt underneath. There are protectors made out of small links of chain on her forearm. Her light, blue eyes glance at you attentively, almost tauntingly. At the view of her clothes you can't avoid thinking of Garrett.

Your knees are trembling, as you notice the deadly aura she emits. She’s not a thief. She’s a murderer, an assassin.

She smiles at you but you don’t feel reassured in any way. On the contrary, you’re exhilarated and your senses are excessively sharpened while your nerves are almost torn apart.

“What are you doing here?” you continue questioning after you haven’t gotten an answer yet. “How did you find this place?”

“I followed you.” The normality coming with this disturbing statement makes you suffocate. She pretends it to be something usual, something totally banal.

Suspiciously your eyes fixate on her hand that moves slowly toward her side.

Then, suddenly, she pulls out a knife with a movement as quick as a flash, and jumps at you. Just barely, you succeed in dodging her attack, but you slip on the spilled oil that has been spreading beneath your feet and you can’t avoid her grabbing your leg. An excessively painful wound appears on your left calf. You feel the blood oozing into the leather of your clothes.

Dammit, you think. You can’t run away anymore, just crawl, because the stabbing pain is just too much for you. Now I’m falling apart.

“You know, your mother didn’t even defend herself when I set my blade on her throat.” The assassin starts telling with her indifferent, almost playful voice. “But maybe she was too shocked, that I had stabbed her lover right in front of her. Whereas your sister was sleeping like a log, when I cut your brother’s heart out of his chest. After that, it was her turn.”

Memories appear in front of your eyes. Blood, plentiful of blood and a yelp. But no one was there, that could have yelped. All of them were lying dead on the floor, on the bed, in the kitchen. Just where they were remaining, when the murderer entered the mansion and mercilessly and cold-bloodedly killed everyone breathing. The one crying and roaring her heart out, it was you.

But the murderer doesn’t stop and continues telling the story you painted in the back of your head dozens of times. “When I finally found your father, he told me, he had just one daughter and a son. He didn’t even as much as mention you. Sadly,” she sighs theatrically, “my …  employer was just patchily briefed and didn’t know the total count of children belonging to your family. You were lucky back then, you’re unlucky now.”

You’ve never understood why you weren’t at home at that exact moment or why somebody had slaughtered your whole family. You’d never been wealthy, the upper class, maybe, but far away from being nobility. Your father was a simple merchant, you’re mother organized the mansion. Nobody you’d ever known had a burning hate towards your family inside them. When you found the bloodbath back then, your whole world was torn apart within seconds.

“You… bitch,” you’re mumbling, “you filthy bitch ... I don’t even know you, but still ...” You become silent as another stabbing pain goes right through you. Your injury is too deep and big, which is why it’s difficult for you to bear this agony. 

The woman glances madly at you and takes a step towards you, while you try to gain some distance. Mortal fear rises inside you and when you hit the supply cabinet with your back, you gulp. There’s no way of escape to your sides. To your left, there is just your mattress and a big, heavy chest. To your right, there is a wall.

“What do you want from me?” you somehow manage to express through your clenched teeth. You’re becoming dizzy, some odd sparks dance in front of your eyes. You’re still losing too much blood. Soon, you’re passing out, you feel it. You can already watch it in your mind’s eye, how you lose conscience and she starts killing you in the most agonizing way. Everything’s spinning and turning inside your head and you can’t help vomiting. With a choking sound you vomit all the contents of your stomach right in front of the woman’s feet.

Disgustedly she grimaces and jumps backwards. You think, she would slip in the pool of oil, the way you did. But nothing happens, her feet are as steady as ever. At least, that’s the way it appears to be. Aghastly you realize the tilting of the candle which starts a darting flame.

The woman lets out a shriek and takes one, two steps back before she glances at you. Then she smiles again. “So, you’ll just burn to death.” Then she disappears, escaping through the hatch connecting the attic to the ground floor.

The fire’s spreading faster than you thought, and while you’re wasting your time staring at the place the assassin stood just a moment ago, you’re almost totally surrounded by the fire. Despite of your heavily pumping leg, you pull yourself up by the supply cabinet and hobble laboriously towards the exit. Maybe, if you’re fast enough, you might succeed ... You’re slow, too slow.

Smoke rises and you have to watch everything, you worked hard for in the last few years, burn down. The mattress, the supply cabinet, everything. Even the specially enhanced walls don’t protect anything anymore and mutate to some kind of source of danger.

