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debbiechanclub · 3 years

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Know You Better Now (*new* BTOOT sequel), Part 1

The title is the same, but I assure you the content is all shiny and new! The revamped BTOOT sequel is here!

Thank you to everyone for your patience on this. I just lost interest/direction for the original sequel after Ethan all but disappeared off Dynamite, but I'm honestly kind of glad I did because I like this new version so. Much. More. And we have Kenny's facial hair to thank for it.

So enough talking - enjoy! And please let me know what you think!

Know You Better Now

Synopsis: Nearly nine months have passed since Alex's freak shoulder injury, and she's still not cleared for action. But while Kenny has been a source of strength for her throughout her recovery, all her other relationships are in shambles - and she's finding it harder and harder to reconcile the Kenny she knows behind closed doors with his persona as the "Belt Collector."

Part: 1/?

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x TBD 👀

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Language, ANGST

Find more of my fics here.

Tag squad: @galacticstat @hotyeehawman @hdbngsprnva @heelchampbucks @kingswitchblade @bec0m @betsy-bradock @linziland13 @librathepheonix13 @gabbynorth98 @exe-babymox-exe @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @brokenglassslippers @rocca09 @meteora-fc @kawaiikels @adriii-omega @thatgirlforever5 @sugar-melts-mo-fo

May 30, 2021 AEW Double or Nothing

Surgery with six to twelve months’ recovery time. That was the prognosis Alex had received when she’d dislocated her shoulder in September. Now, nearly nine months later, everything had changed.

“Well, there’s good news and there’s not-as-good news,” Doc Sampson started. He’d just completed yet another check-up exam on her shoulder, and Alex could tell he was trying to keep up morale. But she already knew what he was going say. “The good news is you’ve gotten the full range of mobility back. The bad news is the strength isn’t quite there yet.”

She scoffed lightly to herself. It was exactly as she suspected. “So it’s no news, in other words,” she quipped.

“At least it’s not bad news?” Kenny hopefully offered.

Doc smiled sympathetically. “Just keep at it. Resistance bands, weights; you know the drill.”

Alex’s eyebrows arched. “Yeah, I do,” she returned. It seemed like weight training and physical therapy was all she did anymore.

“Just a few more weeks,” Doc said; but in medical-speak, time was relative. Alex knew all too well that weeks could easily mean months. “Good luck tonight, Kenny,” he added, and he went out the door.

Alex’s head fell back and she groaned in frustration. Kenny wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. “It won’t be much longer,” he assured with a kiss on the side of her head.

“It’s been almost nine months,” she muttered.

“I know. But you don’t want to rush your recovery, especially for something like a shoulder injury.”

She frowned. “At this rate Anna will be back from her shoulder injury before I am.”

“What?” Kenny laughed and hugged her tighter. “No, she won’t. I give it maybe another month and you’ll be back better than you were before. Which reminds me, you should probably have some new gear made. I bet your old stuff is too big on you now.”

The sound of her laugh was muffled by his shoulder. “Because you’ve been kicking my ass every week for the last six months,” she said. If there was a silver lining to her injury, it was that she’d gotten into the best shape of her life what with all the training she’d been doing—and it was all thanks to Kenny. Truth be told, Alex didn’t know what she would have done without him over the last nine months. He’d moved her into his house so she wouldn’t have to struggle through the weeks after surgery alone; he’d set her up with his doctors; he’d driven her to physical therapy appointments and trained with her every single week. He’d been there for her in ways she couldn’t even express, and she’d fallen even more in love with him for it.

It made it that much more difficult for her to admit that the Kenny she knew in private was a far cry from the one who called himself the “Belt Collector.”

“I wouldn’t push you if I didn’t think you could handle it,” he returned with a peck on her lips. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna recognize you out there tonight.”

Alex momentarily tensed in his arms, but she didn’t relax quick enough. Kenny felt it—and he knew exactly what it was about.

“You’re not having second thoughts about it, are you?”

She looked up at him. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” she admitted.

Kenny’s face fell. “Alex… we’ve talked about this.”

“I know,” she breathed. She stepped back from him, suddenly anxious. They had talked about it, at length. It was a big statement for her to accompany him for his match tonight, because she hadn’t been seen since her injury. In fact, she’d all but gone off-grid. She hadn’t been on television; she’d barely posted on social media; she hadn’t responded to any questions for comment about her recovery or her thoughts on Kenny’s pursuits. She’d just wanted to fly under the radar until she was back in that ring for good.

But then, two-and-a-half weeks ago, the match between PAC and Orange Cassidy for a shot at Kenny’s AEW World Championship had gone to a no contest. As a result, it was decided that Kenny would defend the title in a triple threat match against them both at Double or Nothing—tonight. And as soon as the match was booked, Alex knew—she knew—that Kenny would find a way to pull her into it.

But she didn’t know if she could—or should—go out there with him. Not with the way things currently were between her and the people she’d thought were her best friends.

Kenny reached out and took her hands in his, and she looked back up at him from the floor. His blue eyes were concerned. But she could tell he was frustrated.

“I want you out there with me, baby. And yeah… I’d be lying if I said Orange wasn’t part of the reason why.”

She frowned. “Kenny—”

“Just hear me out,” he gently cut her off, and she pursed her lips. But she let him continue. “Best Friends are actually supposed to be your best friends, right? But when was the last time any of them checked in on you? I know Chuck did for a while, but Trent? He’s been a complete asshole to you.”

Alex fidgeted, her chest tightening. His words were like salt in a wound—but he wasn’t wrong. At first, Chuck had checked in on her fairly regularly… but his texts and FaceTime calls had tapered off after the first couple months. At the time, she’d just chalked it up to circumstance. She was out of sight and out of mind, and he and Orange had been put through more than their fair share of bullshit by Miro, Kip, and Penelope after Trent had torn his pec muscle in December. She couldn’t really blame him for going quiet.

But then, two months ago, Trent had returned with Kris in tow—and Alex hadn’t been able to chalk it up to circumstance any longer. And when Kris seemingly became an official member of Best Friends, she couldn’t ignore the twinge of jealousy in her gut, either. She felt forgotten. Replaced in person just as much as she had been on the Best Friends t-shirt. And the thing of it was, none of them seemed to even miss her.

Least of all Trent.

Kenny squeezed her hands, redrawing her attention. “Look… I’m not trying to turn you against them. But I can see how hurt you are by how they’ve acted over the last couple months, and it kills me. And yeah, it pisses me off, too. So… why not come out there with me tonight, looking absolutely fucking fantastic, and show Best Friends just how good you’re doing without them?”

Alex’s brow furrowed. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, there was a petty part of her that wanted to do exactly that. But the softer side of her just wanted her friends back.

“I get what you’re saying, I just... I feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

“I know you do,” he sympathetically returned. “But I’m not asking you to go out there and try to keep Orange from winning. I just want you in my corner. And maybe I want to show you off a little bit, too.”

He grinned and pulled her closer, and Alex couldn’t help the coy smile that pulled at her lips. Through all their ups and downs, Kenny had never failed to make her feel special; wanted. She didn’t take that for granted—especially not now.

“I did bring a really cute outfit to wear,” she said, sliding her hands up his arms. “It would be a shame if it went to waste.”

His smile widened. “Well then you gotta wear it.”

Alex bit her lip in thought. But she didn’t think for long. She put her hands on either side of his face and gave him a tender kiss. “You know I love you, right?”

Kenny gripped her waist. “Of course, I do. I love you, too,” he returned, and he kissed her again. “Come on, you should go get ready,” he said with a pat on her backside. And as they left the exam room, Alex knew that accompanying Kenny for his match was the right decision.

It was the potential consequences that worried her.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Holy shit, I almost didn’t recognize you!”

That was what Stella had proclaimed when Alex walked into hair and makeup. It was followed by a chorus of more of the same, a parade of hugs from everyone in the room—and dozens of questions.

“How are you? You look incredible!”

“Is your shoulder cleared?”

“So, are you officially living with Kenny now?”

“I’ve been dying to know how you feel about everything going on with him.”

And Alex had done her best to field each one of them.

“I’m doing pretty well, and thanks. It seems like I’ve been filling all my free time with working out.”

“No… not yet. But hopefully in the next few weeks.”

“I mean, not officially. I still have my house in Virginia—my cousin’s been renting it out. But I don’t know. It feels like I’ve officially moved in.”

“It is what it is. He’s just being Kenny Omega.”

Thankfully, no one pressed her on that last one.

Instead, Stella was all too happy to dish on all the latest and juiciest backstage news and gossip. Anna Jay and Jungle Boy were an item. Cody had estranged himself from nearly everyone. Callie had left AEW and pro wrestling altogether—and moved in with Cash. Alex had already known about that one, but it was still strange to hear. Looking back, it was hard to believe her friendship with Callie and relationship with Cash had ever even happened at all. It felt like another life; another time.

“You’re all done, my dear,” Stella said. She handed her a mirror—and Alex was taken aback by her own reflection. Long, sleek dark brown hair; glowing fair skin; pouty nude lips; a sexy reverse cat eye that made her hazel eyes pop. She sat up a little straighter. For perhaps the first time in months, she felt herself again.

She thanked Stella and hopped out of the chair, a pep in her step as she went out the door—

“Alex?!”

She halted in her tracks. Even though she hadn’t heard it in forever, she’d recognize that voice anywhere—Kris. She held her breath and turned around; but relaxed in relief. It was just her and Orange. At least she wouldn’t have to face them all at once.

“Holy shit!” She hurried over and wrapped her in a tight hug before she could even blink. Alex was stiff and awkward as she returned it. She hadn’t expected that reaction.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’d be here tonight?” Kris asked as she stepped back from her. Alex hesitated to answer.

“Um, I thought about it. But given why I’m here…”

She trailed off and looked awkwardly at Jim. He shrugged. “It’s business,” he returned. “So I guess this means you’ll be in Kenny’s corner tonight?”

Alex crossed an arm over herself and nervously fidgeted with the skin on her elbow. She nodded. Jim’s expression remained as indecipherable as ever.

“And you look hot as fuck,” Kris perceptively interjected. “Seriously, I think I might be questioning my sexuality.”

Alex breathed a laugh—

“You should come say hi to Chuck and Trent! Trent’s gonna shit himself.”

Just like that, her smile vanished. Her lips parted in silent question, uncertain if Kris was being serious. But she looked too genuinely excited not to be.

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alex said. “I mean, considering the last time I talked to Trent…”

She trailed off and looked down at her shoes. There had been things said by both her and Trent in the heat of the moment that had made an already uncomfortable situation worse. They hadn’t spoken in more than five months, since right before he’d gotten injured. She didn’t think now was the time to start.

“Trent has his head up his ass,” Jim said, and Alex flicked her eyes back up at him, surprised. “You know how he is with this stuff. You’ll probably have to be the bigger person.”

Alex sighed. He was probably right. But again—tonight wasn’t the night. “Now’s just not the time,” she remorsefully returned. “But I’ll see you out there. Good luck—really.”

And before either of them could say anything else, she turned and continued down the hall, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Maybe you shouldn’t come out there… you’re gonna distract me walking around like this.”

Alex looked at Kenny through the mirror as he sidled up behind her. He reached up and brushed her hair back from her neck, and she tilted her head so he could press his lips against her skin.

“It's too late,” she returned. “I’ve already gone through all the trouble of getting ready.”

Kenny hummed. “Well, I can take it all off for you, if you want.”

He nipped her neck, and she smirked and squirmed. Her mood had completely turned around from earlier in the night; it was amazing what a little hair and makeup and the right outfit could do. The white bustier-style crop top she wore wasn’t her usual style, but it showed off the hard work she’d put in at the gym—and it didn’t hurt that it made her boobs look amazing. And even though she’d made the outfit more “her” with a pair of distressed boyfriend jeans and her white low-top Chucks, Kenny was right—they probably wouldn’t recognize her out there.

But truth be told, she’d never felt more confident.

“You can later,” she smirked, and she felt a low growl rumble in his bare chest.

“Get a room!”

Alex rolled her eyes. Matt’s voice was an unwelcome interruption from across the locker room. She’d almost forgotten that he and Nick were there.

Kenny shot a glare over his shoulder. “Why are you looking?”

Matt opened his mouth, but two quick knocks on the door cut him off before he could make a smart-ass retort, and then Don Callis walked in.

“We’re up, Ken.”

Kenny smirked at Alex. “Let’s go give the people what they really want.”

He picked up his AEW World Championship, and she helped him secure it around his waist, followed by the Impact World Championship, which he strapped across his chest. Then, he picked up the AAA Mega Championship and old TNA World Heavyweight Championship and held them in each of his hands. And Alex had to admit—it was an impressive sight, Kenny draped in championship gold. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on.

“How do I look?” he asked her.

She bit her lip. “Good. Really good.”

He grinned, cocky.

They started for the door; but before Alex could follow Don and Kenny out, Matt stopped her. “Alex.” He pushed himself up from his chair and cast Nick a glance. He stood too. She rolled her eyes. They weren’t subtle at all.

Matt gave her a discerning look. “You are one-hundred percent in Kenny’s corner… right?”

Her brow lowered dangerously. Was he really questioning her loyalty now? “Are you serious?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Well… I know Orange is one of your best friends—”

“Or he was,” Nick interjected.

“—and I just want to make sure that there aren’t any conflicts of interest.”

He smirked, obnoxiously smacking his gum between his teeth. Alex bit down on her jaw. She’d thought that maybe—maybe—Callie’s departure and her relationship with Kenny would have led her and Matt to at least be friendly with each other. But she’d thought wrong.

She gave him a tight smile. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Matt. The only conflict going on here is the one between what you think that outfit looks like and what it actually looks like.”

He abruptly stopped chewing his gum. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Alex was already out the door. She caught up with Kenny and fell in step beside him. “Forget something?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Just got held up.”

They arrived at Gorilla, and Don went on and on talking Kenny up, boosting his confidence, assuring that neither Orange nor PAC stood a chance; but Alex tuned him out, nervously looking around. Waiting. And then she saw them: Orange, Chuck, Kris, and Trent.

Her heart jumped into her throat when her eyes met Chuck’s. He flashed her a smile; but it wasn’t as wide or as bright as she was used to.

“Hey. It’s good to see you,” he said, and he gave her arm a squeeze as he passed. She said nothing in response—just a tight grin of acknowledgement. Entirely impersonal compared to how they used to greet each other.

It’s the circumstances, she tried to tell herself.

Orange and Kris greeted her in much the same way, with awkward half-smiles as they walked by; Kris seemed apologetic, for some reason. And then, Trent reached her. His expression was cold, his eyes hard, and then he muttered underneath his breath, just loud enough for her to hear, “Thanks for telling us you’d be here.”

He kept walking, not waiting for her to even process what he’d said, and Alex’s heart sunk petrified into the pit of her stomach.

This was how things were now. She felt stupid for hoping for different.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex had known it would be difficult to be ringside for this match. But, sixteen minutes into it, she hadn’t realized it would be this difficult.

PAC laid on his back, staring up at the lights courtesy of a bridging deadlift suplex into a pin attempt from Kenny. So, with him taken care of for the moment, Kenny turned his attention to Orange. He pulled his right kneepad down, and Alex had to stop herself from watching through her fingers as he kneed Orange hard in the face, once, and then again. She could feel the eyes of the fans at ringside watching her with keen interest, trying to gauge her reactions. They’d been shocked to see her come out with Kenny, and now her presence provided them with an extra layer of entertainment. At least Chuck, Trent, and Kris weren’t at ringside, too; they’d walked Orange out and promptly disappeared backstage. Alex didn’t know what she would have done if they’d stayed.

Kenny backed toward the ropes, aiming to deliver a third and final V-Trigger. But before he could, Orange held up his hands as if to tell him “stop.” And then he plunged them into his pant pockets and fell facedown onto the mat.

Kenny laughed, but he couldn’t care less. He walked over and started to pick Orange up; but then a revived PAC grabbed him and hit him with a hard forearm. They traded blows and kicks in the middle of the ring until Orange suddenly intervened and hit Kenny with a Michinoku Driver. However, Kenny rolled away and PAC hit Orange with a brainbuster. He covered him, but Orange thankfully kicked out at two.

Alex put her hand on Kenny’s shoulder as he laid underneath the ropes, halfway out of the ring. “Are you alright?”

But he didn’t answer her question. Instead, he said, “Go get one of my belts.”

She looked back at him in confusion. “What?”

“Go get one of my belts in case.”

Alex blinked and shook her head. She could not believe what he was asking her to do. “What? No, Kenny, I’m not doing that. You don’t need—”

But he rolled away, back underneath the ropes into the ring. PAC and Orange were in a precarious position on the top turnbuckle closest to them. It looked like PAC was trying to execute a superplex—but Kenny jumped up and shoved PAC off-balance, causing Orange to tumble from his grip and bounce off the ring apron to the floor. Alex started to check on him—but then she remembered she wasn’t out there for him and stopped short. She ran her hands over her hair, helpless. Inwardly hoping that he was alright.

Meanwhile, PAC had reversed Kenny’s attempt at a One-Winged Angel from the top turnbuckle and sent him sailing across the ring via a sunset flip powerbomb. They stood atop the opposite turnbuckle now, and Alex’s eyes widened in horror when PAC delivered an avalanche Falcon Arrow. But then, Orange suddenly scrambled back into the ring, tossed PAC out, and hooked Kenny’s leg. Every single person packed into Daily’s Place jumped from their seats as Bryce Remsburg slid to the mat and started to count. Kenny barely kicked out before three. Alex leaned her elbows on the ring apron, her head in her hands. That had been way too close.

All around her the fans started chanting, “That was three!” booming in her ears, and she bit down on her jaw. Kenny rolled out of the ring and stumbled over to her. For some reason, she already knew what for.

“Alex, go get one of my belts,” he said again. It was an order, not a question. But she stood her ground.

“No! I’m not helping you win like that!”

He let out a frustrated huff. “Baby, now’s not the time to argue about this. Just go get—”

She cut him off with a gasp as PAC came flying over the top rope headed straight for them. Kenny shoved her out of the way at the last second, taking all the impact himself and getting knocked to the floor. PAC, meanwhile, sprung back up and to the top turnbuckle. He slowly stood—and when Alex saw him jump into the air and perform the Black Arrow, she knew she had just seconds to act. She jumped over Kenny and rounded the turnbuckle as PAC hooked Orange’s leg. And just before Bryce could count three, she grabbed Orange’s boot and put it on the bottom rope.

Bryce stopped the count and pointed at Orange’s foot, none the wiser to what had happened. The fans, on the other hand, showered Alex with thunderous boos. Realizing what she’d done, PAC turned and shot her a glower that seemed almost inhuman. But she just pursed her lips and raised her chin in defiance.

Kenny pulled himself up by the ropes and ducked back into the ring, grinning like the cat that caught the canary, and the match went on, back and forth between him and PAC—until Orange scored another near-fall after he hit Kenny with a frantic Beach Break. PAC then tried for a Liger Bomb on Orange, but he fought out of it and landed a hard Orange Punch across his jaw, dropping him to the mat. Then he gave one to Kenny, and the crowd came unglued.

Orange fed off their energy, pumping himself up as PAC staggered to his feet. He hit another Orange Punch and went for the pin. Time seemed to stop as Alex watched, her heart in her throat and her hands on her head. She didn’t want Kenny to lose at all, let alone like this. But just as Bryce started the count, Don appeared out of nowhere and pulled him from the ring by his ankles.

Alex stood frozen to her spot as Bryce and Don yelled at each other, and she fully expected the former to expel the latter from ringside—but he didn’t. He simply got back in the ring, and the match continued. Don walked toward Alex, straightening his suit jacket. “Good work putting Orange’s foot on the ropes,” he said to her.

She didn’t say anything in return. She didn’t want a compliment from the likes of him.

Back in the ring, Kenny had been knocked to the floor once again—and PAC had the Brutalizer locked on Orange. When Kenny finally made it back through the ropes, he kicked PAC in the face once, twice. But he didn’t let go of his hold on Orange. So instead, Kenny made the desperate decision to hit Bryce with a hard double axe handle to the back.

The crowd booed, and Alex hid her face in her hands. “Come on, Ken…” she breathed. Not like this.

Meanwhile, Don took the initiative to do what Kenny had been asking Alex to do all along. He grabbed the Impact Championship from the timekeeper’s area and tossed it to Kenny in the ring. Kenny caught it, and then he turned and clocked PAC over the head. He dropped like dead weight to the mat, and Kenny tossed the belt aside, the fans still booing all the while.

But apparently, one belt wasn’t enough.

Don tossed in the Triple A Mega Championship next, and as PAC staggered to his feet, Kenny hit him again. Then he threw in the TNA World Heavyweight Championship. Alex had to bite her lip to keep from shouting at Kenny to stop. She looked away just before he hit PAC a third time.

Finally, Don handed Kenny the AEW World Championship. He took it and held it high above his head, gloating, reveling in the crowd’s hatred. Somehow, PAC was still moving, trying to stay in the match. But just as he climbed to his feet for a third time, Kenny hit him again and knocked him down for good.

Kenny held the championship up again, parading around the ring. He didn’t notice Orange darting toward him until it was too late. He laid him out with another Orange Punch across the jaw.

Orange crawled toward Kenny, obviously going for the pin; but Bryce was still down from Kenny’s earlier attack. However, it didn’t matter. As soon as he draped himself across Kenny’s chest, Aubrey ran down to the ring. Alex grabbed her own throat as she counted.

One.

Two—

But unexpectedly, Kenny reversed the pin and rolled Orange’s shoulders to the mat in a crucifix. Aubrey counted again.

One.

Two.

Three.

That was it. The bell rung, and Kenny’s music started. Alex let out a breath. He’d won by the skin of his fucking teeth.

She and Don both rushed to Kenny’s side as Justin Roberts officially announced him the winner. He clutched his jaw, and somehow his left hand had been sliced open. “What happened?” she asked, looking over the blood on his fingers with concern. But he wasn’t able to answer her before they were suddenly swarmed by both the Young Bucks and the Good Brothers. Matt and Nick practically pushed her aside as they congratulated Kenny, and Nick and Karl Anderson put an arm each over their shoulders and helped him up the steps to the entrance ramp. And as they all celebrated, reveling in Kenny’s stolen victory, Alex felt a sourness curdle at the back of her throat.

She was in love with Kenny. He’d come to mean the world to her over the last nine months. But she hadn’t signed up for this world.

#aew fanfiction #kenny omega fanfiction #the elite fanfiction #orange cassidy fanfiction #trent beretta fanfiction #chuck taylor fanfiction #kris statlander fanfiction

49 notes · View notes

neonponders · 3 years

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*sigh* catch me projecting on a Saturday.

I read this post ( @lazybakerart you wizard - ALSO IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY?????? HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹) and am now thinking about a sugardaddy!Billy with an ace!Steve. (*emphasis on grey ace*)

* Please nobody attack me for writing about leather fashion. I’m vegetarian and it’s fiction. Live a little. *

Read on ao3 ~

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

Steve just kind of stared at the box on the restaurant table. It wasn’t a ring box, but it was velvet. Goodness knew how many of these he’d seen in his life.

Steve knew wealth. He knew money, and all of the material variations therein.

He’d gotten pedicures with his mother before his father declared such a thing unfit for a boy coming into puberty. If you look like a man, act like a man. As if men didn’t have feet, or something.

Then he went to the salon. That wasn’t so easy to take away. Ventures with her son seemed to be the only things keeping Mrs. Harrington from being connected to her husband’s hip, so Mr. Harrington let them both have this one. Steve, fresh out of graduation, being given a hairdresser’s chair to accomplish summer-fresh highlights.

Mrs. Harrington was also the type of woman to enjoy shoes. Everyone has a thing. For some, they had bags. Others, jewelry. Vintage furniture. Designer wallpaper. Mrs. Harrington enjoyed shoes. It was where Steve learned to carry a woman’s bags, but he didn’t stay outside of the store. He learned how to clean suede, the difference between a 130 So Kate and an ordinary heel. What fetish meant in terms of fashion. He can convert heels sizes in millimeters to inches faster than a cashier calculating change.

Tommy and Carol had joked about Steve’s father having a different kind of fetish. Nothing to do with fashion, and everything to do with sex. Steve had foolishly let them into his mother’s bedroom and they were having a field day with a shoe closet that cost more than both of their houses combined. Still smelling of Nancy and pool chlorine, Steve as good as ended that friendship right there.

Because they didn’t get it.

Mr. Harrington certainly didn’t get it. Could never have such a sexual inclination because he didn’t understand pampering or indulgent interests.

He understood favors. Material apologies.

Mrs. Harrington had a collection of pearls and diamonds that she never wore.

Steve knew she liked opals and pink, pink rubies, because Steve liked opals too. Because he used his father’s money to buy ruby studs his mother actually wore. Because he gets her oldest, broken bracelet with green amber fixed, and she wears it until it breaks again. And then she presented Steve with a thin, gold chain to go around his ankle. With a gleaming, green amber stone flanked by two opals.

The green goes with our eyes, she said. Someone special will see the green in all that brown. It’s why we look good in reds.

Steve was still looking at the box on the table.

“It’s not going to catch fire, the longer you glare at it.”

His dark hazel, creek water eyes slanted up to the man sitting opposite him.

Billy Hargrove.

Stubborn to a fault. Gorgeous as Lucifer with wings freshly burnt off. And just as dangerous.

“I thought I said no more gifts.”

“And I ignored you. Open it.”

Steve went about it like ripping off a bandaid. He sighed at the window beside their booth, wrenching the thing open to see -

Diamonds.

He shut it with a loud clap and set it on Billy’s placemat. “No, thanks.”

The man’s features froze in tolerant stoicism, but he eased the box inside his suit jacket pocket. “You’re a hard one to shop for.”

Steve’s eyes widened dramatically over his wine glass of water. Not because he was sober - he’d willingly pay for an overpriced red, himself, if the handsome asshole weren’t trying to wave his wallet everywhere. “You can stop trying to buy your way into my pants any time you want.”

“If that’s all I wanted, I would’ve stopped three months ago.”

Three months ago,

When Billy breezed into Steve’s life as easily as he had senior year of high school. The two of them certainly deserved some kind of award for having a bizarre history.

Within a handful of months, Billy had arrived upon a turbulent time in Steve’s life, and then left nearly as quickly. Billy witnessed Steve and Nancy’s break-up, Steve’s fall from Hawkins High grace, and even beat his face a little bit. Because that’s what teenage men with bad emotional processing and even worse communication skills do.

Now, almost ten years later, Billy had some kind of empire behind him and Steve, well, didn’t. He had no idea what Billy’s job consisted of, but he got little hints. Mostly the negative space from Billy’s lack of discussing his job told Steve a whole lot.

Steve, who worked two jobs and occasional gigs wherever he was needed. During one such time, while Steve managed the cables and sound boards for Robin’s band, Billy Hargrove sauntered up to him with just as much charm mixed with hauteur as he’d ever displayed.

It wasn’t like meeting an old friend, because they had never been more than acquaintances, and roughly ten years was enough time for a personality to evolve ten different ways.

Steve couldn’t say how much he and Billy had evolved, really, but there was a point in there somewhere.

Maybe it lived in the, “I never expected to see you in a dyke club, pretty boy,” since it was all the coming out either of them needed.

Or the wanton kisses and fervent hands underneath the neon rainbow on the venue’s wall.

Maybe the point sat in the things Billy wanted, and what Steve was reticent to provide. Because Billy was a king who knew what he liked, and seemed particularly talented at walking into Steve’s personal crises like an anniversary.

Steve craved.

But he didn’t know what he craved. What he yearned for. He knew Billy’s kisses made his brain go molten and fuzzy. He knew Billy’s smell brought him just as much comfort, excitement, and anxiety. He knew finally being outside of sex-crazed high school had deflated something in him. The expectations to perform. He knew losing Robin’s stupid game of You Rule / You Suck gave him a secret gift of relief.

But he still craved. He wanted touch but he wanted to be alone. He wanted companionship but he didn’t want sex. But he did enjoy sex, except he didn’t want the expectation of it.

Well.

That was it, wasn’t it?

Billy Hargrove, who could have anyone he wanted plastered to his stupid, unbuttoned chest, had sought out Steve. Steve, king of mixed signals, Harrington. It was only a matter of time before he got his face beaten again. For wasting Billy’s time. For refusing Billy’s advances even though Steve clearly enjoyed Billy’s lips on his neck, and Billy’s hand on his inner thigh. For wanting Billy’s company and flirtation without the rules that finished in the bedroom.

So Steve refused the gifts. The material favors he could’ve sold for a better apartment. Fucked his way to owning a house that his mom would feel comfortable visiting. Be an unfeeling toy who could pay for his mother’s shoes and his own pedicures.

“Steve?”

He turned away from the window and the city’s electric constellations. “Hm?”

“Where’d you go?”

The back of Steve’s throat ached. He looked down at their appetizer plates and decided, “I think I’m going home.” After a second of them both hearing it out loud, Steve said with more conviction, “I need to be home right now. I’m sorry. Thanks for dinner.”

He almost reached for his wallet to pay for his half of the artichoke dip, but reconsidered. He took his old prom tuxedo jacket off on the way to the elevator, waiting for the doors to close before he pressed his face into the old fibers.

It would be easier if Steve didn’t know money. If wealth were a foreign pillow he had never slept on; could be spoiled into never giving it up again.

Like a true mother with a sixth sense, Steve withdrew a package from his mailbox when he returned to his apartment building. Mrs. Harrington’s versions of care packages were fashion magazines, a subscription to The New Yorker, polaroids of her latest closet pieces, and Steve’s favorite candy.

He loved it all. He didn’t need laminated recipes, bags of rice, or resupplied hair products. He went up to his bedroom, stripped down to nothing, and fell into bed with the hefty parcel. Fruity hard candies fell out like confetti, and he stuck a green apple square inside his cheek while he looked through her baggie of polaroids.

Peach suede 130s. Steve felt a warm tickle in his belly at that. She only wore 130s if she was pissed at his father. A woman in 130s walked with the force of a storm, mostly because the damn things were nearly intolerable to wear without a platform.

Another pair of diamond earrings. One of these days, people were going to realize how boring clear rocks were.

Dark, amethyst Miu Mius with the heel and toe encrusted with pearls. Steve’s dad must’ve really pissed her off to warrant that apology.

The magazine subscription had piled up, so he had three New Yorkers to read, but he opened the tome of Vogue first. His mother dog-earred her favorite articles, scent samples, and spreads. She often favored the androgynous and male fragrances. Steve liked that a whole lot. He wasn’t sure if she did that for him because he liked them, or if he liked them because she did that.

He held the magazine to his face as he went to the kitchen, smelling the first fragrance sample while he reached for his cache of boxed cake mix. It was a funfetti kind of night. He rattled the package of sprinkles in his hand while reading about some summer collection where the runway happened in a Greek ampitheatre. Sounded fun. Sounded like a great vacation. Beach, wine, and then modern art fusing with ancient architecture.

Steve didn’t excel in chemistry, but he knew a different kind of magic.

Which didn’t actually include baking. The cake emerged a little dark, but he cut off the burnt top, iced it to glorious, sugar perfection, and took a slice to bed with him. He turned the parcel upside-down for the last of the candy to come out so he could throw the envelope away -

Two bottles of nail polish landed heavily on the bed. Steve lifted the darker bottle to see a purple so ebony he thought it was black until he opened it to see the paint up close.

Purple and peach. To match his mother’s shoes.

Not many people understood his parents’ methods of producing or avoiding affection. But Steve did. He shook up the poison violet and painted his toenails in between forkfuls of cake.

He didn’t hear from Billy the next day.

Or the next.

As bad as Steve felt, he couldn’t say he minded. Nor would he be surprised if Billy never called him again. The idea brought a lonely peace during the commute to work, reading his magazines on the train before keeping them safe in a folder that he stuffed inside his backpack. Even if Steve’s chest felt like a cold balloon, with its latex worn thin and tired, he had his little things to keep him warm.

Then a knock on his apartment door.

Steve answered it with a cheek full of cake, interrupted from making his grocery list of actual nutritional value -

Billy had never visited before. Steve stared at him long enough for him to ask, “Are you going to let me in?”

Steve glanced at the box under his arm and turned into his apartment with a sigh. Billy closed the door behind him as he remarked, “You don’t know what’s in it yet.”

There wasn’t exactly anywhere for Steve to theatrically storm off to. His kitchen was also his living room, and a half-wall partitioned the bedroom off to the side. His apartment was one long rectangle, and Steve remained stuck in the middle of it.

“Billy, I don’t know what you want from me that you think you can get from expensive things.”

“I don’t recall asking for anything in return,” he drawled while removing his coat.

“Don’t take that off,” Steve retorted.

“I’m taking it off.”

“This isn’t going to be a long visit.”

“Would you at least open the damn thing first?” Billy presented the box on the flat of his hand like a waiter’s tray.

Steve knew a shoe box when he saw one. He swatted the lid off the box before he even meant to. He was so tired of this game. Of these rules. He doesn’t want to see some snotty designer sneaker that isn’t to his taste. Some item the rules would dictate he accept without complaint. Or some chunky, foamy plastic, glorified tennis shoe that is over hyped . . .

He sees the red first.

It’s not a sneaker.

Hot Chick heels. 100mm. Black suede on top, red bottom. The leather around the heel scallop-cut like minimalist flower petals.

Steve’s breath has stopped in his chest. The pad of his thumb moved across the soft, matte leather before he stops himself. He tries to look stern when he dares to peek up at Billy, but those water-turquoise eyes are steady on him, absorbing his every reaction.

“These don’t exist in suede.”

Because they didn’t. Hot Chicks came in patent leather only.

“They do now.”

“Louboutin sizes down.”

“Then we’ll have them stretched.”

Steve is losing. Billy knows he’s losing. Billy - he -

“How - ?” Steve begins but stops. He closed his eyes and swallowed, only to flinch a little when Billy grasped his chin, holding him in place as he leaned in to lick the corner of his mouth free of icing.

“Will you try them on for me?”

Steve feels a mixture of defeat mixed in with petulance and vulnerable glee as he warily takes the box to his humble couch. Billy looked at his bed, and then to the kitchen on the other side of the apartment. He strolled into it and lifted the knife for a slice.

Steve, meanwhile, took his time. He opened the paper from where it had floated back over the shoes. He lifted the box to inhale the leather. He took one shoe out just to...see it. Look at it. Read the number stamped on the red arch.

Steve had to remove his socks, revealing his lacquered toes as Billy sat next to him with a plate. He eased the coffee table out of the way, giving Steve room to wiggle his foot into the severe 100mm heel.

They were hardly glamorous under his old, cut-off sweats.

But.

He’d never actually seen his feet in heels before. Never bothered to try to find his size.

Billy handed him the other shoe, and stood up with a ready hand. Steve wiggled into it and accepted his hold as he stood up.

How do you walk in those? he’d once asked his mother.

Trust the heel, my love, she’d answered, strolling around her bedroom in her 130s. If you’ve paid enough for it, it better hold up your entire form, and your dating baggage.

Steve had laughed, but listened to her every word. Move like a wheel barrow. You pivot on your toes, like the wheel, and rest on the heels.

“I’ve got you,” Billy purred when Steve teetered. Just a little.

“Why did you get me these?” Steve had to ask while he began to ease his arm off of Billy’s shoulders.

“Might’ve had a look inside your mail,” he admitted shamelessly. “I thought you might’ve ordered something and I could finally see what you liked. Instead, it’s the one thing I’ve seen you accept.”

“You’re a creep,” Steve declared, but he couldn’t look away from his feet as he strolled around the coffee table.

Billy laughed and sat down to his cake. “This is good.”

“It’s from a box.”

“It’s still good.”

Things . . . changed, after that. Billy came over just to come over. And he pestered Steve with endless questions.

“Do you like these?” he asked with his nose against the magazine pages.

Steve towered over him in his heels, but he’d wash dishes in whatever he wanted, thanks very much. And leather needed to be worn, as his mother taught him. Plastic is trash. If it comes from a living creature, it lives on a creature.

Steve snorted beside him. “My mom crimps those pages.”

“But do you like them?”

“They’re fun in magazines, but perfumes were never really my thing.”

“What is your thing?”

“Right now? You, elbows deep in here.”

Billy perked right out of the magazine only to lock onto the sink. “Because you’re having trouble reaching it now?”

Steve meant to have a witty come-back, but he got caught up in his own giggles. “Yeah.”

Then,

“Can I stay the night?”

Something must have flashed across his face, because Billy added, “Not for sex. I’ve taken the hint, all right?”

Steve slowly unfolded his socks where he sat on the foot of the bed. “Why do you want to?”

Billy wiped his hands on the dish towel and padded across the room to sit beside him. “Because I want to taste you before I sleep. And I wanna taste you when I wake up. I want your snark in my ears all the time - ”

“All the time?” Steve repeated, deadpan.

“Yeah, all the time. I can’t believe it either.”

Billy’s features were warm, unbelievably warm as he watched Steve laugh. “Of course I want to have sex with you. But I miss you when... I miss you all the time. It’s embarrassing.”

