#and I get overwhelmed too easily just by being surrounded by people and noise constantly even though I try to just zone out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

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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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remsmoonlight · 4 years ago

Text

— title : glitter in the sky

— word count : 2.3 k words

— pairing : loki x reader

— summary : before putting into place his plan for thor’s coronation, he seeks you out one more time for comfort only you can provide

— warnings : maybe a teeeeeny bit of thor bashing but incredibly minor .. love ‘im fr , bit of sadness

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested ? nope　/ requests are open *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

an: i got this idea, first from watching the first thor movie because aw, and then moving onto silent hill and that field scene is a whole vibe..... who doesn’t wanna just chill randomly in a field with the sun on your skin with no responsibilities? hell yeah .. anyways this just got away from me in a way ha

Trailing your gaze up to the sky, your eyes marvel at the merging colours as you study them intently, witnessing the blend of hues and tones from a bright blue to a mixture of warm pinks and burnt oranges light up the surrounding area before you knew they would fade into nothing more than a dark blanket who’s only source of light would be the moonlight and the stars that would litter it.

Your shoes crunching the dry grass and the sounds of chirping from the various wildlife encompasses you, it takes all of your strength to not allow a large grin to brighten your features.

Despite being so late in the afternoon, time walking on a fine line towards the early evening, the heat from the sun is still so strong, comfortably toasting your skin as a heavy blanket on a cold winter’s night would.

In the distance you’re able to spot the intimidating stature of the aged tree, though it’s intimidating in name only ⎯ for now it holds only those memories that lay locked deep within your heart. Your situation is a rather unusual one. Many summer afternoons had been spent shielded from the harsh rays of sunlight that shone over everything it could touch, though they hadn’t been spent alone. Rather, they’d been spent with an exceedingly phenomenal man. Can he even be called that? You wonder to yourself, Loki was far from human. Far, far from it.

“ to think I had been of the belief you would not be appearing. “

The suddenness of the voice slicing through the noises of the concealed fields would have shocked you more had it not been so honeyed. Holding the recognisable smoothness that you only associated with Loki.

“ this is the first time I’ve ever been late, thank you very much. “ you answer with an unwavering nerve as you stare at him while amusement floods your expression.

“ and the last, I’m sure? “ an eyebrow raises as he questions you, a warmth brightening his aura against the coolness he exudes normally.

Believing he’s not of Earth had been hard for you to grip, to believe fully, no matter how many tricks he could conjure before your very eyes. Though disappearing right before you, then feeling the whisper of his breath dance on the back of your neck so gracefully had been the confirmation you required. From there on a friendship blossomed into something more, you both becoming more and more involved with the other. Holding such unbelievable secrets were not a common place for you, to have this continues to make you feel like such a special soul.

“ oh, shut up! “

You stroll towards him, closing the distance with an enthusiastic energy that not even the longest of days could wear you down. Nothing in the world makes you feel so secure and guarded than when you finally feel the weight of his arms snake around you to bring you forward into his embrace. For Loki, you are a home away from home. Never do you gaze upon him with untrustful eyes, nor do you view him as beneath you, many negative connotations are attached to his name and you? You simply see him for who he wishes he could be, only ever in your presence does he try not to disappoint you. Back on Asgard that’s all anyone ever expects, so why not play into their prejudices? It has protected him so far, though the thought that perhaps even that has done more harm than good tresspasses into his mind on a rare occasion.

It’s not something he wishes to think about there though. He wants to dedicate his short visit to you entirely. Pushing away the increasingly regular thought it’s just a heartbeat, he is not one to be naive to pretend. Illusions are second nature to him, to forge them as easily to breathe, but to experience them are something that is in his power to prevent. He could allow this one instance to be selfish.

“ might I inquire of your wellbeing since we parted last? “ he requests as fingers entwine with yours to guide you to the slight hollow space within the tree. You drop yourself without any elegance to the ground, he settles behind you with his legs on either side of yours.

You can’t help but marvel at the differences between the two of you, like night and day. However, your differences fit like a puzzle with no inconvenience.

“ life keeps trying to test my patience, same as ever but ⎯ “ you pause, your eyes shining with remembrance of the gift you had brought, of course you knew it’s nothing more than a silly little trinket but you couldn’t help but fall in love with it. “ here, my friend’s been making these pieces for their business and I couldn’t help but think of you. “

Adoration is the only thing that overwhelms him in this moment, it’s a feeling he wants to lock away to relive over and over, for the only time he has never been treated as an afterthought is by his mother. Now? It’s a feeling that hasn’t been forged by a bond born of blood, but one that has arisen naturally. The item in your hand is a small metal band, with designs etched onto its body.

“ it’s only a little thing I know ⎯ “ you begin to babble, the words tumbling before you could even stop them. Your mind losing all control over your language before Loki put a stop to it.

“ I’ll have you know it’s not the physical item itself, but the sentiment behind it I hold dear. “

You want to respond with equally sweet words, but the heavy tone doesn’t go undiscovered by your ears.

“ Loki, what’s wrong? “

“ nothing, why do you ask? “ the God denies, switching the questioning to you.

Turning to face him, your eyes scout all over his features to spot anything that would give you cause to continue on with your concern. It’s light, the ghost of sorrow concealed behind a curtain of confidence and ego, even the most professional of liars can’t hide the truth of that. The hurt cuts too deep for a flimsy pretense of everything being perfect for it to bury those feelings.

“ you’re an amazing liar, but I’m beginning to get the hang of you. Besides, sadness is something difficult to completely hide. “

A heavy breath is released, your fingers from their position on his shoulders feel as if there’s an invisible weight that has almost decreased. You wonder how long he has carried this with him.

“ tell me. “

Every fibre of Loki’s being is fighting to keep his feelings kept away out of sight, to imagine they never manifested themselves into reality, but locked into place by the profound compassion swirling in your eyes he wants to finally divulge everything in his mind that has been plaguing him. Who knew a mortal could have such an enchanting effect he thought humourfully to himself.

“ the deadline for a successor to my father’s throne is approaching. “

“ and you’re worried? “ your brows lower, confusion marking your features as you struggle to understand why that could be so bad?

“ I've veiled many things from you, a fault of mine I understand completely. “ he admits, a sorrowful smile gracing his lips.

“ it’s never too late to share them. It might help you feel better? “

Loki wonders just what it is he has done in his history to be blessed with such an understanding and caring soul as yours, nothing could ease the lasting effects of each and every of his transgressions over his many years of living. How exactly could such radiance and light find the dark Prince of Asgard so easily? Many who lived in his realm would argue that he’s not deserving, instead countering that his brother should be in such a position of happiness.

He simply gazes upon you before speaking, a slender finger raising to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear.

“ the successor has already been chosen, they always have been. This is a mere formality. “ switching his sight from you to the environment around you both, turning to look upon the steadily darkening sky.