Your blood still trickles through your clothes, and you lose too much of it. Colorful flashes and sometimes even blackness appear in front of your eyes and you blink intensely. The smoke is burning inside your nose, your eyes and your lungs. And during your breaths you’re shaken by fits of coughing.

An arbor groans dangerously loudly and you think, it’s breaking. If it fell down now, it would bury you and you would burn to death in agony. Just three more steps to the exit. You’d rather scream, when you realize, that there isn’t a free escape route anymore.

The gap connecting the attic to the pile of wood is surrounded by fire. You gulp. There’s just one way left to leave this place alive.

You send a short prayer to Heaven and carry on. The flames are hot, burning terribly on your skin. The heated leather sticks to you, slows your movements even more. You have to cough, as you breathe in a mouth full of ash. Don’t die, you think. Just don’t die. That’s what you owe them. Them. The ones the woman spoke of.

“Somebody help me!” you pitiable caw. In doesn’t make any difference, you didn’t choose this shack without a reason. Not a single human soul is close enough and you can’t cry louder anymore. Your air tube is full of smoke, your throat is scratching awfully.

Certainly, you’ve already suffered countless burns on your hands and feet but you sigh, when you finally arrive at the stairs. The random arrangement of wood and broken arbors is too moist from the water to be burnt by the fire. That gives you time, and you start moving carefully behind them. Eventually your power leaves your body and you slump down. Your fingers touch the cold water. The best feeling you’ve had today. But you hardly realize it, because your conscience slowly slips away from you.

The last things you sense are steps. Light steps. The woman, she came back. She wants to make sure. A real assassin never leaves anything to chance.   

[eliselaserre]

VERY LOUD YELLING AHGFHJ;LDFG;LK LKJ I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT SUMMER'S DANCE IS AMAZING I CAN'T WAIT OH MY GLOB I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER I LOVE YOU! YOU'RE AMAZING ANDFJHGJFGSJDFSGJKLJ;DFGJ;LGSFDJ;LKS

*speechless* omg I don’t know what to say ;A; Thank you so much! Thank you so so so so so much! I’ve literally cried tears when I’ve seen this and omg I just don’t know …

This means soooo much to me, thank you so much ;A; Yesterday I finished translating the second chapter and I think I’ll post it next week, so you have to have patience, I’m sorry!

But omg thank you SOOOOOO much!

[eliselaserre]

Summer's Dance - Chapter One

Fandom: Thief (2014)

Summary: A rumour, a necklace and two thieves who are both eager to get their hands on it. You are a thief, as well as Garrett is one. But he is the master thief, you're not. A strange friendship begins in the night and the past starts haunting you.

Rating: M

Time: Pre-Thief (2014)

Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Chapter One

Not that it would have ever mattered, even if you had had a clear mind. You are confused. Confused because about what you’ve just seen and even more confused about what you’ve just felt.

For about five minutes you’re staring into the dark corner of the room you’re in. Five minutes, in which nothing happens. Five minutes which are passing achingly slowly. Five minutes in which you wish countless times that what you’ve just seen, would happen again.

As slowly as you can, you stand up and move towards the corner. You don’t dare turning on the lights or making a loud noise, because you’re too afraid of being slayed afterwards. Or worse.

You glance at the broken window to your right. The splintered glass crunches under your feet. You step carefully on it, because you’ve noticed the oil spill, which spread a while ago. Your bandaged feet slip a little, causing you to raise your arms. You’re trying desperately to get your balance back and the chance to grab the window board with your right hand.

A moaning comes from the darkness and you flinch. You haven’t been expecting a noise.

Another try to come closer to the shady corner. You’re asking yourself for a moment, why this always happens to you. No matter what happens, you are always dragged into it. It doesn’t even confuse you anymore, but you notice an accumulation of strange coincidences which have been happening the latest time.

The moaning sounds again, but this time you are prepared. You still cringe, but you don’t flinch. The broken fragments clink again and a liquid is flowing towards you. You notice immediately that this isn’t the oil because the liquid has a reddish colour about it as you can see in the sparse moon light.

You swallow hard and you kneel down, investigating the nearly dead body in front of you. It’s a man, utterly clothed in leather. His upper body is protected by a soft leather harness, as well as his legs and arms. Numerous lacings, leather parts and belts cover his clothes. All of it would do a great job of protection, but nothing would interfere while moving fast and fluently.