Steve rolled his eyes onto him, to which Billy defended, “I have things to do.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the big man in town,” Steve babied, pushing his chest so he toppled backward.

“I am, actually,” he crooned, his hands finding Steve’s legs easily when he straddled him. “I’d work better with you on my desk.”

“My hairy legs and scraped up heels?” Steve threatened breathily, holding Billy’s cheek and jaw in one hand while he leaned over him so all Billy could see was Steve.

“All of it,” he exhaled, and pulled Steve’s head the last inch for a kiss.

Billy’s next gift was a pair of slippers. Plush, soft, and perfect after an afternoon in 100s.

Then he gave Steve a massage. Steve could accept those with ease. The balls of his feet hurt and even blushed a faint indigo from being so unused to heels. The warm attention of Billy’s hands on the arches of his feet, heels, and ankles; as well as the cold tennis balls he stored in Steve’s freezer to roll along his feet.

By then, he’d seen Steve’s anklet. So the next shoe box Steve opened were dark green suede, as poisonously dark as his mother’s violet heels. The toe was bare, but the heel was encrusted with opals. The milky stones flashed green and orange as Steve walked in the 120mm heel.

“How do they feel?”

Steve, with far more mastery over heels now, pivoted on his toes and planted one on the couch in between Billy’s thighs. His warm hand cradled Steve’s ankle immediately.

“What if I shaved for these?”

“Then I’d never take my hands off you.”

“So nothing would change,” Steve giggled, teasing gone as he landed on Billy’s lap. The man underneath him hummed his mirth into Steve’s mouth, his other hand burying in Steve’s hair while he let Steve control the kiss, explore his mouth.

“I thought they’d go with your eyes,” he said when the kiss petered off and Steve kissed his nose. Billy touched the pad of his thumb high on Steve’s cheek. “There’s a little bit of green there.”

Steve let Billy fuck him in those shoes.

Because he finally craved all the way, beyond fear of rules. Beyond the existence of toys. He craved Billy deeper than skin, and Billy gave it to him.

And when Billy got him a pair of 130s . . . blood red and spiked with tiny, crimson points, he let Steve fuck him.

#everything i know about shoes i learned from Violet Chachki #harringrove #ficlet #asexual!steve #sugardaddy!billy #sugarbaby!steve #neonponders #pondermoniums #lazybakerart #happy birthday love!!!#no i don't know billy's job #cover a plot hole with an unreliable narrator~

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

rapp-ed around your heart (01)

word count; 19,578

summary; stan and Irene have decided that mitch needs. a little downtime, and he’s pretty moody about it, until you put him in his place.

notes; this is the beginning of what is going to be a six part series, all based on the road. I really hope you guys like it, it’s about healing, and finding purpose.

warnings; none, really. mitch is moody, but what’s new?

The South East

“Whatever it is that you think I did, I am taking zero responsibility for it until you have proof.” Mitch announced his innocence loudly from the second he stepped into the office, and Hurley simply glared at him from where he was sitting on the other side of the desk, and he flopped himself down until the comfortable chair to wait for his latest bollocking over disobeying orders, being reckless, having an attitude, or whatever it was that he was about to be reamed for.

“That fact that you immediately have to defend yourself is a reason enough for me to be doubtful in your conduct, Agent Rapp.” He recognised that voice, rolling his eyes a little bit letting his lips flick up at the sides in amusement as the stoic face of his superior came into view via video chat, and Hurley leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“Irene.” He nodded, eyes flicking between the pair, and brows shooting up as he waited. “So, why exactly am I here?”

“You’ve been working with us for almost three years now, and you’ve been working yourself hard since the incident in Ibiza, which would make it four years since you last gave yourself a break.” His heart clenched a little at the painful memories that flashed behind his eyes, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had once been, and he crossed his own arms, raising his shoulders and dropping them back down in a shrug.

“Your point?”

“The point is, Mitch, that we look after our agents. You are taking a break. A long one.” He let out a groan at the woman’s words, beginning to spew denial and complaints from the second he had processed the words, wiping a hand over his face and shaking his head in denial, but the slamming of an open palm down onto the table was enough to silence him as he looked up at Stan.

“Listen, this isn’t entirely altruistic. We aren’t sending you on a holiday to let you have fun in the sun in the Bahamas. You are going to wear yourself out, and one day you will fuck up in the field and that will cost lives of other agents, and a hell of a lot of civilians.” He huffed, glaring at his superiors in silence, and Stan smirked a little at finally getting him to shut up. “You don’t have anything to live for, Rapp.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Hurley held his hands up, and Irene rubbed her forehead with a sigh, mumbling under her breath about the subtlety of men. “What we mean, Mitch, is that you’ve spent so long throwing everything into work and revenge, that you don’t have anything anymore. Work is important to you, I get it, but it can’t be everything. You have to have something that motivates you, something that inspires you, makes you wake up in the morning, or else you aren’t fighting for anything.”

“What happened to ‘never let it get personal’, huh?” His words were pointed in sharp and bitter tone at Stan, a vicious stab at him for the tactic he’d once used to whip him into shape emotionally, and the older man didn’t even flinch.

“That was when you were unstable, but you’re one of our best agents now, and you train the recruits. When your anger was out of control, anything you latched onto becomes your primary focus, but now you have nothing to guide your direction or give you a purpose.” She sighed, and he slumped back into the chair a little bit.

“What, and you think two weeks in Europe is going to make me a new person?” He snorted at the thought, picturing himself in a striped shirt and a beret, with a curled moustache when he came back and an affection for pastries.

“Actually, you’re staying in the country. Start you up easy, and all.”

He wasn’t sure what to say anymore, and he didn’t see the point. Life felt drained of colour and entirely pointless, the only things that gave him joy were knowing that he was keeping others like him safe, people who hadn’t yet undergone the life-changing trauma he had getting a chance to skip over it and enjoy a life he didn’t get to have.

“My niece, she’s going on a little road trip. I talked to her, and she’s agreed to take you along with her.” Mitch was entirely unaware that Stan even had any family, but he dropped that in favour of searching his brain for an excuse not to go in a cramped car with a complete stranger, but he felt like he was short-circuiting, mind coming up a total blank as he was filled with white noise. The smirk Stan’s face was enough to piss him off even more, but he bit his tongue and waited to be dismissed, he could always come up with an excuse between now and then. “You’d better go and pack, she’ll be here in an hour.”

“Wait, what? And you didn’t think to tell me until now?” He seethed, standing in his seat, before watching between the two higher-ups who were staring him down for his outburst. “Can I be dismissed, or what?”

“Yeah, you can go, but you better be ready by the time she gets here.” He was already out the door before Stan had even finished speaking, the words being shouted after him as he left the door wide open, spite to make him stand up and close it himself, and he heard it slam shut only a second later. He enjoyed the easy recruits all but jumped out of his way in fear as he stormed across the courtyard, stomping up the outside stairs to the top floor of the dormitories, the floor that had been reserved for him and him only, the single perk of staying on to advise being getting to have his own space rent-free, even if it was a little small and cramped, with every little privacy from the group of people constantly moving through in the lower floors.

There was a bag under his bed, the one he usually used when being sent away on an assignment, and he dragged it out with his foot, dumping it on the bed. Opening up various drawers and cabinets, he shoved a collection of jeans and shorts, jumpers and t-shirts into a bag, enough clothes for about two weeks, and enough underwear and socks to match.

Laying out a fresh set of clothes for himself, he stripped off the ones he was currently wearing, dumping them into the laundry basket that he could throw into the washer before leaving, and have one of the interns clean up and leave outside his door for when he returned.

The water took a good minute or two to warm up, and so he busied himself with swiping his toiletries and cosmetics into the bag too, before stepping into the shower and letting out a low groan as the scalding water washed over his skin as he stepped under it. Dirt and grime washed away into the drain as he thought about the training he’d been taking part in during the day, cuts and grazes along his back stinging at the temperature, but washing away every ounce of blood and dirt, cleaning the wounds for him as he washed himself off.

His hair was washed too, until the water was running clean as his muscles had eased, the tension slipping away with every deep breath he took. Not only did he let the physical dirt drain away, but he allowed the water to take away the impurities he felt in his chest too, the way his angry moods and stubborn hatred for the idea of leaving were carried away into the drain.

The fear, however, that stuck around. The overwhelming anxiety that came just at the thought of not being busy. Mitch liked to work himself into the ground, he wanted to be sure that he woke up in the morning with things to get straight into, and he wanted to be so tired at the end of the night that he didn’t have time to lay awake in the dark.

It was no longer the flashes of Katrina on the beach that came up behind his eyes, that was a pain he had acknowledged and processed, breaking it down until he was able to move on, but he was haunted by a life he never got to live. When he was younger, he was such high aspirations, and he mounted for a future he would never get. He missed the thrill of playing lacrosse, or the excitement he got at the idea of experiencing something new, or the adrenaline rush from forcing himself to do something that gave him a little scare.

Everything felt numb now, like the world was in black and white, surrounding him with the buzzing of white noise as everything fell away into the background. It felt blurry, and out of focus, and he felt disassociated from his life, and so when the chance came around for him to fall right into that void and get lost in his insecurities, he wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity.

When the water finally began to run cold, he switched it off, stepping out and towelling himself dry, before picking up his watch and checking the time. Fastening the device onto his wrist, he had just enough time to run through his laundry and grab a snack before leaving, and his stomach rumbled at the thought of the smoked ham and aged cheese sitting in the main fridge, a roll that he could place it within, and his mouth salivated a little in excitement. Tugging black jeans up his legs and a forest green henley over his head, he was grateful for how tidy his space already was, before grabbing at his favourite sneakers and tugging them onto his feet. It was a little cold for his liking, and so he swiped the first jacket he could from his closet, a slightly too big leather jacket with only one rip in it, that could easily be hidden if he didn’t stick his thumb through it, and it was enough for him.

He grabbed at the laundry bag, swinging it over his shoulder before peeking his head out of the door, and flagging down the first recruit he could find. Dropping the bag into his arms, he smirked as the man looked between it and himself, scurrying away seconds later with the strict instructions to wash it, dry it, fold it and leave it outside his door for when he came back.

He patted himself down, checking for keys wallet and his phone, doing a final sweep to check he had everything, before he was setting off, locking the apartment as he went. His first call was the kitchen, stopping in to make the sandwich he had promised himself, before taking a bite out of it and hiking his bag up onto his shoulder, and making his way back through the cabin.

Rounding the large property, he could see a vehicle already pulled up, a storage box on top that was open, and his supervisor was leaning against the back of the large car, a cigarette in his mouth as he listened to a woman just out of his view chat excitedly, but he could hear his voice as he made his way over. It was clearly one of the CIA vehicles, one he was so used to riding along in, and he momentarily wondered about how you’d gained permission for it, but the almost unnoticeable patched-up holes along the side and scratches told him that it was a decommissioned one that had seen better days before being shot at during field days.

The closer he got, the more he could see. Slightly shorter than he was, the girl was wearing a flowy dress and a cardigan, ankle boots covering her feet and sunglasses sitting up in her hair as she showed off a large map to her uncle, one that he didn’t care for, but he seemed to grab both of their attentions as he shuffled over to them.

“Rapp, just on time.” Stan broke, his voice already going colder just from interacting with him instead of the girl he called family, and Mitch simply rolled his eyes.

“Oh, lighten up, Uncle Stan.” The girl was far too positive for his liking, especially while he was still angered over the entire situation, but he tried to be polite, shaking her hand when she offered it out to him, and gave him her name. She moved a little, trying to show him the large map as she attempted to redirect it so that he could see, and he dropped his bag to the floor, finishing his sandwich and sticking his hands into his pockets. “I got some places marked out, but is there anywhere in particular that you want to see, Mitch?”

“I couldn't care less where we go.” Your smile faltered a little, and he almost felt guilty for it, but you were shrugging him off only a second later, and he had to admit to himself that he was more than eager just to get on with this trip so that he could get it over with, the soon you both got on the road would be the sooner he could call this ridiculous holiday off, and the sooner he could come home and get back to his regularly scheduled timetable of running himself into the ground to avoid his thoughts.

Stan took the initiative to pick up his bag and place it in the open compartment above the car, before licking it shut tightly and double-checking it was all sealed up, before the older man was leaning down to press a fatherly kiss to the top of your head as you folded the map away. “You ready to go, Mitch?”

Your tone was a little cooler as you spoke to him, but still held no venom, and he simply nodded, making his way over to the passenger seat, all of the windows along the car blacked out, and he at least appreciated that privacy. Letting himself in, he stared right ahead, ignoring the scenery as he slumped into the plush leather and strapped himself in, crossing his arms and glaring at Stan as the man put out his cigarette and beaming sardonically at him from outside the windshield.

You were only seconds behind, hopping up into the vehicle with more pep than he thought possible, and getting yourself settled, before starting up the car, and dragging him away from the life he knew, on a ridiculous attempt to fix what he already knew to be broken, in his opinion, beyond repair.

It was an uncomfortable silence for at least an hour, only the humming you made along to the playlist that was ringing out softly within the car, your tapping at the steering wheel with your fingers to particularly catchy beats, and the attempts at small talk you’d given up on somewhere between fifteen and twenty minutes into your journey. He was upset, and frustrated, and absolutely did not ‘want to play the number plate game’ with you.

Eventually, his curiosity took over, and he turned to face you, sighing a little for emphasis in what seemed more like a huff, and you glanced over at him from your place behind the wheel.

“So where exactly are we going first?”

“Oh! We are off to Fort Monroe!” You were still too peppy for his liking, and he hummed discontentedly under his breath, before nodding along and twisting to stare back out of the window, this time, looking dead ahead instead of to the side. He almost felt like a petulant teenager, slumped in his seat with a frown, arms crossed and being unnecessarily huffy, the same exact attitude he’d had all those years ago when his parents had sent him away to boarding school. “I was thinking we could go to the beach, maybe?”

He grunted at the thought, and you chuckled under your breath a little, glancing back in your mirrors and slowing for only a second to allow another driver to overtake you, before your attention was back on him.

“Not up for the beach? That’s cool. There’s a restaurant I kinda’ wanted to try, but we can do anything, really. I don’t have much of a plan for it. Just some ideas. I marked out some places around here that seemed cool.”

“A road trip of Virginia, how thrilling.” He rolled his eyes a little, his anger only bubbling up further at the cheery laugh you let out in response, looking over at him.

“I mean, I thought we’d start out easy for today. We’re already halfway through the day, it wasn’t worth getting anything big.” You shrugged, and he turned to look at you for only a second, cringing at the next song that came up, and he did not hesitate in lifting his finger to press skip on your phone as it sat in its stand on the dashboard. “We move down towards Florida over the next week or so, taking it in a slow build, getting to the road so much can be hard on your stomach, but the drives are divided up pretty nicely.”

“Florida?” You grinned, nodding at him, taking your eyes over the road for only a second. “How long is this road trip?”

You glanced over him curiously, your confusion at his statement melting away only a second later, before you were grinning in a way that made his stomach flip with nerves, unsure as to whether he actually wanted to know that answer. Instead of answering him, you reached over to the glove box with one hand, opening it up as the drawer fell open into his lap, and you fished through to find the old-fashioned and large paper map, slamming the storage compartment closed again and dropping the paper onto his legs. “Uncle Stan didn’t tell you the whole truth, did he?”

He grabbed at it, unfolding the large paper. He expected a zoomed-in version of the coast you were along, maybe a little more, but it was a map of the entire country, a red marker drawn along, lines connecting at least thirty dots along the way, and his jaw dropped, trying to add up in his head how long this trip would be, simply with driving and minimal stay time, and he realised he was looking at months of travel here.

“What the fuck?” You jumped a little at his outburst, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the paper before him. “This is one of those road trip things, right around the fuckin’ country! It’s going to cost a fortune in motels alone!”

You shook your head at him as he folded it down enough that it could sit flat, and you jabbed your thumb over your shoulder, causing him to turn and follow the motion with his sight. “We aren’t staying in that many motels.”

He almost felt stupid for how he’d missed it before, but the backseat was flattened down with a mattress laying over from the trunk to reaching almost all the way up to the seats, blankets and covers mixed with pillows, general amenities sitting around the edges, the largest portable phone charger Mitch had ever seen sitting on the floor, and he felt like the tiniest bit of hope he’d had toward this trip just flew out of the window, and at this point, he wasn’t even on control of the complaints that began to pour from his lips. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?”

“I found out this fucking morning that I have to traipse around the goddamn country with a fucking stranger, and now you’re telling me I have to sleep in the back of a car, doing shit I don’t want to do and sending my money in places I don’t want to go to, all for what? Nothing, that’s what.” He ran a hand over his face, a highly agitated noise leaving him. “Fuck this.”

You let out your own growl, the first sound of anything other than pure glee that you had released, the car jerking roughly as you spun off onto the side of the road, throwing the vehicle into park and turning to him. His eyes widened a little with the fire burning in your glare as you turned to look at him, sunny expression turned sour.

You weren’t willing to let him ruin your trip, this venture meant the world to you, you had been planning and saving up for more years than you could count.

“Listen, Rapp.” You hissed the name out at him, with more venom than even your uncle ever had, and he felt a little intimidated at the sudden rage that had spiked up within you. “This is my road trip. I planned it, I initiated it, I bought the car and saved for fuel, and did all the research. You think it was my dream to have a tag-along stranger jump on board? No. Especially not one with the general etiquette skills of a fucking pebble and the manners of an ex-con with a diagnosis in psychopathy and anti-social disorder.”

He opened his mouth to retort, feeling almost a little intimidated, shrinking back into his seat as you took a deep and steadying breath, closing your eyes for a second as you tried to reign yourself in, before you were looking at him again, before he could even think of anything to say in reply.

“Look, my uncle told me he wanted someone to come with me, someone who needed a little peace and quiet, and something to brighten up an otherwise dismal life. He told me about you, and I happened to think that this road trip would be just as good for you as it will be for me, so I said yes to you coming along. I’m not scared of my uncle, Mitch, and I’m not scared of Irene either. They aren’t my goddamn superiors, and I’m not letting you ruin this for me, so if you keep up this killjoy attitude then I will put you on a bus home, I don’t care where we are in the country. Got it?”

He gaped a little, before swallowing thickly, nodding his head, and letting himself acknowledge the guilt that was creeping up within him. Logically, he knew it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t the one that insisted he go on holiday, you weren’t the one that set him up with months of duty, and you certainly weren’t the one that had caused him a lifetime and a half’s worth of pain all crammed into the last decade, and yet he had been taking it out on you. Clearing his mind, he cleared his throat, mumbling an apology which you were quick to accept, before setting the car back off into motion.

It was awkward and tense, and he knew he’d already fucked it all up, and the two of you had barely been on the road for two hours, but he forced himself to relax a little, listening intently to the song playing, and relaxing in the seat. Uncrossing his arms and letting them sit in his lap instead, his head pressed into the rest behind his head, and he watched the scenery sliding by.

“So, that terrifying glare and scary, angry brow thing is genetics, then?”

You looked at him for only a second, easing up a little from your rigid pose, and laughed lightly under your breath, shrugging a single shoulder. “He taught me everything I know.”

He felt a little better at having broken the silence, and instead opted to open the map back up, studying the stops carefully, as you pulled off of the highway at the first sign guiding you towards ‘Fort Monroe’.

To say Virginia had been an uncomfortable situation of you both would be the understatement of the century. Small talk was fractured and strained, and you had no idea what you were supposed to talk to him about, and you had figured he was feeling the same way about you. Instead, you had busied yourself with mumbled about the different things you were seeing as you wandered around the Nation exhibit of Fort Monroe, and then moved on to dinner.

There was no longer the looming tension of the argument waiting to break out, and in his defence, you could see that he was at least trying to be better, but the pair of you hadn't exactly hit the ground running when you’d started out, and it was having a staggering impact on everything else that was going on for the pair of you.

He had opted to sleep upfront, leaning the passenger seat as far back as it could go, and accepting the blanket and pillow you’d offered him, shuffling every few minutes for almost an hour before he had finally settled in his seat, and you were grateful for the reprieve, before finally being able to fall asleep yourself.

Sleeping that first night seemed to hit that refresh button for you both, because when you woke up, he had already been awake, but he’d mumbled a ‘good morning’ to you when he heard you stirring, actually putting down his phone to turn around and look at you when you sat up. He had shown you the google maps version of the guide that he’d downloaded for you both, to add a little extra navigation, and inform you about roadblocks on your routes, and other such information that you may need.

After sorting yourself out, a change of clothes, and finding a rest stop to freshen up at, you were back on the road, a far more positive atmosphere shared between you both as you set off on the fairly short drive which covered the rest of the distance between where you’d stopped in Virginia, and making your way down towards North Carolina. Your first stop was Crabtree Falls, wanting to take a little break as you got yourselves used to the amount of driving you were going to be doing, and opting to check out the Museum of Natural Sciences to stretch your legs out and get a little bit of fresh air before you were on your way again.

When you arrived, it wasn’t overly busy, no crowds and queues and masses of tourists, and you were grateful for the reprieve, and the fountain of things to talk about with the man beside you so that conversation didn’t have to feel as forced.

The second you stepped inside, you were in awe, glancing up at the beautiful glass dome that the floors all circled around, balconies overlooking from the upper layers, and you took a minute to appreciate the ornate workings of the decorations that were up and about, before a nudge on your arm caught your attention.

Turning to look at the man beside you, his hands were tucked into his pocket, but his elbow was brushing yours, before he nodded his head stiffly towards one of the signs before you both. “They have live animals. Wanna’ check out the snakes?”

“Only if we can look at the big whale skeleton first.”

He nodded his head, the two of you gathering your tickets, and grabbing a map to guide yourself around, unfolding it before the both of you and pointing out the various things you wanted to check out. You did not take it in order, wandering from the top of the museum to the bottom, several times, neglecting to follow the numerical path that had been laid out, but choosing to simply follow the numbers of things you wanted to look at each time you got curious about someone else.

The uneasiness between you both had fallen away somewhere between the butterfly enclosure and the ‘Mountain Cove’ exhibit. The feeling that you were just waiting to blow up at him again the second he began acting out of line once again had faded away, and the borderline silence he had allowed you to suffer through when you’d first arrived had changed into small comments and subtle attempts at conversations that varied between the attractions you saw, all dependent on the sights you were seeing, and just how much it caught his attention, but you certainly weren't complaining.

By the time you’d left, you had a large plushie of a dinosaur under your arm, and a smile on your face, and Mitch seemed fractionally less tense than you had seen him since this trip had begun.

You had a simple dinner, the two of you simply choosing to get by on a drive-thru meal that you could eat as you began the trip down to Georgia, a truck stop in mind that you could use for stopping at, as well as sleeping and cleaning yourselves up some more. Your third day had a dismal start, one of your tires popping from a particularly rough pothole in the road, the impact giving you a headache from the jerk of the car before you’d pulled over to the side of the road, and hours had passed before someone had been out to change your spare tire.

You’d had to pull out the mattress and blankets from the back of the car, balancing it on the top of the vehicle to stop it getting dirty just to be able to get to your tools and more than half of the day had passed you by before you were getting back on the road again, your plans ruined and your mood on the floor, at least five hours worth of driving still ahead of you, and the day had been lost entirely by the time you’d been able to get everything back to the way it should be.

It was quiet as you drove along, nothing cheering you up as you stared out at the open roads, feeling dismal about what had already gone wrong in your trip, the entire outlook making it feel like this was going to be the prediction for the whole trip, and despite your best efforts to be positive, the bad day had put a downer on your mood.

“So, tell me what this playlist is about? Because there’s songs from the sixties, and songs that are on the radio now, all mixed in together, and I have yet to hear the same song twice.” You were a little startled at him initiating the conversation, and you could hear the strain in his voice at actively starting a conversation that had no particular end place in sight, but you realised he was doing it purely for the purpose of cheering you up, and so your lips flicked up at the sides as you glanced at him. “It just seems wildly random to me.”

“Well, a lot of different genres and moods went into it.” He raised a brow at you to continue, seeming genuinely interested in the explanation, and you let out a little laugh at the thought. “Well, firstly you have your typical road trip songs. You know the ones. ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’, ‘Sweet Home Alabama’..”

“Yeah? How about ‘Mr. Blue Sky’, and ‘Road To Nowhere’?”

“Of course!” You were a little happier now, this interaction with him being far more positive than he had been so far, and you rolled your shoulders, forcing yourself to relax as he hummed under his breath. “Then, there were just some of my favourites thrown in, like ‘Brandy’ by ‘Looking Glass’, and the ones that are just typical summer songs. ‘Shotgun’ and ‘Budapest’ by George Ezra, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He mocked, and you couldn't contain your grin as you looked over at him, that being the first piece of sarcasm that hadn't been a somewhat cruel jab towards you.

“Then, there are some of those songs that you can’t help but tap your feet and sing along to. You have to have a couple.” He sighed, muttered a ‘suppose so’, but there was no heat behind it, and quiet took over you both once again, the next song seeming to click into place as a way to end the conversation, and you cleared your throat a little, refocusing on the road. Maybe four more songs, five if you’d stopped paying attention at any point, had passed by before he spoke again, and you waited patiently as he formed his words.

“So.. there’s a random place on the map in Georgia, where are we going tomorrow?”

“There’s this little town called ‘Covington’, and I want to check it out.” He made a vague sound of confirmation, before he was pulling out his phone from his pocket a little awkwardly, and tapping his fingers at the keyboard on the screen, seeming to focus on whatever he was seeing for a good few minutes.

“It looks kinda’ boring. It’s just a regular town, I don’t see the big deal.”

“What, so you’ve never seen The Vampire Diaries?” You gasped falsely, and he clicked off his phone, shuffling a little in his seat and shaking his head, a motion you caught out of the corner of your eye.

“The what?”

“Oh, you need to add it to your list. It’s one of my favourite shows, and this is where it was filmed!” You were filled with enthusiasm just at the idea of getting to talk about it, and he huffed out in amusement at the idea of it.

“Vampires in Georgia, I thought it was supposed to be Transylvania? Isn’t it a bit too sunny in Georgia.” You felt your mind a little blown at how much there was to unpack in such a simple sentence, giggling as you sifted through your thoughts.

“First of all, it’s filmed in Georgia, but based in Virginia. There’s a lot you don’t know about modern vampires.” You had a falsely judgmental tone at his words, feeling your chest warm at the chuckle you managed to elicit from him.

“You’d better fill me on all this vampire shit before we get there, then. You only have a few hours, better get to it.”

Seeing the town in all its glory was the kind of experience that never could have been described to you, and if it had been, it would be nowhere near enough to amount to the way you felt. You weren’t sure how many photos you’d taken, your phone spending the majority of its time on the camera as you took a range of selfies and photos of everything you were seeing. You saw everything you possibly could, leaving Mitch to sit with a coffee in the gardens for an hour as you took the ‘Vampire Stalkers’ tour, before you’d wandered around Covington Square and pointed out different landmarks to him.

He had even offered to take a picture of you in front of the clock tower, and while he wasn’t exactly the most enthusiastic photographer, you were grateful for the offer, because it had felt like an olive branch between you both. You had described scenes and painted pictures for hi as best you could, and despite knowing you were going a little overboard with your passion, he had glazed over a little, no longer responding but simply choosing to nod and hum occasionally, throwing in the kind of replies that were able to pass for any kind of agreement, and you had fizzled out soon after that.

Instead, you’d offered to show him the Mystic Grill, the restaurant catching his attention from the second food had been mentioned, and he perked up a little as he agreed. You took pictures in front of the signs, forcing him to get into a picture with you, and he scowled at the camera as you sat on either side of the neon sign, before getting yourselves inside and settled at a table.

It was exactly how you’d pictured it would be, rustic and peaceful, a country theme that seemed aged and well worn, but you adored it no matter what, and the menu only made you fall in love with the whole town a little more. By the time you’d made your way back to the car and found your next place to stop, changing into your pyjamas and taking turns to change for bed in privacy as the other watched the car, you had made a promise to yourself that you would be visiting again one day, no matter what.

You were settled in the back, and he was once again slouched in his passenger seat, but this time when you’d said goodnight, he made a tired sound of acknowledgement in response, instead of the usual icy silence, before rolling onto his other side and settling into his sleep.

Georgia marked a change in the dynamic between you both, nothing extreme, but the two of you had shifted from mildly irritated passengers to mere acquaintances, and the overwhelming feeling that you’d made a mistake by agreeing to take him on was washing away, to be replaced with indifferent emotions aimed to him, and hope for your journey. This trip meant the world yo you, and you couldn't deny that you’d struggled to fall asleep the last few nights as sadness and fear crept up on you that it was all going to be ruined if you couldn't enjoy a single moment of it without Mitch putting a negative fog down on every happy moment you had.

But, he was showing a change. He was trying, he was putting in the effort to at least not be the complete and utter twat you’d taken him for when you’d first met him, and the man who had done nothing but complain for two straight hours before you’d put him in his place was showing no signs of reemerging. As long as he kept his negativity and pessimism in check, then you could find it within yourself to simply enjoy your trip the way you would alone, as though his presence wasn’t going to be one to affect you, he was simply another presence on the road with you, like the SatNav or the music.

You spent a second day in Georgia, unable to have chosen between the Natural Science museum, the Aquarium, and the botanical gardens. It had been an earlier morning, and for the first time so far, you had woken up before Mitch had. He seemed equally as surprised, pleasantly enjoying the fact that for the first time in God knows how long that he’d slept in. No alarms, danger, or blaring horns for training. He didn’t have to be up to do sprints around the woods or an intensive workout that would leave his entire body screaming out in agony by the end of the day, only to have a full day forced upon him next time.

He voices such things to you in the streetside coffee and pastry shop that you’d stopped at for your brunch, after having a walk around the botanical gardens, something that had been more than soothing for the both of you.

The flowers, the sights, the ornate placements and decorations, with buzzing bees and butterflies, a beautiful eco-system that was preserved and protected within a society that often allowed nature to be turfed over for infrastructure, and it was one of the most beautiful sights that you had ever seen. You touched soft petals, and felt your face heat up when a butterfly had landed on your forehead, your eyes crossing as you tried to look at it and cheeks aching from your grin, and through every thought of his own, without being asked, Mitch had snapped a picture for you so that you could preserve the moment forever, and sent it to your phone only a second after it had flown away.

Filling up on warm pastries and taking a to-go cup of herbal iced tea with you as you chose to walk through the little town centre and window shop, before making your way to the aquarium, while he offered to take over on the driving from you, for the fair few hours drive down to one of the favourited sunny spots in Florida, before you had found the building, and all thoughts about anything other than seeing the pretty fish had slipped from the front of your mind. Only after the two of you had entered, paper band sealed around your wrists and told to follow the green arrows, did he divulge to you that he had never actually been to an aquarium before, a fact that made you positively outraged, in a way that made his lips flick up at the sides a little as he watched you dramatically mourn for his loss of fish observations.

You had taken your time, showing him everything and telling him just what you loved about the scenes, the way the lower tunnels lit up with blue as fish swam overhead, and the way the larger ones like stingrays and little sharks would come right up to the glass, getting you closer to the predators than you ever could be, and yet being entirely safe, as the rehabilitated animals continued with their life, enjoying the safety of their home. You allowed him to take pictures, and made him take one himself, standing with his hands shoved in his pockets as he stood in the middle of the tunnel that changed colours, the first one being his usual stoic and emotionless expression.

The second shot, though, was one that you sent to yourself just to be sure that it wouldn't be deleted from existence, because it was far too precious to lose. In the second, the tunnel was between blue and red, a deep purple shade with a pink edge was cast over the man, making shadows appear across his face, the look of awe standing out as he stared up, the largest shark they had swimming directly overhead in the picture as he stared up at it, and at that moment, there was nothing in his life, except the astonishment at the creature that had passed over him.

He thanked you when you handed him his phone back, nodding his thanks to you as he paused on the second, not bothering to spend too much time focusing it, but not deleting it either, closing his camera app and holding the phone tightly in his hand. He was more conversational for the rest of the trip, the photograph unlocking something within him, and he managed to ask you simple questions about why you liked museums so much, and if you liked zoos too, as well as reading the information plaques aloud each time you reached one. The night had rolled around sooner than you would have thought, and the two of you grabbed ice cream cones from a small cart nearby, eating them slowly as you walked towards the car.

“I always wanted to swim with dolphins, y’know.” He shrugged a little, taking a bite out of the mint ice cream on his cone, and you hummed as you licked at the simple chocolate one you had while considering your options.

“You’re only, like, twenty-five. You still have time to do cool things like swim with dolphins.”

He glanced over at you, pausing in his steps for a second, and for a moment, you thought he might open up, that he would reply to you, let you in a little bit so that you could try and find a way to help him heal, but he simply shrugged, and your hopes caved in on yourself, a little quiet falling between you both again as those walls that had been slowly crumbling down seemed to build back up to twice the height they had originally been, keeping you sealed out in the cold from ever getting know him. Once he had finished his ice cream, he was reaching around behind himself, rubbing at his lower back carefully, but his features never even changed, though it wasn’t the first time you’d picked up on it.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been messing with your back all day, trying to stretch all subtle-like.”

“Backache.” The word was grunted out, and you sighed a little at the cold tone he had resorted back to, feeling like for every step forward you took with him, you were taking three steps back.

“Well, for the past three nights you’ve been sleeping in a car seat. Why don’t you take it easy, lay down while I drive?” He shook his head as the two of you approached the vehicle, and you rounded to the driver’s side, leaning against the door and giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly fine, I’ve dealt with worse pains before.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to now.” It was a standoff between you both, and you reached out to place a hand on his arm, before deciding against his, swerving around him to tap on the tinted windows of the backseat. “Why don’t you lie down on the back, and I’ll drive. I’ll take it real slow, so you don’t get thrown about.”

“You’ll wake me up when we get there?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated at your assent for only a second, before he was dipping his head a little, and making his way around to the trunk of the car, allowing you to open it up with the car keys. Kicking off his shoes, he took them with him, his body flopping into the mound of cushions and pillows, and eyes already sliding shut the second he had, the door closing behind him as you got into the front. As promised, you drove slow, moving the pair of you down towards Florida, the night passing you by as you listened to your music so quietly that it wouldn't bother him, and in you slow pace, you were able to avoid disturbing him, the quiet tosses and turns he made causing you to glance back every so often.

Sometimes he was on the verge of being awake, blinking his eyes open a little in the darkness, to take in his surroundings, before adjusting his positions and laying back down. The darkness of the sky had been blossoming into pale pastel shades by the time you saw the entry signs for Orlando, and you could have cried with gratefulness as the journey came towards an end.

You were tired, having stopped once or twice to bolt into somewhere and grab a coffee, but you needed sleep, and as soon as the offer for such a thing had made itself known, you were more than happy to take it. The hotel felt like a godsend, the morning crawling on in as the sun rose up in early hours, the sun still a while off actually breaching the horizon, but the darkness of the sky was beginning to lighten at the horizon, and you were desperate to get some sleep.

You went to check in first, locking the car securely for the man, before registering a room with two beds for you both, opening the box atop the car to pull out your smaller bag, just enough clothes and provisions to get you through the morning until you were both awake again, before you were opening the back of the car once again. You weren’t sure how to wake him, perfectly aware of how jumpy he might be, and if he accidentally lashed out in shock, there would be a chance he wouldn't forgive himself for it, even if you told him it was okay.

Settling to place a hand on his ankle, you shook him gently, and while he awoke with a startled jump, he soon gathered where he was, letting out a little groan as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, and shaking off his slumber.

“How long?”

“About seven hours.” His eyes widened a little as he looked at you, before shuffling forwards to swing his legs over the edge of the car, and he tied his shoes on a little as he took in the area around him. “I booked us in already, and got stuff, but I’m pretty tired, so I’m about ready to crash.”

He simply nodded, reaching out to take your bag from your shoulder and swinging it up onto his own, before grabbing the keys from your hand and locking up the car. The pair of you shuffled through the lobby, one groggy and one exhausted, before leaning against the walls of the elevator as you found your room. You simply dropped the bag on the floor, kicking off your shoes as he pulled the curtains closed, before sealing the door and crashing onto your separate beds.

It was a restless sleep, your mind not even dreaming as you refreshed yourself from the long day followed by a long drive, the time taking its toll on you, and you slept in later than breakfast and almost missed lunch, but you felt like a brand new person when you woke. You weren’t sore or achy, and the crabby mood you’d felt creeping up on yourself before the rest was washed away, and the excitement of knowing that you had the rest of today, plus at least two more days without any long drives was something you were more than excited for, and you stretched yourself out across the mattress, stretching out your limbs properly for what felt like the first time in years, before flopping back onto the bed with a cheerful smile.

The hours had ticked by, the sun rising high up in the sky and you were grateful for the thick curtains that were keeping out the rays out once the heat had begun to rise. It was hot, practically scorching, and you knew it would have woken you up - if not burned you - through the window had they been left open.

“Good afternoon.”

You jumped with a little squeal, completely forgetting where were and who with for one small and blissful moment, and you sat yourself up on the bed, embarrassment flushing you when snapped to sit up straight, and he snorted out a laugh that he muffled behind his hands when he watched you do so. His hair was still dripping wet, but he had changed his clothes, and the rest of your bags had been brought in from the car too. “Well, you’re in a good mood.”