“ so why do it then? “

“ to ensure that the process is seen as fair, despite the favour repeatedly falling to my brother. “

Nodding in understanding, you finally realise why there is a darkness that swirls over his head now he speaks of the topic. Living in the shadow of the golden child is not easy, your heart hurts as you realise that there must be many people who do not see the same man who you see. They see audacity instead of a daringness, to mistake him for an egotistical know it all instead of someone who has a thirst for knowledge and tricks.

“ never did they wish to stop viewing me as a troublesome child, I suppose I never aided in changing that. “

Nothing falls from your lips, knowing no words could do justice for what you need him to know, to feel. Twisting yourself onto your knees, you lean forward and allow your arms to provide him comfort as they surround his neck. One hand raises to rest in the dense raven locks of hair you constantly marvel over, moving ever so softly to trace patterns.

“ I’m sorry. “ you mumble softly, wanting to say more, but you can’t help but resign yourself to being unable to say anything meaningful. Instead, figuring it would be better, first, for him to speak his emotions without looking for any advice.

“ you’ve nothing to apologise for. The pieces will fall as they should. “ he comforts, whining to himself over the absence of your warmth as you withdraw the embrace.

“ Loki, what do you mean by that? “

“ nothing for you to worry yourself over, my dove. “ he shakes his head, as a chuckle that is short accompanies it, contains little genuine amusement to settle you.

“ I’m being serious, what are you talking about? “ your demand is light in touch, though your gaze holds an unrelenting strength as he looks towards you once more.

“ again, nothing that requires your concern. Midgardians, you worry too much. “

“ over things that can get the people we love into trouble, of course. “

His heart pauses in beating as the words seep into his mind, realising exactly what you spoke. Briefly, does he wonder if he misheard you, thought deep down he knows what you spoke.

“ did you ⎯ ? “ an unrecognisable vulnerability crosses his expression as he begins to ask what you had said, to hear it again as if for the first time.

A reddening of you cheeks can be seen, you look down with a sheepish grin. This had not been the way you had imagined using the love word. Of course, over the years of your life many things had not gone to plan, so this was just another instance in a long, long line of events that just got away from you. While you know there is something mutual, you can’t bring yourself to look upon him just yet.

“ you heard me correctly. “

Elation swells within him, even the thought of perhaps you would prefer Thor had you met him first could not creep more than a few feet before being banished from sight and mind, it’s not something he wants to entertain. Especially for what he has in mind to plan for the future. Instead, he allows himself to be engulfed in your love, to experience the last piece of goodness that has been reserved for him, knowing it won’t last.

All you feel from your dropped gaze is your nose being nudged by his, then the weight of his lips on your own. Moving together as if they are fighting to mould into one, fitting together so well. Both of you are left breathless, momentarily caught in the feeling of the other that oxygen is the last thing on your mind.

“ do not trouble yourself over events that have not come to pass yet. Especially on an evening as fine as this. “

The corner of your lips tilt higher as your turn away from him to peer over the surroundings you had briefly forgotten. The burnt colours had long since faded into darkness, the stars being the only light as they can only be likened to being glitter in the night’s sky. A true beauty.

“ I love nights like these, where you can see all of the stars. “

“ you’d be besotted with Asgard’s constellations. “

You’d settled back into the position you were in previously, with arms encompassing you protectively with your back secured firmly to his chest. Loki explains the beauty of Asgard, and how even in the day the stars can still be seen against the shining vividness of the colours of their sky. Quarrelling against the gold hues from both the sun and the palace he knows only as his home.

“ that sounds wonderful. “ you whisper, feeling fatigue sneaking its way to the forefront of your mind.

“ it truly is a beauty to see. “ agreeing with you, resting his head upon yours. Wishing nothing more than to be able to stay there in that moment forever.

“ I wish I could see it. I’m very jealous right now. “

He can feel you becoming increasingly drowsy, flattered that you would even let your guard enough to even allow sleep to touch you. Having you on Asgard would certainly make him a happier person, to have someone who isn’t his mother understand him would be freeing. Though his father would die before he allowed that to happen, a mortal on Asgard.

“ Perhaps one day. “

Loki can’t be sure if you even heard that, but it’s something he wants to entertain. Besides, what is the use of being a master of mischief and tricks if he couldn’t make such a desire come true?

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #loki fluff

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ashliinks · 4 years ago

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖙'𝖘 𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 | 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖋𝖔𝖞

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰 7.9𝔨

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱, 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤(𝔰) 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖌𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊 - 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖑𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖘

Growing up in a wealthy Pureblood family, you had never longed for anything. Your parents gifted you anything that your heart desired within the drop of a wand. Fanciful flouting of your wealth was always left to your parents, for you had grown to hate the way they looked down upon anyone who was not on the same social status as them. It wasn’t until the reawakening of Voldemort at the Triwizard Tournament, that you finally understood where your parents’ elitist views came from. They were Death Eaters.

You hated them for it. But you had nowhere to go, you were only fourteen, so your only choice was to remain by their side.

Life had never been the same after that. After countless meetings with various wizarding criminals and famous Death Eaters, you started to withdraw into yourself. The bright, vibrant girl that your classmates had grown to love had disappeared by the beginning of your fifth year at Hogwarts. Depression and fear plagued your every waking moment.

You tried your best to do right by the classmates that had been affected by Voldemort. Always chatting to Neville when you got the chance, not wanting him to feel ignored and invisible as some of the other students did. Consoling Cho after the death of Cedric at the Death Eater’s hand. And finally, trying to be there for Harry. He didn’t really appreciate your support. Your parents being there the night Cedric died.

The only person you had sought comfort in was your boyfriend. Draco. You were very well aware of his own family being very involved in the support of Voldemort. He was the only one who understood the pressures you were under. Your family and his were both on equal status in regards to Voldemort's loyal followers. The more dark responsibilities Draco was forced to take on, the more you did too.

It wasn’t fair. You were just kids. He would often sneak his way into your dorm at night to comfort you, your body shaking with silent sobs at the things you had seen. When you were at home at Draco could only visit sparsely, the only friend you had was the Augurey you had grown up with. Long since had the superstition faded, that an Augurey’s cry foretold death. For the bird would have cried over and over again with the amount of death that surrounded your family.

Right now, everything was freezing. You were sat in the bathtub, legs pulled up and tucked into your chest as ice cold water poured down on you from the shower-head. The cold soaked its way through to your bones as the world around you seemed to fade out of existence. It helped numb the pain you were feeling in your body. And for once your body felt as numb as your heart did.

The far off sound of banging echoed faintly in your ears, at first you just thought it was the pipes. But as the bangs got louder and faster your head lifted from where it was resting upon your knees. The banging had stopped for a moment, before the bathroom door came barreling off of its hinges in a blast. Small pieces of wood splintering across the tiled floor.

You didn’t even flinch.