You’re distracted for a moment because this surely impresses you. Why haven’t you thought of this earlier? But getting such soft leather is expensive and you simply can’t afford it. Suddenly you feel uncomfortable and somehow unprotected in your clothes.

Similar to that man, you only wear leather, but you don’t have a harness and the additional protection for your legs and arms. You remove your hood and the mask, which cover your head and face. It’s a disguise you find very useful. Your cloak waves in the wind, but you choose to ignore it. You know that feeling.

The man in front of you is unconscious. No wonder after all what has happened to him. The memory of the happenings a few minutes ago is vivid in your brain.

As usual you have started your walk in the middle of the night and broke into different houses. Of course without the permission or knowledge of the owners you stole all the precious goods from. The moment you took the valuable scarf pin of Madame Gironde, you knocked over an oil lamp. The oil spill on the floor is your fault.

Finally when you wanted to leave this strange estate by force through the window, something crashed through it into the room. Luckily for you, both the owner of the house and their staff aren’t at home, otherwise everyone would have known that there had been unpleasant guests in the house.

Unfortunately the man, who crashed through the window, didn’t know of the oil spill you caused and slipped. On the one hand it was funny to watch the intruder flailing and searching desperately for balance or something to grab, on the other hand you had seen it coming in your mind’s eye what became reality a few moments later.

He didn’t grab anything and he didn’t have his balance back, so he fell and hit his head on the window board. After that all you’ve heard was that moaning.

Finally you bring yourself to touch his head carefully. As you fear the back of the head is smeared in blood. Silently swearing you look around and discover the bordeaux red curtains. Without hesitating you rip them down and make small stripes out of them. You fold one of the stripes accurately and press it on the bleeding wound. Relief is flowing through you as you discover that the wound isn’t really deep. It’s shallow and that’s the reason why it bleeds so much.

You take the second stripe and bandage the head carefully. For stabilisation you do the same with the third one. It’s just temporary, but it will do its job.

Now you have to go, but you don’t know how. Should you leave the strange man behind? Take him with you? After a moment you come to a conclusion. Is this a real consideration anyway?

Like you he just tries to make up a living in a city, which has nothing left for the bad bunch. Certainly he has, like you, a history which has lead him to this and you’re nobody who judges about the ways someone lives. To the contrary you try to understand the intentions behind the act before you judge.

With a fluent hand move you disguise yourself with your hood and mask. A long way lies before you and the less time you need the better it is.

  It has been a hard piece of work, but now you’re glad that the stranger sleeps in your bed. He looks nearly peacefully when you see him. The way has been long and difficult because the man was too heavy for your strength and you had to drag him behind you. A few times the Watch was close to detecting you, but every time you were lucky. Once a cat broke something and he got distracted, another time you threw something to get rid of him. Fortunately you have been intelligent enough to wind the last pieces of the stripes round the man’s body. Otherwise the dragging would have ruined his precious leather. Now it’s just the curtain that is topped.

The hideout you had found years ago here is something invaluable for you. Never before someone has dared to follow you and nobody would ever have the idea that here is a thief’s hideout. In the last corner of The City, you had been close to freezing to death, you had been in great distress and had escaped into that abandoned shack. You had been glad to notice the shack was uninhabited.

Years passed and still you haven’t seen a single body come to the shack. Perhaps that is because the ground-floor is completely destroyed and you can reach the attic through a special trick. Directly underneath your feet the water swaps against the ground-floor’s splintered wood, letting them become grey and frail. You have done your best to shelter your new home from wind and weather.

After several weeks of hard work it has been worth it and for the first time in forever you could sleep without freezing. The enhanced wooden floor and the more than once nailed up walls protect you from every storm, while you sit inside and fan the flame, just like you’re doing now.

The mattress, which serves you as an uncomfortable bed, is occupied; therefore you take your iron pot and get some water, which you boil above the fire. In your supply cabinet lies the rest of your vegetables that you’ve stolen during your last market trip. Officially you’ve bought some apples and bread, but you’ve brought much more with you when you came home.

Satisfied with what was left you start cooking a strengthening stew. You can’t cook much more but soups and stews anyway, but you make ends meet with it as you come to accept it as time has been passing by.

While the stew bubbles, you take a closer look at the masked face of your guest. You hesitate before you reach with your long fingers for him and remove carefully his mask. You stop breathing when you see his face. It looks familiar to you, even though you’re sure that you’ve never seen this stranger before.