“I slept well and went to the gym, of my own accord, with no interruptions. The last time that happened, I was a new college graduate.” His brightened expression faltered a little as he thought about the memories flashing behind his eyes, before he was stepping towards a covered dish on the counter. “I woke up a while ago, and I made it down in time for breakfast. I brought you some fruit and a croissant.”

“You’re like a whole new person today.”

He swallowed thickly, but quickly handed it over to you as you brushed messy bedhead hair away from your face and to take the dish from him, sitting cross-legged on the mattress as he settled on his own. “You did something nice for me, so I’m returning the favour.” You weren’t too sure how to reply, and you didn’t want him to ever feel obligated to you, but you did want him to be able to trust you with small and simple things, and so you were willing to let it slide, this time.

“I’m going to take it easy today, but you’re free to do whatever you want, take the car, or anything.” You waved a hand at him as you uncovered the bowl of freshly chopped fruit and a pastry, choosing to begin picking at the slices of apples and strawberries first.

“What are you going to do?”

“Oh, some laundry, I only brought a couple of weeks worth of clothes, so when we get somewhere with laundry rooms, I’m going to take advantage. Wash the bedsheets, too, keep everything fresh and cosy.” You bit into the flaky treat, catching the crumbs first before they fell away into the bedding. “I also want to take a nice bath. A hot bath. Washing up at rest stations hasn’t been all that amazing.”

He chuckled, nodding his head a little instead, and mumbling an agreement to you for your statement. “I’ll hang around and help out. It’ll be good to have a day without having to do anything, we can get on with things tomorrow.”

You studied him for a second, the look shared between you both sparking something that almost felt like an understanding, like a bond of something other than hostility or impassive civilship, before offering him a genuine smile. “Wanna’ take all the washing down, and then watch a movie later?”

“Can I pick the film?”

You scowled at his bargain, but nodded, and he wore a victorious look, and you finished up your food, the rumbling in your stomach settling down as you found yourself satisfied. He sat with you while you ate, and the silence wasn’t exactly easy going but it wasn’t the same tension that made you squirm in your seat as you thought of anything to just break the silence or get away from.

He helped you strip down the sheets in the car, and fill your bag, carrying everything into the hotel and setting it all off in the laundry. You plugged the portable charger in to spark back up, and you had your bath, spending a long time soaking in the hot water and letting your fears slip away.

It wasn’t exactly the beginning you had hoped for, or the trip you had dreamed of for so long in your mind, but this was different. You didn’t mind company, in fact, when you thought about it, it was probably nice that you weren’t going to spend so long alone, and getting to share the experience with anyone as you travelled around the country was better than being lonely, but every time Mitch shut you out and built his walls back up when they crumbled even the tiniest amount mad you feel colder and more isolated than if you’d never had a companion with you on the journey at all.

He was an enigma, sometimes he seemed almost like he was happy to be there, and other time, you and the trip seemed to be the bane of his existence, and you couldn't place exactly what it was you were doing that made him open up each time, or what it was you did that made him lock right back up tight.

By the time you’d snuggled down into the bedding, he’d managed to set up the TV and somehow found Netflix, logging himself in as he scrolled the options, a bag of popcorn out on his chest that you really weren’t sure where it was from, but he nodded his head in the direction of the fresh stack of laundry ready to be taken out to the car, and you found your own bag sitting on top. Leaning across to swipe it from where it was, you were quick to rip it open, the salty-sweet smell of freshly buttered popcorn drifting up into the air.

He had somehow managed to find ‘The Vampire Diaries’, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looked at you, lips twisted up in a smirk when he hit play, a blush flooding your cheeks as the opening scene came on, and as much as you adored the program, even you could admit that it was cheesy. You marathoned the episodes back to back, listening to his little commentary when he fell into his comfort zone a little more, and it wasn’t until late into the night that the two of you fell asleep, the ‘still watching?’ question still glaring on the screen when you stirred in the morning.

Your first full and energy-filled day in Orlando was bringing you a bouncy and peppy mood, that was surprisingly not shot down the second the man awoke, he simply groaned as he looked at you pulling open the curtains, before twisting to bury his head under his pillow and flipping you off.

“C’mon, Mitch, get up!” You sat on the edge of his bed, and he nudged his leg out in an attempt to push you from the mattress as he mumbled something indiscernible into the bedding. “I had an idea today for something that I think you’ll be into..”

Your voice was higher, almost singing the words out as you tried to tempt him, and he removed the pillow, huffing before turning to look at you, and while his face was entirely blank. You’d like to think you were able to understand the subtle twitches of his lips and eyebrows by now, and that he was a little less unreadable than he liked people to think, and so you were not perturbed by what may seem angry on the surface.

“I was thinking we could go to the Kennedy space centre for the day. It seems like something you’d want to do.” He sighed through his nose, but didn’t take his gaze away from your own, and you smiled a little, shuffling up the edge of the bed a little closer to him when he sat up in his pillows, wiping at his face and blinking into the morning light, yet to speak. “Was I right?”

He looked away, rolling his eyes a little, but a small smile twisted on his lips instead of the frown you’d been expected. “Yes.”

“Ha! I feel successful!” He snorted at your statement, using his knee to push you off the edge of the bed so that he could stand up, walking straight past you and into the bathroom, the door slamming shut before you had time to start telling him about all the cool things you’d read about online, but you didn’t care, because the two of you were already off to a good start, and you were determined to keep that same vibe going for the rest of the day.

Turned out he was taking a shower, a fact you discovered after lingering around for a good five minutes before he returned, and instead, you busied yourself with getting ready, the warmer weather of being sown somewhere with warmer temperatures, and you settled on wearing a lighter sundress, standing in front of the mirror in the room to braid your air when he finally emerged again. He had shaved, neatening up the messy scruff that had begun to grow out on his chin until it was in a more tidy scattering of hair along his jaw. One hand held the towel that was wrapped around his waist while the other grabbed at a pile of clothes, and you pointedly avoided looking at him in the reflection of the mirror as you focused on the movements of your fingers.

When he came back out, a black t-shirt that only reached halfway down his biceps, and sticking to him with bits of water, and a pair of blue jean shorts on his legs that brushed just above his knees, a jacket hanging over his arm for later in the night.

“Wow, you actually look like you’re on holiday, first time yet.” He rolled his eyes, dropping his head a little and running the towel over his head until it was merely damp instead of dripping wet. When he stood back up, strands were spiking up in random directions, the look of it making you laugh at the thought of it drying that way, and you tried to hide the noise, but he raised his brows at your snigger anyway. “Your hair is sticking up in all random directions.”

“Doesn’t matter, nobody cares, anyway.”

“Yeah, at the farm, maybe!” You stepped towards him, swinging your own plaited hair over your shoulder and out of your way. “When you’re all sweaty and covered in dirt after ten minutes, but you’re on your own time now. What if you want to take a picture and you look like you’ve been electrocuted?”

He simply sighed, but you could sense the amusement that washed over him as he caved, running a palm along the top of his head to try and push it flat, making it look like it had been badly gelled, and you placed your hands on your hips, biting on your lower lip to avoid the cringe you wanted to make at the sight.

“Can I just-” You took a little step forwards, and he hesitated, brows pulling together a little, and shoulders tensing up, but he gave you a single stiff nod and allowed you to enter his personal space. Reaching up a hand, you tried to style the slightly wet strands a little bit, quiffing them up just enough to look good while taming all the strays, and when you were appeased, you pulled your fingers away, humming to yourself with pride.

“Are you satisfied now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” You stepped away from him, moving across the room to grab your purse, and he was holding the door open by the time you were ready to go.

“I’ll drive. I’m feeling a lot better.” You fished through your bag for the keys, dropping them in his hand as you both reached the elevator, and in return, he handed you the room key to seal away in your bag.

“You think they have those big floppy hats anywhere? I want one.”

“What are you talking about?” He pushed the lobby button, leaning against the wall and pushing his hands into his pockets, before fixing you with a quizzical look when you turned to face him.

“You know, those big sun hats. That celebrities where so they don’t get recognised.”

He shook his head, fixing you with a heatless glare as he pursed his lips. “If you buy and wear one of those hats, I will go home and face your uncle’s wrath of my own accord. I am not being seen with you in one of those.” You gaped at him, before letting your chuckle best through, and he had the decency to grin a little to himself at his own jab.

“They’re stylish!”

“They’re hideous is what they are.”

He mumbled his response as the door dinged open, rebuking your insistence on the ‘staple fashion’ item as the bickering continued on, all the way through the parking lot until you reached the vehicle, and he held the door open for you as you climbed in, slamming it shut on your argument that if it was good enough for Sarah Jessica Parker in ‘Sex and the City’, then it was good enough for you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t having any of it, ignoring you with a smirk as he started up the car, and cranking the music up so loud you winced, just to drown you out.

You took the hint, choosing to change the topic, hoping to keep him engaged in what was by far the longest conversation the two of you had participated in, in which he was actively talking with you in return. All of your conversations before this day had been mostly you talking to him, spilling every thought that passed over your mind just to stop the awkwardness from creeping back in, but today, he was chatting back. Whether it was playful arguments, subtle insults with no hostility behind them, or even just chit chat, he was taking an interest, and then, it felt like the two of you might be able to enjoy your trip, if it was anything like this.

From the second you had pulled up, he had been just as gentlemanly, and you swore you saw a flash of excitement pass over his eyes as the two of you bought your tickets, the key to unlocking him a little bit and tempting him out to being less than just a robot for the CIA may lie in his hobbies and interests, should you somehow be able to coerce him into acknowledging that he has some.

Your first stop had been to plan your visit, the two of you leaning over the touch screens as you read about each attraction, checking out a site map and trying to choose your way around. You had signed up for a bus tour, one that still had two hours until your allotted space, and so you busied yourself with the ‘Heroes and Legends’ exhibit, and the ‘Race to the Moon - Apollo Centre’, he had actually looked happy, willingly allowing you to take pictures for him in front of various things, and even standing beside you in a few as you forced him to take pictures with you when you found a good shot in front of the fountains and the rockets.

Sending them both off to your uncle as proof that you hadn't dropped him off at a bus station and fled, he soon replied, asking if you were sure that was really Mitch, or whether you’d just grabbed another shaggy and mood stray man along the road by mistake. He had let out a full-bellied laugh at the comment when you’d shown it to him, before tucking your phone back into your pocket.

The whole day seemed to fly by too fast, the bus tour crowding the two of you in, but neither of you had to drive so you were more than happy, and you had wrestled yourselves to the seats at the back, each of you by a window for maximum enjoyment of the experience, before you’d finished the day by reading everything you could, and exploring every miniature exhibit in the ‘Now and Next’ section, being completely awestruck by words you didn’t understand.

By the time you left, you both had a NASA themed jumper, as well as a shirt to send home for Stan, and a sticker decal to put onto your laptop, your purchases happily swinging by your side in a paper bag with the logo printed across the front as you made your way back to the hotel room.

The temperature had dropped a little, and you were in half a mind to get your jumper out and put it on, but you wanted to wash it first, unsure of how many people had already touched it before buying it. Your conundrum was brought to an end when warm fabric was draped over your shoulders anyway, his fingers brushing yours as he reached down to take the bag from your hold so that you could push your hands through the jacket he had given you.

His other hand was tucked in his pocket, eyes fixed ahead of himself as you walked the distance back to your car, but you nudged him with your elbow a little once it was wrapped around you and you were warm, giving him your friendliest and gentlest smile a little when he was forced to turn his sights on you.

“I think there might yet be hope for us to be friends, Rapp.”

“Lucky me.” He muttered, tone dripping with sarcasm, but he lifted his elbow from where it was folded against his body, allowing you to loop your own arm through his and move a little closer to him as you fell into step beside one another.

It was on your final day in Florida that everything seemed to go wrong, blowing up in your face for reasons that you didn’t even understand.

You were red in the face and entirely exasperated as the two of you stood in the carpark, your hands on your hips and his arms folded over his chest as you stared one another down. The air between you both was all but crackling with rage and unresolved anger, and you weren’t even sure where it was all coming from.

You didn’t exactly have the whole day, already having repacked the car and sorted out the sleeping zone in the back, just trying to decide what to do with the small handful of hours that you had to fill while it was too hot to begin a seven and a half-hour drive to Alabama for your next pitstop. He had no ideas what he wanted to do, absolutely none, saying he was just happy to do whatever, and so you’d suggested taking a trip to Daytona Beach, which seemed to be where his issue had started. Somehow, the simple suggestions had deteriorated into a row, people staring at you both as they walked past to get to their cars.

“We’re not going to the fucking beach!”

He was all but seething, and you wanted to stomp your foot like a petulant child in your frustration, but resisted the urge. “You’re not in charge here!”

“I don’t care, I’ve done all the stupid shit you wanted to do every other day!” You felt a little wounded at the insinuation, and you were sure that the hurt had flicked over your face because he seemed to flinch back a little bit at your change, before you stepped back, swallowing thickly and pressing the keys into his hand. He looked between the metal bundle in his palm and you, silence taking up between you both where raised voices had been only seconds before.

“Fine, you don’t have to go to the beach, but I am. Just drop me off and then go and do whatever you want to do for the day, and come back for me a few hours later.”

He gave you a look that made you want to scream, bursting out with rage, but you bit your tongue and resisted the urge. “What, do you expect me to just drop you off at a random beach and leave you there all day? Alone, when anything could happen?”

“Oh, relax. I won’t let Stan have your head if anything happens, you won’t get the blame for my mess.” It was his time to look a little hurt as you spat the words at him, before pulling open the passenger seat door, hopping up yourself and peering back at him. “Just take me to the beach, Mitch, I’ll be fine.”

He groaned, stomping around to his side of the car and making sure to slam the door extra-aggressively as he got in. This time when he turned the music up, it was to purposefully ensure neither of you would speak, and you fished through your bag to check that you had anything in order to busy yourself from the ruined atmosphere between you both. What had been so positive only a day ago felt like it had been shredded and burnt, and the everlasting anger that cooked you from within felt like it had been extinguished, only to come back as a raging inferno today.

When you finally saw the palm trees melt away into white sand and blue sea, you felt your nerves ease a little, relaxing into the car seat as he pulled up he car, fingers clenching the steering wheel, and you opened the door, hopping out and releasing a happy sigh at the smell of salt, fried food, and the sound of waves lapping at the shore.

“Are you really doing this?”

“Yep. You can just pick me up in a few hours. Call me when you’re back at this spot, and I’ll come and meet you.” With that, you slammed the door on him, not looking back as you began your journey down toward one of the little beach huts and stalls to find a bathroom to change in, and somewhere to buy an ice cream. It took a minute before you heard the car pull away, and you were certain he’d spent that time cursing you out and muttering insults about you that only he could hear, but you didn't care, because you wanted to sunbathe, and so you were damn well going to.

With an ice pop in one hand, and your bag in the other, you wandered across the sand barefoot, shoes in your bag with your clothes and towel tucked under your arm, freshly shining with suncream and a swimsuit clad on your body as you wiggled your toes in the soft grains and searched for somewhere to set yourself up. A couple of stray beach umbrellas were still free, and so you were more than happy to claim one of them, making your way over as you wicked at the drips of juice escaping from the frozen treat, and dumping your things down into the sand gleefully.

Rolling out your towel under the shade, you straightened it out before turning and sitting down on it as you finished up the lolly in your hand and sealed the wooden stick into the front pouch of your bag to dispose of later. You replaced it with your sunglasses and your phone, sitting comfortably on the cotton and looking out around yourself at the people surrounding you, and snapping some photos of the beautiful sight that you could print off and frame when you eventually got home.

The flapping of another towel, spraying a little sand up onto your legs beside you made you turn to look, a pair of legs in your view as somebody came to sit beside you, and you squinted at the owner of said appendages as they sat down beside you. Your eyes widened a little bit as a recognisable mop of hair came into sight, and you pushed your glasses up onto the top of the head as he sat down, tugging his shirt up and over his head to discard of it to sit with the rest of his things, a pair of swimming trunks he absolutely wasn’t wearing before on his legs, and they seemed somewhat familiar to you.

“Did you just buy those?”

You reached out to poke at his thigh, the silky blue material shifting under your touch, and he granted at the feeling. “I didn’t own any.”

You merely nodded, waiting for him to expand, but he didn’t and so you placed your glasses back on and settled down onto your back, feeling a little better at not being alone, even if his mood was sour, but it wasn’t going to affect your experience, not even a little bit. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I couldn't just leave you at the beach alone. It’s not safe.”

You turned your head to look at him, finding his legs stretched out before him, hands resting behind his body to support himself, and staring out with a distant look on his face as he watched the waves meet the shore, coming in all the way from the horizon. Something about the rasp in his voice and the tuned out look on his face made you feel a little guilty, and you popped yourself up on your elbows. “It’s just a beach, Mitch, I’ll be totally fine.”

“Yeah, well, the last time I was at a beach I got shot.” The realisation of his hatred of the location made a chilling coldness shoot along your body, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, but he shrugged, giving you a glance out of the side of your eyes. “But, you want to go to the beach, and I don’t want to leave you, so we’re at the beach.”

You swallowed thickly, looking at him for a second, and watching as he took a deep and steadying breath. Sitting up a little more, you moved around the pole of the umbrella, perching yourself half on his towel and half in the sand, your thigh pressing to his as you seated yourself next to him. “Thank you.”

You whispered the words, but he turned to look at you, giving you a nod of the head as he watched you, whiskey brown eyes staring into your own as the tension between you both melted away. Rather than pushing your body away from his own, he shifted his arm to rest behind you back for support, before snapping his attention over to his bag. “I brought you something.”

“Yeah?”

“To say sorry for shouting at you. I’m not great at apologies, but I figured it would do the trick.” He produced a slightly crumpled but still pretty woven hat from his bag, and you laughed loudly at the sight as he reached up to push it down onto your head, the rim brushing his hair when you both settled back to look out at the ocean. The floppy hat on your head made you heart race the gesture making you warm up from the inside out. “I’m not going in the ocean.”

“That’s okay, you can stay with the stuff when I swim later.” He hummed under his breath, but twitched a little at the idea, and you pulled your legs up to your chest, reaching back across for your phone. “I’ll stay where you can see me, so you know nothing’s wrong.”

“Thank you.” You barely caught his response, and you weren’t sure what he was thanking you for; whether it was the simple act, the acknowledgement of his trauma, your forgiveness for his behaviour, or perhaps all three, but you just gave him a smile in response, the two of you finding a harmony one again as the waters of you friendship settled back out from the pebbles you’d thrown only a couple of hours prior.

He never moved from the towel, but he did watch you swim in the ocean, and he took pictures with you, and he looked after your stuff. He reminded you to reapply your sunscreen, and he laughed and joked with you after the two of you had moved on from the weight of your makeup conversation, and you decided that today had been even better than yesterday, because while you thought you’d been knocked down and your almost-friendship had ended, he had helped you up and confirmed that there was definitely hope between the two of you, there was a friendship forming.

After you had finished on the beach, you used one of the outdoor showers to wash yourself off of sand and salt, dipping back into a stall to change back into a simple sundress, treasuring the new hat on top of your head as he watched you, before you’d set off on enjoying the falling temperature before setting off on your journey. You had hotdogs for lunch, and walked along the pier, and even stopped in at some of the little gift shops, your arm linked with his as you went along, before finally getting to the car as the sun began to lower on the horizon, and the cool breeze was enough to make you shiver, the car no longer feeling like you were sitting inside an oven when you got in, but instead being a comfortable warmth to travel during the night in.

You weren’t too sure when it had happened, but you were certain that you had fallen asleep sometime after passing the signs for splitting off for ‘Lake City’, and you had woken up with a blanket tucked over your body that you were certain hadn't been there before. You stirred a little bit, a whine escaping you before you could stop it as you felt your muscles stretching and joints popping a little.

Mitch turned to look at you, his face neutral, a pleasant change to the scowl you were used to seeing, and the simple change had smoothed out the creases along the sides of his mouth, or the wrinkles on his forehead from the constant look of anger and irritation he had when he was at the farm with your uncle, and your hand itched with the urge to reach up and brush a finger over the place where the lines had once been.

“Sleep well?”

“I did, actually.” You snuggled down into the blanket a little more, muffling your yawn as you tried to shake yourself awake, despite the darkness still occupying the sky. “How long was I out? Do you want me to take over?”

“About four hours, there’s not long to go now. I was going to wake you soon anyway, I wanted to stop off for some coffee, and there’s a place up ahead. Is that okay?” You simply nodded in reply, and he returned it with a curt gesture of his own, before looking back to the open road, and reading at the signs that flashed by. You were more than happy to adjust into your morning, finding yourself taking a little longer to wake up than usual, because for the first time on this whole trip, you had felt truly comfortable in the presence of the man beside you.

No anxiety or anger was taking over, you were pushing down frustrations at his attitude and biting your tongue to stop from lashing out, but you were instead relaxed and happy, eyes fluttering a little as you tried to keep yourself away, rubbing at your eyes and sitting up a little straighter as the car began to slow down, pulling off onto a side-lane as the neon lights of a diner and truckstop just behind the trees made its presence well known to anyone travelling on the highway.

Finding a parking space was easy, one a decent distance away from everyone else, the car safe at the back as you hopped out, and you were begrudging to shed the blanket from your shoulder as the cooler air swept over you, arms wrapping around yourself instead. It wasn’t actually all that cold, but going from the coziness of sleep haze and blanket wrapped tenderness, to standing on your feet when you’re barely stable in the middle of a truck stop car park was a different story.

“Cold?”

The car flashed as it locked beside you, and you nodded a little, but forced yourself to peel your arms down from being wrapped around your body to sit at your sides. “I’ll be fine once we get inside, I was all snuggly under my blanket. Thanks for that, by the way.”

He offered you a flick of his lips in return, patting his pockets for his wallet and finding it in the front pocket of his hoodie, adding the car keys to it, before making his way over to you. Slinging an arm over your shoulders, you were curled in a little closer to his body, as he guided you across the lot, eyes peering around suspiciously as he took in everyone and everything he saw, from the placement of the car to the smokers standing outside and blowing clouds of smoke up into the air, his CIA training never letting up as he instinctively observed and memorised the area as best he could.

You were correct, the second you got inside the doors of the diner, warm air washed over you, and you let out a hum of contentment at the feeling, his arm dropping from around you as the two of you found a booth, settling in on opposite sides of it. You had a large mug of black coffee in your hands only minutes later, a large order of a breakfast meal at the all-hours kitchen felt like a god-send, and you blew the steam from the top of your mug as you watched Mitch stir creamer into his mug.

“So, can I ask a question?”

“I would love it if you did.” He rose a curious eyebrow at you, and you rose a single shoulder in a slightly embarrassed shrug, before taking a sip of the warm drink and letting out an inaudible moan into the drink, already feeling rejuvenated just from the first taste. “You don’t talk to me much, it would be nice to become more like friends on this trip instead of strangers.”

He ducked his head a little, and you worried you’d crossed a line, but when he looked up, he almost looked happy, and you brightened up yourself just at the sight. A smile from Mitch Rapp felt rare, but you were receiving one right now, and you were basking in the glory of it. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend. I’d really like that.”

“So, what was your question?”

“I wanted to know what the fuck we’re doing in Alabama.” His words were blunt, and you couldn't help the sharp laugh that left you, his eyes twinkling at the sight, before he was chugging almost half of the contents of his mug in one.

“It’s more of a stop off, really, to stretch our legs. Otherwise it was, like, a ten-hour drive, and I tried to split up most of the long drives as much as I could.” You shrugged, swilling your drink a little before taking another long sip of it. “I found this store that sells lost luggage, and you never know what kind of cool things we could find there. It’s like thrift shopping but even more obscure shit than thrift shops have.”

“Sounds fun.”

“We can get back on the road by later this evening, but I was also thinking we could stop somewhere and get a drink if we have time. There’s a bar that’s called ‘Rattlesnake Saloon’, I think, and it seemed fun. It’s only like a four-hour drive from where we’ll be down to New Orleans, so we can get it all done by the end of today.”

He agreed silently, and you took that as your queue to stop your internal monologue, the progress the two of you were making was too much to risk him backing out of if you overwhelmed him by talking non-stop just to fill the silence, but it seemed that he had different ideas; “How do I not know about you? I’ve been around for years, now.”

“I don’t come around so much. Uncle Stan comes to see me every Sunday for dinner, he updates me on everything, he just doesn’t like me hanging around over on your side, because if he’s off with trainees, he doesn’t really trust them not to get distracted.” It was a vague answer, but Mitch nodded like he understood, and made sure that he caught your eye as he tried to find his next words.

“For the record, if you did ever want to come around, I would like to see you.” He offered a smile, and you grinned into your mug, thanking the waitress as she placed down the meals before you both, cutlery soon following it, and your stomach rumbled slightly as the smell of the delicious plateful reached your senses. “So, when you say he updates you on everything, what kind of things do you know?”

“Oh, do you mean about the CIA black ops divisions, the Orion team specifically, or are you asking what I know about you?” His eyes widened a little, before he let out a deep breath, nodding his head with a small laugh that was masked by his sigh. “You’re surprised.”

“No, I’m relieved. I didn’t want to have to hide anything from you.”

You weren’t too sure how to reply, so instead you busied yourself with your hashbrown, the two of you falling into casual conversation between bites of food as you ate, opting to change the conversation to something a little more lighthearted, you were the main focus of the conversation, no matter how much you tried, you didn’t get through to him, he didn’t share much about his past, the things you didn’t know, but that was okay, because he was asking about you, and at least putting the effort in to get to know you. Another two cups of coffee were in your system before the sun was beginning to make its presence known, and the two of you decided that the rest of the journey was due to be completed. You took on the drive this time, and while you had insisted that it was okay for him to sleep, he opted against it, snoozing a little bit keeping up the conversation.

It seemed that the heavier weights of conversation had come crashing back over you both once you were back on the roads, dust kicking up behind you both as you continued on your adventure. The lost luggage shop was fun, the two of you seeming to shift through everything in that store, the hours passing far more quickly than you could control. You left with a pair of wireless and soundproof headphones, and a purple plaid jacket that Mitch said made you look like a lumberjack, and if it was three sizes too big and super baggy? Well, that was just even better.

He himself left with a new sports watch, his last having bee smashed by a recruit during a fight, and a pair of sunglasses with blue-tinted lenses that made him look like he was something from an intense spy film, the scowl and his body language only adding to it, and you couldn't help the picture you took as he did, showing it to him, and he’d quickly agreed with you.

As it turned out, despite how long you’d spent in the little store, you did have time for one drink at the bar you’d found, taking pictures of everything from the drinks to the cowboy style to the creative cliff top overhead, staring up at it in awe as you watched the nature from above grow over the top. You grabbed a quick bite to eat, to soak up any excess alcohol, before the two of you were on the road once again, with you excitedly singing along to the music as you drove, and Mitch poking fun at your driving, the light-hearted humour carrying you all the way along on the shorter drive towards Louisiana.

It was the asscrack of dawn by the time the two of you arrived in New Orleans, having swapped over on the driving a good two or three times, despite the tiny drive that it was in actuality, but you’d stopped a couple of times along the way at several little gift shops, and once to take a walk along the edge of a sweet little lake just outside of New Orleans, Lake Pontchartrain, the two of you watching as the sun came up over the water glittering across the slightly rippled surface, and you had found yourself once again tucked under the man’s arm, this tom daring to loop your own around his waist as you walked, and when you stopped, only detaching when you got back to the car for the final piece of the journey.

You had to admit, it was nice for you too, to be able to make a friend that understood everything about your life. A friend who understood that sometimes you would temporarily drop off the radar, and why you lived in the middle of nowhere, and why social media wasn’t exactly a big thing for you. It was nice to feel understood, and helping Mitch rediscover who he was was without the pain and suffering of his past and his job, was helping you to discover who you really were, and helping you work through some of your own issues.

You’d always been the most important thing in your uncle’s life and so he’d done his best at any given time to make sure you got everything out of life, but being so closed off from the world had made it difficult for you to get to know the social nuances of other people, and so you and Mitch were a learning experience for one another at the same time.

Your hotel was on Bourbon Street, because as you had so eloquently pointed out mid-yawn when he’d asked you ‘if you were serious’, you had confirmed that yes, you were very serious, because there was no what that you were going to come to New Orleans and not stay on Bourbon Street. You checked in and found your two beds, barrel even remembering to pull the curtains closed as you both made it through your nighttime routines, scrubbing at your teeth with minty toothpaste and changing into pyjamas, before crashing on your beds without another word other than some mumbled goodnights.

It was your alarm clock that woke both of you up, a shrill ringing that you’d forgotten you’d set and hadn't turned down, wanting to get up and have a shower before you got on with your day, and the sleepy man had glared at you from his bed, rolling over and face the wall as you snickered behind your hand. Sweet-scented shampoo and a very bubbly soap had refreshed you entirely, snapping you into your morning and giving you the wakeup call you had so desperately desired.

He was still in bed when you emerged, your clothes already on and simple skincare for the day completed, and your hair was still damp, but you weren’t willing to let the day slip away. “Mitch, get up!”

“No.” You barely heard him, before he was pulling the covers up and over his head as you yanked open the curtains, and he groaned out at the motion. You made your way over, standing on the edge of his bed and kicking at his legs from above, to which he promptly kicked back. “Go away, I thought this was supposed to be holiday hours.”

“It is a holiday! But I only have this room for two more nights, which means we only have three days in New Orleans, and I want to get some of the signature pastries from Café Du Monde before they sell out of the freshest batch!” You teased, and his messy bedhead poked up above the blankets.

“Pastries?”

“Freshly baked beignets.” You said, a sing-songy tone to your voice, and he sat up a little further, noticing that you’d caught his attention. “Little fried fritters, in powdered sugar. You can get coffee too, and fruits.”

He stared at you for a long minute, before seeming to crack, and he shook his head. “Fine, let me shower first, and I want a lie in tomorrow.”

“Deal!”

You watched him go, the bathroom door slamming at the water started up, and it took him about as long in the shower as it id for you to dry your hair, and the second he’d pulled on a change of clothes and prepared himself alongside you, he ruffled his hair dry on a towel, tipping it towards you for you to sort the strands, and he gave you a false glare for the giggle you let out at the action. Sifting your finger through his hair, you flattened them down into a reasonably decent smile, but not without making a comment about how he needed a haircut, to which he promptly shut down as he pushed you a little out of the way and headed to the door.

It was a short walk to the café, a warm breeze washing over your legs, even though it had barely reached midday yet, and as promised, you had been served the freshest of the pastries that the two of you could get, Two portions between you both, and several cups of coffee, you also split a fruit bowl, nibbling on the juicy treats as you chatted. You bought a box of the coffee to send to your uncle, taking it home forever as you collected it up, as well as a couple of the mugs that caught your eye, and Mitch had even purchased one for himself, brushing his finger over the lettering and the logo on the front as he purchased his first real souvenir of the trip.

Your next stop was the post office, the man shooting you a quizzical look as you went, browsing through boxes and shipping labels, before gathering up all the supplies that you needed.

“I figured we could box up and mail all out souvenirs and purchases back to my Uncle, and he can collect them up and keep them safe, so that they don’t all get lost or damaged in the car, and we don’t get overwhelmed.”

“If I send something back to be kept safe, your uncle will give it to the recruits to play soccer with before we get back.” He teased helping you carry all of the shipping items you’d purchased out of the door and back onto the street, the sun now shining down warm and clear from above.

“Send it all in my name. If we box it all up together, it gives me an excuse to see you once all this is finished, when we get home.” You spoke the words earnestly as you made your way back to the hotel, to spend the better part of a few hours wrapping, labelling and shipping it all, and he turned to look at you, face a little unreadable.

“You don’t need an excuse.” You were a little frozen once again, the lines between comradery and friendship between you both becoming blurred, but you still weren’t sure where you lay with it, and then his face split into a teasing look. “Unless I’m sick of you by then. I may have to hide when I hear you’re coming over.”

“Oh, shut it.” You jabbed your elbow at his side, his training making it easy for him to duck and swerve out of the way in time, which only resulted in a large grin taking place on his face. “By the end of all this, you’re going to be missing me like crazy. You’ll be calling and begging me to come and hang out with you.”

“Sure thing.”

You had just about made it in time for the post office, the woman a little perturbed at not being able to close up fifteen minutes early, but you’d left a healthy tip in the labelled jar beside the counter for her, knowing that the number of boxes labelled ‘delicate’ to all be shipped a good few states over was a hassle for her, but she completed it without complaint, and you couldn't have been more grateful.

It felt like a task taken off of your plate, leaving you both with a worry and stress-free evening to spend in New Orleans, quickly settling on getting the full experience, and going for a few drinks at a jazz and blues bar. Neither of you had to drive, and so you were able to indulge in a few more drinks than you had so far, your hotel only a short walk from the bar you’d chosen.

Bourbon Street by night was alive with energy, buzzing with excitement and thrill, and you could feel the atmosphere lifting you up onto their level, the idea of people getting to live here and experience it everyday making you prickle with a little jealousy, but you knew it was only as special to you now because you’d never experienced it before, that it was a rarity and something to be treasured, not envied.

The buildings were a mix of modern and ancient, still holding their beautiful French architectural designs with the balconies and the stylings of their decorations, but being lit up with neon signs that gave the entire road an ethereal kind of colourful glow. You felt pulled in every direction, not wanting to miss a single thing, and the pictures you took with the bright backdrop had been breathtaking. Blues and pinks and yellows, all glittering from signs above and around you, the kind of vibe that felt surreal while you experienced it, and made you wonder whether it was all just a dream when you thought about it later that night, laying in bed as your heart still raced.

New Orleans was beautiful, and your second day had only been more fun.

“I have a plan, Mitch!”

“You promised me a lie in!” He growled, and you took a seat on the floor beside his bed, placing your arms across the mattress and balancing your chin atop them, waiting for him to surface from the disturbance of the covers when you did so, a small giggle on your lips when you felt him shuffle, before glaring at you when his eyes finally met your own.

“I did give you a lie-in! It’s midday!”

He huffed, reaching out for his phone on the nightstand and almost smacking you in the head with it when he reached back, barely being able to duck in time, and from the look on his face, you couldn’t decide whether or not he'd done it on purpose. As though he hadn't believed you, his eyes widened as he checked the time to see that you weren’t lying to him, a few minutes fast twelve, officially making it the afternoon, and he groaned under his breath, running a hand over his face.

“Do you want to sleep longer?”

He gave you a pointed look, as though to say ‘duh’ without actually speaking the words, and you offered him a small smile, ducking your head again when he shifted to put his phone back down, placing his head on his pillow and closing his eyes once again, shutting you out in silence. “Give me, like, another hour and a half.”

“That’s cool, I’ll come back and get you later, we can go for dinner!”

You shuffled away from the bed, backing away across the floor as you took your hands from the mattress, standing up again and brushing off your pants of the dust and dirt it had collected when you’d sat down. A hand locked around your wrist, honey-brown eyes peering up at you, narrowed and curious. “Where are you going?”

“I want to go and check out all the places they filmed any and all scenes that had a Mikaelson in.”

“Another TV show tour?” He mumbled, letting out a low breath as you nodded at him excitedly.

“I would almost be surprised that you hadn't seen ‘The Originals’, but you haven’t watched ‘The Vampire Diaries’ either, so I’ll let you off.” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, hugging his pillow a little closer to his chest, his cheek pressed into it.

“Vampires aren’t my thing. Plots always suck.”

“Woman don’t watch the shows for the pl-” You paused, looking at the cheeky flick of his lips as you gasped. “Did you just make a vampire pun?”

“Yep.”

“It’s like I’m meeting a whole new person.” His eyelids shifted a little, and you could’ve sworn he’d actually rolled his eyes at you with his eyes closed, which isn’t something you would have put past him.

“Give me another half an hour, then, and I’ll come with you.” He sighed, turning away from you and waving a hand at the curtains you’d opened as his face scrunched up, and you closed them once again, the fabric barely doing anything to hide the light in the room that was coming from the bright sun sitting high in the sky.

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I want to.” He mumbled, and you nodded your head, taking a seat beside his legs on the end of his bed when he shifted them to the side and dragged the covers out of the way, letting you sit and wait for him as he snoozed a while longer, and you took the time to go through the list of places you wanted to visit. While you were well aware that not all of the filming was actually done in New Orleans, there were definitely a handful of places that you could see, and you were all but exploding with anticipation at the chance to do so. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

He sounded like he was barely present for the question, somewhere between this land and a dreamscape, but you turned to look at him anyway, despite knowing he wouldn't be looking back. “No plan, just figured we could go with the flow, or whatever.”

“We could go check out the ‘LaLaurie Mansion’, could be fun.” You gasped, staring at him in pure shock, and he cracked a smile at your reaction, stretching a little as he rolled over. “What, you’ve never seen American Horror Story?”

He was using your own words against you, pushing himself up to sit as he blinked into the light a little, and you shook your head to clear it, before grinning at him with a smile you didn’t even want to prevent. “Looks like you do know how to have fun, after all.”