Muffled voices filled the room as bodies came in and out. Soon you were left with just one figure. They pulled open a cupboard, taking something out from inside. Then you were being lifted out of the tub softly, recalling the way the waterfall of ice had disappeared from your skin. You felt something soft and fluffy touch your skin, which had finally managed to snap you out of the trance you were in.

Looking up, you came face to face with the grey eyes of your boyfriend. “Draco,” You whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

“I got you, don’t worry,” His voice was barely above a whisper as he took another towel and began to pat down your wait face. Your eyes and cheeks swollen from the crying. “Pansy said you’ve been in here for over an hour,”

“Has it only been that long? I thought I had been here longer,” You murmured, leaning into his touch.

He let out a small disgruntled noise at the confession. He ignored Pansy as she popped her head around the door, passing him a handful of your clothes so he could dress you.

“Snape is going to kill you,” You looked at the broken green door that lay discarded on the black and white tile. Draco scoffed for a moment. As if he could care about anything Snape had to say right now, when he had just saved his girlfriend from voluntarily freezing herself to death.

He had known how hard it had been for you recently. You parents had finally forced you to take the Dark Mark. He knew how unbearable that weight was, having received his a few months prior. It felt like an overwhelming weight pressing down on your chest. Making it hard to breathe, to think, to do anything without having that burning ache within your lungs.

He hated himself for not being able to be there for you.

You were one of the only people he had ever loved. The other being his mother. He thought he loved his father, but after looking back over the years and years of quiet abuse, he realised it was never really love. He was never loved by his father. But his mother would bend the world for him, and he almost hated her for it. She thought that the Death Eater lifestyle would help pave a better future for her boy, but in reality it was pushing him closer and closer to his own death.

You watched absentmindedly as Draco ran the soft towel over your arms, the white fabric brushing over the inky markings etched onto your forearm. He was so gentle. If only everyone could see him in this moment, if only everyone could see that Draco Malfoy wasn’t really the dark and mysterious figure he showed to the world. He wasn’t as big and bad as he appeared. He was just trying to uphold the Malfoy reputation. You knew how desperately he wanted to be friends with Harry Potter on his first day at Hogwarts, but his parents’ overbearing slander of the Weasley’s had clouded his morals.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, looking up at the boy.

“You have nothing to be sorry for love,” He replied, placing the towel on the counter and pulling you close, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He was so delicate as he helped you get into some warmer clothes, almost like if he held you too hard you would shatter. He let you wear one of his Slytherin hoodies, he didn’t even care if you stole this one too. You just loved his hoodies, they always smelt like him. The expensive cologne, peppermint and crisp green apples. Funnily enough, it's exactly what amortentia smelt like to you too.

As he pulled the pair of you underneath the silken duvet, he thought to himself how in the world you two were going to get through this. He knew that the months that followed were going to be the hardest for you. He knew that whatever happened though, the two of you would go through it together.

“They want me to kill him Y/N.”

You froze at his words, taking them in for a moment. The pair of you were currently huddled inside the Room of Requirement, you had chosen this as the one place to meet up to talk about everything going on outside the walls of Hogwarts.

“They can’t be serious?” You questioned, spinning around to look at Draco.

“With Dumbledore dead, the dominoes will start to fall. They’ll take the Ministry next,” His words made you freeze once more. If Voldemort took the Ministry then that means your parents will be gone most of the time. They were already strong voices in the Ministry, but with Voldemort commanding the inner workings it meant that your parents would be constantly working. You wondered if they were going to tell you, or if they were just going to leave you on your own.

“There’s been arrangements made for you to come and stay with us though,” Draco seemed to know what you were thinking. “The Manor is going to be the main headquarters for Death Eaters anyway, it only made sense. My mother and father were easily convinced,” He gave you a weak smile. At least through all of this Draco wouldn’t abandon you...right?

You raced through the halls at the sounds of explosions and yelling, students were scattering out of the way for you as you neared the bathrooms. You watched him race out of the Great Hall as soon as his eyes had landed on Katie Bell. She had finally recovered from that cursed necklace Draco had given her to pass on to Dumbledore. He hated himself for that too. She was innocent, she had never done anything to hurt anyone in her entire life. Draco only wanted to get the job done quickly.

You heard a few clashes and the sounds of running water as you broke through the door of the bathrooms. Water coated the floors, making the bottom of your robes soggy. Looking around the room for a moment, you saw him. Lying in the water, blood running from his chest, his arms, everywhere. Your heart lurched into your throat at the sight of him. You didn’t think twice before shoving Harry to one side, coming to kneel next to Draco. Panic coursing through your veins.

“What have you done to him?!” You yelled out, tears beginning to stream down your face, hearing the pained whimpers of the boy below you. Harry was silent, he looked like he was in shock himself. You paused for a moment, letting out a shaky breath you placed your hands over Draco’s chest. You had been slowly mastering the art of Wandless Magic. It had taken a bit of work, but you had shown a natural talent in the ability.

“Vulnera Sanentur...Vulnera Sanentur...Vulnera Sanentur,” You whispered over and over, hoping the spell would work. You looked down, noticing the blood was starting to recede in the water, trailing back towards Draco, but it was slow, sluggish.

“Come on,” You pleaded in between chants. It was only when Snape arrived and had joined you in the chant that Draco’s blood had begun to return to his body much faster. You looked up at your professor, and he nodded in understanding at you. He didn’t need to say anything, you already knew. Whatever the Dark Lord was planning was coming, and it was coming fast.

The summer air was cool on that night, the moon held high in the cloudy sky as you and Draco snuck through the corridors of the castle, making sure not to be seen by anyone. The pair of you had already set the plan into motion. The sinking feeling had begun.

As you neared closer and closer to the astronomy tower that night, you remember the tightness of which you held each other's hands. Afraid that if any looser, you two would lose one and other. “You should wait here,” Draco whispered, pausing just outside the door.

“Draco,” You paused, reaching your hands up and taking his face between them. “You go, I go.” He took in your words, weighing them up in his mind before he nodded, taking your hand in his once more. It was almost cruel of you, he thought to himself. To look so beautiful on a night like this. The black and green plaid skirt you were wearing swung softly as you walked, grazing the tops of your knees like a gentle caress. The simple black turtleneck you wore matched his, it perfectly hugged your body as he so longed to. And you were wearing one of his old blazers, the material looking slightly worn and battered. But it was effortlessly beautiful on you.

The climb up those rickety stairs that night seemed to take forever. With each step your heart beat increased, speeding up until it felt like it would explode out of your chest. As you got closer to the main deck, you heard hushed whispers from above, tugging Draco’s arm for a moment you wondered if the pair of you should retreat. He took a moment to listen, only hearing one voice before deciding to continue.

Climbing the last two steps, you held your breath. Eyes coming to land on your headmaster stood waiting, patiently. His dark grey robes blowing in the breeze along with his long wisps of silver hair. The man looked over at Draco, and then to you. His face sinking at the sight of you both.