You can’t recognize the eye colour since the man is still sleeping and you don’t want to wake him up just to get a glance at his eye colour. A three-day beard is in the space between his upper lip and nose, which is really big and crooked. But it fits his hard, prominent facial features. An ugly scar covers the right side of his face. It even goes through his right eye and parts the eyebrow in two halfs. You wonder what the man must have gone through and why he lives on the streets just like you.

You’ve just finished your first plate of your stew, when something moves next to you. Without hesitating you put the plate on the floor and flit to the mattress, on which the stranger gets up. He blinks twice and fixates you with his piercing look.

Immediately you feel uncomfortable and you bite your lip, you even move a little bit backward. Nevertheless you dare to open your mouth. “Careful,” you urge your, not completely voluntary, guest and you want to help him up, but as soon as you are close to touch him, he flinches back.

You look at him understandingly and leave his side a bit. You feel his glance on you when you take your plate and serve him a portion of your stew.

You stand up and give the plate to him, which he eyes distrustfully. “It’s not poisoned, I just ate it,” you explain to him. After that he starts eating.

He’s a silent companion, you notice and can’t help yourself but admire, how fluent and gracious his moves are, even though he’s just eating.

After several minutes of silence and eating, he puts the plate down and watches you. Once again you feel uncomfortable and start fiddling around with your hair. You undo your dot, which you’ve done before, and you make a ponytail. You are annoyed as you note that a few wisps escaped from your ponytail, but you ignore it mostly.

“What’s your name?” your guest asks you eventually and he touches the back of his head carefully. He still wears his temporary bandage.

You swallow as you detect his rangy fingers and you know immediately that they would be ready to kill if he were in distress.

“Lady,” you answered finally. “Call me Lady.” It isn’t your real name, but you trashed this name years ago. And Lady is something that doesn’t attract any attention. There are a lot of lords and ladies in The City. And you want exactly that – not to attract any attention.

The strange man nods slowly. “Lady,” he repeats. Eventually you overcome yourself and watch him closer, now that he’s awake. His facial features are a lot harder than they were when he was sleeping and his eyes are piercing like they want to analyse and classify you. You notice the bizarre colours. The left eye is brown, almost black, while the right eye has a bright cyan blue iris. Scary, you think by yourself and a shiver is running through your back.

And suddenly you know why he is familiar to you. You have seen him on thousands of posters, mostly bounty posters. There are notes with his face on them everywhere. A considerable bounty is rewarded by catching him, dead or alive and every Watch of The City is eager to catch him.

“Garrett, the master thief,” you blurt out and stare at him with opened mouth. The master thief, in your abandoned shack! For a moment you think that this could be just a dream. But then you remember that you, you of all people, have hurt the master thief. Just because of you he has a wound on the back of his head and just because of your clumsiness he slipped.  

You swallow again.

Garrett therefore nods smugly. “That would be me then.”

“I-I’m so s-sorry!” you stutter awkwardly and at the same time intimidated. It wouldn’t surprise you if he knocks you out and sends you to wonderland.

But everything you earn is an uncomprehending look. “You saved me, why do you apologize?”

Now you know at least that he didn’t see you knocking over the lamp. Should you tell him? For a moment you over think it, but you come to the conclusion that he will figure it out on his own sooner or later. “I ... I knocked over an oil lamp and when you crashed through the window, you slipped on the oil, because it had leaked,” you explain timidly. “Afterwards you hit your head and lost your conscience.”

Garrett narrows his eyes and watches you again. A clumsy thief, how does that look look, you think. On the other hand ... why did he crash through the window anyway? You know that you can get into the house without any problems. You did it yourself.

“Where am I anyway?” With a fluent movement he stands up and walks over to the window. “By the river?”

“Y-yes.” You stand next to him and point into the distance. “Over there is the clock tower, you can just see its shadow.”

Garrett follows your finger and stares into the direction you point. “The clock tower ...” he mumbles and sighs. “Far away, we have to be somewhere in the shanty town.”

“To be exactly in the South Quarter, at the Docks. Ten minutes from here there is a tavern.” You are surprised about your talkativeness, because you’re used to be silent. At the same time you admit it to yourself that it is good to have a decent conversation. One moment you consider, then you offer it to him. “If you want, you can accompany me. I have to go to the tavern, selling my stolen goods. My fence should arrive there soon.”