He stuck his tongue out at you childishly, retracted his leg up the bad and you weren’t quick enough to move, being sent into a pile on the floor with a yelp as you were removed from the mattress, and he hummed in victory as you lay on the ground. He stepped over you a second later, looking at you on the floor with a smirk before swiping up some clothes and his toothbrush from the bag of his toiletries on the side, and switching on the cold tap to splash some water on his face.

You were practically pulling him out of the room ten minutes later, knowing that he was purposefully dragging out everything he did, changing his shirt three times just to make you wait, and with both hands on his forearm you’d dragged him all the way to the main door of the building before releasing him when he finally stopped dragging his feet and digging his heels in, laughing at your eager desperation to get on with the day as it approached one o’clock, and you still had things to do.

Tucking yourself under his arm to keep out of the way of others on the busy street, he adjusted you a little, his hand hanging over your shoulder as you pulled up the map on your phone for you both to see, covering your own eyes, as the sunglasses he’d purchased from the luggage shop in Alabama sat on his face.

“Thanks to someone changing his outfit like a diva, we lost a whole bunch of time.” You mumbled, his laugh rumbling up beside you.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“A whole bunch of time.” You nudged him in the side with your elbow, feeling him raise his hand from your shoulder temporarily to flick your ear, and you rubbed at it absentmindedly while looking at the directions on your phone. “Figured we could walk from here to the Lafayette Cemetery, it’s only an hour's walk, but our tour isn’t until five tonight, so we can take our time and check out other stuff while we go.”

“We’re taking a tour of a cemetery?”

“Yep!” He gave you a look like you were far too cheerful about the prospect of walking around a graveyard for a while, but you purposefully ignored looking at him. “First up, St. Louis Cathedral.”

You took photos in front of the beautiful building, the sun lighting up the exterior until it almost looked as though it was glowing, and it all seemed all the more natural that it did, a blessed appearance taking over your photos. You explored that end of the French Quarter in detail; visiting a Voodoo shop, even backtracking far enough to go to ‘Boutique Du Vampyre’, taking your time going around the store, checking out everything within the colourful and quaint little gift shop, the crowded building feeling out of place in the elegant and organised streets, like you’d stepped into an entirely new place when you’d walked through the door.

You listened to music and dropped change in the cases, cups and hates of almost every street performer you came across, and tried snacks from every street vendor you reached, sharing out the treats between you both as you made your way along, stopping at any and everything that caught either of your attention. You ended up with more photos than you’d expected, leaving you with a rapidly filling camera roll, hours worth of work when you finally got home and were able to sort through them all, printing off your favourites to build into a large photo album, ensuring that you’d never forget even a single moment of the trip.

After your tour of the cemetery, learning more than you thought there was a history to be had, and getting a chilling vibe all the way through, the two of you had settled on the Delachaise Wine Bar for your dinner, sampling different glasses and sharing them out as you filled up on french fries and bread rolls, before making the slow walk back to your hotel, seeing everything once again on you return, but this time by night.

The day had passed faster than you’d expected or hoped for, and yet, it was filled with priceless memories, the late hour making everything seem entirely new and different from the ay it had in the day, everything you passed seeming like a new building, signs lit up with glowing lights and the cheery and upbeat music from the day had taken on a lower and more sensual tone, changing with the mood as the early evening turned to night, seeing you off into your hotel with a smile on you face and a head full of thoughts that you’d never forget.

“So, I did a bit of research.” You started, and he turned to look at you, lowering his phone for a second from where he’d been taking photos, his attention now on you, waiting quietly for you to continue. “Turns out, that whole iconic witch’s walk in that one episode is outside of a restaurant and bar, and it’s only a few streets over. It’s called Vacherie Restaurant, and I made us a booking.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You were waiting with bated breath, hoping you’d made the right call, your suspicions being confirmed when his face cracked with a bright smile, and you let out a relieved sigh.

Much like he had spent the entire day with you yesterday exploring the sets and shooting locations of one of your favourite TV shows, you were now doing the same for him, the two of you wandering around the end of the French Quarter you hadn't yet gotten a chance to explore, taking in everything before you. Your first stop had, of course, been the LaLaurie Mansion he’d been so excited about, the man having been the one to wake you up this morning, pulling you from one end of the bed to almost falling out of it, hands on your ankles tugging you down the mattress until you’d been giggling and kicking at him as he dodged you, prompting you to get up so you could make the most of your third day.

It was only a short walk, the two of you grabbing to-go breakfast from a little café to eat as you walked, coffee and a breakfast burrito in your system waking you up considerably as you prepared yourself for the day. Neither of you had all that much of a plan, some quick googling as you walked had done wonders, however, guiding you through the already crowded streets as you made your way towards your various destinations.

Some were closer and some were further, the two of you working to create a list of your destinations, making your day a little easier to navigate. You were due to be on the road again by tonight, already having repacked the car and checked out of your hotel, but you were armament to spend as much time soaking up the sun and walking around as you could, before you were back on the road for a long drive up to Texas.

“So, when are we booked in?”

“I figured we could go for a late lunch, before we see the house they used for the academy, since it’s down in the Garden District, and we have to head that way anyway to get back on the main road.” He nodded, before he was reaching out to you a little, holding up his phone.

“Want to take a picture with me?”

You put your own away as you agreed to the request, his arm wrapping around you as he held up the device away from you both, positioning you to be able to see the house in the background, a smile on his face as you beamed brightly at the camera and squinted at the sun.

“I used to record and photograph everything, you know. I loved it, keeping a hold of my memories and all the moments that mattered, but for the last few years, there hasn’t been anything worth remembering, so I stopped.” It was a heavy confession, and you weren’t too sure what he was expecting from you, whether he was looking for comfort, or simply to get something off of his chest, but heat crawled up his face and made his cheeks tint pink as he looked at you, waiting for a response.

Instead, you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, pulling him into you as his arms hung at his sides, your bodies pressed together in a hug, and you felt the way he stiffened underneath you, you laughed muffled as your shoulder pressed into his chest. It took him a minute to respond before his arms were wrapping around you lightly, holding you in return as his cheek pressed into your hair, and then, he was squeezing you like his life depended on it.

Only for a second, but he let his walls down, and then he was letting you go, breath rushing back into your lungs from where it had been squeezed from you, and his face was even redder than it had been, eyes shining a little, but he didn’t have his defensive stance or aggressive expression. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed relaxed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mitch.” You hooked your arm through his, immediately soothing the tension building by asking if he wanted to stop by the patisserie shop you’d passed by on your way over here, getting a whole boxful to take with you in the car to snack on as you drove across the country to your next state.

You visited the ‘Marie Laveau: House of Voodoo’, before moving on to taking a wander around the St. Louis Cemetery to look at the crypts, before going for your lunch. It had consisted of thrilled discussions about everything you had done, comparing and swapping photos as you ate, and talking about the bits that you’d personally found the most enjoying. It wasn’t just the time in New Orleans that you discussed, but you managed to force him to open up about the rest of the trip you’d taken so far, the things he had fun doing even if he hadn't been willing to admit it at the time.

With full stomachs and smiling faces, you’d piled back into the car for the first time in days, upon making the walk back to the hotel parking lot. It was almost strange, having spent so much time on your feet and using the vehicle as little as possible, opting for you to drive the small distance down to the Buckner Mansion, the final location used as you drove along, through the Warehouse District and down to the Garden District, mitch taking pictures out of the windows as you went.

After his confession, which neither of you had risked to speak of again, he seemed like he was finally accepting that it was okay for him to live his life, and to admit that he was having fun, actually wanting to take photos and record the sights he was seeing, to relive them once you’d left and gone home.

You couldn’t go inside, but you could walk around the garden, peering inside as you leaned dup to the windows, and taking pictures on the steps up to the front door, talking about all the scenes that you could specifically pinpoint, and making the most of it, before having to leave as the lower light began to fade and the night came in, ushering out the warmer temperatures as a cool night breeze came in.

You flipped a coin, deciding who would do the first half of the journey, Mitch calling heads as it came spinning back down towards your hand, and that side had been the one facing upwards at you both when you’d both studied it, the man cheering to himself, even though you insisted it wasn’t much of a prize to have to drive for several hours in the dark when he’d rather be sleeping, but he was just happy to have won something.

Houston was your next destination, hoping to reach it by the time the morning rolled around, the shift between you both in New Orleans only making you happier about the rest of your journey to come.

#mitch rapp #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp/reader #mitch rapp american assassin #mitchtober #mitch-tober #mitch month #mitch rapp x reader smut #mitch rapp/reader smut #dylan obrien mitch rapp #dylan obrien american assassin #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine

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p---ink · 4 years

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Stark Contrasts: Chapter One

Author’s Note PLEASE READ: Hi, this is my very first published fan fiction, and I wrote it because its so rare to find Tony Smut. Everyone wants him as a dad, while I want him as a daddy. Please give this story a chance, and if there are any grammar errors let me know. I proofread the shit out of this, but there's always the chance that I missed something. When you write something it could make perfect sense to yourself, but 0 sense to the next person. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my story, I really enjoyed writing it! Also as aforementioned (hope I’m using that word right), this is my first story so go easy on me! I only have room to improve. PLEASE DON’T REPOST MY WORK!

Summary: AU where you're dating Tony Stark’s son, even though it’s Tony you really want. He isn't ironman in this one guys sorry.

Warnings: Smut, cheating, daddy kink, some other shit I already forgot about. :)

Song: The song I listened to while writing this was Kiss it Off Me by Cigarettes After Sex.

Word Count: 7.4K

Parts: one | two | three | four | five

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine.

You and Edward James Stark had been dating for a solid six months before you both declared your undying love for one another. Had you known he was lying through his teeth you would have never said those three words. Not even a month after that, you found him in bed with another girl. You see, he was a serial cheater who didn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. You can’t say you didn’t see this coming though, you weren’t the best at picking them.

Edward was not the first, and he would not be the last to break your heart. Blame it on your daddy issues, or maybe blame it on the shit-head men who insist on eating their cake and having it to. Of course he gave you every bullshit excuse in the book to keep you from leaving. “We were really drunk” is what he came up with when you first caught him cheating. “Those are my cousin's”, was what he said when you found a pair of panties that weren’t yours in his penthouse. Your favorite excuse though, was the one where he blamed your all-night study sessions on his latest fuck-up due to the lack of attention you were giving him.

You didn’t know why Edward was still with you, especially since he could have relatively any woman he wanted. Perhaps it was because you were great for his brand; you were a good girl, straight-A student who made everyone around you fall in love. You could charm the pants off of your professors and peers, and you were one of the nicest people anyone would ever meet. It didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes either. Above all however, was your modesty and selflessness. You always put others happiness above your own, which made you completely different to Edward’s arrogance and narcism.

You and others often questioned how you even fell for him. You had a theory that he only dated you, because you were what the other guys wanted.

Whatever the reason he chose to stay, could not matter any less than it did to you…because the reason you stayed, was because you were hopelessly in love with his dad.

Tony Stark—girl, did God take his time with this one, was a more seasoned, mature version of his son. Don’t get me wrong because he was just as cocky, but in a more attractive way. And the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, because the billionaire playboy had just reached a divorce settlement due to his infidelity. In other words, he was just as much of a piece of shit as his son, the only difference was that he was trying to change. He was older than any of the men you had ever been with, but maybe, like him, you needed a change of pace.

You met Tony seven months into your relationship with Edward. He had hoped if you saw how rich his family was, you would want to stick around. If he knew you were still with him because you wanted to fuck his dad he would have lost his shit. Yea, Edward was the type of guy to throw a bitch-fit if you so much as blinked at a guy in the wrong way, yet he wouldn’t hesitate to fuck a bitch for breathing.

Though Tony had a notorious reputation for being cruel to the women he either slept with or wanted to sleep with, he was good as gold to you. He appreciated your love and passion for your studies and crafts. He thought it was refreshing that you spoke your mind with no fear of repercussions, most people kissed his ass with the hope that he would give them a handout or put in a good word in terms of life-changing opportunities. What he loved most about you, was the faraway look you had when you were thinking. He thought that your carefree spirit was the secret to your beauty.

It was not lost on you that Tony at least felt some of the same feelings towards you that you did to him. You’d be an idiot to not notice the long trips his eyes would take across your body, or the fact that he insisted on doing menial tasks for you that you could easily do for yourself. The sexual tension and flirty conversations with hidden meanings were enough to have the two of you in a bedroom for hours, but you both would never act on your feelings. He didn’t want to hurt his son, and while you couldn’t care less about Edward’s feelings, you didn’t want people to think you were that kind of girl. That being said it really surprised you when he offered for you and Edward to move in with him.

You had known each other for several months now, and up until then you two avoided each other when you could, due to your feelings, but Tony claimed his house was too big for just him since Pepper, Edward’s mom, was now gone. Edward was on board with the idea, because it meant more time to kiss his father’s ass in hopes of him eventually letting him inherit Stark Industries.

“..anyway, I think it’s a good idea.” Tony explained, ripping you out of your daze. You all were currently sitting in his dining room drinking coffee and discussing the move. “I have plenty of room, and all I ask is that you pull your own weight. Your mother took the housekeeper along with–“Edward interrupts.

“Yes dad I know, along with–“ Tony cuts him off.

“Hush Eddy, daddy is speaking. Along with my beloved corgi Jarvis who was like the son I never had”. Edward rolls his eyes, while you stifle a chuckle that earns a glare from Eddy, and a wink from Tony.

“Anyway,” Eddy starts, “We think it's a great idea dad, we’ll do it.” You internally groan at his use of we. What the hell does he mean we, you weren’t that out of it to not remember if he had asked you how you felt. There he goes again thinking about himself.

“There you go again thinking about yourself.” Tony mocks, once again pulling you out of your thoughts, as if he could hear them. “You didn’t even ask poor Y/N how she felt about all of this.” He turns his attention to you and starts, “Now I know your university is further away from my place, but I could provide you with a car–“ This time you interrupt.

“Hold on Mr. Stark, this is too much. We’re only three months into our lease, I don’t want to impose on you, and you shouldn’t be just giving cars out like its noth–“

“Y/N” Tony starts, holding eye contact with you, “…daddy is speaking”. You felt small because of what he just said, but in a good way. Your panties were getting wetter the longer he looked at you so you broke eye contact. Tony relished in your submissiveness. Eddy, as clueless as always brushed off his dad’s comment and decided it was just another one of his eccentric quirks, but you knew and Tony knew what he was doing. This is why you didn’t think it was a good idea to move in.

“And for the one thousandth time, you can call me Tony. Now where was I? Ah, you didn’t let me finish” he continues, “I could provide you with a car, or a driver, as long as you’re comfortable with it. I’ll never do something without running it by you to make sure its okay”. That there was the reason you loved Tony more than you would ever love Edward. Eddy rushed into things with no regards for your feelings, and when you voiced your worries or concerns he’d blame it on you for not telling him or guilt-trip you into just going with it.

Tony took his time with you. He was patient, and he tuned into how you perceived things. He was a real man. And if this was how he was with you now you could only imagine how attentive he would be to your other needs.

“Maybe we can work something out with your lease. I can continue paying your bills. That way if you guys need an escape away from me to fuck your brains out, its still there”. You cringed at that last part, which didn’t go unnoticed by Tony, who was always watching you.

You don’t sleep with Edward. Besides the fact that he was a cheater, he never made you cum. He was the type to chase his own nut at the sake of your own.

“I really think having young people around here would liven the place up.” Tony finished. “So what do you say kid, you wanna move in so we can have some fun?” Tony asked briefly raising an eyebrow.

His hands were clasped together on the table, while his long pointer finger taped his closed fist absentmindedly. His mouth was tucked in a firm smile and his honey brown eyes, which were focused on yours, were gleaming with hope. You smile back and brace yourself. How could you say no to this?

♡♡♥︎♡♡

Three months had passed since you and Ed moved in with his dad. While your relationship with Edward began to decay more than it already had, the one you had with Tony only blossomed.

You became more comfortable around him. The two of you would watch movies together, go grocery shopping with each other, cook, bake and sing embarrassing songs out loud without a care in the world. Your favorite part of your relationship however, was the late night conversations the two of you would have when you couldn’t sleep. They happened more often than sometimes. How in the world could you sleep, when the two of you were in such close proximity.

Naturally, your feelings for each other only grew stronger, which was exactly what you were afraid of. Though the two of you still had Edward to worry about, he never seemed to care about your budding relationship. He was too involved with himself or one of his latest escapades to notice the events unfolding in front of him. And if he did notice, he thought it was innocent. It was just his girlfriend and dad bonding.

Tony and you never discussed how you felt about the other, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. The only thing in your way was his son, but that was about to change since Edward’s ass-kissing began to work. His dad was finally about to give him a feel for how to run the company.

This of course meant more responsibilities, more control, and more time away from home. Tony couldn’t take it anymore. Part of him wanted to remain faithful to his son, but the other part couldn’t sleep peacefully knowing you were just a wall away. At least with Eddy being gone, he could see if the two of you could resist each other. He wanted to test himself, and see if he had really changed. And if he hadn’t, at least he would get you out of it. This was a good thing, he would tell himself. While Edward worked hard to prove he was worthy to his dad,Tony would work even harder to prove that he changed by forcing himself to resist you. If only you would make it that easy for him.

You were innocent enough, but that’s what drove him crazy. The way your knee would brush against him when you guys were sitting close watching a movie. Or when you would accidentally tap your foot on his when you sat across from each other at the dinner table. Don’t get him started on the way you’d look away from him, when you realize you said something that may have crossed the line. Anything you did would set him off, and he was beginning to regret sending Edward away.

“Y/N”, Tony shouts, trying to find out exactly where you were in the house. It was 2 p.m. and he had just got home from training Eddy. The car he brought you was still in the driveway so he knew you were home. “Y/N, could you come here for a second.”

“I’ll be there in a minute” You shouted back. You had just had a workout, as you usually spent your mornings in his home gym to relieve stress. You jogged into the kitchen where you had heard his voice earlier. Tony heard you bouncing through the hallways, but his focus was on the trash that you failed to take out this morning.

“I thought it was your turn to take care of the waste” He states, taking his glasses off before turning his attention to you. “Kid, we had an agree–“ He stops his rant when he realizes your risky attire. You had on a sports bra that accentuated your full breasts perfectly, and your track shorts didn’t leave much to the imagination. Your curly afro sat on your head like a crown, while a few stray pieces fell into your eyes like bangs. Your pecan-tan skin was currently glowing with a sheen of sweat from your previous workout. You looked like the Goddess Aphrodite hand-sculpted you herself.

“I can take care of it now, I’m sorry. I just got a bit distracted” You apologize.

“N-No, I can do it, besides these old bones need the exercise from the walk anyway” Tony stutters, patting his arms and averting his eyes. “You can continue whatever it was you were doing”. He excuses himself from the kitchen, but not without giving you one more lingered glance.

You smile to yourself, knowing you were the reason he was so flustered. Sweaty from your morning activities you decide to grab a shower. You jog upstairs, grab a towel and head into you and Eddy’s shared room to prep. Grabbing your bathroom essentials you quickly get naked, and wrap the towel around yourself. While reading a text, you walk towards the bathroom.

Not paying attention to where you were going, you crashed into Tony who was heading in from taking out the trash. The sudden contact was so hard that you had to catch your towel from falling and exposing your naked person.

“I'm so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going” you apologize, but when you look up at him, his expression is blank, only his eyes were a darker shade of brown than his usual soft honey.

A moment passed before he held you upright and patted your shoulders, “Just be more careful next time” he simply states. On that note he walks off towards his room, leaving you alone to be the one who’s flustered this time.

♡♡♥︎♡♡

About twenty minutes had passed since your little hallway accident. Tony had tried throwing himself into a book, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how soft you felt in his arms for the split second he got to hold you. Being so enthralled in his thoughts, the loud thud and the yelp that followed caused him to jump out of his skin.

Immediately running to your aid, he rushed to towards the bathroom to investigate the noise. Flinging the door open, expecting to find you bleeding out on the tub’s floor, he is surprised to see you on top of the counter, eyes wide in terror. The thud came from a fallen bathroom organizer. All of its contents were sprawled across the floor. Tony looked from you, to the mess, then back to you, silently demanding an explanation.

“I thought I saw a spider…but it was just a clump of my hair, I’m so sorry” You cried. He looked at you with tired eyes, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. You imagined what he must think of you.

How could such a smart girl, be so dumb, you thought. You felt so embarrassed. The circumstances almost made you forget the position you were in. Like before, nothing but a tiny towel to cover your soaking wet body. Tony didn’t know if he believed in God, but if there was one, he was testing him.

“It’s okay,” he began,

“Go put some clothes on, while I clean up this mess.”

“Tony I did it, so I should handle it” you try to argue, but like always he cut you off and insisted,

“This is my house, and you’re a guest. Now go do as I said.” He was firm with his words. So you hopped off the counter, and went to do as he said, face and neck hot from the embarrassment you just endured. You just wanted to lock yourself in your room until you gained the courage to face him again. Which is exactly what you did.

♡♡♥︎♡♡

Hours later, you woke up from a nap and found yourself growing hungry. Figuring that around this time of night Tony would be in his study, you venture downstairs in hopes of finding some food.

After eating, you fix yourself a snack and choose a movie. As of lately living with Tony, made you feel sexually frustrated, so you chose Fifty Shades of Gray thinking nothing of it. Edward would likely not be coming home tonight, since he usually blew off steam with a whore or two after work, and Tony was most likely settled in for the night. You would be all alone with your thoughts and fantasies. That was until Tony plopped himself down on the couch next to you.

“Watcha watching?” He teased in a childish manner, eyes glued to the screen.

“Um, Fifty Shades of Gray” you replied, immediately regretting your choice of entertainment. I mean it was a shitty movie, why were you watching it in the first place?

“Hmm interesting. You know believe it or not, I’ve never seen it. Mind if I watch it with you?” He asks, looking at you briefly before back to the screen.

“Well you can watch it, but I was just about to do some cleaning” you answer, standing to your feet.

“Are you kidding, that can wait. We always watch movies together, besides they’re better with company. Sit down.” He commanded, though he said it in a playful manner, his eyes challenged your own. You sit back down.

“Maybe we should watch something else, this movie is pretty terrible” you suggest.

“Silly girl, I just told you I haven’t seen it. Let me be the judge of that.” He insists. How the fuck were you supposed to escape this awkward ass situation?

“If you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week” Christian declares to Anastasia, before leaning down to take a bite of her toast.

“I like the way this Gray thinks” Tony whispered.

You heard, him but you elected to ignore him. The two of you had tested the waters way too much today.

Shifting in your seat to make yourself more comfortable, your thigh brushes against his warm hand. You slightly jump further away, the gesture making you realize just how close the two of you were. Tony chuckles at your actions. He always loved making you squirm. You think he got off at how worked up you’d get.

“What’s funny?” You challenge, eyeing him because you were getting a little agitated at this point.

“Nothing” he simply replies, eyes never leaving the screen. The hand that you brushed against was now hanging over the edge of the couch, he had crossed his legs so that his foot rest on his knee, and there was smug look on the bastard’s face. He looked too comfortable with this shit.

You thought about all of the seats in the room. You even thought about all of the tv’s he had in his house. Why was this smug son-of-a-bitch sitting so close to you after everything that happened today? Did today’s events mean nothing to him? Did it only bother you? Maybe you only imagined that Tony had feelings for you.

“Look kitten, I know how sexy I am, but would you mind watching the screen instead of me?” Tony states, finally meeting your gaze. You hadn’t realized you were still staring, so you apologized, fell back in your seat and began browsing apps on your phone to distract yourself from your growing shame.

Fast-forward into the movie, and you guys come across your first sex scene. No matter who you were watching them with, sex scenes always felt uncomfortable to you. You thought of ways to escape the room. You reached into your popcorn bowl, and immediately found your way out. “I’m gonna go and get some more snacks.” You yell, jumping up to remove yourself.

“But there’s plenty of popcorn, how much do you need?” Tony argues, startled from your outburst.

“Well we could always use more, my stomach is like a black void.” You state before taking the half empty bowl, and running towards the kitchen.

Finally away from him and that wretched movie, you had minute to collect your thoughts. While you act like you’re doing something, you fail to notice the footsteps slowly approaching.

“What are you doing to me?” Tony questions, his sudden presence making you jolt away from the task at hand.

“Tony, you scared me” you sigh, grasping your chest. Thinking about his choice of words, you quirk your eyebrow and ask, “What does that question mean?” You’re genuinely confused about his random interrogation. He was leaning against the doorway on the other side of the kitchen. His gaze was currently fixated on your figure, eyeing you up and down. His dark hair looked like he had just ran a hand through it, and his arms were crossed forcing his muscles to bulge. He pushed himself off the wall and started towards you slowly, the closer he got the further you backed away.

“It means, why are you running around here half-naked one minute, then acting innocent the next? Hmm? Are you trying to test me?” He accuses.

“I don’t know what you–“

“Don’t act stupid Y/N.” Tony warns. “You’re a smart girl, and you know what you’re doing”. His voice is raised slightly, and though he isn’t the tallest, his height towers yours at the moment. “Do you know how hard it is to control myself around you? You didn’t make it easy today.” At this point he had you backed in between the kitchen island and himself. He was close enough that you could smell his skin. A mixture of sandalwood and citrus assaulted your nostrils, and sent your mind into a blissful haze. He wasn’t lying, you knew exactly what you were doing. Even if it wasn’t intentional, your body craved him. It was as if the two of you were being pulled by a gravitational force towards each other. You just couldn’t help not being around him.

You stayed silent. Your only form of communication was the look you were giving him. As your doe-like eyes bore into his, your lips quivered with anticipation.

“Kid, you shouldn’t look at me like that.” He warned. Straightening himself, to appear more intimidating, he asks, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy” was all that you could say. You swear you didn’t mean to, but your body betrayed your better judgement. Would he believe you if you told him that?

“Oh fuck” he sighed, before throwing his self-control out of the window. His hands were on your face pulling your lips to his in a fevered manner. He licked your lips begging for entrance, and you immediately obeyed his request. Although his lips were softer than any you’d ever felt, they were rough against you, desperate to show you the months of pent-up sexual tension in one heated session. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed the area beneath your thighs, and lifted you on the island. You reached your hands up to his hair, to tangle your fingers in the almond strands pulling him closer in the process. You wrapped your legs around his waist to feel his hardening bulge against your entrance. He groaned at the gesture, holding your waist in his hands.

He pulled back for air, but it wasn’t long before he attached his lips to your neck. You tried to bite back a moan, but Tony being the arrogant prick he was sensed that, and took it as a challenge. He dug his fingers into your thighs, and slowly dragged them closer to the hem of your shorts tugging at them while simultaneously sucking hard on your neck. This action produced a whole slew of moans from you. Between the burn from the trails his nails made, and the spots he licked on your neck, you were in shambles. You placed one hand on the back of his neck, and used the other to claw at the fabric of his dress shirt. But then, he suddenly stopped.

You opened your eyes to figure out what had distracted him, when you saw he was focused on the phone beside you. It was vibrating and lit up to reveal a notification from a close friend. But the text wasn’t what Tony focused on. It was the lock-screen that Edward made you save of the two of you. Son of a bitch, you thought. Suddenly consumed with guilt, Tony removed your hands from his neck and shoulder.

“Sweetheart, we can’t do this. I’m sorry for coming on to you like that” He sighed, upset that he let things get this far.

“Tony please don’t stop, I’ll do anything you want,” You beg, grabbing at his shirt and tightening your legs around his waist “please just stay.” You plead.

“Maybe if you were never with my son, we could make this work, but you know that we cant. I’m sorry princess.” He unwraps your legs, and kisses your fingers before bringing your hands down to your sides. As he walks away, you shout,

“I don’t let him touch me.” He stops in his tracks, “You’re the only man I want inside of me. Please don’t go.” You pleaded one last time. It takes every bone in his body not to turn around and take you right there, but he continues walking, grabbing his keys and heading out the door, leaving you all alone.

♡♡♥︎♡♡

When he had left, Tony originally planned on going to a bar to drink his problems away, but he just couldn’t start the damn car. He opted on sitting in the driveway for two hours instead. He contemplated going on vacation for a few days to get himself together. Or maybe he could spend his days at the company like Edward did. He even thought about packing you up to run away with him to the Poconos. That way you’d be away from Edward, and away from judgmental eyes. But alas, the best thing to do would be to go inside, talk out your issues, and decide from there. So that’s what he would do.

When he entered the foyer, he immediately noticed the packed luggage in the entryway. It was yours. Oh hell no, he thought, she doesn’t just get to leave.

More determined than before, he marches upstairs ready to confront you and beg you to stay. If anyone was gonna leave, it’d be him since he started the situation. Just before he knocked on your door to speak with you, he stopped due to the faint noises he heard on the other side. Were you already talking to someone? No.

What he heard were needy pants and moans, and what he thought was his own name. Carefully opening the door slightly ajar, he peeked in to see you lying in bed. Your eyes were closed, and you had changed into an over-sized tee. Your hair was sprawled across your pillow, and your hands were busy at their own tasks. You had one underneath your shirt, toying with your nipples, and the other was underneath your panties finger fucking your hole.

This. This was his breaking point. A man could only take so much.

He burst into your room, alarming you so bad you leap out of your skin and sit up on your elbows. He began loosening his tie while he continued his stalk towards. He wasted no time crawling on top of the bed to hover above your face. He placed a hand beside your head to hold himself up, and then he ripped your drenched fingers out of your panties to examine them. Eyeing your slick digits, he pushed them into his mouth and slowly removed them, groaning from the taste.

“Is this all for me?” He whispers, loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t answer him because you were still stunned from his unexpected appearance. Growing impatient from your silence, Tony slaps your pussy, causing you to whimper. “When daddy asks you a question, he expects an answer, okay kitten?”

“Yes daddy” you choke out in a strangled moan.

“Mmm, good girl” Tony praises. He grabs your hips , and positions you so that you're face down while your bare legs dangle off of his lap.

“You know Y/N, you’ve been a very bad girl” Tony starts, as he takes off his tie. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson for being such a tease” As he says this, he wraps the fabric around your wrists, tightly securing it. He then proceeds to remove your panties. You can feel his dick getting harder. You squirm, placing your heat over his. “Don’t move.” He commands, before he places a hand on your ass, rubbing circles on it. “Now, be a good girl and count em for me.” Before you could protest, Tony delivers a harsh smack to your left cheek, you try to stifle the squeal that escapes your throat, which just makes him even more aggressive.

“Fucking count, and if you hold in another sound, it's only gonna get much worse.” He cautions.

“One” you cry. Smack, “T-two” the second blow was much harder than the last.

Eight smacks later, and you can finally end this torment. “Ten!” you cry out, voice shaking, and tears streaming down your face. By the time he got to ten, you were sure he’d left a handprint. Your tears stained the sheets, but he wasn’t done with you yet. He soothes the areas he smacked earlier with his hands. He leans down and begins to place kisses on your throbbing skin. You whine at the feel of warm lips, yearning for more, “I’m sorry about today Tony. Just please…no more teasing.” You beg, already dreading what he has in store.

Tony pauses to respond, “You’ve been saying sorry quite a bit today, kitten. But it’s not gonna work this time.” He soothes, ignoring your pleas.

When he’s done planting kisses, he takes two of his thick fingers to run between your sopping wet lips. He lightly brushes a finger against your clit, causing you to wiggle. “Look at daddy’s girl. So nice and wet, just for me.” He moves you both so that he’s face to face with your ass. “Such a pretty pussy.” he praises, in awe of how beautiful the sight before him is, dick growing harder by the minute. Fed up with waiting, he inserts his tongue into you. You taste even better than he had imagined. You fist the sheets underneath you, crying in bliss. You could feel the hair from his beard ticking the inside of your thighs. That, paired with the thick tongue inside of you, made you a moaning, writhing mess.

He’s biting and sucking on your lips, carefully making sure to collect all of your juices. His tongue occasionally darts between your folds, causing you to yelp and squirm. You can’t help bucking your hips backwards to relieve some of the tension. To focus better on your clit, he reaches one of his arms under your leg, and plants his hand on the area above your ass to hold you steady. He uses the other hand to finger fuck you while his tongue toyed with your clit.

Pushing yourself against his tongue was all that you could do since your hands were still tied, but Tony had a death-grip around your waist now.“Please untie me daddy, please I can’t take this anymore”, you whine, getting overwhelmed from the pleasure.

He comes up for air, and says “Since you asked so nicely princess.”, and with that, he flips you over so that you’re on your back, unties your wrists, then trails kisses down your body until he reaches your pussy again. He was hungry, and you were the only one who could satisfy him.

You tangle your hands in his hair, pull him closer to your mound, and start to grind yourself against his face.You were chasing your orgasm at this point and any kind of friction helped you get closer, but he didn’t seem to mind; it just turned him on even more. Tony begins sucking on your clit like his life depended on it. He used his fingers to stretch you open. First it was just one, then two, and now a third had you feeling full. Unable to stand the pleasure any longer, you began pushing him away. He placed an arm over your waist to restrain you. Still fingering you, he looked up to say, “Stay still. I’m just trying to make you feel good”. You throw your head back in response, moans roaring from your chest.

Even though you were just lying there, the sounds you made, and the way you tasted were setting him off. He wasn’t eating your pussy just to please you, he was doing it to please himself too. He started to hum into you, and the vibrations sent you over the edge. “Tony I’m so close” you cry, as you try to push him away one last time. The feeling was too new and foreign to you, “Fuck daddy, I’m cumming!” you screamed, just before you came all over his face.

He continues licking and sucking to help you ride out your high. Tears were clouding your vision. He finally comes up, meeting your eyes. He sits on his knees in between your legs, and begins to wipe away your tears. “You see the mess you made?” He questions, referring to his wet lips and fingers. You take the long appendages into both hands, and without breaking eye contact, place them in your mouth only to slowly remove them, repeating his actions from earlier.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he says more to himself than to you.

“Anything you want.” You reply.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you in awe. You take advantage of his silence, to get up and meet his level. You both just stare at each other for a moment. He’s the one to make the first move. You two share a slow and passionate kiss. He fights for dominance, and you obey him.

Your hands are placed on his shoulders to steady yourself. He rubs his hands up and down your sides, contemplating whether or not he wants to get rid of your baggy t-shirt. He decides he does. He breaks the kiss to pull the material over your head. He’s instantly met with your perky brown breasts, and the chocolate buds that grace the middle of them.

Grabbing your neck to pull you back in for a kiss, he begins palming at your chest. You move away from his lips to attack his neck. You slowly lick a stripe up towards his ear, biting the lobe when you meet it. Tony growls at the gesture, tugging your hair and making you whimper in the process. You continue endeavors, sucking and biting. You blow cold air over the bruises you make, which drives him crazy. He starts tugging at one of your nipples with and brings his free hand down to play with your clit again. You kiss your way passed his neck, to meet his collarbone. Before you can go any lower, he stops you.

“Not this time princess. Tonight is about you.” He coos, grabbing your chin up to meet your face. “Trust me we’ll have plenty of time for that in the future.” You can’t help the small smile that comes to your face at the mention of this happening again.

“Look at that pretty smile, I can never get enough of that.” He returns a smile to you, and begins unbuttoning his dress shirt. He stands up to pull the fabric off his shoulders, and tosses it to the other side of the room. You crawl over to him, and begin unbuckling his pants. “Impatient are we” he chuckles, cupping your chin. He bites his lip, turned on by how eager you are.

When you finish unbuckling, he pushes you back on the bed to finish releasing himself. His member is bigger than you imagined and you wonder if it will even fit.

“Get over here” he commands. You do as he says. He pulls you to the edge of the bed and lines himself up with your entrance. He teases you both by pushing himself between your folds to gather some lubricate. His head was big, so even that felt a little uncomfortable.

When he felt he collected enough wetness, he pulled back so that his tip aligned with your opening. “Do you want me stop?” He asks, sensing your uneasiness.

“No. Keep going” you respond, you’ve wanted this for so long, a little pain wasn’t going to stop you.

He eases his head into you, causing you both to let a string of obscenities. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so tight.” He growls, hunched over trying to ease the rest of himself in. Your mouth was wide open, and you didn’t breathe out of fear that you were gonna pop. Tears began to well up in your eyes. For one, you hadn’t been fucked in so long it felt like you were a virgin, and two, Tony had the biggest dick you’d ever taken.

“Sweetheart just relax for me” he urges, the veins in his dick were pulsating against the walls of your pussy. He would explode if he didn’t fuck you within the next two minutes. You try to do as he says. He reaches between the two of you, to apply pressure to your clit, which immediately makes you welcome him. He waits for you to adjust to his size. When he feels you clench around him, he pins your hands above your head, and starts to fuck you into the mattress. His strokes start off slow, but hard. He’s rolling his hips into yours, and his grunts and your moans are filling your ears. You shut your eyes, the pleasure beginning to overtake you. Tony reaches between you to pinch your clit. You yelp and fling your eyes open. “Don’t take your eyes off of me baby.”