“Good evening Draco, Y/N.” Draco already had his wand drawn, aimed pointedly at the man before you. He scanned the room for a second, noticing the absence of anyone else. “What brings you here on this fine evening?”

“Who else is here? I heard you talking.”

“I often talk aloud to myself, I find it extraordinarily useful. Have you been whispering to yourself Draco?” Dumbledore asked, pacing around the deck slowly. “Draco, Y/N; you are no assassins,” He tried reasoning, you looked away from him in guilt. You couldn’t bear it anymore.

“How do you know what I am? I’ve done things that would shock you!” Draco exclaimed, growing more visibly upset each moment that passed.

“Like cursing Katie Bell in hoping that in return she would bear a cursed necklace to me? Like replacing a bottle of mead with one laced with poison?” He listed off, you had known about the necklace but not about the poison. It made you look at your boyfriend for a moment, but you supposed being poisoned may have been a much better fate than the one the headmaster was about to be dealt.

“Forgive me Draco, but I can’t help feeling these actions are so weak that your heart can’t really have been in them. And Miss Y/L/N, such a clever young woman monitoring every movement made by the Army,” That felt like a punch to the gut. You had joined Dumbledore’s Army last year, not really in hopes of spying on your fellow classmates, but because you agreed on the notion that you needed to learn how to protect yourselves.

Umbridge and the Ministry were adamant that Voldemort was not back, but you and Draco knew different. Of course they would never have let Draco join, they were dubious of you at first. But your long standing friendships with many of them reassured that although your parents were the enemy, you could be trusted. And you could. Not a word about their actions breathed past your lips. But they wouldn’t see it that way when they found out.

“We were chosen,” You whispered, lifting up your sleeve slowly to reveal your own dark mark. Dumbledore looked down slowly, his face full of regret. He almost wished he had been able to help the pair of you sooner, try and save you from your parents’ clutches.

“I shall make it easy for you,” Dumbledore whispered, lifting up his hands in surrender. Draco quickly disarmed him, sending his wand flying across the room. You gripped onto the back of his blazer in fear. “Very good,” He smiled, almost proud of Draco’s fast actions. In the next moment, you heard the door to the astronomy tower open, and by the look on Dumbledore’s face, he heard it too.

“You’re not alone,” He pointed out. “How?”

“The vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement,” You revealed, your soft voice being carried through the gentle breeze. Your voice helped to calm Draco, his shaking hand steadying slightly. “I-I’ve been mending it,”

“Let me guess. It has a sister, a twin?”

“In Borgin and Burke’s, they form a passage,” Draco finished off. Gaze flicking from the stairs to Dumbledore repeatedly.

“Draco, years ago I knew a boy that made all the wrong choices, please...let me help you both,” Dumbledore pleaded, you were almost convinced to take him up on the offer, but you knew Draco wouldn’t. He was too scared as to what would happen to his parents should he leave. That, and the rushing sounds of footsteps drawing closer and closer began to unnerve him.

“We don’t want your help!” Draco shouted, his wand wavering as he continued to lose his composure. “You don’t understand. We have to do this. I have to kill you, or he’s going to kill me. I have to kill you, or he’s going to kill her,” Draco repeated, making the point that he wasn’t only following through with this to save himself and his family, but also you. He would never be able to live with himself if something happened to you because he didn’t do as he was told.

The footsteps finally came to a stop, making you look over in their direction. There you could see them, Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, Corban Yaxley and The Carrows. You felt your skin crawl at the sight of them. You watched as Draco straightened out his arm, not wanting to show the Death Eaters that joined that he was wavering. Bella couldn’t help the smirk that stretched across her face at the sight of Dumbledore being held against a wand.

She stalked towards you slowly, keeping her eyes trained on the headmaster. “Well done Draco,” She whispered, bending over slightly into Draco’s ear. “Do it!” She hissed.

“He doesn’t have the stomach,” Fenrir spat, making you glare at him. “He’s just like his father, let me finish him off in my own way.”

“No! The Dark Lord was clear, the boy is to do it!” Whilst the two were busy bickering over who would do the deed, your grip on Draco tightened.

“Draco we don’t have to do this,” You whispered, not being heard by Bellatrix over Fenrir’s whining and gloating.

“Go on Draco...NOW!”

“He’s a coward.”

“Draco?” You whispered again, chaos erupting on the top of the deck.

“No.” A voice cut off from behind all of you. Spinning around you saw the tall figure of Professor Snape, coming to stand at the side of you. Draco lowered his wand at the sight of Snape, instantly being calmed at the thought of him not having to actually commit. You took the sleeve of your love and pulled him out of the way, the pair of you slowly edging backwards as Snape and Dumbledore locked eyes. From where you stood, you could see Bellatrix glaring at the Slytherin professor, hating every moment he was there.

“Severus,” Dumbledore called from where he stood, gazing upon the man he trusted. “Please.”

You held your breath for what was to come next. Snape took a step forward, his wand held tightly within his hand. His arm lurched forward, waving in the air swiftly and landing on Dumbledore. “Avada Kedavra.” His tone stern as a flash of green blinded you for a moment, the sound of the curse expelling from his wand created a thundering sound, a sound so strong you could almost feel it in your bones.

You tucked your head into Draco’s shoulder, not wanting to watch the life drop from Dumbledore’s eyes just before he slipped off of the edge of the tower. His limp body falling hundreds of feet down onto the ground of the courtyard that lay below the school. You could hear Bellatrix yell out in glee, and you were almost certain she had already cast the dark mark into the sky.

You looked up for a moment to see Snape ushering you and Draco back out down the stairs so you could leave before everyone found you. Draco took your hand and the pair of you started running down the stairs, not looking back for a moment, knowing Snape was right behind you.

At some point through the castle, Snape had overtaken you, leading you through the Great Hall. Bellatrix had decided to pounce onto the tables, kicking off plates and cups in glee before casting a spell and making all of the windows shatter in a forceful explosion. You and Draco could only watch in terror.

Your school. The place you had grown up together. Slowly turning into a battlefield.

You walked through the halls of Malfoy Manor, being sure to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible. Mr Malfoy had grown quite reliant on alcohol these days, and he was very easily irritated. Stepping through into the main room of the manor you spotted Draco stood leaning against the fireplace. The pair of you looked like shells of the people you used to be.

You didn’t sleep, you didn’t eat. And you in particular had been taking many more icy showers than usual. Draco was scared that you might be slipping away from him, he couldn’t lose you. He had noticed how you had been retreating into yourself again. He noted the sullen look on your face as you approached. He also noticed the way you were constantly losing weight, the stress and fasting eating away at you.

“No matter what goes on, there isn’t a day that goes by where you don’t look absolutely breathtaking,” Draco whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. You gave him a soft smile, your hands grazing against one another softly before you interlocked them. The nights you had spent away from your home had been ones filled with fear. Death Eaters coming in and out of the manor had become a daily occurrence. Bellatrix had taken up permanent residence here since her escape from Azkaban, making you feel wary of even breathing incorrectly.