The master thief looks at you for a moment, and then he nods.

You don’t worry about him getting detected by the Watch. He’s the master thief and he didn’t get his title that easily. He has never been caught before and he uses creative, innovative techniques to get his heist.

You admire and fear him both. Now to set out with him is an honour, you won’t forget that fast.

As soon as you’re out in the night, Garrett takes the lead. Without doubt he knows this quarter, that’s why you follow him without complaining. Following is easier said than done. As soon as he disappeared in the shadows, you lose sight of him. When walking he doesn’t make any noises and it is hard for you to keep track. If he didn’t wait for you all the time or signalise with a siren call where he was, you would have lost him and seen him at the tavern again. If he had waited there for you.

“You still have a lot to learn,” he tells you tautly, when you reach the back door of the decayed inn.

You nod. For the most part his statement is unnecessary because you’ve already known it. Until now you’ve survived with a lot of luck and not because of your skills. You know your craft, and nobody doubts this, but you’re not as good as the master thief by the long shot. And in his eyes you’re a shiftless newbie probably.

He opens the door at one go and you smell the scent of vomit, excrements and alcohol. You are happy that you’ve put on your mask before leaving the shack, otherwise you would have thrown up.

The whole city is corrupt and run-down, but the South Quarter and the Docks are the worst. Stonemarket and Auldale are famous for their beauty. There it doesn’t reed of canal and death.

You let your trained look run through the misted room until you detect your fence. He’s a thick, clunky guy, but he has a decent temper. You like him, even though you don’t like his talking all the time, but he pays you well and sometimes he even invites you to a small dinner. You always accept it gracefully, because when else do you get the opportunity to fill your stomach for free?

But before you take a step closer to your fence, Garrett stands next to him. Actually you’ve always thought the title of the master thief is a bit overdone, but nobody could make as fast and silent movements as Garrett.

“Greetings, Lady,” Basso starts. “Just wait a little moment.” He then faces Garrett again, who smirks at you.

“Uhm ...” you want to interrupt him, but he doesn’t listen to you. Basso is full in possession of Garrett, who tells him something about the scarf pin of Madame Gironde. When you notice the subject, which is that the master thief couldn’t steal it because he had an accident, it’s you who smirks.

You feel it clearly in your pocket and you imagine the looks of both of them when they hear that you of all people, the clumsy thief, have stolen the scarf pin before Garrett could get it.

“Nevermind,” Garrett continues. “Today I accompany this young lady.”

“Really?” Basso follows up on it distrustfully. “And I just wanted to introduce her to you. She’s a young talent. Well, a little bit clumsy and careless, but nevertheless talented. She reminds me of Erin, the little thing.”

The little thing. You hate it when he calls you that, but you can’t keep him from calling you that. You’ve tried it countless times, but after every new meeting, he just calls you that name again.

You wonder who Erin is. And what does she have to do with Garrett?

“I’ve already made that experience,” the master thief answers and watches you. “But she isn’t like Erin. Erin is more aggressive and she doesn’t shy away that fast.”

“Well, Garrett, I asked myself if you wanted to train her?”

Hello? You don’t trust your ears right now. The master thief should train you in Basso’s opinion? Does someone even ask for your opinion? Apparently not, because Garrett stares at you first, then at Basso for a moment.

“You know what has happened to Erin.”

“Yes and I know that you aren’t a team anymore, but look at it like ...” Basso reflects for a moment, glances at you and sighs eventually. “... like a second chance?”

Second chance. You are more than just a second chance! That whole conversation doesn’t take course as you want it to and partly you feel overlooked. Not even partly, you are overlooked and you don’t like this a bit. You were overlooked too often in your past.

Nevertheless when Garrett shakes his head, you feel disappointed. You’re not good enough for him, you get refused. But can you be angry about this? Teeth-gnashingly you have to admit that you can’t. He has all reasons to refuse you, at least he was close to a near-death experience because of you and because of you he didn’t get to steal the scarf pin of Madame Gironde. Speaking of the scarf pin ...

You reach into your pocket and get the piece of jewellery. It’s beautiful with the flower-like sapphire, that is bordered with pure gold. The edge is studded with small, silver pieces and in the middle of the sapphire there is a G engraved. A family heirloom and you feel a little bit sorry for Madame Gironde when you have to think of her shock when she discovers that her most precious treasure has been stolen.