He picks up the pace, and starts to fuck you faster. His hips are smashing into yours, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. “You look so pretty with my cock stuffed inside of you.” He growls, “Who else fucks you like this, hmm?” He questions.

“No one, Tony” you whimper, relishing in his dirty talk.

“Better not be” , he warns before delivering a particularly hard thrust that makes you cry out in pain. “You look so good underneath me. Fuck!” He grunts. “Say my name, princess.”

“Tony” you whimper, which was apparently the wrong answer because now he’s fucking you at an inhuman speed.

He pinches your clit again, “Silly girl, thats not it. What’s my name?”

“Daddy!” you scream,

“Good girl” he grunts, before burying himself into your neck claiming your skin. He doesn’t give a fuck about Edward at this point. He’s fucking you in his son’s bed, and he wouldn’t even care if he caught the two of you right now. That would be his punishment for the way he treated you.

His hand still on your clit, his throbbing dick inside you, and even his bare chest rubbing against your nipples is enough to make you explode. “D-daddy I’m gonna cu-umm.” You stutter, your words becoming incoherent. The pleasure was so intense you couldn’t think straight.

“Cum on Daddy’s cock, kitten.” He whispers into your ear, sending you over the edge.

“Fuck!”, you screamed, when he kept fucking you even after you came. Tony was close too, his thrusts were becoming more inaccurate, and he began to pull out before you stopped him.

“Cum inside of me.” You begged, wrapping yourself around him.

And that’s when you see something in him snap. You didn't have to tell him twice. He kicks up the pace sending your body up and down against the mattress as he urges himself to give you what you both want.

And after one more thrust, he lets out a sound so animalistic, and spurts his seed into your sex. All you can feel is his hot cum filling you up, as you both come down from your highs.

Staying put for a moment, he looks down at you, both of you covered in sweat, and tired from tonight’s activities. You both are gasping for air, trying to catch your breath. Tony was usually a man who kept his composure, so to see him before you now, sweat rolling down his body, disheveled hair, gasping for air, completely fucked out, was a memory you hoped to never forget.

He finally decided to remove himself from you, and you instantly felt empty. He left the room for a moment, only to return in a pair of sweatpants. He also had a damp washcloth, that he used to clean you with. “Who knew you could be so sweet” you murmur grabbing your t-shirt off the floor to pull it over your head, before you push yourself under the covers of your bed.

“You’re right. Now I have to kill you.” He responds, making you giggle. He smiles, “That’s such a sweet sound.” He whispers. You stop smiling and avert your gaze.

“You don’t get to be shy now.” He says before crawling into bed next to you. You’re positioned so that your back is against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and you intertwine your legs with his. He nuzzles his face into your neck, and plants a kiss.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks, while playing with your hair.

“You just did, but I guess that’s not what you meant” you say, earning a nip to the ear. “Ow! What’s your question, stupid?” you ask, chuckling.

“Where were you gonna go? I saw your bags packed downstairs.” He asks.

“I was gonna go back to my old apartment.”

‘I need to stop paying for that right away’, he thought. “ Well what stopped you?” He pushes.

“I saw your car in the driveway and didn’t want you to try to stop me, so I just went back upstairs until you were gone. I guess I was still pretty horny from earlier.” you admit.

God, did he love this girl.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Don’t ever think about leaving” he cautions.

“Me too…and I won’t” You start. Changing the subject you say, “You know…i’ve never done that before.”

“Done what?” He prods.

“Ive never came before.” You confess.

“Are you serious?” He half yells, making you jump slightly.

“Well yea, not even by myself.”

“So you mean to tell me, Edward never made you cum? I thought I raised him better than that.” He states, making you laugh.

“Well you two are completely different.”

“One could say, that it's a Stark contrast.” He jokes, laughing to himself.

“Remind me to never fuck a dad again.” You sigh, before turning around to give him one last kiss goodnight.

A/N: Please tell me what you think if you've gotten this far ;)! Like, reblog, comment. Also do not repost.

#Tony Stark Smut #Tony Stark x reader #Tony Stark x black reader #Marvel smut #black writer #new writers on tumblr #new writing blog

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quillandink333 · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part IV

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.1k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

It was nine o’clock in the morning, two days after I’d made my arrest, and Paya’s trial was in its opening stages. I was watching from the gallery. Normally, as the one running the investigations, I would be the first witness to take the stand, but today, for whatever reason, the lead prosecutor, Urbosa Sigatur, planned to summon me second after Auntie Purah. Urbosa was far from a stranger to me, however. She and I had collaborated on several cases in the past, and she shared with me many of my own ideals. She’d once even known my mother before her untimely demise. And so I decided not to question her judgment, however unconventional it may have seemed.

The prosecution’s opening statement had been based on the fact that the stolen Sheikah Slate, along with a bloodstained bullet, had been found in the defendant’s room, which, until recently, hadn’t been searched as it had been deemed irrelevant to the case. With these conclusive pieces of evidence, she’d stated, the defendant had been charged with both the theft of the Slate and the murder of its owner, Impa Sheikah.

The stolen object was the most central piece of evidence in the prosecution’s case. It had once been a target of my own immense interest, even before its theft. But that had all changed following its recovery. The riddle, though having been solved by means of professional reprogramming, still made little sense to me if any. “Carnation” was its answer, according to Auntie Purah herself. Much to my dismay, the secrets that the riddle had supposedly kept hidden had turned out to be nothing but my own fantasy. Every last piece of data that had once been stored in the Slate had been deleted, meaning the possibility of proving a motive for its theft was next to nonexistent. The only thing left in its memory was a diary entry, written by Auntie Impa the day before her murder. This in itself, however, held the potential to serve as a lead to her killer’s identity, at the very least.

The diary entry, as projected onto the courtroom wall by the Slate, went,

“Today was the first day of Zelda’s holiday visit. It is hard to believe that the last long term visit she paid us was already over a year ago. We have all missed her dearly. She seems as interested in my sister’s work as ever. It brought me joy to see the two of them bonding over their shared passion once again.

“However I must admit, I would still love for her to also spend some quality time with Paya some day soon. I sensed some resentment coming from her directed at my dear granddaughter. Perhaps it is something to do with that boy. Either way, it seems their relationship has hardly changed since she left the nest.

“I cannot say for certain whether anyone will ever be able to read this, but I have faith that Purah will figure it out. I am no good with machines like these, but I believe in her. At any rate, I hope she is the one who gets to read this message, but in the event that it happens to fall into the wrong hands, I will sign off here.”

With this, the prosecution’s argument, though a bit scattered across several different points, seemed sturdy enough so far. That Auntie Impa had seemingly known that her life would be taken the following night after writing her final message, combined with the fact that she’d received no threats from the outside world up until then, was one of the strongest pieces of evidence in our arsenal.

Paya’s defence lawyer, one Revali Twii, had made several attempts to dismantle her argument by claiming she had no possible way of knowing whether or not the victim had received a threat from outside the estate by phone. These attacks were easily deflected. As a foreigner to this city, Mr. Twii had been unaware that, thanks to the Sheikahs’ company, household phones here were all equipped with recording devices. Naturally, Ms. Sigatur had already listened to each recorded call since a month before the murder and had detected no discernible threat in any of them.

And yet in spite of all that, the argument shifted heavily in favour of the defence when it then carried out his cross examination. With how confidently Urbosa had stated her case, I never could’ve imagined how easy it would be for the opposing side to shatter it into countless, tiny pieces.

Mr. Twii’s primary line of questioning was a solid one, to say the least. He concurred with my deduction as presented by Ms. Sigatur that the parlour indeed was not the true scene of the crime. However, he claimed that the real crime scene could not possibly have been the defendant’s bedroom either. His basis for this was the gunshot. Paya’s room was in the same hallway that the sleeping quarters of the current witness, Auntie Purah, as well as myself, were in. Mr. Twii had her testify about the sound of the gunshot that she’d heard. In addition to the fact that it hadn’t seemed loud enough to have come from the very next room over, she’d only heard it once: from the parlour.

No doubt he intended to question me about the same thing when the time came for me to take the stand. I’d been itching to speak my mind and set things straight so badly that I’d had to cross my legs just to keep myself from getting up too soon by the time court was finally adjourned for a half-hour recess.

Now the prosecutor and I were together in a private room reserved for witness prepping. Normally I did just fine testifying on my own, but in this trial, everything was at stake, and I couldn’t seem to stop my heart from racing no matter what I tried. Thankfully I had Urbosa here, and simply talking with her had done much to calm my nerves already.

“You’re originally from out of town too, aren’t you?” I noted, thinking back on her performance.

“That I may be, but unlike that lawyer, I’ve spent enough time here to know of the perils this city is facing, and who’s been holding it together in spite of all that.”

“Right.” My lips rested against the curve of my index as my leg bounced restlessly underneath the table. “That schmuck really doesn’t have a clue, does he?”

“No, not likely. Though he’s quite the formidable opponent, I must say.” She leaned back in her chair, looking pensive, but not the least bit agitated. “My case took quite the beating out there.”

My heart rate was starting to pick up again. “You don’t think you’ll...lose...do you?”

“Who, me? Lose?” She let out a hearty bout of chuckles. “Young lady, are you quite sure you know who you’re speaking to?” I returned her laughter halfheartedly, unable to shake the foreboding feeling lying at the pit of my stomach. Urbosa cleared her throat, preserving her calm smile. “All jokes aside, I wouldn’t worry even if we do end up losing this one. The true criminal is still out there somewhere, and there is no such thing as a perfect crime.”

“I suppose...” Perfect crimes may not have existed, but neither did perfect investigations. If they ruled Paya out as a suspect, then only one other, “safe” option would remain.

“Alright, out with it. What’s on your mind?” Her hand had landed on my shoulder as she’d reached across the desk, over my half empty glass of water. “And why are you so set on getting Paya convicted, if I might ask? Sibling rivalry is one thing, but this is...”

I avoided her perceptive gaze, staring intently at the latch on my bag. What could I possibly tell her? “It’s just,” I stalled, eventually settling for a vague, “I’m running out of time.”

After a long pause, she leaned back, letting go of my arm. “I see. Well, whatever it is, know that I’ll be on your side no matter what, little bird.”

Oh, if only she’d known.

“So to sum up, you were outstandingly negligent in your investigation of the defendant’s bedroom.”

My jaw unhinged at what I’d just heard come out of the attorney’s mouth. I’d just finished giving him an explanation of my findings in as much detail as I could, during which time he’d been surprisingly polite, until now.

“You likely saw the Slate along with the bullet and made your arrest right then and there. You didn’t even stop to consider the possibility that you hadn’t found all there’d been to find in that room, did you?” I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off again. “In fact, I’m willing to bet you didn’t even attempt to look for the murder weapon.”

“Excuse me, Sir,” I retaliated with chest puffed up, “but my team and I searched the property from top to bottom, repeatedly, for two whole weeks, and—”

“Yes, I am well aware. However, you failed to complete a thorough search of this so-called ‘true crime scene’ before you arrested Ms. Sheikah. Do you deny it?”

I was floundering for words. Why bother questioning me if he merely intended to cut me off and answer his own questions? “I-I...”

“Objection.”

All eyes fell upon the prosecution. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“The defence is harassing the witness, Your Honour.”

The judge gave a slow, considerate nod of his head. “Objection sustained.”

Twii gave Urbosa a subtle but unmistakable side-eye. I thanked her silently. “Speaking of the murder weapon,” he continued in his signature, holier-than-thou tone, “I have here Exhibit F: a list of traits possessed by the elusive firearm responsible for the victim’s life.”

This wasn’t good. The list in question had been compiled by the prosecution based on traits of the fatal wound revealed by the autopsy, as well as other traits shared by the two bullets that were found at the estate. It contained information like its .38 caliber and that it had likely been fired twice at point blank, to name a few examples.

“My question for you, witness, is the following. What did you find during your ‘investigation’ regarding the weapon?”

This was fine, I kept telling myself. He still had yet to present the most fatal piece of evidence in the record. “As I’ve said before, none of our searches turned up any sign of it, other than what’s listed on that piece of paper you’re holding.”

“Is that so?” The sarcasm rooted in his voice had me sweating bullets. “In that case, Ms. Hyrule, I’d like to turn your attention to this passage here at the bottom.”

That was “Inspector Hyrule” to him, but of course, he couldn’t care less for such trifling things as common decency.

But when I read over the passage at which he was pointing, my throat closed up.

“Allow me to read it aloud for the court.” He snobbishly cleared his throat. “And I quote, ‘The murder weapon and the circumstances surrounding it strongly suggest an Octoric M&P revolver,’ end quote. I’d also like to add that this particular model is favoured by the district bureau of police, who issue them out to many of their detectives for self-defence.”

I gritted my teeth, annunciating each word as I spat, “Get to the point.”

The smarmy bastard was hardly even phased by my unmasked hostility. “Now, now, Ms. Hyrule, you’ve no reason to worry,” he waved off. “After all, I have no intention of accusing you.”

When he spoke that last word, my heart stopped, and deep down, I knew it was over.

“Firstly I wish for you to clarify a few things for me, as you were one of the first to discover the scene of the murder when it happened.”

I gave a slow, strenuous nod, losing strength in my knees by the second, but standing my ground all the same. “Go on.”

“The defendant showed no sign of having a gun on or anywhere near her person when you arrived, correct?”

“Correct,” I lied.

“Good. Now that we’ve established that the defendant was unarmed, I’d like to present another piece of evidence.” He laid out flat a second sheet of paper on the stand in front of me. “Exhibit H. This is part of a record kept by the precinct where the witness is currently employed, alongside the rest of her team. It details a list of the firearms given out to detectives each day, as well as the time when each one was issued and when it was returned to custody at the end of its designated officer’s shift.”

And there it was. I’d known all along that it had only been a matter of time until he’d bring out this piece of evidence, but, evidently, I’d failed to prepare myself mentally for this. Perhaps a part of me had hoped not to be on the stand when it happened. All I could do now was hold my peace and pray that it wouldn’t get worse from here.

“This page corresponds with the day before the murder. Now, Ms. Hyrule,” he addressed, summoning a swarm of butterflies in my stomach, “I’m sure you’ll recognize this badge number here. Would you please read it aloud for me?”

I swallowed my nerves and did as he’d requested. “FB7732Z438LL.”

“Thank you.” He flashed me that shit-eating grin of his. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the number belonging to one Constable Link Fyori, the witness’ very own investigative partner.” A few whispers drifted through the gallery following that announcement. “One who reads this will also notice that, after his revolver was issued out to him the morning before the murder, it was never returned to the precinct’s custody thereafter. In fact, it is still missing to this day.”

With this, the whispers grew in number, creating a din of distrust that had the attorney smirking from ear to ear.

“Objection.”

The whispering dissipated. Twii’s shoulders sagged as he hypocritically shot Urbosa a look that said, “What now?”

“Mr. Twii, how is this relevant? Unless you have definitive proof linking Constable Fyori to the crime, I see no point in bringing it up.”

The judge gave a pound of his gavel with a bone-chilling shake of his head. “Overruled. The court will allow the defence to continue, provided that it has good reason.”

My mouth fell open, and so had Urbosa’s.

“Thank you, Your Honour. I was just getting to that, my good prosecutor.” Now even she seemed on edge. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut through with a knife. “I may not have proof as things stand currently. However, that is about to change. You see, I have reason to believe that our witness here is covering for someone.”

The courtroom broke out into an even louder din of murmurs, as if I couldn’t clearly hear each backhanded remark the members of the gallery were making at my expense.

The pounding of the judge’s gavel echoed throughout the room, and the whispering ceased once again.

“You must be mistaken.” I stood as tall as I could with how close my legs were to giving up on me. “I happen to be one of the most trusted detectives in the force. Why do you think I was put in charge of this case despite being one of the first on the scene?”

“Ah, but that, dear witness, was your superiors’ fatal mistake.”

Damn that solicitor. “What do you mean?”

“Although my client has elected not to testify to the court, she has let me in on a certain piece of information—one that I believe will make the jaws of everyone here drop to the floor.”

Surely not. Surely even she wouldn’t dare stoop so low.

“Inspector...” The attorney looked me dead in the eyes. The air was suffocating. “What do you have in your briefcase?”

Everyone was staring at me and murmuring amongst themselves, more raucously than ever before, like I was the one on trial.

“N-No, it’s—it’s not what it seems,” I wavered. Then mustering my shattered courage, “You!” I pointed my finger at Twii. “Prove to me that the defendant wasn’t lying. I demand to see proof!”

But my demands were met with silence. Even Urbosa was looking at me with cold contempt and disappointment.

“Bailiff.”

An officer appeared from the sidelines. He seized my bag.

“Wait, stop!”

I tried to wrest it from his grasp, but he was too strong. I watched helplessly as he opened it up, reaching in and revealing the murder weapon for all to see.

“No...!”

“Bailiff, what is the number engraved on that weapon?”

He seemed to recite the number in slow motion, twisting the knife with every digit. “FB7732Z438LL.”

“No, please!” I screamed. “It wasn’t him, he’s been framed! Please, Your Honour, you have to believe me!”

Amidst the roar of the crowd, I saw the conclusive shake of the judge’s head. With a pound of his gavel, he said, “I hereby order the immediate detainment of Link Fyori under the charge of first degree murder.”

I met eyes with my partner but half a second before I saw him be dragged out of his seat with brute force.

“No!”

“As for this witness, she shall receive her sentence after being questioned by the police for the concealing of evidence, contempt of court, and perjury.”

I cried out when an overwhelming pain shot through my arm. My family watched from the gallery in either horror or disgust, or a mixture of both perhaps. I tried with all my might just to get the bailiff to stop hurting me, but it was futile.

“Your Honour, just a moment please.”

With the judge’s approval, the man’s grip on my arm lightened up. The one who’d spoken had been none other than that wretched defence attorney.

“Inspector, if you don’t mind, I have one more question to ask you.”

I held my breath, bracing myself. Though there wasn’t much he could say at this point that could possibly make the situation worse.

“Why?” he finally asked. “Why did you feel the need to conceal such a critical piece of evidence?”

My entire face boiled over with heat. I looked around, taking in the courtroom’s atmosphere, and my whole being was filled to the brim with indescribable anger and shame. Barely able to swallow the charged whimper lodged at the cusp of my throat, I choked out the words, “No comment.”

The trial had ended while I’d still been in the middle of interrogation by my own peers. I was lucky enough to get off with a fine, but it was because of that hour-and-a-half-long lecture that I only found out about Paya’s “not guilty” verdict after the entire courtroom had been cleared out. This was no surprise to me, of course, but still a disappointment, to put it lightly. What was a surprise was that no one, not Paya, nor Auntie Purah, nor even Urbosa, had bothered to wait for me.

That was fine. They could think whatever they wanted of me. I’d simply have to redeem myself by proving Link’s innocence in his trial.

It was to this end that I made my way to the district’s Centre of Detention.

When Link appeared behind the iron bars of the visitors’ room, he was already sporting a worn and faded prisoner’s uniform, surely having just undergone an interrogation of his own. Though, from the looks of him, his had been considerably more thorough than mine.

I cleared my throat. “Hello, Link.”

“Hello,” he replied.

Deathly silence filled the air. The harsh ticking of the clock on the wall behind me was slowly starting to crawl under my skin.

“They, uhm...didn’t go easy on you, eh?”

He shook his head, eyes wandering without aim.

Why did it have to be so hard to talk to him sometimes? He’d never been so unapproachable back in our days as teenagers. Though now, I supposed, recent events were only making things even more difficult for me than usual.

“Look...” I took a deep breath, shifting in my seat. “I’m sorry. Alright? I couldn’t cover for you forever. They were bound to find out eventually. Please, don’t be upset.”

“What? Zelda...” His demeanour morphed from listless to urgent, almost apologetic, as he struggled to find his voice. “Why would I be upset with you? I never asked you to cover for me in the first place.”

“I know.” Now it was I who couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. “I just knew that you couldn’t have possibly... I mean, you would never—”

“I didn’t.”

He’d caught me with my mouth hanging open, when he’d cut me off.

“I didn’t kill her. I promise you.”

Of course he hadn’t. It was obvious, even though the revolver had borne no fingerprints and, with the gloves that he always wore, he wouldn’t have left any. What motive could he have had? He was an amnesiac, and even if he hadn’t been, he still wouldn’t have had a reason to kill my godmother.

I took out my pen and notebook, the only things left in my case that hadn’t been confiscated. “Tell me what you know, Link. Everything.”

A beat. Then he straightened his posture and began to explain his side of the story. As it turned out, my intuition had been spot on. This whole mess was the design of the Yiga organization. Link told me about his encounter with them before the murder. They had blackmailed him into surrendering his revolver to them, after which he would never see it again.

Though, even without a hint of deceit in his tone or manner, I had questions about the means by which the Yiga had blackmailed him. He had virtually nothing to lose. Didn’t he?

In any case, I honestly had considered showing him the gun that I’d found on the scene that night, but somehow I’d had the distinct impression that he’d known nothing about it, despite the very object in question belonging to him. I’d thought perhaps someone from the organization had switched out his weapon for another without his noticing. It was no secret that even the police bureau was infested with their ilk. In the end, I hadn’t been far off the mark.

The whole time he spoke, he had his head lowered, hair falling in front of his eyes, as if something were holding them back from meeting mine. Then he muttered, “When I had my encounter with the organization, I...remembered.”

His limited annunciation meant I had to take a moment to decipher the syllables of the last word he’d uttered. Then they sank in. “Wait. What? You mean you...” It felt beyond strange to even speak the words after so long. “You got your memory back?”

He lowered his head further. Was that a nod?

My mind went back to what he’d said to me on that one occasion in the office, not long after this whole mess had first begun. “Link, you...” My hands curled into themselves around the strap of my satchel. “All this time...why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” he pleaded. “It would’ve been a hindrance to the investigation.” I hated to admit it, but he was right. Dropping that bomb on me would only have thrown my conscience deeper into its already tangled web of turmoil.

Amidst all the questions swirling in my mind, one suddenly appeared, eclipsing all the rest. “Why did you disappear back then?”

At this, he finally looked up and met my gaze. But when he did, his eyes were wide, almost trembling. His look seemed to cast the whole room into a great, looming darkness.

“Oh, it’s...it’s okay if you’d prefer not to talk about—”

“No,” he exclaimed. “I must.” But the way his shoulders came up to meet his ears and how rapidly his chest rose and fell told me it wasn’t going to be an easy story to tell. “It was the Yi—” He choked on his words. “The...organization.”

There it was again. The name of the group I’d been chasing without rest ever since their appearance eighteen years prior. “I knew it...” I mumbled without thinking.

He steeled himself, then continued. “That day, my father was picking me and my sister up after school. Normally we would’ve ridden home with him in his automobile, but that morning, he and I had planned to surprise Aryll by getting...I think it was ice cream, on our way back. Anyway, we decided to walk home that day. But...” His face darkened yet again. “But then...”

Pressing him for more details would have been beyond cruel. I could only imagine the horrors that those blackguards had put him and his family through. “How many of them were there?”

“I’m not sure. All I know is that they had us outnumbered.” I nodded along, without thinking, as he continued his tale. “They were all armed with what looked like military grade shotguns, and they wore those masks with the inverted Sheikah family crest... I’ve always known that I’d seen that image somewhere before.”

No one knew why the organization had chosen this symbol for themselves, though I personally suspected it to be a show of opposition.

“Anyway, after they sh...shot father,” he struggled, a hand coming up to his now quavering lips, “they must’ve felt threatened by Aryll and me, because the next thing they did was...shoot her, too.” The way his tone had started to oscillate and how his face had drained itself of colour made my stomach churn. His anguish was so clear, it was devastating. “One of them had said something to the ends of, ‘We can’t have you scamps telling on us.’ But before they could...’shut me up’ as well, I fled.” Another pause. He kept on breathing. “I was too terrified to notice which way I was going. The whole time I ran, they kept firing at me. They were too reckless to aim properly, though, mind.”

“Well...that’s lucky, at least,” I tried. This was met with a sigh of reluctant agreement. “Still, how did you make it out of that with your life?”

“They stopped chasing me when I made it out of the back alleys and into the open,” he explained. “I suppose they couldn’t risk revealing themselves.”

Now it all made sense. Seven years ago, when he’d vanished without a trace, it was as though he’d never even existed in the first place. No one could get in contact with him or his family, and yet, no one batted an eye about it. It had seemed I’d been the only one who’d thought of it as anything less than perfectly normal. Just like when my mother had lost her life.

“We never had the chance to get ice cream that day.” He looked all but ready to burst into tears with that sentence. That was the moment I realized, no matter how drastically the last seven years of hell had changed him, there was still a fragment of that playful, hollow-legged sixteen-year-old left deep in his dark, forgotten core. If there was a way to bring that bright-eyed child back out into the light, I would find it, even if it spelled my demise.

Even so, there was one thing left that had yet to be explained. “What about your amnesia?”

“Ah...” His brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t know what caused that, to be honest with you.” He seemed to be racking his mind, but to no avail. “By the time those thugs finally gave up, I didn’t recognize my surroundings. I remember trying to find my way home, but I suppose I just ended up getting myself even more lost from there.” It was no wonder. The street names in this town were of little help in navigation, and it wasn’t hard to understand why he might have been apprehensive to ask for directions in such a bustling and hostile environment, especially after what he’d just been subjected to. “So I fell asleep in the streets that night,” he concluded with a shivering exhale. “The next morning, I woke up without the slightest notion of who I was.”

My heart took a plunge at the thought of his young self curled up in some alleyway, like a baby bird who’d fallen from the nest. “It must have been some sort of mental defence mechanism,” I conjectured. “That’s the only explanation I can come up with.” He slowly nodded his agreement. “After that, then, I suppose the rest is history.”

“Indeed...”

The visitors’ room fell into a deep, reflective silence, one nothing like that which had had me gasping for air moments ago. I watched the weary feelings of dread swim in his once bright blue eyes, tearing him apart.

He’d spent five whole years in that cold, cramped ward without even a name by which to call himself. And now we were back where we’d started. He may have regained his memories in the end, but at what cost?

I no longer felt the need to hunt down those who had wronged me. Now, my only desire was to slip between the bars that stood between the two of us and whisk him away to a far off land, where no one would ever hurt us again. But I pushed the impossible daydream aside. Even if escape were an option, we’d only be running straight out into range of Yiga fire.

“After your trial tomorrow...well, at the very least, I’ll lose my badge,” I smiled waywardly. Then, letting it fade and rolling my shoulders back, “Until then, I swear, I’ll do everything within my power to prove your innocence. Then we can go out for ice cream together.”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears when he looked up at me then. Now that I thought about it, this seemed like the first time I’d ever seen him come close to crying, even in the time before the incident. Of course, he’d seen me in tears countless times back then. I wondered if he remembered them.

“Zelda...?” My name had started to leave his lips with conviction, but weakened on its way out. “There’s...something else I should tell you.”

“Anything.”

Just then, I caught him straightening out the cuff of his black-barred sleeve, concealing the fair skin of his wrist, out of the corner of my eye. “Never mind.” He again cast his gaze downwards, muttering an inaudible, “It’s nothing,” under his breath.

#is it obvious yet how much I love Ace Attorney?#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #link x zelda #zelda x link #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #zelink fanfic #zelink fic #zelink ff #zelda pov #detective au

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swift--fox · 3 years

Text

Day off

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH I wanted to make this a sort of surprise but I failed miserably. ANYWAY hope u like it i love u you outstanding funky lil dumbass celebrate somehow surviving another year!! (AGAIN please ignore the garbage title I’m so bad at this)

P/N: This is amazing, and I have been hoarding it for like a month (Totally not because I am terrible at remembering to post shit, shhhhhh) But THANK YOU GREY @pissbabydean!!! THIS IS AMAZING AND I LOVE IT!!

——

Dean woke up in a great mood. He was well-rested, perfectly sated from last night’s…activities, and they had the bunker to themselves today. He and Sam had agreed to taking a couple “off-days” a month just to keep tensions from building too high. Today was one of them, and Sam was taking Eileen out on a day trip to Colorado.

Dean rolled over and flopped on top of the warm body next to him, resulting in a sleep muddled grunt. He peppered a flurry of kisses across his boyfriends neck and cheeks, making obnoxious smooching noises as he went. Said boyfriend was now awake, if his sleepy murmurs of protest were anything to go by.

“‘M sleeping. Get off,” Cas mumbled, eyes still shut while he turned his head, blindly trying to evade Dean’s affections.

“No way, Grumpy. It’s almost 11, time to get up.” Dean crowed, leaning down to peck a kiss on the tip of his nose. Cas screwed his face up and twisted underneath him, unseating the hunter without breaking a sweat. He buried his face into the pillow with a satisfied sigh.

Dean could almost forget how strong Cas was, seeing as he rarely showcased it. He only really used it on hunts or when they were hooking up - in both instances Dean’s brain was usually too preoccupied to really take note.

Regardless, Dean had to uphold his reputation as Incredibly Annoying Alarm Clock, otherwise Cas could sleep until 2pm. Which was weird, because angels didn’t even need sleep. Cas just really really liked it, which was all fun and games when Dean could wake up in the arms of his angel and maybe even lay there with him until his growling stomach could no longer be ignored. Now, it was more annoying than anything. At least he could have fun waking him up.

He crawled back over and straddled Cas’s bare back, resulting in a muffled “Uff” into the pillow.

“Caaas, c’mon, dontcha want to spend time with your loving boyfriend? Who makes amazing pancakes? And who you love so very dearly?”

A dismissive grunt was all Dean received in way of an answer. Dean leaned forward and licked a fat stripe across the top of Cas’s tanned shoulder. He shuddered once and that was the only response he got before Cas stilled again. He wormed his tongue up Cas’s warm neck and traced the shell of his ear with it, making lewd moaning noises right in his boyfriend’s ear.

“Gross,” He protested as he reached back to blindly swat at Dean’s face. The perpetrator just chuckled and avoided the half-hearted protest, nipping on his fleshy earlobe.

“You love it,” He teased.

“Not when you have morning breath,” Cas rebutted. Dean hummed dismissively and continued his minstriations.

Cas didn’t mind enough to put up an actual fight, but he did mind enough that his will-power was slowly diminishing. Then, a tongue snaked into his ear and he shrieked, nearly throwing Dean off the bed while he escaped the disturbing sensation. Dean was folded over with laughter, cackling into the bedsheets while he glowered.

“You’re disgusting and cruel. Go make me pancakes,” He groused, using the hem of Dean’s discarded t-shirt to wipe out the wetness in his ear. Dean, who was still laughing, came over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Comin’ right up,” He grinned. It was hard to stay mad at him, especially with a smile like that. Cas could still act the part, though.

After brushing his teeth and putting on a clean shirt, Castiel ambled into the kitchen, which was flooded with the scent of cooking batter and fresh-brewed coffee. The table was already set, his favorite mug filled to the brim with dark liquid. He sat down and immediately began nursing the bitter beverage while he watched Dean man the stove, quietly humming to himself.

Castiel was an angel. He didn’t need to eat, just like he didn’t need to sleep. Unlike sleeping, though, he didn’t particularly enjoy eating. Mostly, if it wasn’t Dean cooking for him, he wouldn’t eat. Not much was worth the overwhelming tsunami of flavor and texture from each individual molecule and building block of whatever he was consuming. But Dean’s satisfied little smile and shining eyes were.

Pancakes weren’t the worst for him to eat, but they certainly weren’t good by any means. He found that foods containing eggs were largely unpleasant. But Dean always made him a heart-shaped pancake, and Cas’s chest always did those happy little swoops when he caught Dean watching him eat it.

They finished breakfast and Castiel washed the dishes while Dean dried, then Cas was left to sit on the couch while Dean showered. He reached over to grab his latest read - The Crooked House, which he’d flown to the public library to borrow a few days ago in anticipation of their off-day. He opened up to the yellowed, well-loved first page and quickly lost himself in the rolling plot.

Dean had come to join him some time ago, stray droplets dripping from his hair to the shoulders of his t-shirt. He slid his way over to the couch suavely, socked feet gliding easily over the smooth flooring. If he wasn’t so focused on his book, he would have noticed Dean’s little huff of annoyance that Cas had missed his grand entrance.

And thus began Dean Winchester’s unabashed quest for attention from his angel boyfriend. It started with an incessant amount of talking.

“Heyyy, Cas, whatcha doin’? He drawled in a very successful imitation of Isabella from Phineas and Ferb (What? It’s not like Cas would get the reference. Slim pickin’s on Netflix these days).

“Reading,” Came Castiel’s curt reply as he turned a page. Dean’s mouth fell open in an overexaggerated “aaahhhh,” noise.

“Cool. Whatcha readin’?”

“The Crooked House. It’s a murder-myster novel where a young woman’s-”

“Cool, cool. So, whaddya say about a little TV? Ever watched Schitt’s Creek?” Dean cut him off purposefully, gesturing at the TV. The picture of innocence, if you didn’t count the faint upwards tug of the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t mind if you watch something,” He replied noncommittally. Dean narrowed his eyes a fraction and tossed the remote aside.

“Okay, no Netflix. So, what should we do, then?”

Castiel shrugged and flicked the page. “I’m reading. You can do what you like, Dean - it’s your day off.”

Dean collapsed against the couch with a frustrated groan, throwing his hands up in the air.

“It’s our day off, babe. As in, together. Let’s do something,” He whined.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Dean sat up excitedly, but Cas held up a finger. “…after I’m done reading.”

Dean’s face fell and he crossed his arms against his chest. He wasn’t pouting but he wasn’t not pouting, either.

“Come on, dude, you got, like, the whole book still! Watch something stupid and funny with me! Don’t you love me?”

“I do. And you love me, which is why you’ll let me finish my book in peace.”

Dean huffed and muttered complaints under his breath. He hated it when Cas turned his own words against him. It was just unfair.

Dean could be unfair, too.

He started clicking his tongue obnoxiously loud, humming nonsensical tunes to himself, tapping loudly on the end tables with his finger tips. He watched the angel carefully for any reaction to his antics but damn, he knew Cas was good. He would have to up his game.

Then he started singing. Loudly. Badly. Voice cracks and all.

“Oh Danny boyyyyyy, the pipes, the pipes are ca-a-allingggggg~”

There was a minute twitch in Cas’s jaw and the grip he had on the cover of the book was a lot tighter than necessary. He was getting somewhere.

“From glen to glennnnnnnnnn, and down the mountain siiiii-”

His mouth was suddenly clamped shut. Lips pressed together, like if he weren’t speaking at all. But he had been, and he was trying to. He tried to speak, to do anything, but no sound came out.

“Perhaps vocal lessons would be a good investment for you, Dean.” Cas commented off-handedly, and then paused in thought. “Or ear-plugs for the rest of us,”

Dean glowered at the nonchalant angel on the other end of the couch and shifted, shoving his legs unceremoniously into Cas’s lap, making sure to jostle the book in his hands with his calf.

He knew Cas knew what he was asking for. HAnd Cas knew he knew that he knew what Dean was asking for. e was just being an asshole for reasons unknown (okay, unknown if you didn’t count the way Dean woke him up that morning. And how he’d scared him in the shower the previous morning).

Where Dean had been glaring a hole into the wall just past Castiel, he noticed that the book was…levitating. Where were Cas’s hands?

He got his answer a second later when he felt fingers press against the arch of his foot. He tensed and a little ribbon of excitement coiled in his chest. He thought he was getting what he asked for. He was wrong.

Cas’s fingers were…devastating, in all the wrong ways. Just barely brushing his fingertips in sweeping ovals on his heel, occasionally poking his arch or instep. It wasn’t enough to warrant laughter, or even really much squirming. It was just on the precipice, and Dean fucking hated it.

And then Cas decided to get meaner. He would drag a deliberate finger down his sole and as quickly as his nerves could flare up with tingly delight, the sensation was promptly rubbed away by strong, soothing hands. It was a terrible, cruel, sadistic, almost-tickly-but-not massage.

Dean scowled and leaned forward to thwack Cas on the shoulder, though not too convincingly. Despite it not being what he wanted, Cas was a talented (if incredibly mean) masseuse. Dean was putty in his hands, and not the giggly kind. Ugh.

Cas was still reading his stupid murder book, the creased and worn old book was hovering a few inches from his face, the pages turning on their own. Seriously, how did this guy have enough concentration to do three things with his grace at once?

“What is it, Dean? What more could you possibly have to complain about? I’m giving you the attention you were so desperate for.”

Dean harrumphed and glared at his angel, pointedly jostling the feet in his lap. Cas would have found it cute if it wasn’t so annoying. He continued his infuriating game while Dean’s mouth stayed zipped shut with grace, all he could do was move into the touch - and for every bit he did, Castiel pulled back the same. It was goddamn psychological warfare.

Then, there was a…prodding. On his right bottom-most rib, through his shirt. Which could only mean one thing. Dean would, technically, be getting what he wanted. But in the most impersonal and - there was that word again - infuriating way possible. It was more of an itch, really. But the fact he couldn’t scratch it was why he started squirming and kicking his legs out. Castiel was not amused and then Dean realized that he wasn’t moving anymore. He was sending the signals to his muscles to move and thrash and, in general, be a nuisance. His body just wasn’t responding and it took Dean a second too late to register the faint self-satisfied smirk on the other man’s face before the incredibly thin and spindly wire of grace was curling and flossing between each individual rib.