Narcissa had come to take a liking to you. Objectively, there was nothing to dislike. You were a Pureblood Slytherin, coming from a long line of loyal Death Eaters. And the prospect of you and Draco possibly giving her little grandbabies was one that she used to try and get herself through the days. The thought of hope after so much darkness.

“Draco,” You started, your voice quivering slightly. “What are we still doing here? We should go, just the two of us. You and me, we could run away to anywhere. They wouldn’t find us.”

“Y/N I-”

“What was that you little wretch?!” You heard a scream as fingers laced through the back of your hair, gripping tightly and dragging you to the floor. You let out a small yelp in pain as you were cast to the ground, looking up to be met by the gaze of Bellatrix.

“You dare to try and convince Draco to leave! He would never betray the Dark Lord, unlike you,” She continued yelling, sending kicks to your side making you wheeze and cough as the air was continuously knocked from your lungs.

From that point on you lived mainly in the cellar of the manor. Only really being let out as you were Bellatrix’s new play thing. She enjoyed tormenting you every now and then. The threat of death, torture, fire, snakes. Everything and anything she could, all to see you squirm. It was all threats at first, until she started getting physical.

Not once had you blamed Draco.

He tried to come and see you most days. But his father would often catch and berate him, not wanting his son to have anything to do with a traitor. As the weeks passed you were slowly joined by others in the cellar. At first it was Mr Ollivander from the wand shop, you two had reminisced about the day you received your wand at his store. It had been a wondrous day for the pair of you, for Mr Ollivander had only sold one other phoenix feather core wand that day. And that had been none other than Harry Potter himself.

Next was Griphook, a goblin formerly of Gringotts. You hadn’t spoken much to him, he usually kept to himself and did not wish to partake into conversation with wizards. However, when Luna arrived she seemed to win him over somewhat.

You had poured your heart out to the unconventional Ravenclaw. Telling her all about what had really been happening. She had sympathised with you, comforting you in your moments of emotional breaks. She had informed you that when the school heard of you and Malfoy’s involvement with Dumbledore’s death, many had turned against you; especially those who were a part of Dumbledore’s Army.

The next few days in the cellar had been relatively quiet, Wormtail bringing you small scraps of food. You had volunteered to give your ration over to Mr Ollivander, he was starting to look quite sickly after being kept here for so long. You just ignored the hunger cramps, hoping that all of you would be out of here soon.

You had been trying to get some sleep, your body curled up on the cold concrete of the cellar. You couldn’t help but shiver, curling into yourself more to try and keep some warmth, to no avail. You could hear shouts and yells from upstairs, but you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. It wasn’t until the sound of things dropping to the floor did you sit up. You hoped that someone, anyone, had come to get you. But you sighed at the thought. No one wants anything to do with you. Your parent’s had pretty much disowned you when they heard what had happened, and everyone at Hogwarts hated you.

You heard a flurry of footsteps, and you were instantly brought back to that night. The sound of people running downstairs paired with the sound of your own heart thrumming within your ears. Because of the dim lighting in the cellar, you could only really see the silhouette of the figures descending. It was Wormtail, you shouldn’t have been surprised. The lumpy body of the man being one you had grown used to seeing. He was pushing two others forwards.

The iron wrought door to the cellar swung open with a flick of his wand, and he was quickly throwing the pair to the floor, locking the door and retreating back upstairs. The two figures grunted and groaned as they pulled themselves up off of the floor. You scooted back, leaning against the concrete wall and pulling yourself up too. You watched them for a moment, waiting for some sort of sign as to who they was.

“What are we going to do? We can’t leave Hermoine alone with her,” One of the figures asked the other. Your heart sped up inside your chest at the sound of his voice. It was a voice you had heard so many times over the past few years, and one that you were happy to hear but scared to at the same time.

“Ron?” You called out, stepping into the faint light. “Harry?” You asked, you weren't too sure whether the other figure was indeed the Potter boy. But Harry, Ron and Hermoine were very much like you and Draco. You never went anywhere without the other.

“Y/N?” He asked back, Ron pulled something out of his pocket and suddenly the room was flooded with light, allowing the boys to confirm it was you. They were shocked when they saw you. The proud, young Slytherin they had shared a classroom with for most of their formative years, was not the woman who stood before them. From the patches of skin they could see, they were laced with bruises and cuts. Your face was a little more sunken than usual, an obvious sign of your malnutrition and sleep deprivation.

“What happened to you?” Ron had asked, Harry’s eyes were cast towards your own in judgement. He hated you.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Your voice broke slightly, tears springing to your eyes. “Me and Draco, we didn’t have a choice. He was going to kill us and our families. Even if I didn’t do it, Draco would have to protect me. I’ve been trying to get him to leave, but Bellatrix found out and she, she…” You rushed out, choking on your own tears before trailing off. You didn’t want to tell them the things she had done to you. You didn’t really want to tell anyone.

You flinched back when you felt someone touch your arm. Looking to the side, you saw Luna. She nodded to the boys, backing you up. Harry strode over to you and you backed away for a second until he threw his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You froze at the feeling, not being used to any form of contact without pain.

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve this,” He whispered into your ear. And that was when you broke, sobbing into his shoulder. You only broke away when you heard screams coming from upstairs. You shivered at the sound of it, knowing exactly the sort of pain Hermoine would currently be feeling.

Wormtail came running down the stairs in the next moment, “Y/L/N, Goblin.” He called for you and Griphook. You shook your head backing away from the door. “NOW!” He yelled.

“Please, not again,” You whispered. Wormtail drew his wand and you shrunk back into yourself, letting go of Harry and following Griphook towards the door. As you were led back up into the Manor you could hear Hermoine’s screams grow louder and louder before they came to a stop. Coming to the bottom of the stairs to the main lounge, you spotted the body of one of the Snatchers. Shit.

Wormtail pushed you forward into the room, meeting the stares of the Malfoys and Bellatrix. From the corner of you eye you could see Draco cowering just by the fireplace. The things he must have seen. His eyes met yours and you could see the tears roll down his cheeks at the sight of what his family had done to you. He was never there for your torture sessions with Bellatrix.

You think she knew deep down, that the moment he saw what she did to you that he would give it all up. You were the only thing he cared about anymore. He knew that his mother and father would be shielded no matter what his actions would be, but you? He knew you were all alone, and it made him feel sick that he couldn’t be the one to protect you.

You averted your gaze, not wanting to be punished for looking at him. You saw Hermoine laying limply on the floor and if it wasn’t for her shallow breaths every few moments, you would have thought she was dead. Bellatrix’s attention turned to you and the goblin beside you. You watched warily as she flipped a dagger around in her hands, seemingly enjoying toying with such a dangerous object.