“Basso, I’m not here for you to negotiate about me,” you start talking with a resolved look in your eyes, “but for you to give me gold for my heist.” You put out your hand and present the scarf pin on your palm.

Both Basso’s and Garrett’s eyes widen, when they see the sticker. They examine it for a while until the fence takes it carefully in his own hand and weighs it. After that he laughs. “You’ve stolen it.”

Garrett narrows his eyes to a slit and glances at you causing you to think you would freeze to death in a second. Great! Now you’ve made the master thief angry at you. You say goodbye to your life once again, because all your doings are infuriating the master thief ever since you’ve met him. This can’t be healthy in no way.

You sigh silently, while Basso is observing the rest of your heist and he eventually counts the gold coins he gives to you. A considerable gain with which you can survive the next two weeks if you didn’t waste any. The biggest part of the gold you earned for sure by stealing the scarf pin, but you don’t ask further. You have your gold and your existence is safe for the next two weeks. What do you want more? You think of lot things to have, but you keep your mouth shut.

Garrett is gazing into space when you finally overcome yourself and look at him again. The weight of your purse is heavy on your right hip, but that’s exactly how you like it. The emptier it is, the lighter it is and that again makes you sad.

“Unfortunately I don’t have any assignments for you, Lady,” Basso tells you and gives a shrug. “No profitable ones and none you would be able to accomplish.”

You would be able to accomplish. Today Basso says things you certainly don’t like and he wake the long buried anger in you. Still you nod politely because you aren’t allowed to spoil things with him. Basso is the only merchant you know who sells stolen goods. And be it that worthless, he makes a good deal out of it.

You spin on your feet and you are about to leave, when Basso raises the word again, but he doesn’t talk to you, he talks to Garrett. He has attracted your attention and as curious as you are, you hide behind a wooden pillar and you eavesdrop the conversation. If you’re right, they can’t see you because you’re hiding in the shadows and you remain there like a statue.

“Garrett, in the estate of Count Calmette, there are two Montonessi paintings and additionally to that the necklace Summer’s Dance.” Basso speaks that silently, you can hardly understand him, but you would have picked up out the words Montonessi and Summer’s Dance from any ambient noise.

Summer’s Dance should be one of the most beautiful pieces of jewellery to be ever made and which circulates in The City. Bordered in high-carat gold, provided with the finest gems – rubies, sapphires, emeralds and amethysts – and a clasp made of pure silver, the necklace is worth more than everything you’ve ever stolen in all the years. You swallow hard. Is that your chance?

The Calmette Estate is huge, but poorly guarded. You’ve broken into the house once and you stole mostly cutlery. You’ve also laid your hands on the candle sticks and a little bit of the jewellery, but back then you were inexperienced and afraid. You’ve changed, but still ... If there is such a precious treasure hidden in the mansion, probably locked away in a safe, the Watch is doubled for certain.

“Summer’s Dance?” Garrett asks curiously and interested.

You can’t see, what Basso is doing, but you guess that he’s smiling or at least nodding.

“Yes. If you steal it, I get twenty percent of the proceeds you will make by selling Summer’s Dance and the Monotonessi paintings and forty percent of everything you steal additionally.”

Basso charges unordinarily little from the whole contract. Fifty percent is the least, you’ve experienced that far. Excepting special offers he makes for Garrett, which you understand, but still you think it’s not fair.

But even the master thief isn’t fully convinced by this situation. “Where’s the catch?”

Basso remains silent for a moment. “The Watch on the Calmette-Estate has been ... raised a little bit, furthermore there are rumours that the thief-taker general is there too.” Now Basso’s deal makes sense to you.

“Agreed.”

You don’t trust your ears. Agreed? Garrett must have completely lost his mind. Otherwise – which master thief would let this opportunity slip through his fingers?

When you notice that Garrett is about to leave, you flit outside of the tavern and hide in the darkness. Soon the sun will rise and until then you want to be back in your shack, because when the Watch detects you in the daybreak, they would immediately know who you are and what you are.

For a moment you see Garrett’s feet when he pulls himself up the railing and then he disappears. You look at the position you’ve seen him last and after a few minutes you make your way home.

You need a bit longer than before because you have to make a detour. The sun is higher on the horizon than you’ve first thought and now the shadows have moved. But you know the detour, too, it’s not the first time this happens to you.