Though, now, he could laugh. And he did. He imagined he would have thrown his head back if he could while he shrieked and full-belly laughter tumbled from his newly-functioning vocal chords. But, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t wiggle, couldn’t shake his head or even clench his fists. He couldn’t do anything that even alluded to a struggle and he couldn’t decide if he liked that added layer of vulnerability or not.

Then, the spindle of grace turned more into a…tickly lash. The thing with using grace for tickling, (like a filthy cheater, because grace is so unfair for this very reason) is that it doesn’t quite follow the rules. With a wave-length of celestial intent behind the wheel, it was lethal.

The cruel extension of his power flicked across his chest, leaving behind a swarm of buzzing nerves. It migrated to his neck, his underarms, his belly - Jesus, even his thighs. His laughter was jumpy and bright and desperate, because he didn’t know where the next strike would be.

His question was answered when the malicious tendrils of grace brushed the crease of his thighs. The laughter Cas drew from there was wholly consuming and embarrassing. Cackling, you could call it. Howling may be a more accurate descriptor.

Dean waited for the electric tingling of his nerves to taper off, but it didn’t come. Cas didn’t stop.

If it wasn’t before, Dean’s laughter had definitely turned desperate. Gasps and sobs and choked attempts at words and all.

“C-CAS!” He all but screamed, and the rest of what he would say slipped through the cracks of his crumbling mind. His boyfriend, although sadistic, knew when to stop. Or slow things down, at least. The weapon his thighs were previously assaulted with moved to converge on his stomach, ribbons swirling around the softer center like a goddamn merry-go-round.

Occasionally one of said ribbons would deviate from the rest to wiggle into his belly button - which would add a squeaky quality to his giggling. At least now he could think, although the laughter that was coming out of his mouth (that could only be described as giggling, much to his dismay) was embarrassing enough that it was hard to find this an act of mercy.

“Yes, Dean?”

"Me-Mehehercyy!” He pleaded. His lungs were starting to ache, as well as the rest of him, from laughing so hard. Although, it was a nice feeling, Dean enjoyed the feeling of complete bone-deep exhaustion after he and Cas’s sessions. Still, he needed a break. Cas’s book finally was placed on the end table and he smiled over at Dean fondly with a short nod.

When Dean regained control of his body, the first thing he did was fold forward and press his forehead to Cas’s thigh, panting out the last of his residual laughter. A warm and firm hand rubbed soothing circles into his back and Dean leaned into the heavenly touch.

“You were mean,” Dean whined, no real accusation behind his words. He felt Cas chuckle more than he heard it, and he was being guided to collapse in his lap again. This time, his upper-half was splayed across the sweatpant-clad legs and he was face down, cheek pressed against the top of Cas’s thigh. He sighed and immediately molded himself to the warm body under him.

“I was, wasn’t I? What would you like?”

Dean hummed and reached behind him blindly for Cas’s hands.

“Touch me.”

A blissfully wam palm flattened in the center of Dean’s back and began rubbing once again, the same soothing circles, but now under the shirt.

“Is this good?”

Dean thought for a moment.

“Light.” Was all he could manage, as his brain was currently tickled-out mush.

Cas made his hand into more of a relaxed claw and dragged the pads of his fingers and occasionally the edges of his blunt fingernails of the pliant and receptive planes of Dean’s back. The hunter let out a herculean sigh as every bit of stress was drawn out of his body by his caring and meticulous angel. Damn, he’d have to annoy Cas more often.

#submission #supernatural #Destiel #ticklish!dean #dean is a nuisance #Cas loves it tho #he pretends to hate it #but really

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hains-mae · 4 years

Text

Flowers

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays. You are just an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life, so one might think it only makes sense that your soulmate is just as ordinary as you. But that isn’t the case. Especially not when your body is constantly littered with flowers. Some of them fade over time, some stay, but one thing is for certain – your soulmate seems to get hurt. A lot.

Notes: Hey there you guys. Recently I’ve been caught up in a Batman fever, and I can’t do anything about it. I ended up creating a challenge for my friend @mrevaunit42 which was an “Character x Reader” Soulmate AU. Seriously, it was all in the name of fun.

And then I got caught up in it, perhaps a little too much – and created this. I’ve never written a soulmate au before, though I really wanted to. (Now I have! Yay~) So please forgive my writing since I’m a little rusty, and I hope you enjoy.

Stay safe everyone.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

I woke up to a burning sensation on my lower ribs in the middle of night. Hissing in pain I slowly pushed my feet out of the warm covers and turned on the lamp beside my bed. Pulling up my shirt I assessed the damage.

It was purple lilacs this time, stretched across the middle of my torso going horizontally to my side. I winced as the tattoo completed itself and just as the heat came, a cold chill ran through it and down my spine. Somehow it soothed the burn.

God, another one? I frowned at the beautiful flower and sighed. It worried me that my soulmate was prone to getting hurt. Sometimes the injuries made sense, like when I found them on my knees, I could easily chalk it up to falling and scraping – but injuries like these were more difficult to decipher.

How does someone normal get hurt this way?

They don’t.

“Unless they’re a criminal.” One of my friends stated dryly days ago.

“Or a hero!” Another said quickly.

Needless to say, I wasn’t in a rush to find out. Whoever this person was, I knew from the start that they were trouble.

The next time I woke, it was to the early morning rays that escaped my curtains and played a fiery dance on my eye lids. I groaned and pulled the covers up wishing I could sleep in for a couple more minutes, but I knew I couldn’t.

A few weeks ago my school, Gotham Academy, announced that they were holding their annual science fair at a convention centre as opposed to the regular school gymnasium, because surprisingly enough, Wayne Enterprise offered to fund the event.

It was no secret that Gotham’s economy was hitting below the desired margin. Many people don’t have jobs which resulted in an influx of crime in the past years. And so Wayne Enterprise collaborated with Gotham’s Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to raise awareness and encourage young minds to strive for a better, innovative future. They shouldered the expenses needed and created an international affair, to top it off; Wayne Ent. also offered scholarships to future college goers and internships in all their branches.

Which was why I couldn’t sleep in today. I had project to work on. In line with our team of sponsors, I decided to invent a weapon that could help the GPD when catching criminals. A gun that projects thin plastic case marbles filled with a chemical concoction that erupts into a quick hardening foam upon impact. The foam itself is not toxic, but it works with catching and detaining. It turns as hard as stone but there was another type of compound that I was in the process of creating to counter act it as a measure of safety.

I got up and started my day.

“Good morning sweetheart.” My mom greeted as I entered the kitchen. She smiled warmly at me as she placed a plate of eggs and bacon on the table.

I couldn’t help but return the gesture, walking up to her and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Morning Mom, are you working tonight?”

“I have to, but don’t worry I’ll be leaving something in the fridge for dinner.”

I thanked her and took my plate into the living room. Turning on the T.V., I easily found the news channel and watched the latest reports on Gotham’s activities.

Mom sometimes had to work on weekends just to make ends meet, which was one reason why I was so hard to get that scholarship and hopefully the internship as well. The other reason was…

A family picture caught my eye in the middle of the news and I bit back a sigh. My dad, my mom, and me. We all were smiling at the camera.

Dad was part of the Police force and died during a heist. Reports stated he was running after the criminals and got shot before he could capture them. That was another reason I chose this as my project. Dad always wanted to fight for justice, hopefully this invention could help.

I finished up my breakfast and helped my mom with chores before I slipped into science mode and continued tinkering with the project. The projectiles were complete and I was able to make 3 in total, which I stored in a small box encased with extra padding.

It was around evening after my mom left that I got another burn. I dropped the screwdriver I was holding and bit my lip. Gasping for breath I pulled my sleeve and watched another flower blossom on my forearm.

The pain was gone in an instant and the cold tickled the skin that was branded. I sighed and slowly straightened my poster. This person, after all these injuries, they better not die before I meet them. I grumbled to myself when I realised I was short on supplies. Poor planning on my part.

I grabbed my bag and locked the front door before I headed out to the nearest hardware store, careful to keep my marks hidden from view. I’ve lived in Gotham my whole life, and I knew that standing out, even in the smallest way, would lead into trouble.

The walk to the store was short and uneventful, thankfully. There were only a few customers. I manoeuvred my way between the isles and picked up what I needed. After paying at the counter I hauled my goods and ducked back into the streets. I almost wished I didn’t stop when I heard that woman cry out for help. I was unarmed, unprepared, and every cell in my body screamed at me to walk – no – run away from the scene that was unfolding before my eyes.

But she was helpless. Clad in a trench coat and rain boots, she didn’t look like much but her bag was definitely designer. The thieves in question had a knife pointed at her face. There were 6 of them. All were towering and bulky next to her petite frame. Their menacing stares struck a cold shiver in me and my hand involuntarily clutched the projectiles I was working on in my pocket. I had a feeling it would be safer with me than it would be at home, however this was not how I imagined I’d first be using them.

The woman screamed again and I clenched my palm.

I sucked in some air and got ready to shout at the perpetrators – until I felt the wind rush past my ear.

In a flash someone had swooped into the scene and kicked the man holding the knife to the ground. The sound of blades being drawn stole my attention. It was Robin. He took a stance between the woman and the men.

“Run. Now.” He told the lady.

She whimpered and scrambled up to her feet dashing towards me, towards the entrance of the alley. She zipped past and didn’t stop running till she turned the corner. I should be running too. But my eyes were fixed on the fight that was about to happen.

Robin seemed no older than me. In reality there was no way he could win against 6 huge men. But then again, this was Robin. No normal teenager.

“6 against 1.” He mused, the grip on his katana tightened. “That hardly seems fair.”

The one who held the knife, possibly the leader of the gang, growled thickly. “Get‘im boys.”

They all rushed towards him at the same time, hands in the air and weapons ready. Robin whipped his blade and easily knocked two knives down, the remaining used their strength and threw punches that looked like it would strike anyone straight to next week. The masked boy effortlessly dodged all their hits. Crouching, jumping, twisting, exactly when needed and not a second too late. His movements were precise; a quick jab below the rib striking the kidney with the handle of the sword, a sharp slam of his elbow to the chin, and to close the deal with a blunt blow force to the side of the neck. The goon fell like a tree that’s been cut down.

I gaped in awe.

The others rushed to avenge their fallen comrade, but Robin was quicker and used his blade to disable them. He kicked one of them into the brick wall, a sickening crunch echoed as the goons’ head smashed into it, then a howl of pain when Robin sliced his back. I cringed at the sight of the blood. It was a superficial wound, at least from my vantage point. The cut was deep enough to hurt and draw red, but not enough to kill.

The next lunged himself and grabbed Robin’s wrist, the boy growled and kicked him the face, forcing to free himself. He couldn’t see the other one running towards them from behind, the weapon aiming straight for Robin’s back.

“Robin!” I found my voice and screamed. “Behind you!”

He did a roundhouse kick and slammed the head of the one holding his wrist, then using the momentum back flipped and kicked the one who was behind.

I sighed in relief.

“What are you doing just standing there?!” He shouted at me as he readied himself again. “I said run!”

That got all the men’s attention. The ones that fell got back up and huffed angrily.

“Get the girl!” The leader shouted. “We can use her.” His leer sent bile rushing up my throat.

I squeaked as 3 of them started to chase me. Finally my legs listened and I dashed across the street onto the other pavement.

They were too fast though, their thundering footsteps grew closer towards me. My lungs burned as I tried to inhale some much needed oxygen, physical sports like running really weren’t my thing. I nearly tripped on an uneven tile as a scream rippled out of my throat. I braced myself for impact but it never came. Instead I felt a rush of wind across my face and a lightness below me. The ground was getting further and further away.

I realised I was being carried. Looking up, I was face to face with Red Robin.

“God thing I saw you when I did or you’d be dead meat.” He said dryly as we landed on a roof.

“Th-thank you.” I breathed, trying to gulp in as much needed air as I could. “Robin – he –“ But I didn’t know how to articulate. The adrenaline rush was messing with my head, and I could barely think straight.

Yet Red Robin nodded, understanding. He jumped off the roof and shot his grappling hook. I peered down and saw the fight started to move, from the alley to the side walk. The goons cornered Robin into a store front and were relentless as they threw punch after punch. The other 3 that were chasing me were already fighting Red just below the building that he deposited me on.

I watched in horror as the glass shattered everywhere around them. They weren’t just normal gangs I discerned, they knew how to fight. And unlike the birds and bat, they didn’t mind taking a life.

Clutching the projectiles again in my pocket, I brought them up with trembling hands.

“I hope this works.” I whispered to myself and pulled out my elastic hair tie.

Hooking one of the orbs onto the elastic, I aimed for the goons attacking Robin, and pulled as far as the band could go. Willing my hand to stop shaking, I said a silent prayer and released my hold.

Time seemed to go into slow motion as it flew across the air. I held my breath.

It hit the ground between two goons and burst into a big foamy cloud of vibrant cobalt, instantly seizing the men and solidified their prison as the concoction cooled.

Both fights stopped for a split second, as they watched the chemical reaction, which now looking back was a mistake on all parties.

I gasped and thanked whoever was listening.

The leader roared and pulled a pistol. I felt my throat tighten as the gun set a bullet free.

Robin and I cried out in pain as the bullet dug into him. Tears threatened to roll down my cheek as I clutched my burning shoulder.

A birdarang zipped towards the leader, catching his wrist and making him let go of the weapon. With a grunt, Robin kicked him hard across the chest stealing the perpetrators breath and with a quick turn, smashed his foot onto the mans jaw, cracking it before letting him fall with a loud thud.

The fight continued and Robin easily subdued his last opponent. Then he ran across the street to finish up with Red. Both of them moved in fluid motions like well trained dancers as they fought while protecting each others weak spots. They took down the last 3 goons and tied them up just as the police sirens blared within the distance.

I jumped up from my spot and turned to run but stopped when I saw the two Robins in my path.

“You.” The younger one started. “You were the one who shot the…”

I nodded wordlessly, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through my body. A nasty red splotch caught my attention and I believe they both noticed as I glanced at it. My own hand went up and clutched my shoulder unconsciously, a cold sensation rippled through where the bullet was.

“Oh my god.”

---

to be continued...

Part 2, 3, 4, 5 (end)

#Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian x Reader #Soulmate AU #fanfiction #my fanfiction #challenge #DC #Batman #Robin #Red Robin #my fan fiction

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years

Text

v. a deadly giveaway

(pt. i) (pt. ii) (pt. iii) (pt. iv)

“No, it’s huge deal,” Kara insists. “Alex hardly ever lets anyone choose their own weapons. Plus, she likes to judge people based on their preference in firearms. Like, for example, Mike with his big ol’ shotgun, which... well, don’t make me say it.”

“It’s just that either way, I’d have to give it back, no?”

Kara’s brow crinkles. “No...? Of course not. Why would we make you give it back?”

“Well, when I leave, I mean.”

“Oh... right,” Kara says. She hadn’t really considered a possibility in which Lena wouldn’t stay with them indefinitely, but nods as if she had.

Lena looks over at the marked silence, one corner of her lips quirking up in a wry smile. She leans into Kara, resting her head on her broad shoulder. “So, what does your gun say about you?”

Kara glances down at her trusty semiautomatic pistol and shrugs. “That I’m a quick shot?”

"Oh?” Lena laughs, and the delighted sound has Kara’s spirits lifting, just a little. “It’s also a Glock.”

“Sure.”

“Which means you have big hands,” Lena continues. She takes one of the hands in question and traces over the callused lifelines with her fingertips. When Lena plants a kiss at the very center of her palm, Kara’s spirits practically skyrocket.

So, Lena intends to leave one day, and Kara keeps forgetting about it until she’s forced to remember. Whether it be a stray comment or a pointed silence in response to questions about the near future, the reminder never fails to soil Kara’s mood for the rest of the day.

Naturally, Lena notices. Kara makes no secret of her feelings, after all, though she’s somehow managed to keep certain choice words to herself thus far. But Lena makes a real effort to make it up to her every time:

holding Kara’s hand,

tracing lazy shapes around each knuckle with her fingers,

telling her a silly joke, despite not remembering the punchline,

pressing lingering kisses to her shoulder, the warmth somehow bleeding through two layers of cotton,

falling asleep with her head in Kara’s lap, etc.

But honestly, in the end, it all just makes it that much worse for Kara.

“You can’t force her to stay,” Alex says with a sigh.

Kara scowls because she knows that, but still. “Well,” she says, “you made Kelly stay here with you, didn’t you?”

“Did not. I just made her like me enough to stay.”

Kara mumbles something into her pillow that Alex has to force her to repeat more clearly, “Lena likes me too.”

“That she does,” Alex says, rolling her eyes. “You know, she stares at the back of your head whenever she’s behind you. Not at your ass like a normal person, but your head. Like, she’s just waiting for you to turn around and see her.”

Kara buries both her fists into her belly, trying to stave off the ache that comes with Alex’s words, and just groans and groans.

“So, why haven’t you tried to kiss me again yet?” Kara asks, the next time she and Lena are killing time in the library together. There’s no one else around and Kara’s frankly got nothing much to lose these days. “Was it really that bad?”

Lena doesn’t answer, but her forehead goes bright red behind the cover of her latest novel. She starts turning the pages a bit more quickly, at a pace that surely even she couldn’t be reading at.

“Because if it was... this might be the perfect time to let you know that, well... it had been a while,” Kara says slowly. “And I wasn’t really ready or expecting a beautiful woman to just, you know—”

“Kara!” Lena slaps the book onto the table before her, her entire face blushing furiously. “What are you doing?”

Kara blinks. “Explaining?”

“Explaining what?”

“Why I think our next kiss would be so much better.”

“You... think about that a lot?”

“About kissing you?” Kara says incredulously. “Yeah, like, all the time!”

Lena nearly upends the table in her mad scramble to get across, the momentum resulting in Kara’s chair tipping backwards and crashing to the floor, with the two of them toppling along with it.

“Ow...” Kara wheezes, her back already sore from landing heavily against the back of the chair. “And wow, um... Cool.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Lena says breathlessly, grinding her hips against Kara’s like she’s ready to beg for forgiveness. “Are you okay?”

Kara shakes her head in amazement. “I’m fine. And you’re perfect.” Then she pulls Lena down for a hungry kiss, and in accordance with her predictions from earlier, it is indeed much better than their first.

Kara’s panting, then Lena’s panting, which only makes Kara pant even harder. She lets her hands wander—cupping the back of Lena’s neck, cradling her face, tangling in her long dark hair and tugging insistently, sliding down her arching back in reverence—until finally, they rest at the gentle swell of Lena’s hips.

She pauses with her fingertips skating just past the hem of Lena’s shirt. It’s as far as they got to last time when Lena froze up on her, and now, as somewhat expected, Lena’s freezing up all over again.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kara says, cutting Lena off before she could try. “Kissing’s the best part anyway. Honest.”

Lena ducks her head, pressing her forehead against Kara’s thumping chest. “I want to, Kara. I really do want to...”

“Okay.” Kara strokes Lena’s hair, and she relaxes into the touch with a soft sigh until she’s boneless atop Kara’s blessedly solid frame. “Well, I’m okay either way.”

“I just...” Lena’s muffling her words into Kara’s shirt now, and it’s harder to hear, but infinitely more distracting. “I just don’t want you to see...”

Kara blinks a few times up at the ceiling in question, but it holds no answers for her. “See... your boobs?” she asks Lena instead.

“What? No!” Lena says sharply, as if Kara’s the one who’s being cryptic right now. “Of course not!”

“I’m not sure what we’re talking about then... but would it help if I went first?”

“What do you mean?”

But Kara’s already sitting up, leaning slightly back to give herself more space, then she whips her t-shirt off with a careless flourish. Lena’s hand—braced against Kara’s hip for balance—seizes up and her nails briefly bite into Kara’s skin.

“... You... can’t be serious...” Lena says, her voice strained. “What the fuck?”

Kara frowns, definitely not having expected that sort of reaction. “I ran out of clean bras.”

“No. Just... you look like this?” Lena presses her entire hand flat against Kara’s abs, gasping when they tense up against her touch. “God, you’re such a dick.”

Kara bursts out laughing, wrapping Lena up in the tightest of hugs, just so, so utterly charmed. They don’t even kiss again for the rest of the night. Instead, Kara just points out all the various scars that cover her body—a scattered, yet tangible timeline of everything she’s endured since the world fell apart.

Lena brushes her lips against each one upon introduction, attending to these long since healed wounds like Kara was still hurting.

Later on, when Alex accidentally walks in on them, she very loudly wonders why on earth couldn’t they just be having sex like normal people, goddammit.

Alex reiterates her very pointed question again when she’s getting ready for the next scavenging trip. “Please do it sooner rather than later. Preferably when I’m still out there, safe from catching you guys in the middle of whatever it is that passes for sex for the two of you.”

“Shut up,” Kara mutters. “You can’t order us to do it.”

“Sure I can,” Alex says easily, but she adjusts her tone at the pout her sister directs at her. “Look, I’m just saying. When she’s gone, you might end up regretting it. Who knows how long it’ll be before someone else you take liking to comes along?”

“Never. I’m never going to like anyone ever again.”

“Jesus.” Alex ruffles Kara’s hair affectionately until she flashes her teeth in a begrudging smile.

“Oh, hang on,” Alex says, once she gets to the front gate. “I think I left some spare rounds under my bed. Can you go get it?”

Kara rolls her eyes. “Why can’t you just go get it?”

“Because with my luck, your girlfriend’s probably already there half-naked or something.”

Kara ignores the flip her stomach gives at the very thought that Lena could be her girlfriend, let alone a half-naked one. “Because I’m faster, huh?” she says all cheeky instead, and Alex swats her over the head for it.

When Kara shoulders her way into the room, she doesn’t expect to see Lena, but her presence in and of itself isn’t surprising. No, what’s surprising is the fact that Lena’s not wearing her flannel, and she normally wears that thing all day, every day, even with all that wear and tear, even under the scorching sun, even to sleep.

But right now, the flannel’s off, and Lena’s wearing naught but a snug tank-top and the most terrified expression.

It takes a beat for Kara to notice—so distracted by the sight of all this newfound skin now at her disposal—but Lena’s holding something in her hand.

“Kara,” Lena starts, voice trembling. “I can explain.”

But before Kara could ask for clarification, she sees it. A jagged oval of tiny divots on the outside of Lena’s bicep. It’s an angry red, swollen, and unmistakeable.

Kara feels the floor drop out underneath her, and her stomach plummets right after it.

“That—that’s a bite. You’ve been bitten,” Kara’s shouting, oh god, when did she start shouting? “You were bitten, Lena! When were you bitten? When did you—god, when were you going to tell me, when—”

Lena quickly sticks herself with the item in hand—a syringe filled with some bright blue fluid—depressing the plunger right into the bite. Within seconds, the redness and swelling die down, but the bite—ugly and prominent even on pale skin—remains.

Kara’s throat hurts, from the shouting, from the hopelessness lodged in the very center of it all. She’s inexplicably crying already.

“I was bitten eight months ago,” Lena explains swiftly, quietly, as she throws her wretched flannel back on, disappearing the bite that’s already been branded in the forefront of Kara’s mind. “It’s... manageable. I can keep it at bay. It’s just a monthly injection. I’m fine.”

“It’s not a cure,” Kara says in a croak.

“No.”

“Monthly... injection?” Kara swipes at her eyes with a clenched fist. “How long do you have left?”

Lena hesitates, her lips pursed. “I’m... running out.”

“How. Long?”

“Four months,” Lena says, and Kara feels hitherto unregistered parts of her heart crumple and die. “I have to leave, Kara.”

Kara wants to protest—it’s still her natural inclination despite everything—but before she can even open her mouth to do what she does best, Alex steps into the room behind her.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

#finally got to the part i wanted to write (:#hope y'all enjoy the ride (:#my words.

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secret-time-is-here · 3 years

Text

An Error's Journey

Chapter 25

Previous - First - Next

He expected to wake up to a mattress on the floor again, the line between dreams and reality blurring. It was hard to tell how much he was going to remember, how long he felt like he was reliving his memories, and when he would return to being the feared destroyer of worlds.

“Error? Are you coming to?” Nightmare’s deep voice spoke softly.

“Weird way ta refer to wakin’ up, ‘Mare.” The glitch slurred, his eyes heavy, body warm and comfortable.

“Error...” Nightmare started, sighing, “I… You…” The other tried again, “...There was a reboot bar above your head all night.” The guardian deadpanned.

Error slowly opened his eyes to Nightmare’s concerned face, a rare occurrence to see even by the gang. Then again, the two of them always kept each other a little closer than they kept the gang.

The negative offered a hand and helped Error slowly sit up-easing the old scared and injured bones into a better position. “It wasn’t exactly a reboot bar, however… it took some time to discern exactly what it said-written in binary rather than letters-but it does confirm some things.”

“Night, you don’t gotta beat around the bush for me.”

“The bar said it was recovering lost data… so those for sure are your memories, but this brings worries to the table. These...” Nightmare gestured with his hands for a moment, “...recoveries could happen any time-they aren’t dreams. They could happen during battle for all we know. It doesn’t help you don’t get any rest during them-so you could start passing out during the day too, and sleeping seems to-”

“Woah, slow down.” Nightmare finally stopped, a frown engraved into his expression, “Worrying ain’t gonna help us.”

“How are you not worried about this?”

“I am… for now though, it seems like I just have to wait things out. Core will tell me everything in due time, and for now, we are safe from whatever shared enemy we have.”

“But how long do we have?”

“Well, Core ain’t rushing me to find my team yet, and they’re the one that wants us to beat this person the most so I think it’s safe to say we have a good amount of time.”

-----

Thanks to Core’s little news drops on his ex, he can find a good time frame on how long ago he’s remembering-and can finally estimate how much longer he has to remember. Unfortunately, it’ll take some good digging in the more off-limits area of the Omegatimeline’s library, but he has a few ways he can get in there. Who knew his side hobby of studying religion would become so useful?

Slipping into the Omegatimeline was easy as per usual, stepping into the back office of his small studio apartment-sized workshop. On his desk still lay his latest commission, as well as the files for a new shop somewhere in the main square of Omega-one specific location incredibly close to the grand library Omega boasted. It would be a wise choice since he would likely need to verify when he’s remembering often.

Pushing the document off to the side, he made his way out of the building, weaving through mid-day traffic and making it to the ancient mansion that is the Omega Library. Being there often enough, he made his way to the back sections easily, even greeting the workers that saw him so often along the way. It’s amazing how much a mask can let you relax and give you a chance to start over.

The security guard recognized him, nodding their head and letting him pass through to the old tomes that record the centuries of history and precious information. The room was hardly lit, a space rarely ventured with sparse armchairs and a simple few couches surrounding a coffee table in the middle. Stairs reaching high and low, making it one of the tallest towers as well as the longest basements in the Omegatimeline.

“Oh! Hiya Mr.M!” Ink’s cheerful voice chirped from the center couches, “Didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Nor did I.” Error tried to calm himself, battle instincts raging inside of him, but poker face set in stone. “Not to overstep, my divine, but I didn’t think you’d spend your free time in a library-much less the more forbidden sections.”

“My divine-? Oh yeah, I’m a God.” The creator chuckled to himself, “Honestly, you live so long you forget sometimes. I like brushing up on Omega history every now and again-since it existed for a good, I dunno, at least a good couple centuries before I did.”

“You… weren’t one of the first timelines?”

“Uh...” Ink pulled out his personal tome-the same as the last time he saw it, faintly fizzling with traces of his magic-and flicked to a page, “Nope! Ya would think they’d have that written down-pretty sure they still have a book on me somewhere in here.”

Ink got up from his seat, looking over the ledge down to the lower levels and up above. “Think it’s… eh I can’t even make a guess.” He shrugged, “Anyhow, yeah. Omega’s older than me.”

“I had always thought you were one of the oldest in the multiverse-reaching to Core’s age...”

“Nah, there’s a good handful here in Omega that can say they’re older than me-and plenty of people out there in the multiverse that are older too. There’s the basic names: Classic, Fell, Cobalt, and Hearts-although he’s left the council now...”

There’s a boast, being older than the God of Creation. Classic and Fell were easy enough to know, and if you did your research, Cobalt was too. He came to be a part of Omega after Blue, so he ended up with a different name-but he is from the original Underswap timeline, although the timeline has long since been abandoned. The whole place corrupted and destroyed. Blue would be up there on the list too, but he’s far more recognized for being a part of the Star Sans’ than being the second Underswap timeline.

Silence stretched for a moment, “Oh right-why are you here? Sorry, still trying to keep up with proper manners and all that, Dream’s been getting on my spine about it.”

“I came to brush up on my history as well, although it's for a more recent project of mine rather than fun.” He spoke confidently, the twist of words no lie. Technically, it was a project to find out what he was remembering, it doesn’t matter if Ink thinks it's a project for his Divine research.

“Well, any project can be for fun!” Ink’s voice picked up again, a wide smile stretched on his face, “I assume you mostly know the divine area-so I can lead you over to the older history sections.” Ink began to walk away, gesturing for Error to follow, “Takes forever to get to it if you don’t know where it starts.” Ink commented, making his way down the stairs.

“Wouldn't it start at the bottom?”

“I don’t know what system they use-can’t judge though, I have zero organizing skills-what was I saying? Right-don’t know how they arrange things, but it actually starts three floors down-not the full eleven or so. I think they just expand the basement for each new century.” Ink shrugged, weaving through towers of books and bookshelves like they were attacks on a battlefield.

Error quickly followed, not with nearly as much grace as the shorter God, but still making his way through. “Anyway, the first one starts here, simple enough.” Ink turned towards him, “I should be heading back up-hope to see ya again buddy.”

“Any time, my divine.”

“Eh, no need for those fancy-schmancy titles, fuck, even Ink is more than enough. Besides, anyone can become a God-look at me!” He gestured to himself, “Haha, for all I know you could be a God! So no point in those formalities.”

“Alright... Ink.”

The other only nodded and casually walked off back towards the stairs. It’s almost funny how different he is normally compared to in battle.

In the back of his mind, he can feel a cloud of memories-of unrecovered data that would make this moment nostalgic. That could connect to that tome. That could connect to those little blurs of moments he can see in his inner eye. That could connect him and Ink somewhere in the past.

It didn’t even take a moment for him to accept he won’t remember what that connection is for a good while.

He looked around for a moment, reaching out with his magic to see if any soul was nearby before pulling up his panels. The basic timeline beginning to fall into place in his mind as he reread through his notes.

He’s nearly as old as the recorded history of the multiverse, which is roughly just over one thousand years-and with Core’s hint about the balance of the multiverse, he can guess that around the time Ink was created he was turned into a God. He knows that the antivoid turned him into the error he is now, and therefore, also gave him the Godly powers he has. How he got into the antivoid, he can’t pinpoint-but he can find exactly where he is in his memories.

Hearts, or Lust at the time, had become a member of the council about two decades after the recorded history of the multiverse. However, Ink is only a few centuries younger than the multiverse, so that still leaves several centuries' worth of memories before he became an error, and there are plenty of centuries of being an error that he still doesn’t remember.

Small details kept itching at the back of his mind, the saved news articles having small things that just left him on edge. How Core would disappear and reappear in Omega… how Core reappeared in Omega not long after Lust joined the council.

He was stunned to find other details, like how Death had been a part of the council for a time, disappearing sometime after Core reappeared. His sudden disappearance reminded him of his most recent memories...

“I would not be surprised if he started to pay more attention to you from now on.”

What could have happened-what did happen that would cause Reaper to completely disappear from the council like that? Disappear from Omega entirely? What tragedy or paradise awaited him the next time he was to recover his lost data?

Core has already confirmed that they somewhat guided or helped his team-did Core direct Death to stay by his side for a time? A buddy to help him while Core attended to other responsibilities? Or was it to help each other out?

“With the way I’ve directed them, and the way I’m directing you, any of you should be able to help each other and be able to pull the other back if anything does go wrong.”

The latter seems most likely, and with only the two of them existing at the time-as far as his confirmed team goes-it would be an easy way for Core to keep an eye on them. To make sure nothing decides to suddenly go off track.

He continued to read through the different accounts and newspaper clippings, finding that Death had come back for about a century at some point before officially leaving the council. Even more accounts saying that he completely disappeared from the Omegatimeline again not long after that. Although from personally knowing the God, Error knew well Death still has access to Omega, and visits often for coffee-and probably to visit Ink now too.

By the time he had finished up his notes, the Library was near closing, and he headed back to his workshop, creating a portal to a random AU in the safety of the back of his workshop.

The random AU thankfully was abandoned, and he allowed himself to relax under the stars of the world’s night sky. Enjoying the feeling of anonymity amongst the tall grasses of the wide plains.

He thought back to the first time he saw the stars, helping Hearts to the surface of his AU...

...He didn’t know how to feel about that memory anymore.

“Error…?” Dream’s voice was cautious, rightfully so. Error grunted as polite of a greeting he could offer to his enemy, “I do hope you aren’t destroying this AU...”

“I’m not allowed to relax somewhere?” He asked sarcastically, silence following suit. He scoffed, “Ya’know what? Don’t bother answerin’ that. I’m not destroying it right now and that’s all ya need ta know.”

He could hear the faint rustling of Dream sitting down, the subtleties of the long blades of grass parting for the younger as loud as cannons to his keen hearing. He could hardly relax with the other so close by, too focused on trying to pick up any quiet warp of a portal or ping of Dream making an arrow. The creak of his bow pulling back-ready to strike Error down once and for all.

“Error… we may be enemies, but it does not take a friend to tell that you’ve been off lately.” Dream spoke lightly, concern dripping through his even tone.

“I’m not talking about this with you. Fuck off.”

“Does this change mean you will quit destroying?”

“Stars if I know, you’re acting like ya want to be my friend or some mushy shit like that.”

“The multiverse comes first before everything else for me, but I can not deny that much like Ink… you do pique my curiosity.” Error huffed, still tense, but the easy banter relaxing him somewhat, “If things were different, I’ll admit I would give you a chance.”

Error burst out laughing at that, thinking back to his conversation with Ink earlier that day, how easily he wore the mask of Lapse D. Mode. How the other didn’t even think he was accidentally giving the Destroyer a second chance. Now he wants to copy the same with Dream just to see what would happen.

Dream happened to give him the perfect idea for a cover, “Why the laughter? I am sure you know I try my best to speak with honesty.”

“You’re an idiot to be honest with ya enemy-and givin’ me of all people a second chance? Ya really think I’d believe that?” He spoke with great confidence, acting out a mockery of his insane days with ease.

“It’s not being an idiot, it’s called living by my morals.” Dream glared, his facade of positivity falling with no one else nearby-just like their last battle.

“Morals are easily corrupted,” Error challenged, standing up, his form towering over Dream, “People are easily corrupted, the world as we know it is easily corrupted.”

“Must you think the dark of everything?” Dream stood up, one hand ready to grab his bow if need be.

“Must you see the good in everything?” Error mocked, Dream’s glare dropped.

“...Error, why are you covering? You do know I can read your emotions just like Nightmare, do you not-? I can tell when you’re faking or not.”

Just like Nightmare? Could Dream be one of the other two? Could he come from the same place as Nightmare?

“Ya really think I’d tell ya?”

“I think you are hiding something,” Dream seemed to be trying to read past his poker face, “I think you want to talk about it, but for some reason, you can not.”

“Ya’know, if ya think about it, everyone’s hidin’ somethin’. Some of us just got more ta hide than others.”

“So you do not deny having a secret?”

“Nope. No point, ya can probably tell if I’m lying or not.” He shrugged, “Do you have a secret? We can trade...”

“I am sorry to say, but I have nothing to hide.”

“Not even ya past? Not a secret ‘bout where ya came from? Not a secret of that precious Omega ya hold so dearly?”

“Unlike you, Error, I live openly. I come from Dreamtale, was held in stone for a century, and had to adjust to life on the run until Ink found me. I live in safety in Omega, and fight anyone who threatens the health of the multiverse.”

“Safety? Haha, you call Omega safe?”

“That I do… If not trade a secret, may we have a trade of information? I am sure you were unaware of at least one thing I listed.”

“Hmm, I dunno, I’m pretty sure I knew all of what ya listed. Isn’t it written down in a book ‘bout ya in the back of the forbidden area of the grand Omega Library...? Written by an old professor at the local college?” Dream’s expression paled with shock, “Not so safe, is it?”

Error walked around Dream until they were back to back, “I’ll still take a secret for a secret...”

The other went silent, and Error’s poker face dropped, now unseen by the other. “Time’s a tickin’-I’m a very busy skeleton Dream.”

“...I was not born a God.” Dream muttered darkly as if reliving the experience that turned him into one-which Error was sure was not happy.

Dream turned around, and so did Error. The positive offered his hand to shake, “A secret for a secret.”

“...Are you sure?” He smirked, Dream nodded, “You do know, no matter what I tell ya, it can’t be confirmed? As far as I know, there isn’t a single book out there written on me, not a single piece of information unless it’s in the memories of the monster I know-which all are bound to secrecy if they do know me.”