“Goblin,” She commanded, making Griphook step forward. “Now I want you to think very, very carefully. Who got into my vault!” She yelled, gesturing over to the side where the sword of Gryffindor lay.

“I don’t know.” Griphook answered, his tone never wavering. “There is nowhere safer than Gringott’s,”

“LIAR!” She screamed once more, cutting the goblin’s cheek with the knife. The sudden yell made you jump, that was a mistake. Her attention was instantly drawn to you, a sickening smirk spreading across her thin lips.

“I suppose you were in on it wasn’t you? Traitor,” She spat, you shook your head, stepping backwards in fear.

“No, I-I didn’t-” You were cut off when she pulled out her wand, flicking it over to you. Excruciating pain wracking through your body making you fall to the ground. Your body twisting and curling in on itself trying desperately to escape the pain. But it only seemed to get worse as Bellatrix’s cackles grew louder and louder in your ears. You felt yourself screaming in agony, although you could not hear it. The pain was unbearable. It was like having every single bone in your body broken and then having them puncture your body repeatedly.

Draco could almost feel the pain emanating from you as you screamed out in agony. His hands shaking violently by his sides. He couldn’t take it anymore, watching the love of his life be tortured by his own aunt. But he was still just a scared boy. But right now, he needed to be the man you needed.

“Stop!” He yelled, striding over to Bellatrix. She didn’t listen at first, thinking the boy must have been talking to someone else. “Just stop it will you!” He shouted again, forcefully pushing Bella’s arm away from you. She lurched slightly, taking in what he had done, she slowly turned around to face him, flicking her hair to the side with a shake of her head.

“Enough.” Draco spat at the woman. She glared at him, but knew he was ultimately untouchable. He was the Dark Lord’s Chosen One. She couldn’t do anything to him. He turned around, a fleeting smirk present on his lips as he walked away. Kneeling beside your panting body, he easily scooped you up into his arms, taking you over to the otherside of the room.

“I can stand,” You whispered to him, looking up at the boy. He nodded softly, setting your feet down onto the ground. Your legs wobbled, aching from the onslaught you had just suffered. “Thank you,” You didn’t need to thank him, Draco would save you time and time again. No matter the cost.

“You may be able to protect your darling little wretch Draco,” Bellatrix started, beginning to pace the floor in anger, immediately setting off your anxiety. “But the same can’t be said for this one,” She said, gesturing over to Hermoine as she lay on the floor.

And with that one statement, the lounge had exploded into chaos. Harry and Ron had somehow managed to escape from the cellar, Ron had even managed to acquire a wand. They had managed to disarm Bellatrix, and a flurry of spells were whipped around the room between Harry, Ron and Narcissa. Mr Malfoy had promptly been launched across the room, keeping him out of the action. Draco kept you held firmly behind himself to protect you. Ron and Harry had the numbers advantage, but that was all taken away as soon as Bellatrix had gripped Hermoine up off of the floor, blade pressed to her throat.

Harry and Ron dropped their wands in surrender, terrified of losing Hermoine. You felt Draco push something back into your hand, upon looking down you instantly recognised your wand. God, you had missed it. You looked up to meet his eyes, and he nodded up towards the ceiling. Furrowing your brows for a moment, you glanced up at the chandelier noticing a small body sat atop the crystal, loosening the screws that held it to the ceiling.

“Dobby?” You asked, looking at Draco, he nodded in return gripping your hand in his. You took his hand, smiling to yourself at the feeling you had missed so much. Grasping the wooden handle of your wand, you felt a rush of power surge through you, and suddenly you were back on top of the world. All you needed was the wand in your right hand, and the man in your left.

The chandelier dropped, forcing Bellatrix to let go of Hermoine to run to safety. The Gryffindor girl taking the opportunity to lurch forward towards her friends, Ron catching her effortlessly. You and Draco slowly moved over to join the group, standing in front of them protectively.

“How dare you stand there!” Bellatrix screamed, snatching up Lucius’ wand and flinging a curse towards you all. You easily blocked the spell, a flash of white encasing the room at the action. The Malfoy’s had heard rumours of your skills in combat, but they never thought they would experience them from this end of the wand.

“Just you wait girly, I am going to relish the day I can make your death as painful as possible.”

“Well I guess you’ll have to wait a little longer I’m afraid,” You snapped back, Harry’s hand clamping down on your shoulder as Dobby teleported your group out of the Manor to god knows where. The shrill screams of Bellatrix and Narcissa’s cries for her son fading away into the void.

Some people survive chaos and that is how they grow. And some people thrive in chaos because chaos is all they know. As Draco stood beside you on the battlefield, the crumbling remains of Hogwarts lay beneath your feet, he could not help but fall even further in his irrevocable love for you. Because in this crazy world of yours, full of change and chaos, there is one thing Draco was certain of. His love for you.

The pair of you were gathered with the other Hogwarts students outside the castle, face to face with the wave of Death Eaters that threatened your lives. “Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort had yelled out, the closest of his flock chuckling maniacally.

“Draco,” A voice sneered across the courtyard, making your eyes snap over to it. Lucius. “Draco!” He repeated, growing angrier by the second. “Come!”

“No.” You responded, letting go of Draco’s hand and walking down the steps of the castle. “Draco isn’t going anywhere with you.”

“How dare you speak,” Voldemort called out. “The Slytherin traitor!” He yelled, waving his wand in aggravation. You scoffed at the man in front of you, the things you had been through in such a short time made it almost impossible for the pig without a snout to scare you.

“Look at you Tom,” You spat, wand slipping from your sleeve into your hand. “A stupid old fool.”

“You dare-”

“Oh I dare alright.” Snarling at the man across from you, you had gone to step forward once more but was pulled back by an arm. Looking to the side you noticed Draco had followed you down, making your heart grow warm. “You drone on and on about Pureblood supremacy, yet you’re still the half-blood you claim to despise.” You turned to look back at Voldemort, he had begun pacing small lines up and down the stone flooring, his hands clenching and unclenching in anger at your words.

“You’re a fool who instead of completely overthrowing the Ministry, chose to come and murder a bunch of kids. You’re a joke Tom! In 100 years, we will all still be here, but you? You’ll just be a fading memory, the punchline of a joke. You. Will be. Nothing.” You emphasised each word. You were silently glad Draco held a firm grip on you, because if he wasn’t there nothing would’ve stopped you from running over there and beating the shit out of Voldemort.

He went to lift his wand towards you, and you gripped yours tighter, ready for the attack. But he was cut off when Harry sprung from Hagrid’s arms across the courtyard, his body hitting the floor for a moment before he was bolting off to the side, springing over debris and jumping into the stone walkways that framed the square.

Cheers broke out around you, screams and cries of happiness. You couldn’t help but let out a relief laugh, taking the moment to grab Draco’s hand and begin to back away from the Death Eater’s towards the castle. Voldemort haphazardly cast a number of spells in the direction of Harry, you watched as countless Death Eater’s apparated; fleeing the school grounds at the sight of Harry alive. The Boy Who Lived, escaped death once more.