Exhausted and somehow tired you take the stairs to the attic of your shack.  Stairs is said too much perhaps, it’s more of a stringing together of wood planks and aborted timbers.

Once again you think of the Calmette-Estate and the treasure which is hidden there. You would get all the fame of thieves and maybe even Garrett would acknowledge you. Screw this, you think. Why is his respect that important to you? Well, who doesn’t want to be acknowledged by the thief of the thieves? Otherwise this risk isn’t worth the circumstances. What happens when you get caught? Questions over questions and you can’t seem to find an end. But Summer’s Dance. The necklace of necklaces! The greatest piece of jewellery you would ever hold in your hands.

Lost in thought, how you are in that night, you stand by the window and sigh again. Summer’s Dance ... You can recognize the Calmette-Estate from up here. It’s a huge property with a big mansion and a smaller house for the staff, but it’s located in the South Quarter.

You have to admit that you’ve forgotten the story behind it long time ago, but you don’t find it very fascinating either. Probably the South Quarter was a rich quarter once. Long time before death and poverty destroyed everything.

“Don’t even think about it,” a deep, dark voice sounds behind you.

You spin around, gasping and full with adrenaline you stare at Garrett, who leans against the wall in front of you. You feel anger and lay a hand on your heart. It’s beating fast and heavily and you think you’ve just had a near-death experience.

You give yourself a scolding that you haven’t noticed him earlier. The thief must have been here long before you, because you stand next to the stairs and you would have seen him coming up. Would you really? You don’t want to think about this right now.

You forget all prudence and glance at him hatefully. “What are you doing here and of what shouldn’t I think about?” you hiss between your teeth. You don’t know what has happened to you, but you guess that it’s the adrenaline kicking in.

Garrett’s face is motionless, even though you can only see his eyes because he’s still disguised. His eyes sparkle in amusement while he watches you. You are slowly getting the feeling that you’re an animal in a zoo which is always being watched.

“Summer’s Dance, the Calmette-Estate, Montonessi paintings – whatever you were thinking about those three things, forget it,” he responds and pushes himself off the wall. Energetically and gracefully he walks over to you and looks you in the eyes.

They are deep and bottomless. His right eye seems to be lifeless, but still you can’t look away. You drop your gaze fast.

He raises his hand und lays it on your chin, forcing you to look at him. You swallow again and you want to shake your head, but his grasp is that hard, you can’t move your head.

“No Montonessi, no Summer’s Dance and absolutely no Calmette,” he hisses. “I know you’ve listened. Catch a thief with a thief.”

He’s angry, no question, because you eavesdroped on him. And he doesn’t want you to break into that house. You are confused, again.

“Who said that I want to break in?” you crunch. Without doubt you wanted to break into that property, but you wouldn’t reveal your thoughts to him. “I’m not as stupid as you.” At the same time you want to slap yourself for this statement. Today you’re about to give up on your life.

Garrett’s face was coming closer to yours. “I’m not stupid,” he whispered, “I just know what I want.” His smug grin, as his closeness, doesn’t calm you very much.

This moment is too much for you. The thief is too close to you, closer than you would have ever thought and the air is charged, almost electric.

Without really knowing you hold your breath as if it was better when you don’t move too much. At the same time you can’t really move because Garrett presses you with his whole body weight to the wall. You feel the broad window board in your back and how it’s squeezing against your back in the most uncomfortable way. It nearly hurts, but you don’t make a single sound.

The point of his nose brushes yours, you feel his warm breath on your lips. You give in an impulse and close your eyes. You notice his left hand taking the wrist of your right hand. Now you’re really at the mercy of him. The only free limb is your left hand and with it you brace yourself against him. It doesn’t help, you’re too weak.

His breath intensifies and you lick over your lips unwittingly. This moment is too charged and you give up on fighting back. On the one hand you don’t like it, on the other hand you don’t want to struggle.

Suddenly it’s cold. And you’re alone.

[eliselaserre]

If it wouldn't be too much trouble would you mind posting an English version of your fic? I've been searching everywhere for Garrett/fem!Reader fics =A=

oh my god, no! I’d be pleased to post an English version! :D it won’t be perfect English, so I hope you don’t mind it. The first chapter of the fic is finished, I just have to translate it.

Hopefully I can post it on the weekend, but I’m not really sure because my spoken finals are in three weeks and I’ve done nothing but procrastinating until now. Stay tuned for updates! (: and thanks for your answer, I really appreciate it.