Dream nodded again, “Fine then… it’s not really a secret-but something that no one else knows about… I have a secret life outside the battlefield.”

“Wha-How?!”

“Does it matter? I gotta have a safe place of my own pretty boy.” The hint of yellow on Dream’s cheekbones momentarily reminded him of someone else…

“...Then why keep destroying? If you managed to make a life of your own elsewhere-”

Error didn’t have an answer.

All characters belong to their respected creators

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seiin-translations · 3 years

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2.43 S1 Chapter 4.2 - Drifting Yunichika

2. BOYS’ NIGHT

I’m back...for real this time

Translation Notes

1. Japanese rooms are often measured by tatami mat. A tatami mat is about 1.65 square meters.

2. Vabo-chan is a mascot character created by Fuji TV that shows up during volleyball game broadcasts. It’s basically a white ball with hands and feet and creepy looking eyes

3. The “itoko”/Itoko pun is back! Itoko is the Japanese word for cousin and also Kuroba’s cousin’s name

Previous || Index || Next

Seiin High School was built on a slope at the foot of a mountain. It took fifteen minutes to climb up the hill from the school building, and the training camp was located in a place where you had to push through the woods of the mountain behind the school. It was a one-story wooden house that was in all probability haunted, rumored to have existed before the school was founded. The mountain was also owned by the school, and at the end of the first semester, all the first-year students were sent to collect firewood for the school festival campfire. The memory of being eaten alive by mosquitoes was fresh in his mind. Even though he wasn’t stung, just walking into the woods brought back the itchiness he had felt all over his body.

From July 26 to 30, this would be the lodging house for the boys’ volleyball team’s summer training camp. Two days after training camp was over, the Fall Tournament would be coming up from August 1 to 3. It was a one-off tournament that wasn’t connected to Nationals, but it was a chance for them to check well their team was doing as well as to gauge the strength of the other schools so that they could make final adjustments for the Spring Tournament prefectural preliminaries at the end of September.

The house was a minimalist structure, with a twenty-mat (1) Japanese-style room, kitchen, canteen, and communal washrooms for men and women, and the facilities were also very simple. It of course didn’t have luxury items like air conditioners installed, just an old-fashioned electric fan in the canteen.

“I wish there’s a fan in this room too…”

After the study session in the canteen had finished, he was lying on his stomach at the edge of the Japanese-style room to cool off when Okuma stepped on his back and he let out a “Gueh” like a crushed frog. “Wait, it’s coming out, the food I ate.”

“Hey, where did Haijima go?”

“Please don’t treat us as a set. Didn’t he get caught by Aoki-senpai and is still in the canteen? Aoki-senpai doesn’t seem like he’d be satisfied he can’t do something about his modern lit.”

When they got their results back from their end-of-term tests for the first semester, the academic abilities of the new recruits had become joke material for their seniors. Kuroba was good at Japanese overall, but in most other subjects he just barely avoided failing. Haijima, on the other hand, was…

After the seniors exclaimed “Whoa…” in astonishment at his amazingly high marks in subjects that had to do with calculation and memorization, the eye-avertingly awfulness of his writing subjects made them fall down and say, “Never mind…”

“Haijima seems uncomfortable with Aoki-senpai. He looks like he hates him.”

Futons were already laid out in the Japanese-style room. It was four futons in two rows, with the pillow side facing each other. They had laid them out themselves, so it was quite messy. Hokao and Uchimura, who had already taken up positions on the middle two futons that formed a second-year island and were fully ready to sleep, lifted their heads off their pillows and said, “Oh, that—”

“Haijima got kicked by Aoki-senpai because he pissed him off, right? In April.”

“Has Aoki-senpai ever gotten angry?”

“He’s scary when he’s angry. No, it’s more harsh rather than scary.”

“Aoki-senpai gets harsh when he’s angry, and it’s Kanno who’s scary when he’s angry.”

Hokao and Uchimura looked at each other and stifled laughter. The various sounds of summer insects continually fell like a gentle drizzle, constantly beating against the awning of the porch. When the storm shutters were fully slid open, they felt a moderately comfortable breeze. However, mosquitoes also flew in, so mosquito repelling incense stood in the four corners of the room making thin plumes of smoke.

The mixture of incense smoke and the remaining scent of the yakiniku was already thickly staining the T-shirts they had changed into after practice. I might have eaten too much meat…my stomach hurts… Well, the excess calories could be easily consumed in tomorrow’s practice, and in any case, Kuroba didn’t have such a delicate body that a weight change of one kilogram or around that could affect his jumping power. By the way, Okuma was the only member of the team who was required to lose weight. He had too much muscle mass.

“It’d be boring if Haijima wasn’t here.”

“Is there something interesting?”

When he tried to get up, Okuma sat astride his back. “Heavy…I really am too full…” And that’s why you’re so irritating… Moreover, he chose the right person. It was detestable that he thought he could get away with this kind of messing around with Kuroba, but didn’t do it with Haijima.

Okuma thrust his cell phone into his face from behind. His phone was the latest model with a big screen. The moment his eyes landed on the screen, Kuroba stopped his complaints with an “Oh? …” and gulped. It was a video of a woman with a lot of exposed skin, so to speak, squirming and moaning on white sheets, with one thing or another being done to her. “Senpai, turn up the volume a little bit. I can’t hear.” He attached himself to the screen in spite of himself and strained his ears.

“Huh, you reacted normally. I thought you’d be more embarrassed since you seem so innocent.”

“I have an older cousin, so he shows me a lot of this stuff. Hey, the volume. How do you turn up the volume on this thing?’

“Idiot, the third-years will hear it. You got a voice fetish or something? Boring, I knew I should wait for Haijima’s reaction.”

“Ah…so mean.”

He was about to grab his phone away, but Okuma snatched it away from him.

“Oh, speak of the devil.”

Kanno and Haijima appeared at the door of the room while talking about something. Judging from Haijima’s gestures, it seemed that they were talking about the duo they had been playing as all day. Or rather, that was the only thing Haijima could talk about in such an assertive way.

“Hey, hey, come over here, you two.”

Okuma was beckoning them over with a scheming look on his face, and the two looked at each other dubiously before coming over.

“What is it?” Kanno said politely, even though they were in the same school year.

“The curry recipe. You two are in charge tomorrow.”

As soon as Kanno peered into the phone screen Okuma pushed into their faces, he let out a “Wah” and turned his face away. While holding the edge of the phone between his fingertips and passing it off to Haijima, he pulled his hood down over his eyes. “I’m not too good with this kind of thing.”

“Oh. I see, I see. So you’re used to seeing it with Suemori-san.”

“Haa!?”

He suddenly snapped. It was the first time they heard Kanno’s angry voice, so Kuroba and Okuma unconsciously bent themselves back. Even Hokao and Uchimura, who had known him for a long time, started on their futons.

“Aren’t you going out with Suemori-san?”

“Absolutely not, and if you ever try to bring that sort of topic up with Ibara-cha…Suemori-san…”

His voice went a tone lower, and there was even bloodlust rising up from his shoulders. The aura of Kanno, who was usually quiet, and if anything, had practically no presence, suddenly swelled, frightening Okuma, who was fifty percent wider. Kuroba took that opportunity to crawl out from under Okuma’s buttocks. Hokao and Uchimura looked at each other under their pillows, whispering to each other, “We warned him that he’d be scary when he gets pissed off…” “Right?”

“S-sorry, sorry. I won’t say it again…” Ibara-chan, Okuma mouthed, looking like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t seem to have the courage to make fun of him to his face anymore.

“As long as you understand.”

Kanno said, then easily retracted his harsh look and reverted to his usual low-key presence. He tucked his hands into the sleeves of his hoodie, walked with sliding steps to the wall where his things were, looking like a ghost floating a few centimeters off the floor.

“Haa… So which one of us has a girlfriend?”

Okuma sat crossed-legged on the porch, facing the room, and ended up tossing out a blunt question without having learned anything at all. Hokao, Uchimura, and Kuroba all looked away vaguely. If he had one, the most exciting event during the summer vacation of his first year in high school would not have been a boring thing like a team training camp.

“This is so sad. You’re young, so you should be hungrier. The captain doesn’t look like he has a girl at all, and the only one who might be popular is the vice-captain?”

Okuma played innocent and judged others with his own arbitrary impressions.

“So, how about you, Haijima?”

When he finally brought up the subject to Haijima, Kuroba secretly felt something like a sense of superiority, thinking, This guy still has no idea at all.

Volleyball was his lover. Or rather, if volleyball was one of the opposite sex, Haijima would no doubt become her obstinate stalker. If he had a girlfriend, that would definitely be a cataclysm. Haijima, who was watching the video with his fingers pressing the earpieces of his glasses and looking like he was seriously trying to decipher a curry recipe, answered bluntly, “I don’t, and I never had one.” Just when he thought, There you go,

“Well, that’s what I thought. You seem to have completely matured from kind of stuff.”

“I did have a girl I liked.”

He doubted his ears because Haijima had reluctantly answered back to Okuma.

“Se…seriously!?”

Without thinking, he got up from lying on his stomach and crawled over to Haijima. “She’s an actual human being, right!? She’s got proper arms and legs, right!? Ah, Vabo-chan (2) does has arms and legs, but they’re not human, so wake up!” “What are you talking about…Why Vabo-chan?” Haijima screwed his face up. Okuma was doubled over laughing on the porch.

“Vabo-chan! That’s hilarious, Kuroba!”

Hokao and Uchimura had collapsed onto their futons, making strange laughing noises. Even Kanno was crouching in front of his bag with his shoulders shaking furtively. “…What does it mean?” Haijima was looking more and more reluctant. “No, I didn’t say that to make you laugh, senpai. It’s a problem that seriously needs to be examined.” “What do you mean?”

“What are you are getting noisy about? I’m turning off the lights.”

It seemed that the clamor could be heard all the way in the canteen, as Oda looked in from the door with a severe look on his face.

“Good grief, save your strength or you’ll regret it to the point of vomiting tomorrow. And I mean that literally.”

From behind Oda, who lowered his voice and gave off a sense of danger, Aoki also appeared, bowing his head to avoid scraping his head against the lintel.

“You remember me saying that those who can’t sleep will do dashes on the slope, right? Okuma, you seem to be the most energetic one here.”

“Not at all. I can fall asleep in a second.”

Okuma shoved his phone under the stomach of his T-shirt and dived into his futon. Hokao and Uchimura were now pretending to be dead, and Kanno, who was at the bags until just a while ago, was quickly tucking himself into his futon before they knew it. Somehow, the beds were arranged by seniority, with the two third-years on the innermost territory, the four second-years in the middle territory, and the first-years Kuroba and Haijima in the territory near the door.

As soon as the ceiling lights were turned off and darkness fell, the room that had been full of clamor and noise suddenly became strangely quiet. Immediately after, they began to hear someone snoring. Ten to one, that deep and throaty snoring belonged to Okuma. He was jealous that he really could sleep in a second.

Even when he laid down and closed his eyes, Kuroba couldn’t go to sleep easily. It was true that his body was exhausted from the first day of training camp, but his head was strangely clear.

He opened up his futon, turned over, and then stared into the darkness. A blue light, slightly brighter than the indoor lights, shined in from the porch, and the jagged shadows of the trees pierced into the night sky. Mosquitoes buzzed in his ears, and he waved them away in irritation.

…Mmm. Can’t sleep. I feel too excited for some reason.

He turned over again, and this time he was lying on his stomach and hugging his pillow. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning forward. “You up?”

He saw the head moving slightly on the pillow that was lined up face-to-face with his.

“Go to sleep.”

A curt voice responded to him in the darkness.

“I can’t, though.”

“Then go run outside.”

“Hey, when did you like that girl? It wasn’t when we were at Monshiro Middle, was it?”

“I told you to go to sleep. You think this is a school trip or something?”

“It’s definitely not Itoko, right?” (3)

There was the rustling of clothing, and the hair that had been hanging down on the pillow rose up. Haijima also lied on his stomach and stretched his neck towards him over his pillow. His brow was wrinkled and his eyes were narrowed so much that he looked positively villainous.

“Why are you talking about ‘itoko’?”

“Ah, did you just call her by her first name!?”

He was so shocked that his voice became louder. Haijima’s expression became even more grim, and he abruptly swept his hand off to the side of his pillow. When he was wondering what was going on, he grabbed his glasses that were caught on his fingers in a careless but familiar manner, put them on, and then thrusted his face at him again.

“Are you still seeing that cousin of yours?”

“Seeing…wh-what are you talking about, we’re not seeing each other at all! We go to different schools, I don’t really have any feelings for her, and she’s like a sister-in-law.”

As he was listing that off in a shrill and excited voice, …Hmm? Something doesn’t seem to be meshing… When he really thought about it, he didn’t remember Haijima and Itoko having any interaction with each other, and since it was Haijima, he might not even recognize Itoko’s name.

“…By cousin, do you mean Yori-chan?”

Haijima frowned and tilted his head as though to say, What are you talking about?

Yorimichi, his cousin who was three years older than him (but third-rate) had left town in spring to go to university. Kuroba also had the feeling that he was let go because his relatives found him unmanageable.

“I have nothing to do with Yori-chan anymore. We haven’t even been in touch.”

“If that’s the case, then you wouldn’t be getting so worked up.”

“I’m not getting worked up about this…”

The light from the window that was shining in from the balcony was suddenly blocked. He shut his mouth with a start and jerked his neck around, and saw a long and skinny shadow crouched beside his futon, as though one of the creepy trees he had seen outside had snuck in.

“Aoki-senpa…i…”

Two long arms reached out and grabbed the two’s heads firmly. The two drew in their necks with an “Ugu” as their heads were lifted up like in a crane game. “Idiots…” they heard one of the second-years mutter with a mixture of exasperation and sympathy.

“Since you two seem so eager to go running, I’ll grant your wish. Twenty hillside dashes.”

Previous || Index || Next

#2.43 #2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43: Seiin High School Boys Volleyball Club #2.43 translation #2.43 book 1

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bcbdrums · 3 years

Text

Purification

All right. @cocoa-at-night was mad at me, and I know others will be... So this is in fact a second sequel to "Torment.” I already had this idea in my head as a possible sequel so... Who says I can’t write two! Therefore, readers, you get two options now. Decide which way you prefer the story to end.

To be very clear, this is a different sequel than “Immolation” and follows a different path to a different ending. It begins the same however. Please enjoy “Purification.”

FFn AO3

---------

Purification

Shego ran the dampened washcloth over the smooth, polished surface of the bar and stared at the grains of wood beneath. She nearly had them memorized, for how many times she'd run the cloth over them to wipe away the condensation left by the rims of drinking glasses. She always tried to find vague shapes in their patterns; faces and objects and sometimes familiar ocean waves. She didn't have anything else to do with her days, after all.

The small wall-mounted television in the corner continued to play news from the local channel, and after three years she could finally understand the Spanish of the broadcast. She'd picked up the local slang faster by necessity, since she couldn't use her powers to protect herself from the type of crowd the bar attracted. It was ironic, for its nearness to the Caribbean, but the slums of El Salvador had been the perfect place to hide. She easily translated the broadcast into the more comfortable English:

"...And here is Dr. Drakken only days ago, unveiling his latest innovation at the world's largest scientific conference in Berlin..." the voice from the TV cut through the minimal noise at the late hour in the bar.

A soft smile came to Shego's face. And then suddenly her vision was filled with the large form of a dark-skinned man wearing a t-shirt that had seen too many years, and with a face that hadn't seen a razor in weeks.

"Venga, chica. Bailar conmigo."

Shego stepped back from the strong scent of alcohol and scowled at the man, a regular at the establishment, but one who never quite took the hint. Especially not when he had had too many.

"Raquel?" came the accented voice of Esteban, her boss and the owner of the place, from across the room where he was wiping down tables and stacking chairs for closing.

She leaned around the offensive man to merely smirk at her boss knowingly in return. He grimaced slightly, no doubt wondering how much of a mess there would be to clean after she was finished with the brute.

Truthfully, she didn't always reject the men who asked her to dance. Whenever she'd had a few shots it was easier to say yes, and she enjoyed closing her eyes and moving to the rhythm of the music, and imagining herself in a different place. But it would always end the moment any of them tried to lay a hand on her...

She couldn't cross that line. There was only one set of hands she ever wanted to touch her, and they never would. Allowing herself to indulge once and pretend with anyone else would open the gate to far worse sins than her most definitely out of control drinking, and she didn't want to deal with the ramifications of heading down that path.

She still wasn't sure when she'd fallen in love with Drakken. She'd certainly been in love with him before she left, but she'd only realized the fact while in her self-imposed exile, when all she could think about was him.

Numerous magazines and newspapers were delivered to the tiny room she rented above the bar, but not of the variety she'd used to get. Now it was all science periodicals, and world news... And her wall was adorned with newspaper cutouts with his familiar, confident grin. The only reason she watched the news at all was for word of him.

She was pathetic.

Her 'clean break' as she'd hoped to make it seemed to have worked for him. He was finding the success she knew he would as soon as she was out of the picture, no longer holding him back. She knew that would have been the result had she stayed, making him question his sudden yearning for 'good.' Less for good, she knew of course, and more for the recognition and honor his genius rightly deserved. She wouldn't have said that years ago, but with the new understanding she had of her feelings...

She couldn't have stayed. He would have denied himself for her. And she refused to let herself think it was because his feelings were deeper too. No, that wasn't possible. It had been made abundantly clear to her over their four years as partners in crime that he simply didn't think of her that way. She was little more than an asset and a comfort; a listening ear for his endless dronings and rantings, easily replaced.

So she had left a note on her pillow one day after painfully listening to him describe the amazing job offers he had received, and simply vanished. She knew he would come looking for her, as he always did because 'he needed her,' so she had made herself impossible to find. She'd not hardly used her powers in three years, and she'd managed to convinced the locals in the high-poverty, high-crime rate slums she'd hidden in that her skin color was due to something between genetics and illness.

'Shego' was gone.

Now she was Raquel, the barmaid who drank too much, wouldn't let anyone get close, and who had a strange obsession with science magazines. Esteban and others had tried to get her to talk about herself, or her apparent science interest for awhile, but they'd finally taken the hint that she was out there in the middle of nowhere, at one of the only respectable establishments in those slums, to make sure know one ever knew her story.

Shego waited until Esteban wasn't looking, and then she lifted her hand above the leering man's head as his greasy fingers reached across the bar for her, and she let him have just enough of a pressure blast from her glow to knock him out. When the man's large, dead-weight hit the floor, her boss turned with a start.

"Ai ai ai, Raquel! Someday I will see how you accomplish that."

Shego merely smirked as her eyes shifted back to the television. It was a simple, lonely life... One that she might leave someday to pursue other interests. 'Shego' as the world had known her could probably never return, after her world-saving ventures with Drakken. She wouldn't want to put his career at risk in any way. But living from day to day and drink to drink, with only her periodicals and the TV to briefly soothe the ache in her heart wasn't plausible. She needed to move on.

The reason she hadn't was for the lack of one thing in every photo, article, and broadcast about the blue former villain who had saved the world: he was always alone. Even the candids taken by paparazzi that she would find in the trash magazines she had specially delivered only ever showed him having breakfast alone at a sidewalk cafe, or seated alone in an audience as he waited to accept an award.

Why hadn't he met someone and settled down already?

That was the last piece... That was what was missing. When Drakken finally had a woman on his arm, and his happiness was complete...then she could risk moving out into the world and being seen again. If he had someone else, he most definitely wouldn't need her. And she wouldn't have to face up to the fact of possibly seeing him again, with the feelings she'd been harboring for too many years that simply refused to die.

"...It has been confirmed to have been a suicide attempt now, as a note was leaked to the press by a source who wishes to remain anonymous from within Japanese Intelligence..."

Shego's attention snapped to the television, where now a years-old photograph of Drakken at the UN, wearing his medal, was displayed in the corner of the screen as the Spanish news anchor continued to read the copy.

"The note was addressed to fellow-hero Kim Possible, and the text reads: 'I can't figure out what I did wrong. I can't live without her anymore. I'm sorry.' The note was not signed, but handwriting analysis easily showed it to be in the script of Dr. Drakken."

Shego felt the world spinning around her as her vision seemed to spin in the opposite direction. Her head swam and ached all at once, and she could see bright spots dancing in front of her eyes even as her view darkened. She stumbled forward to lean against the bar as she struggled to listen to the television.

"And the world remains in shock, one week from the date the acclaimed scientist attempted to take his life by jumping from the roof of the Osaka World Trade Center. We will keep you updated with more details as the story continues to unfold. This is Paola Ramos, reporting."

Suicide attempt? Drakken, of all people? It didn’t make sense... He had everything...everything he had ever dreamed of, and more. She had made sure of it by removing herself from his life so he would have nothing holding him back. How could he have attempted suicide?

"Raquel! ¿Qué pasa?"

She peered upward and let Esteban take her hand and help her straighten up from where she had all but slumped over the bar.

"Phone..." she managed to get out, her throat strangely tight. “I need...I need to know...”

“You need to make a phone call?” he asked.

Shego nodded. As Esteban fumbled in his pockets for his cell phone, Shego thought about what had been reported as the contents of the suicide note.

"I can't live without her anymore," it had read.

He couldn't... He didn't... He wouldn't...mean me?

Shego felt like she might throw up, and as Esteban offered her the phone, she moved past him and all but fell onto one of the bar stools, suddenly feeling like her feet would fail her. She began dialing a long-memorized number, then realized as the phone rang that she didn't know if the number would be the same after so long, but that thought was broken by Esteban stepping into her vision.

"Are you calling 911? What is wrong?" he asked, his dark eyes wide and worried as he studied her. But then, the phone connected.

"Hello?" the familiar voice said through the line.

Shego suddenly realized she had only ever called the girl 'Princess' or 'Pumpkin' or 'Kimmie,' and wasn't sure how to address the now young woman and for a brief time, ally.

"Kim..." she finally settled on, the name leaving her throat hoarsely.

"Yes? Who is...?" A familiar gasp sounded through the phone. "Shego?"

"Drakken..." was her one-word answer as suddenly tears began filling her eyes. "Drakken's note."

"Where have you been!? Where are you? We looked for you for over a year!"

"Did that note... Was it real? What I saw on TV, did he really...try to kill himself?” she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before digging her fingers tightly into her side as her hands started to shake. When had she started crying?

“Yes... He did.”

Shego’s throat tightened. “Have you...seen him, or talked to him?”

“Yeah, right after it happened, but...he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’s angry and embarrassed that it didn’t work. Shego—”

“Did he, I mean...how is he? Is he okay? How did he survive?”

“His vines. Their own sense of self-preservation must have kicked in, and they grabbed onto the building partway down. He’s in the hospital.”

Shego realized tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her hands were shaking so much it was hard to hold the phone. She closed it hard as she let her hands fall to the bar, and then she leaned forward again.

“Raquel! Mi lucecita, what is wrong?”

Shego took a breath and gathered her strength to push away, even as her vision swam. She left the phone on the bar, knowing exactly what would happen, and then reached across the smooth wooden surface for a bottle of tequila. She ignored Esteban's words as she numbly made her way to her room, climbing the stairs and pushing through the door to stumble against the bed, the bottle of alcohol falling from her grasp. She spun around, and after shoving the door closed she fell back to sit on her narrow, uncomfortable mattress as she fumbled with the lid of the tequila bottle.

She looked around at her walls, with their newspaper clippings and magazine cutouts of photos and articles about Drakken's successes. Tears fell from her eyes anew as she brought the bottle to her lips and soon felt her throat burn nearly as badly as her eyes. And the words of Drakken's note played through her mind repeatedly, her every thought and excuse for the past three years dissolving into torment.

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

The next morning a pulsing, booming sound caused her to wake, and as she sat up hurriedly with hands alight, the vision of red, purple, yellow, and black that swam before her eyes brought back to mind what she had drunk the bottle of tequila to forget. She let her glow die as she fell back on the bed and hid her face from the light with a pillow.

“Shego!” the astonished voice of Kim Possible resonated against her skull. She regretted the hangover, but she couldn’t have handled her thoughts the night before. Tequila had been the only choice.

“Are you all right? You don’t look so good,” the side-kick’s voice followed just as loud with concern.

“You’ve lost so much weight!” Kim continued.

“Yeah, what about it?” Shego said into the pillow, even her own voice painful to her ears.

“Is this where you’ve been all these years?”

“What have you been doing?”

Shego grit her teeth and ignored the questions of her former enemies-turned-allies after Drakken saved the world, finally moving the pillow to narrow her eyes at them.

“Will you take me to see Drakken, or not?” she asked bluntly.

The brows of both young adults rose, and they looked at each other.

“That’s the only reason I let you find me. Cell phone trace, right?” Shego said, grimacing against the throbbing in her head as she rolled over and got her feet on the floor.

“Yeah... It only took Wade—”

“Will you take me to see Drakken?”

“Yeah... I guess, sure. We can do that.”

“Good. Wait downstairs, I need to shower,” she said.

The two young heroes didn’t move, and Shego realized they were studying her walls with the photos and newspaper clippings of Drakken. But she was under too much stress already to worry about what two college kids thought of her. As she painfully stood, her eyes lighted upon a figure hovering in the doorway. Esteban was hanging back in the shadows, watching the interplay nervously.

Kim and Ron were still staring at the walls, and Shego first beckoned her employer into the room before frowning and sighing dramatically at the other two. They both looked at her.

“Haven’t you already read a lot of this stuff? Hurry up, I want to get to Japan before tomorrow.”

The pair gave her another once-over before glancing at each other and finally slipping through the door, giving an even more confused look at the curly-haired Latino who had been welcomed in. They closed the door behind the darker-skinned man as he looked curiously at the adorned walls which Shego had called home for three years. Finally, he sighed.

“You are going to him, then? This man, from the news report.”

Shego nodded, grateful for her boss’s softer tone.

“Yes,” she said.

“He is the reason you came here?”

She nodded again, sitting on the bed as her head pounded.

“...Why did you run from him?”

Shego’s brows knit together, but after all that Esteban had done for her over the years, she supposed it wouldn’t matter to give away a little more. Especially since she would never be seeing him again.

“I thought I was doing what was best for him,” she said with a shrug.

“But surely, if you were in love...? Was there some problem?”

Shego looked up, her brow twisting further in confusion.

“What... You think...he was in love with me too?” Her head was reeling again. That couldn’t have been what his note was about...could it? He had never showed any sign of having those types of feelings for her...

‘You never showed any of your feelings to him.’

She grimaced at that thought. And she wondered with a sickening feeling...had it really been necessary? All she’d done for three years was wallow in her own misery and loneliness and think of nothing but him. What if she had just...taken the risk?

“If the note on the news was real, then it would seem so,” Esteban had replied as she’d been thinking. She looked up again.

“Then I... I... I have to go.”

She stood again to get some fresh clothes and then paused, looking back at the suddenly long face of her boss.

“I hope you can find him. He will recover under your smile.”

Impulsively, Shego closed the distance between them and threw her arms around her boss’s neck. She felt his large palms hesitantly rest on her back.

“Thank you, Esteban...”

“Goodbye, Raquel.”

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

Shego raked her fingers through the ends of her hair for what must have been the tenth time just walking down the hall. As she found the correct door number she pushed her hair back over her shoulder, and then tugged down the simple green blouse and black jacket she wore. Possible had been right before... The garments weren’t fitting her as they should, but that was a concern for another day. She took a shallow breath and with a trembling hand, pushed the door inward.

The hospital room was dim and silent but for the beeping of monitors. On the bed, a familiar blue face lay atop a pillow, bandaged, like much of the rest of his body that could be seen. One forearm and foot were in casts, and his other arm was bandaged with the slightest of bloodstains showing through, like the one on the side of his face. She held her breath as she stepped in silently, as if walking into a dream. But he heard her.

The corners of his lips turned down before his eyes opened to slits, but then widened slightly upon seeing her. She hesitated only a moment before continuing her slow approach. She could see now the one side of his face was swollen, and his lower lip was split and bruised. She tried not to picture him falling from the top of a skyscraper, smashing against its sides on the way down only to be inexplicably rescued by his own mutation. Instead she fixated on his eyes that were bleary, shocked, and disbelieving.

“Shego?” he croaked out.

She fought the tears that tried to come to her eyes. “Yes. I... I’m here,” she managed, her throat tight.

He seemed to be studying her as she sat down on the edge of his bed, afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her and also needing to be nearer. The thought that he could have...that he very nearly died, and she didn’t even know...

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her lips parted as she stared at his expression that was quickly becoming anxious, despite the haze in his eyes she was sure was in part due to the heavy painkillers that were doubtless coming through his IV line.

“What...?” she breathed.

“Whatever...I did...to make you leave...” Drakken said quietly, each word coming out labored through his dry throat. “I’m sorry. Please...forgive me.”

Shego didn’t bother trying to stop her tears anymore. She took a slow breath to try to calm the ache in her chest as she tore her eyes from his, instead looking at his hand lying on the bed, his knuckles bruised and scraped. She hesitated, but then gently held his hand in both of hers. His skin was clammy and cold, and she noted for the first time the too-slow beeping of the heart monitor.

“You...you didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, looking back at him. His confused and now fearful expression was a blur through her tears. “I did.”

“...What?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeated with more strength, recalling the words of his note. “I did. It was just me. I...I’m so sorry, Dr. D.”

Her voice rose on the last as her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes tightly as hot tears slid down her cheeks. She tried to keep her cries quiet, and some time later her attention was drawn back by his hand shifting in hers. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. He looked a bit more focused, and a familiar, analytical expression had joined the caution and confusion on his face.

“I don’t understand,” he finally said. His fingers curled around hers and held on firmly.

Her heart thudded against her ribs, and she let her gaze fall to her lap. She had already broken her promise to herself, to never see him again... But clearly, that had been a mistake from the beginning. If she was honest...then at least she would know, there was nothing else she could have done. And yet, the most important words she could say to him still died on her lips.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” she said, staring down at their joined hands. She was careful not to hold too tight for his bruised knuckles. A long moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“What...? But... Shego...”

“I didn’t want to be part of...this world,” she said, lifting one hand briefly to gesture weakly at the opulence of the hospital room. Not exactly what she meant, but she hoped the point would get across. “But I know you, Dr. D.... You...you wouldn’t have taken any of the jobs, without me. I just...wanted you to be happy. And I didn’t want any of this...”

There was another silence, broken only by her sniffling as she gradually brought her tears under control. She heard Drakken take a long breath in through his nose and then release it just as slowly.

“Thank you for visiting me...”

Shego turned abruptly, her tears stilling with a silent gasp. Drakken’s eyes were on their joined hands, and he looked sad.

“You look...” he began, glancing up at her briefly before his gaze fell again. “Hm. Where will— That is...”

He trailed off, glancing away toward the curtained window in the room with a slight grimace. Shego tried to follow his train of thought.

“I don’t...have to leave right away,” she ventured carefully. He looked back at her, his expression guarded. “We could...catch up for a while? If...if you...”

She broke off as tears threatened her eyes anew. Who was she kidding? His note had been clear...

‘I can’t live without her anymore.’

“If you...don’t mind having me around, I could stay...longer.” She set her hand back atop his, minding the scrapes on his knuckles. The pressure of his fingers against her palm hadn’t diminished.

Drakken’s swollen lips parted, his dark eyes seeming to glitter even brighter for the mottled bruising on his face. And then, a shadow came over his features.

“No, that’s...that’s all right. You can go back to...your life.”

Shego held her breath. She thought about telling him she knew about the note, but...what if that only made things worse? Then he would be embarrassed, and he had already...apparently given up on living. What would that new revelation do to him?

His words were also unknowingly meaningless, she realized, as because for the past three years she...had had no life. Only worrying and pining over him, waiting for the day he married so she would know he didn’t need her anymore, and then and only then could she come out of hiding. But she had left El Salvador behind fully when she had come to Japan. The bar was already out of her mind. All she wanted, and what she really needed, was...

She took a breath. “Drakken...”

When she met his eyes they were sad. She looked down again.

“I...I also left because...because I’m in love with you. But I knew...you didn’t feel the same. I knew you could find someone to replace me and...really fulfill you, and it seemed like...the best way I could give you everything you wanted...was to be out of the picture.”

She sniffled, bringing one hand up to wipe her eyes and nose before straightening up from the tense hunch she’d found herself in and then leaning back on her hand, the other still firmly gripping his. She didn’t want to hear his confirmation, but she needed to. Knowing that her feelings weren’t reciprocated would mean it was all worth it. Even though it didn’t explain his years of solitude...or the note. She didn’t want it to be about her. She couldn’t be the reason that he’d nearly—

“Everything I wanted? Shego...”

She cast a cautious eye on him, and he looked a mixture of confused, hurt, but somehow resolved. His hand suddenly left hers, and her throat constricted with the sudden loss. And then she was gasping in worry as Drakken started trying to push himself up.

“All I’ve ever wanted—” He stopped short with a hiss of pain, shaking as he paused halfway up.

“Dr. D....”

“...Is you.”

Her breath caught, and they stared at each other eye to eye. Drakken’s expression was steady but fearful, and her own she knew reflected utter shock. She was so startled she hadn’t even realized she’d spoken a response until he answered her.

“The note was about me...”

Drakken let out a soft, almost exasperated puff of air and lightly shook his head.

“What did I do to...make you think I didn’t love you?”

Shego blinked rapidly as tears filled her eyes.

“Oh, Dr. D.!”

Her arms were flung around him as her lips gently pressed against his, minding the cut and swelling. His least injured arm raised to wrap around her, but without the support his frame shook and he began to fall. Shego guided him down, never breaking the intimate contact. Her tears fell on his face as she cried through the kiss, but his hand pressing into her back strengthened her. She let her fingers move through his hair, ever so softly touching the swollen parts of his scalp as their lips barely moved. She was careful to keep her full weight off of him, but the warmth of their chests together was like a salve, beginning to mend the wounds in her heart.

When they finally parted and she opened her eyes, she found his just as wet.

“Shego...” he whispered hoarsely, and she heard a catch in his throat. “Don’t leave me.”

She held him tighter. “Don’t let me go.”

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

One month later, Shego was grinning happily as she pressed her face further into Drakken’s neck where they sat together on the sofa in his new apartment. She sighed contently as she snuggled closer into his left side, her arms around his neck and her legs folded and halfway over his lap.

“Shego...” Drakken whispered, “this isn’t exactly...it’s not...”

“Mmmh, let everyone see how much I love you...” she murmured, turning to face the camera placed in front of them, the magazine photographer looking at them quizzically as she offered something between a smile and smirk. The interviewer stood close by, equally ill at ease, but Shego didn’t care.

She positioned her hand on Drakken’s shoulder so the diamond of her engagement ring sparkled in the light. Her heart warmed when his healed left hand reached up to hold hers, and she laced the fingers of her right hand through his, setting her left on top again to show off the ring. She tilted her chin up toward him and was rewarded with his radiant smile.

“I love you...” she said softly, “and I want to spend the rest of my life telling you.”

“I love you, Shego,” he breathed.

Their lips met in a gentle, ardent kiss. Beyond them, after a long minute, the camera flashed.

22 notes · View notes

subtlereferencetomyinterests · 3 years

Text

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Seven

Ao3, Masterpost, C.1 C.2 C.3 C.4 C.5 C.6

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, platonic dlampr.

okay. so. last time we heard anything out of me was *New Years*, Literally, and maybe i should’ve mentioned that I was taking a little hiatus, but oh well. i’m back now and i’m gonna post the last three chapters of this fanfiction as soon as I possibly can (so probably like all of them will be up by tmrw at the latest!!) to make up for my absence. but jokes on you, cuz I did actually finish this thing!!! >:P

(oh yeah, and there are no italics, thanks to tumblr’s copy/paste bulls//t. i continue to be lazy :3 if anything sounds stilted just imagine that theres an italicized word there and yeah.)

Warnings: cursing, sexual innuendo, discussions of sexuality, misunderstandings, Emotional Conversations, sharing a bed, mild body horror (remus’ existence lol), stress, h/c.

Word count: 7,967

The hallway was cold, and dark. It had been long-since abandoned of any life, with every door shut and each light dimmed- even Virgil’s. That day- the day of the meeting- had exhausted everyone enough to send them right to sleep mode.

Everyone except Remus and Patton.

Their heart-to-heart in the kitchen had dragged on a little longer than either had expected, letting night descend fully over the Mindpalace. Patton was the one to notice the time eventually, and drag his less-than-restful friend up the stairs with him- he could tell that the other was dead tired, though. His stubborn determination not to end the conversation didn’t sit well, but Patton couldn’t think what to make of it, and they really did need some sleep.

They reached Patton’s door first. He stopped in front of it, when Remus tugged his hand back insistently. He turned to him, letting out a confused hum, and was met with a scowl and a sigh.

Remus was looking even more resigned than he had when they first started talking that night. Patton waited, worried.

“This isn’t, um,” Remus exhaled, ragged around the edges. “This isn’t a pick-up line, okay, and I know that it’ll sound that way and I know that it’s me but. I really don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

Oh.