Once you re-entered the castle, everyone seemed to scatter. Making way for Harry, as no doubt Voldemort would be following close behind. You and Draco made for the Great Hall, hand in hand. “You’ve got to promise me something Y/N,” Draco called out, pulling you out of the way of a spell, ducking behind a large stone column.

“Anything,” You whispered, holding him close.

“Don’t die,” He chuckled for a moment, looking down at you. His smile being a welcomed sight amongst the destruction that surrounded you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You smiled back, reaching up to pull him down into a swift kiss. His hands knitted themselves in your hair, whilst yours cradled his neck. After what felt like forever, you pulled apart, smiling at one another still.

“I’m gonna marry the shit out of you after this is over,” Draco laughed, taking your hand and running back towards the hall. You were on a high that no one could break, a giddy feeling buzzing in your veins. Breaking through the doors of the hall, you spotted a number of Death Eaters attacking anyone in their sight.

Your eyes were drawn over to the left, noticing Bellatrix sending spells towards Ginny, a wicked grin stretched across her face. You felt your blood grow hot in fury. Mrs Weasley soon pushed Ginny back away from the table, standing up on top confronting the woman.

“Not my daughter you bitch!” She spat, wand at the ready. Bellatrix just laughed in response, sending spell after spell at the mother. Mrs Weasley blocked each and every one with each step backwards, but she was running out of room on the table and you were worried Bellatrix would take advantage of this. Without another thought you rushed forward, she didn’t even realise what had hit her at first.

You gripped her ankles, yanking her feet out from under her. Her wand went flying in the opposite direction. Her face bounced off of the table with a loud bang, she screeched out in pain, hands flying up to clutch her face. You didn’t allow her a moment of reprieve before you were tangling your hands in her hair, slamming her face back down onto the table. Once, twice, three times before she elbowed you in the face, connecting with your nose. Your eyes watered at the impact, making you stumble back slightly.

Bellatrix spun around to look at you, blood now streaming down both of your faces. She went to run at you, but you were quicker. Bracing yourself for a moment, you swung your arm out to the side, catching her neck and slamming her whole body to the ground. She wheezed and coughed at the hit to her throat. You panted and grunted, standing back up and grabbing her hair once more.

You placed one hand on her lower back, gripping the material of her dress. You pushed with all your strength, managing to throw the Death Eater up and over the top of the table, her body rolling off of the side. You panted at the exertion. All you heard was her maniacal laughter as she began to crawl back up onto the table, her wand back in her bony hands. You backed up a step, watching as she lifted her wand.

“Hey!” A voice yelled, making you both look to the side. It was Mrs Weasley. She had managed to regain her composure and was ready to take her on. She sent a series of spells at Bellatrix, the younger of the pair blocking them but with great struggle. She managed to finally land one though, you watched as Bellatrix had the life squeezed out of her, breathy wheezes coming from her mouth as she struggled to breathe. Mrs Weasley smirked before rearing back her wand and sending a flash of red towards Bellatrix. Her body exploding into leathery confetti, floating around the room.

“I am so marrying the shit out of you,” Draco laughed from behind you.

Bright music had filled the air on that night, chuckles and murmurs from everyone inside the tent. Clinking of glasses and cheers of joy tumbling out into the large field that surrounded it. You hummed along to the song playing, glass in hand as you rocked back and forth on your feet looking around the tent.

“Oi Malfoy,” A shout had been heard from behind you somewhere. It took you a moment to realise that they were in fact calling for you. Spinning around, you were met by the cheeky grins of the Weasley twins. “Two sickles say you can’t get Draco to dance,” George laughed, elbowing his brother.

You chuckled softly. The tiny bet that had started it all. The twins had made the bet with you in your fourth year, adamant that Draco would never even turn up to the Yule Ball, but wanted to see you try and get him to waltz with you. You hadn’t let on to anyone about your feelings for the boy, keeping them locked away deep inside. It was the same for Draco. He couldn’t help but stare when you weren’t looking, butterflies filling his gut and the absence of breath that followed when you locked eyes. You treasured the memory.

“Y/N, come on its time for the dance,” Draco called as he joined you and the twins. You smiled and looked over to the twins with a raised eyebrow. Fred groaned softly, pushing the sickles into your hand before pulling George along to annoy someone else. “What in the bloody hell was that all about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You laughed, letting the man in front of you take your hand. The music that previously engulfed the tent quietened for a moment, a softer, subtle tune beginning to play. Spinning you round, Draco couldn’t help but smile as you reached the middle of the dancefloor, all eyes on you.

He brushed a strand of your hair from your face, taking your waist with his other hand. He pulled you closer, letting your wrap your arms around the back of his neck. The lights dimmed slightly, only one remaining bright as it hovered over the pair of you. You began to sway gently, letting the music fill the silence between you.

“Everyone is staring at your right now,” You whispered to Draco, looking up at him through your lashes before turning your gaze back out into the crowd. He pulled his face back from your slightly, his brows furrowing.

“Maybe they’re staring at you,”

“They’re not.”

“Maybe they’re jealous of how beautiful you look tonight,” Draco whispered, his forehead coming to rest atop yours.

“I’m just a girl, Not a threat,”

“Oh Y/N,” He started, brushing another strand of hair behind your ear, cradling your face in his hand. “I think they should be terrified of you.” You chuckled softly, looking back up into his eyes. In the next moment, his lips met yours; making your heart bloom in happiness. Finally after so long, you were exactly where you wanted to be. It was just you and him, the love of your life. Everything was entirely perfect.

“To Mr and Mrs Malfoy!” Someone shouted from within the crowd, cheers erupting all around you, glassing clinking. But you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Everything you had gone through now is just a fading scar. Your entire lives lay ahead of you, and you were so, so excited. For there was no one else you would rather experience it with.

Your husband, Draco Malfoy.

184 notes · View notes

sincerelybubbles · 4 years ago

Text

Healing || Izuku Midoriya

pairing: izuku x fem!reader

warnings: blood, minor character death (not reader or izuku, i promise), minor injury, resolved angst, hurt/comfort

wc: 2.3k

Izuku Midoriya was lost. Rarely was he unable to think of at least a few solutions to a problem given to him, especially since the start of his hero career. He had graduated top of his class, ran his own agency, defeated too many villains to count (okay, he’s lying, in the past month he had wracked in one-hundred and fifty-two villains, but it sounded cooler to say he didn’t know). But that was beside the point. He was the number one hero. The hero with a plan, who fulfilled All Might’s legacy with a smile on his face, so why was he faltering now? Why was he uncertain, with hands shaking, unable to move?

“Deku!?” A frantic voice sounded in his head, causing his head to snap up. She was in his head, meaning she wasn’t using her quirk to fight – he knew the limit to her powers, and with how long they’d been fighting, she’d only be able to do one thing at once. He was distracting her, making her focus on telepathy rather then telekinesis to defend herself, or even her teleportation to hide.