Patton’s heart ached- and his heart was big, it took up most of him. He felt the pain spread out from his center and into his fingertips and toes, hot and empathetic. Because how could he hear something like that, and not want to spend the rest of the night doting on the creature in front of him until that voice never sounded so small again, till he was as big and confident as he was meant to be?

“I don’t think I want to be alone, either,” Patton said.

Remus stared, his big scarlet eyes casting a faint glow in the dark. They were wide, cautiously hopeful.

“Yeah?” He muttered.

“Yeah.”

Patton opened the door, and led them both inside.

Remus shuffled around on the other side of the bed, but Patton was still, however much he wanted to squirm.

“Um.”

The movement stopped, and he flushed at the feeling of being watched in the dark. There really was no un-awkward way to say it, was there?

“Remus, since you’re staying, do you- um, do you mind doing me a favor?”

Remus, little more than a silhouette, propped himself up on his elbow, a tilt to his head. “A favor? Of course, anything for you, Pat,” his words were a purr, and Patton could envision the suggestive smirk on his face in perfect clarity. Patton felt another well of discomfort bubble in his stomach.

“Could you at least wear some clothes, please?”

There was a beat. Remus laughed, short and good-natured.

“Yeah, I sorta figured I would. It’s no problem.”

“Thank you,” Patton sighed, relieved.

“Don’t worry about it,” he paused, and that really would’ve been the end of it, but Patton had learned by then when Remus was about to make a joke. He took a little breath while the words were still clicking together in his head, and a grin crept into his voice. “There’s always tomorrow night to try this clothesless, eh?”

“I’m asexual,” Patton blurted, and he could feel the heat radiating from his face, though he didn’t even know why he was so uncomfortable. It was a joke, Remus was just joking. They were friends and Patton should’ve been used to it- but he’d already gotten so sensitive that night, and jokes like that always hit just a little different than the violent ones or the curses. It must have been a breaking point, or something.

Remus shifted again, laying on his back. Patton wondered if he’d made things awkward.

“Oh,” Remus said, “Oh wow, that makes so much sense!”

“It- It does?” Patton sat up, staring at the other with a mix of surprise and relief. Remus blinked up at him, nodding.

“Well, yeah, that explains why you get so squirmy whenever anybody even implies something to do with sex. I always thought you were just, like, a prude.”

Patton ran his hands over the comforter that pooled around his legs, shrugging. He wasn’t nervous, so much as he was fidgety. “Well, maybe it was some of that, too,” he joked.

Remus snorted, rolling onto his side and catching one of Patton’s hands in his own. He held it, playing with Patton’s fingers like he was trying to focus.

“Hey,” he sighed, heavy, “Sorry.”

“Huh? What for?”

“C’mon, you know,” Remus gestured around with his free hand, “All the jokes, and all the times I hit on you, like, graphically. I was kidding, obviously, it was just that you always had the best reactions. If I’d known why, I mean. I don’t know if I’d have actually stopped, but whatever. Different time, different me. I’m stopping now, kay?”

Patton’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t- He wasn’t trying to make Remus stop, that wasn’t fair. He knew how important staying true to himself was to Remus, and if he’d actually managed to guilt-trip any of that away, he didn’t think he’d forgive himself.

“Oh, it’s really okay, I mean- I know you like talking about stuff like that, who am I to say you shouldn’t?”

“You never said that, actually.”

Patton nodded, even if Remus couldn’t see him, and even if he was pretty sure they were on different pages. “Exactly. You shouldn’t go changing just to make me comfortable, I’ll get used to the jokes! I guess I just wanted to know that they were, which, obviously yeah, but… um, I’m bad with knowing what tone is which, sometimes, so-”

“Ugh, Patton,” Remus was laughing, leaning up and grasping tighter around Patton’s hand, with a tone that said plainly: please shut up. Patton did, biting the inside of his cheek. “Look,” Remus huffed, “I know what you’re trying to say, and it’s real sweet that you’re so worried about this, but it’s not exactly like I’m telling you that I’m reinventing myself. I’ll definitely keep saying plenty of horny shit, trust me, I can just drop it with the comments about ya. It wouldn’t even be funny anymore; fucking with people is cool, right, but making someone I actually like feel ‘icky’, or whatever, isn’t really the same thing. It’s no big sacrifice trying to make you feel safer with me, got it?”

Remus’ eyes were on his, glowing with concern. Patton felt his face flush for an entirely new reason, nothing to do with embarrassment.

“You want to make me feel safe?” Patton grinned, just this side of giddy. “That’s a new one.”

Remus made a vague grumbly sound; it shouldn’t have been as cute as it was. “Yeah, okay, so what if I do?”

“It’s okay if you do. It’s sweet.”

“Maybe it is. Besides, you aren’t the only aspec side around,” he shrugged, “I’m not too big on the dating side of things, myself.”

Patton’s smile widened. “Thank you. I mean, for understanding, and… getting me out of my own head about all this.”

“I gotcha,” a claw traced over Patton’s knuckles, idly, “No need for thanks.”

“I’ll give it anyway, you know that.”

Remus snorted. “Mhmmm.”

With the remains of embarrassment finally fading away, Patton yawned, and remembered just how tired he was. He laid himself down finally, relaxing as his back hit the mattress. No sooner after he’d done so, Remus was letting go of his hand in favor of curling around him and setting his head on Patton’s chest.

Patton would be lying if he said it wasn’t a relief, feeling the other unhesitant to curl up against him still. He looped his own arms around the smaller figure, practically on top of him, and traced patterns against Remus’ back.

In hindsight, Patton couldn’t remember ever falling asleep so easily.

The morning after, there was a crisis. A Thomas-crisis, and an emotional one, which set Patton up for a busy, busy day (or morning-through-afternoon, but it was well more than enough work for one day). The one upside to the whole mess was that he didn’t have to deal with it alone, because emotional distress fell neatly into Virgil’s area of expertise as well as his own.

At some point, you’d think they’d get numb to the endless dilemmas every other day, but with each new outing it got clearer and clearer that panic was just a part of life. Most weeks had at least one incident; there would be a mistake at the post office that needed to be worked out in person (which Patton didn’t mind, really, but Virgil hated, and Roman thought was a waste of time), there was an event for a friend of a friend that for some reason they were socially obligated to go to (which no one liked but Roman, who always thought they were one person away from being ‘discovered’), or- the present situation- there were pre-established plans that all the sides had somehow forgotten about until they were shoved into it at the last second.

Patton jolted awake with a gasp, the urgency of his human throwing him out of sleep. It was a full two hours later than he usually woke up, something he would’ve loved to appreciate on any other day. His bed was already empty- the warmth of another person still there, the covers still scrunched, but empty- which did serve to make his morning routine quicker. He dressed with a fervor that he couldn’t even place, manic exhaustion already soaking into him and making plans to stay there all day. It was going to be a rough one, being around people.

But, Patton knew it wouldn’t be hard to ignore all that, for a little bit at least. There was still a bright side, and that side was Virgil! Who he got to spend all day with! Working, sure, but still- work done with a loved one is never work at all.

“Yeah, I don’t know if that rings true, Pat,” was Virgil’s response to the sentiment, when Patton told him.

“You’re smiling,” Patton said, because he was.

“What?” Virgil covered his mouth, “No, I’m not- shut up.”

“You believe me, I know you do. You looove me.”

“Says you,” his mouth may have been covered, but the crows feet under his eyes creased more. His shoulders were just a little less tense, too, enough to tell Patton he was right.

That morning wasn’t great, but, they made it better.

Remus had woken up in a lot of places that were decisively not his bed. The floor? Sure. The imagination? Oh, absolutely. Underneath furniture, on top of furniture, and on counters- anywhere lie-down-able, been there and done that. Just for the fun of it, really, and a nice shock to whoever found him curled up in the sink or beneath cabinets. He was used to a crick in the neck or a splotch of red, rough carpet print on the side of the face.

So he didn’t really know why, waking up in someone else’s bed, he jolted out of it so quick, he looked like he’d been electrocuted. Or why, after scrambling out of Patton’s arms with whatever carefulness he could manage, he bolted from the scene entirely.

Remus began the slow process of piecing it together after he all but slammed the door behind him, trembling and cursing his way down the hall. He dragged away from Patton’s room and let his back hit the wall, sliding to the floor with a kind of hysteria he could only describe as itchy-vomity-terrifying-amazing.

He did itch at his skin, he was feeling a bit sick, a bit scared, but he thought he might’ve been grinning anyway, so the description fit well enough. Except, nothing was fitting actually well, right then.

The closeness. The attention. The fact that he’d spent eight hours of sleep getting a full dosage of both those things. The fact that it had been more of both of them than he could remember getting, ever. Of course he’d scrambled away- how else could he react!?

Remus didn’t get overwhelmed. Except, apparently he did! What another fun surprise!

A door creaked open down the hall (thank God not Patton’s). Remus felt the eyes on him, and looked up- manically, he looked well and truly manic.

Logan blinked at him. He looked a lot like an owl in the mornings, Remus noted. One of those smart ones, obviously, not one of the ones that fucks around counting licks on a lollipop.

Logan cleared his throat.

“Remus? Is everything alright?”

Remus shrugged, grinning. “Maybe! Who knows, though, right? It’s a lot, you know?”

Logan did not know, and said as much. Remus only laughed, letting his head hit back against the wall in the process.

He still felt warm, inside and out, after all that cuddling. It was weird, good-weird, but still so new. And, like he said, a lot. He’d felt that kind of warmth before, but definitely not as much- and he knew he needed to distract himself before he went crazy. Or, before his rattrap of a brain ruined the maybe-possibly good feelings for him.

“Hey, any chance you’re busy today?”

Logan hovered in his doorway for a minute before ultimately deciding to step out, probably determining the interaction as a prolonged one. He didn’t look too put-off about it, though.

“A very high chance,” he said, “But for now I am not. Is there something you need?”

“A distraction.”

“Ah.”

“So, you up for it?” Remus pulled himself up from the floor, popping a few joints. “At least for the morning, yeah, Geek?”

“Of course,” he smirked, “Provided you can call me by actual name at least once in this conversation.”

Remus grinned, probably coming off more relieved than he intended. “Eh, we’ll see about that one, Dweeb.”

Logan met him halfway down the hall, not looking at all surprised by the response. He looked, if anything, amused. Remus found himself remembering very abruptly that the two of them got along, were probably friends, and somehow that fact was still novel to him. Or maybe it was the mood. Probably both.

“Well, it was worth a try,” Logan reasoned.

“Oh, sure.”

“What were you thinking we should do, anyway?”

Remus raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m afraid that’s off the table,” Logan told him.

“Aw, fine. Surprise me, then.”

“That will be hard.”

Remus laughed, unsteady and shrill.

“C’mon, I know you’ve got it in ya.”

Logan smiled, just-nearly-almost mischievous. “Well. I’ll see what I can do.”

And for just a second, some of the panic slipped away, leaving behind that strange warmth.

Patton didn’t exactly let Janus know he was coming by. It had been a long day- or, a long five hour period between ten in the morning and three in the afternoon, but still, the idea that there was any day left at all made Patton want to melt into the nearest soft object and never get up.

When Patton needed to melt, he went to Janus’. Maybe it was the big armchairs; maybe it was the comforting, gooey little white-lies that soaked the atmosphere of his room; maybe it was the fact that his voice was so very easy to fall asleep to. Most likely, at least part of it was because he always seemed to enjoy taking care of people, anyway.

It was a nice combination, and exactly what was needed. Patton could apologize for not knocking later, ideally when he wasn’t falling asleep where he stood.

“Janusss,” he groaned, by way of greeting, and promptly collapsed onto the nearest soft surface while the door swung shut behind him.

Janus blinked at him from across the room, surprise lasting for approximately three seconds. He turned around, and sighed.

“Well, hello to you, too.”

Patton hummed, drearily.

“You look cheery,” Janus quipped, “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

The question was spoken lightly, but not insincere. Patton lifted his head enough to smile tiredly at the snake. He shrugged, for the room was working it's magic already, as was the easy company to be found there. Stress was easing away, in small bits, evaporating into warm shimmers under his skin. He had no doubt that Janus was doing some of it on purpose, as soon as he’d noticed the mood Patton was in, giving him a blanket of speckled reassurances (which were, as Janus insisted to him time and time again, just a tiny, harmless breed of pleasant lies) in an almost-literal way.

Most things about the sides’ rooms were like that. Almost-literal; concepts that crept their way into the physical world, if only slightly. Janus was the best at those kinds of things, though.

“’S just been a tiring day, y’know?”

Janus sat beside him, toying with some spare yellow strings, weaving and unweaving them almost carelessly. “I do.”

“A tiring night, too,” Patton added, an afterthought, but he found as he said so that it was true. Long in a good way. An impactful way. It felt like something important had happened, something that changed, but he didn't quite know what. It was still just as draining, though.

Janus raised an eyebrow, but he did not pry (even if he most likely wanted to).“So, you’ve come here.”

“Do you mind if I just rest in here for a bit?” He said, as he’d already gotten quite comfortable.

“Why don’t I do you one better?”

Patton hummed confusedly, but Janus had already begun urging him to sit up. The snake waved a hand, filling the room with light, swirling piano music. At once the air seemed to grow fuzzy, spicks and specks of what looked like golden glitter floating around- not unlike from the distortion Patton’s own room gave him when he was happy. Janus smiled down at him, summoning a neat little tea set on a tray and fixing them each a cup of the swirling, caramel-colored liquid.

Patton sighed happily, taking the teacup he was proffered and thanking the lord for whatever he’d done to deserve a friend like Janus.

Janus sat beside him, balancing the tea tray on an end table, and let their shoulders bump. He wasn’t a touchy person, exactly, but he allowed for a conservative amount of casual intimacy. Occasionally, and in an unspoken way, but still.

The atmosphere had exactly the intended effect. Patton felt paradisiacal.

“Gosh, what would any of us do without you?”

Janus hummed. “You’d most certainly perish.”

Patton laughed, his chest lighter already.

Remus felt good for about ten seconds after leaving Logan’s room and letting the guy get to work, fresh off the good morning he’d had. Then, very promptly, the weight that the remaining hours of daylight carried dropped onto his shoulders, and he would’ve been perfectly willing to claw his brain out to get a moment of reprieve from the whole barrage of irrational terror worming around in it.

Remus didn’t know why it was so bad that day (well- he had a guess, but thinking about it obviously made it suck worse, so). What he did know was that he needed someone to keep fucking distracting him, and that someone could under no circumstances be Patton.

Luckily, avoiding him wasn’t hard- he was still busy, and Remus had a feeling he’d need a rest once Thomas’ crisis was over, anyway- but that didn’t do much to solve the other half of Remus’ problem.

He needed something big, loud, and most importantly, not solo. He needed someone that could take up a whole room just as easily as himself, with endless energy to bounce back and forth, back and forth, until neither of them would ever worry about anything other than the moment and whatever it was they would do together…

Oh, god fucking dammit.

Remus sunk out to the Imagination. No, not his. The opposite half.

He rose up into more than a blank canvas, but less than a finished work; a vibrant world with gaps and white spots. He might’ve taken the time to look around, but- unsurprisingly- his brother was in front of him, accosting him, immediately. Seriously, it was like he’d teleported.

“What are you doing here?” Roman snapped, his hands, still splattered with ink, landing on his hips.

“Aw, so now I’m not even allowed to visit my own flesh and blood, and other various parts?”

Roman scrunched his nose up. “No, you aren’t allowed. This is my room!”

Remus- as he always did when someone said he couldn’t do something- cackled.

“I’m serious!” Roman whined, “I’m busy!”

Now, he said that, but Remus knew from personal experience that if Roman wanted him gone, he could’ve forced him out without too much issue- or worse yet, attacked him outright. He didn’t seem to be about to spring, though, not looking any worse than annoyed, so Remus happily decided that this interaction fell into the normal-and-healthy-sibling-bickering category instead of the unfortunately familiar would-genuinely-commit-fratricide-if-possible category.

He grinned. “Yeah, and I’m bored!”

“Not my problem, and you’re still in my room.”

“What, worried I’ll gunk up all your magic ponies and Yellow Brick Roads, or whatever it is you like to play with around here?”

“Yes, I am!” Roman scowled, but it looked a lot like he was straining his jaw not to laugh. “And you know I don’t make those, you fiend, I made a unicorn once and that was only because Logan wanted one.”

“You’re shitting me if you say that you weren’t the kid who always wanted a pony, Ro.”

“Well, how’s a pony any better than a thestral, which I seem to remember someone getting all excited about when we first read the-books-that-shall-not-be-named?”

“Ooh! Good idea, we should abso-fucking-lutely make those!” Remus wandered past his brother, looking around at the half-finished scene that he’d walked in on. It was sunny, pleasant- all around very vanilla, but there was at least a sense of adventure thrumming under it that gave the place a kick. With some work, it could actually be, like, fun! “Ever see somebody die? Don’t worry, I can help with that.”

Roman turned to him, looking hilariously incredulous with what was happening.

“Um? Excuse me? This is my domain,” he blinked, and a smug smirk crossed his lips. “Which means that you don’t have the power to make anything here! So, ha!”

Oh, right. That made a lot of sense, actually. How had he forgotten that? It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d tried to make something with his brother, right?

…Wow. That had no business hurting as much as it did.

“Uh- Remus?”

His head snapped up, a smile with too-many teeth already strained across his face. Remus’ head was scattered enough, coming here wasn’t supposed to make it worse.

“Sure, okay- there’s gotta be some way for us to build stuff together!”

Roman stared appraisingly at his sibling, apparently thinking before he argued for the one and only time in his life. He tilted his head in confusion, perhaps worry.

“I- well-” Roman glanced at what he’d been making, and down at his hands. “I’m sure I could, perhaps, let you have power here. Just this once.” He huffed. “It’s my room, right? So there’s no reason why I couldn’t do that, if I wanted.”

“Do you?”

“Ugh.” Roman rolled his eyes, perfunctorily. “Fine. I don’t know what’s up with you, but I’d rather you be your normal weird-self than… whatever this is,” Roman stuck his hand out, his chin raised like it was a challenge. “Good?”

Remus grabbed his hand (and did not buzzer him, or slime him, even though it would have been so easy- because they were having A Moment and even he could appreciate the sanctity of something like that).

“Yeah,” he said. “We’re good.”

Roman, as it turned out, was able to tolerate Remus for a whopping six hours, right up until five p.m., and only shooed him away in order to finish the project that he’d more-or-less happily dropped when Remus stopped by. So Roman wasn’t the worst brother in the world, Remus acknowledged. He then resolved to never, under any circumstances, say that to Roman’s face.

The door to the Imagination shut with a click. The sound matched almost perfectly with another, sharper one down the hall, what Remus recognized as Janus’ door closing. He glanced up with a grin, wondering if he could maybe get Snakey to distract him for a while- only to lock eyes with precisely what he needed distracting from.

Patton smiled at him. He looked tired, relaxed, and raised a hand in some semblance of a wave. It would probably be a great opportunity to unwind together, talk stuff out, and definitely curl into each other on the couch.

Remus wasn’t going to take that opportunity, though.

Remus stared back at Patton for all of three seconds, the grin sliding off his face, before barging through the nearest door and slamming it behind himself.

Shit. Fuck. What the hell did he do that for? It was just Patton, Remus knew Patton; there was no reason to be jittery enough to bolt from him twice. There was no way Patton wouldn’t think he was mad- which he wasn’t, even if he barely understood why he was losing it, he knew it wasn’t anger. But Patton wouldn’t know that, and he’d cry, probably, and Remus wasn’t sure if he was good enough at comforting people to fix it after. Christ, maybe he couldn’t fix it, maybe he’d still be too keyed up to talk to Pat, even if he started bawling!

“Hey? What the fuck?”

Remus spun around, and yeah, he could’ve guessed whose room he ended up in without the gravelly voice to give it away, given that little spiral. A surprised-looking Virgil stared up at him, sitting cross-legged on a spiderweb bedspread.

Remus ignored the thin layer of anxiety still rolling under his skin (now that he could place it), and shrugged, sliding until he sat on the floor.

“Oh, hi,” he said.

“Yeah, hi to you too, but my question still stands:” Virgil clapped his hands together, “What. The fuck?”

Remus considered a few possible snarky responses, but found that most of them were pretty pathetic. Besides, evading vulnerable situations was more of Janus’ thing, and Remus didn’t want to steal his bit.

“I’m hiding like a little bitch, so don’t kick me out, or I’ll maul you.”

Virgil’s eyebrows went up, but the surprise in his face was being replaced, slowly, by confused resignation. “Okay, cool. Why here, and why me?”

“First door.”

“Yeah, that’s about my luck,” he blew his bangs out of his face, “So like, you’re not gonna go anywhere else?”

Remus thought about it, but it was an easy choice. If he was gonna whine to anybody about something like this, he decided, it’d probably be Virgil. Virgil was good with fear, he was good with Patton, and he was good at making fun of shit if a conversation got too serious.

“Nah. Sorry, Emo Boy, but I’ve already annoyed Logan and my dipshit brother today. Looks like it’s your turn!”

“What about Janus?”

“Eh, he’s a live-in therapist for the rest of you already. I think I’ll give him the day off.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, sighing with all the exasperation of a teenage burnout and not a thirty-year-old metaphysical humanoid.

“Okay, okay- and why’s Patton off the table? He, like, actually enjoys helping people,” Virgil glanced down, scuffing the carpet with the side of his foot. “He’s good at it, too.”

“Yeahhhh,” Remus locked his teeth together, inhaled through them, “About that.”

“What, aren’t you two all close now?” Virgil frowned, “I fuckin’ saw you guys at the meeting yesterday, you were so on top of each other, I feel like I forgot that you were two separate sides,” to anybody who didn’t know him, the way he talked about it would sound harsh. Remus, however, knew exactly how soft Virgil really was- the fucking poser- and that that shit? That was pure encouragement, raw as a bloody, bloody steak.

Which, of course, only made Remus wince again.

He flopped sideways onto the floor, groaning. “Yeah, we’re close. That’s- I think that might be the problem?” That sounded right, almost, but just wrong enough to feel icky and annoying. “Ugh, I don’t know. So I just ran!”

There was a beat.

“Wait a second,” Virgil’s voice was tight- oh that bitch, he was laughing! “You’re hiding from Patton?”

Remus huffed. Okay, so maybe it was a little funny, he could appreciate that- but! He was still upset about it!!

“I mean, what has he done to scare you off?” Virgil pressed, “Too many compliments? Did he hug you too hard? I know the dude can be a lot sometimes, but-”

“Okay, ok-ay,” Remus couldn’t help it, he managed a laugh at it, too. “It’s ridiculous! It’s fucking ridiculous and he’s not even the problem!”

“Then what is the problem?” Virgil was snickering, “And don’t say that it’s you, dude. At least one of us around here has to not hate himself to hell and back, and you’ve defended that title for too long to lose it,” he cleared his throat right after he said it, sitting up straighter and trying to look like he hadn’t just been laughing like a huge dork. “Not that I’m, like, worried about you or anything.”

“Aw, you so are,” Remus stared up at the ceiling, grinning despite the ache in his chest. “But no, it’s not that. He thinks I’m awesome and he’s right, so don’t worry.”

Virgil leaned over him, staring upside-down at Remus. He squinted.

“Hey, this a serious problem?”

“I guess so. You can joke about it, though.”

“Cool. Um,” Virgil pulled away. Remus sat up, watching the trait cross one leg over the other, flip them, then tap his knee one-two-three-etc. times. He chewed on his lip. The whole nine yards of a classic Focused-Virgil Face. “Okay. You can tell me about it, seriously. I’ll try to help, or whatever.”

Remus blinked at him.

“Don’t- Jesus- don’t make a big deal out of it, dude-”

“Oh, I am.”

“I don’t even have a choice, okay, you’re the one who-”

“You’re so sweet, Virgey!”

“Remus, I swear to God, repeat that to anyone and I…”

Virgil trailed off. Remus pouted at him, dramatically, his eyes practically glowing with mischief. “C’mon, aren’t you going to threaten me?”

“I was, and then I remembered that you’re like, actually into that kinda stuff, so. No. Nope, I’m good.”

“Fine,” he shrugged, “Looks like you’re resigned to just hearing about my feelings, instead!”

Virgil rolled his eyes again- of course he did- but there was no hiding the way he went quiet, patient, you could even call it attentive.

It was an offering, one that Remus didn’t hesitate to take.

Patton left Janus’ room in a good mood.

He was in a considerably less good mood when, as soon as he’d left, Remus saw him and scrambled away like Patton was about to attack him where he stood- wide-eyed with fear and everything.

Patton swayed in the hallway for seconds after, uncertain about a lot of things suddenly.

The room Remus had run into had definitely been Virgil’s, not his own, and for a moment Patton entertained the idea of just going up to knock. He dropped that thought quick, realizing that if he really wasn’t wanted, then he definitely didn’t want to confirm that he wasn’t wanted.

He might have gone back to Janus- Janus was smart, Janus knew how to explain things and solve problems and comfort people- but that was scrapped, too. He’d taken up plenty of the snake’s time already, firstly, and secondly… No, yeah, Patton already knew just who he needed to see for something like this.

Logan set aside his laptop as soon as Patton walked into the common room, a surprisingly perceptive gesture for someone who claimed to be bad with feelings. Or maybe Patton had just gotten rusty at hiding them.

“Hi,” he greeted, wobbly.

“Hello,” Logan said, “You look upset.”

Patton stared at the wall just above his friend’s head, and nodded.

“Can I help?”

He paused. It was a bad habit- one of many!- but feeling unwanted by one side made him wonder if, maybe, he was unwanted by everyone. The thought formed a lump in his throat and had guilt pooling in his gut, but this was Logan. His best friend, the person he had gone to because he always knew just where he stood with him. If Logan didn’t want to help- no, because he always wanted to- if he couldn’t handle helping, then he would tell Patton that. He always did.

“I think Remus is upset with me,” Patton blurted it out quickly, just so he didn’t have to hear them. Logan vanished his laptop at once, gesturing to the spot beside him on the sofa. Patton sat with him, smiling feebly.

“Has he said anything of the sort?”

“No,” Patton picked at the sleeve of his sweater, “He didn’t really have to. He kind of… ran away from me?”

Logan’s eyes widened behind his frames, almost imperceptibly. “I see.”

“I don’t even know what I did,” Patton flushed with the admission, because of just how true it was. He had no idea what he did, and still he felt blame settling over him like a well worn blanket, and all that he could do was hope it wasn’t as bad as the last time. “I feel like I should know this stuff by now, shouldn’t I?”

There was a pause, as Logan processed the words carefully, seemed to turn them over in his head.

“Be careful not to jump to conclusions, Patton. He typically freely expresses how he is feeling at any given time, so even if his actions seem to say otherwise, it’s entirely possible that he’s not upset with you,” Logan smiled reassuringly. “I find that most of his actions are meaningless. He’s a very weird creature.”

Patton managed to laugh at that. Logan leaned their shoulders together, a little pride flashing in his eyes, as he continued. “He did seem to be ‘out of it’, in a manner of speaking, when we spoke earlier today. It would make sense if that had worsened over the past few hours, and now he’s just particularly flighty. All in all, I wouldn’t read too much into it, if I were you.”

Patton nodded, resolutely not mentioning that they’d spent the night together, however relevant that was. He knew it would sound paranoid to imply that their intimacy had backfired, or come too quick- because Patton was paranoid, and certainly a little neurotic, and the less he voiced it the better.

Instead, he followed the advice he didn’t believe, and let himself rest against his friend. Logan had laced their fingers together; it wasn’t as comforting as it usually was.

Logan was only so touchy when it was for the sake of others, and almost always that ‘other’ was Patton. A fact that made the needy trait feel amazingly special most of the time, but on nights like that… More than anything, he felt greedy.

“I’ll ask him about it,” Patton promised, because he knew that was what Logan would suggest (even if the idea made him more than a little dreadfilled). “Maybe I overwhelmed him. He’s been cuddly, so I thought…” Patton shook his head, bile hitting the back of his throat as the realization collapsed upon him. “That’s probably it. I must have took it too far.”

Logan didn’t pry, but Patton could feel his concern mount just as well as he could see the frown on his face.

“Talking to him will be the best course of action,” he said plainly. “For the time being, though,” he released Patton’s hand, wrapping his arm loosely around Patton’s waist and leaving it there. “It might be beneficial for you to receive more reassurance. Is this alright?”

“Yes,” Patton ducked his head, knowing full well how obviously relieved he sounded, “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I’m happy to help,” Logan told him, and he had no doubt that it was true. Still, it always surprised him anyway- and that at least was a good thing about a friend who was so reserved. The pleasant surprises.

Patton sat up enough to rest his head on top of Logan’s, a position that was almost but not quite cuddling.

“I sincerely hope,” Logan muttered, “That everything will be alright for you.”

Whether he was speaking only about the Remus situation or not was unclear.

“Me too.”

“If it’s any consolation, it’s very difficult to stay upset with you, if he truly is so. In my experience, at least.”

Patton sighed. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Of course. Your happiness is-... you, are very important to me, and I can only hope that you’ve made a friend that values you as much as I do.”

Patton knew what he meant by it. Both he and Logan were acutely aware of how different they were, and how little they matched with each other. Patton couldn’t understand him- not wanting to be showered in love, enjoying silence and a little bit of alone time, needing space. He knew that Logan didn’t get him, either- didn’t know why he cried all the time, or why nothing ever seemed to fix him for good, or why he said so many things that went without saying. They still struggled with each other’s languages, sometimes, but they’d gotten miles and miles better with it over the years. Sometimes Patton thought that the only way they’d become so close was sheer willpower, pushing past each misunderstanding and argument just because they liked the challenge of it. Determination was always a common thread between them, whatever differences they had.

They had to have boundaries, then. Logan might not hold Patton on his worst days, but he’d give him notes and gifts and bring him water, food, things that he neglected for himself. Patton didn’t have any of the right words to talk Logan down when things got bad, but he was always there to cheer him back up when he was ready again. Neither of them understood each other, and maybe they never would, but they cared. Even if they couldn’t be what the other needed, they cared, and that was all they had to do.

So even if Logan couldn’t fix things, Patton thought, he still did a hell of a good job patching them up.

“Hey. Hey!”

Patton turned around with a jolt, his fingers going tight in the blanket about his shoulders. How long he’d been downstairs, he didn’t know- but he knew that he was really, very tired, and now was left blinking and confused at the person accosting him with so much energy.

“Um, hi,” Patton tried.

Remus had run up to him at once, and was just as suddenly seizing both of his hands. Patton might have taken a moment to appreciate the touch, but with just one sentence that positivity crumbled:

“I need to talk to you.”

Patton shoved a plastic smile onto his face. He always felt a little icky to be faking it, but with Remus, the shame was especially thick. Still, it was only instinct.

“Okay.”

Patton opened the door; the Duke marched in without waiting for invitation, and he followed.

Dread dripped down his spine like melting ice cubes. This is fine, Patton told himself firmly, once they were both sitting feet apart on the bed. He refused to think too hard about what the distance meant- if it meant anything at all, or if he was only being ridiculous.

“Sorry about today,” Remus began, “Really. I was freaking out for the stupidest fucking reason. You’ll laugh when I tell you!”

Patton didn’t laugh, but he smiled a little more wholly. If Remus was upset with him, the apology must’ve meant at least some of that had faded away. Probably.

“It’s okay, Mess,” the nickname rolled off his tongue easily. Remus grinned at him, but it was somehow more manic than usual.

“I probably got you all worried over nothing, bolting on you before you could wake up- and then again earlier, right?”

There was a pause, as Patton tried to decide if the question was rhetoric or not. When the silence stretched on uncomfortably, he found himself nodding.

Remus huffed out a breath, rocking back and staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I- I’m still working at the whole self-improvement thing, ya know? That probably doesn’t make it better, but- I’ve never really had a reason to try and be, uh, considerate. Janus never really cared if I was a bitch, and nobody else ever mattered, and that- yeah, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk about.”

His voice was raspy, low and thick in a way that it almost never was. Patton tipped his head to the side, confused. Remus looked- and sounded- awkward, an expression that was not at home on his face.

“Wait, um- so it wasn’t anything I did? You’re not upset with me?”

Remus looked at him like he was crazy (ironic, that).

“Upset with you?” He crowed, “Why the fuck would I be upset with you?”

Patton flushed; he laughed embarrassedly, or maybe in relief; he toyed with the sleeves of his sweater.

“I didn’t really- I don’t know, but I was worried that I’d, um, overstepped some boundaries last night, and maybe made you uncomfortable.”

He was only kind of looking at his friend, from out the corners of his eyes. It was still easy to see the way Remus went from confused to amused, and then burst into cackles.

“You- You- Me? Morey, please, it takes a lot to make me uncomfortable- if that’s even possible, actually- and you sure as shit haven’t figured out how to pull it off yet. Sugar, I asked to stay with you!”

The relief flooded Patton all in a rush, and he felt himself finally relax. With Remus laughing and joking and being his usual (sweet, impressively sweet, surprisingly so) self again, it all started seeming a little silly. Remus must’ve seen him coming untense, folding down the same way accordion-pressed paper sprawled out when it was released from a bored student’s hand, because his gaze went warm, like something had finally clicked into place in his head. A problem solved, and what a wonderful solution it had come to- that’s what the look said.

Patton met the smile just as brightly when the Duke shifted over some of the distance between them, taking up both of Morality’s hands in his own yet again.

“Well, since it wasn’t something I did,” Patton said, “Then what was the actual problem?”

Remus didn’t look too upset at the question, but he was glancing down, up, sideways- his pupils flitted around the room without really touching on anything for too long; it wasn’t often that he was so obviously thinking something through. His fingers flexed, face a little pink, and he hesitated before answering:

“Okay, it’s like I said, right? I don’t- I’ve never needed to try to be anything for anybody before. I mean that I never wanted to do things in a conform-y way, obviously, but, I never wanted to be considerate, either,” he smirked down at their tangled hands, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m doing too bad for a first try, to be honest- but that’s not the point, the point is- this is… new.”

Patton opened his mouth, reassurances rushing to the tip of his tongue before he was hastily shushed.

“No, look, there’s a difference between being a pushover and just being fucking nice to the people you care about. That’s the problem- or I thought it was a problem, in my dipshit lizard-panic brain this morning- right? I’ve never wanted to do anything for people, because I didn’t need them anyway. I figured I didn’t, I guess, cuz I could survive without ‘em- it wasn’t like I had a choice, but I got on fine. Not to be too… I don’t know, pathetic? Who cares, but- I never knew anything different.”

Patton’s eyes went wide and watery, like the blue of his irises were soaking into everything else and leaking, leaking, leaking. He was squeezing Remus’ hands a little too tight, certainly, and he just wanted to hug him so bad- but despite his words, Remus didn’t even seem to need it. He looked back at Patton, huffed a sigh, looking just plain amused.

“So this hit me when I was talking to Virgil, about ten minutes ago,” he started, “That I woke up today, with you, and I had this thought like… Fuck, I don’t ever wanna move again. I could starve and then start to decompose and probably rot into bloody mush, but I’d probably still be perfectly happy- which is weird, because starvation is easily one of the boringest ways to die, I could go out so much cooler- but, it was more the fact that I was with you, and uh. So, so I thought that- which is so dumb and sappy- and it surprised me so bad that I just ran. And after I had, I was so freaked out, I didn’t even remember why for!”

He took a deep breath, something that he hadn’t done for that entire ramble. Patton got the sense he still wasn’t finished though, and waited patiently.

“I never needed anybody caring about me for me to be okay- the screaming and the fleeing and all that was fine, it was still a reaction. But I think I just realized that I couldn’t go back to that, now.

“Because of you. I knew I liked you, but it never clicked that things would probably suck without you by this point. More than that, I guess- it hit me that just because I can take care of myself, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t fucking blow. That I don’t- I don’t want to be so independent again, okay? That I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

And he couldn’t help it at all; Patton did hug him, then. He pulled him against his chest as soon as he noticed the words going choppy, choked, and halting. He let go of Remus’ hands, in favor of tangling his fingers in the Duke’s hair and carding through it.

Remus met the embrace with just as much fervor, curling up into the bigger trait. Yet somehow, he wasn’t crying yet.

“Hey, hey, I’m alright,” he murmured, “I mean, don’t let go, obviously- but I’m okay. I had all day to panic! Which I definitely did, by the way, because my whole worldview got screwed over. Finally know how you feel, I guess,” He was joking, Patton could hear his smile. He laughed. “But I got it out of my system, and ya know what I realized after that?”

Patton hummed attentively, letting Remus pull back just enough to see his face.

“I said, ‘okay, I’m processing that, and it doesn’t matter.’ It doesn’t matter because I only realized that maybe I need people once I already had them, and- no offense- but you don’t really seem like the abandoning type. The opposite, that’s what you are.”

Patton beamed.

“Of course not,” he swore, pressing the words out as though intensity alone could make them more true, more pure. “Never, not ever.”

“Good,” Remus said, “Cuz I’m hanging on to ya, Pat. As long as I can.”

Chapter Eight

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#sanders sides #ts #intruality #my writing #qpr intruality #remus sanders #patton sanders #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction

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