And yet. . . he couldn’t find it within himself to answer, to jump into action, to save the day like he should be doing right now. Instead, he caught a glance at his sidekick jumping across his field of vision and tackling the villain in front of him.

Izuku forces himself to look away as she captures villain after villain, instead focusing in the person in his arms, not breathing. This wasn’t his first loss, he experienced that early-on in his career. But this was the first person to die in his arms, and he couldn’t push past that.

He sat there for what felt like hours, listening to the sound of people fighting about him and instead focused on the man in his arms. He had dark hair, almost black, but Izuku could see some brown in the low light. His eyes were open, staring at him without any life in them. He had one freckle on his nose, and one freckle just under his left eye. His lips were thin and slightly separated. There was blood on his cheek.

“Deku?” Her voice was external now, and directly by him. Something in him registered that the sounds of combat were over. He should stand up, strengthen himself, prepare for the press that would soon come. It was pure luck that they hadn’t been here in the battle, surely, they would arrive soon.

A hand reached forward and Izuku tensed, holding the man tighter in his arms to protect him, despite the fact that he was obviously a corpse. Izuku flinched, realizing he didn’t even know the man’s name.

The hand slowly moved and covered the man’s eyes, shutting them before moving to rest on Izuku’s cheek. Gently, the hand lifted his chin and he was face-to-face with her.

Her eyes poured concern, dripping with care.

Izuku was startled to feel the tell-tale wetness on his own cheeks. It had been years since he cried in battle, usually waiting until he came home to collapse in bed or her embrace and released the tensions that come with constant fighting and the entirety of Japan resting on his shoulders.

“They need to take him home.” She whispered, eyes bouncing around his face. “You’re hurt.”

If he could have, Izuku would have laughed. Her other arm was obviously swollen and hanging at her side. Her costume was torn, and her nose was bleeding – a sign that she once again pushed herself past her limit, ignoring the warnings and threats Izuku constantly gave her. He knew first-hand how damaging it is to push yourself too far.

After a moment of looking at her, he nodded and allowed the clean-up crew to take the mans body.

She stood and offered him her hand. He took it despite knowing he could stand on his own. He held her hand tightly in his, starting to walk.

“We should help with clean-up.” She protested but didn’t resist his pulling. He was silent for a moment before turning back to look at her, pleading through his eyes. “Okay. Home?” He nodded, her words lighting a fire in his chest.

If he didn’t leave soon, he would be stuck sobbing in the middle of this abandoned building and the press would see. He had dealt with enough grief in his time for crying, being called a “cry baby” constantly by the press during his start up.

He had grown up; he should be past this. He shouldn’t be crying so easily over a loss anymore.

“it will be okay; I’ll get medical help.” Izuku helped the man out from under the rubble.

“My legs.” The man wasn’t crying, but he was clutching to Izuku, fear shaking his voice.

“I will make sure you’re okay.” Izuku noted the man’s obviously broken legs and lifted him up, scanning his surroundings.

Izuku shook his head, focusing on making his way home with her in tow, using the back streets to avoid press.

She didn’t talk, holding his hand tightly in her own, squeezing every so often. He appreciated her silence, knowing that if she tried to console him it would do no help.

He let her unlock the door, ushering him inside. Izuku watched as she took of her shoes with blind eyes, taking nothing in. He barely registered that he was removing his own boots and hero costume, not fully aware of his own motions.

Before he could even pull a shirt over his head, she was pushing him into the bathroom with her good arm, and it was then that Izuku snapped back into reality.

“Your arm.” His voice was hoarse, broken. She barely spared him a glance over her shoulder as she prepared the shower.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I’ll wrap it up later.” He watched her with concerned eyes until she forced him into the shower and under the spray of the water. He hissed as the warmth seeped over his shoulders, leaving a puddle of dirt and blood at his feet.

There was rubble everywhere, and at some point Izuku had gotten turned around in the fighting. He was sure the medic was just over there but Izuku couldn’t find his sidekick.

“Deku!” Izuku turned at the call of his name, seeing her disappear from the top of a building and reappear in front of him. “Three of them, that way.” She pointed over her head to the other side of the building she was just on top of, before disappearing again, and Izuku couldn’t quite catch where she went.

Izuku glanced around for a second, another vain attempt at finding the medic, before sighing.

“I promise I will get you to safety soon.” He reassured the man, giving him a smile and watching as the fear left his features at the hero’s words.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Her soothing voice and hand on his back snapped him out of the recent memory.

“I told him over and over that I would get him to safety. I lied to him.” Izuku was sure that somewhere over the water pouring on his head, he was crying. He felt like crying at least, his nose clogged and heart tight.

She was cleaning his back with a warm washcloth covered in suds. He didn’t need to turn around to know that her brow was furrowed, and that her bottom lip was probably protruding slightly in concern.

“I told him.” There was a loud crash and Izuku turned to the noise quickly, making sure to keep his hold on the man in his arms tight. “That no matter what.” Izuku barely had time to process as someone’s quirk fired, sending Izuku flying back with the man in his arms. “Everything will be okay.” “Everything would work out, that he would be safe.” He gasped, recalling the moment where he looked down, seeing the man covered in blood.

He had taken the brute of the attack meant for Izuku. The hero couldn’t forget the moment he realized that, unintentionally, he had used this innocent man as a shield.

Izuku watched in horror as the man processed his words. “Thank you.” His speech was garbled as the man searched Izuku’s face, blood pouring from his mouth. “De-ku.” And with that, the light left his eyes.

“And because I couldn’t process it,” Izuku heaved in a breath, turning around to face her and her ever-patient face, “I left you to take on all three of them.”

Izuku let his head fall to her shoulder, his body shaking with sobs.

“What kind of hero can’t save a person? What kind of hero leaves their partner to fight off three villains alone while they cry? What kind of hero-” Her gentle voice cut him off.

“The kind of hero that’s also a human.” Her hands found the side of his head and gently pulled it up.

She looked at him with eyes full of love, despite his failure today. She took in the snot draining from his nose, the tears gushing from his eyes, the red cheeks covered in dirt and blood and water, and still pressed a kiss to his nose.

“You can’t be a hero without being a human, right?” She waited for his nod. “And being human means messing up every once in a while. It means having emotions and getting overwhelmed. It means sometimes needing help. Even if it also means getting the chance of being a hero, too. You can’t have one without the other, you know that”

Izuku nodded, he knew this. He knew that being a hero meant being human, having empathy, struggling, but he hated it. He hated the weakness it caused.

She guided his head down to her shoulder again, snagging the shampoo and pouting it into her hands before raking it through his hair.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Bunny. What happened today will probably stick with you for a while – hell, maybe even forever. It’ll hurt. It’ll take time to work through.” Her hands were gentle in his hair, slowly but surely calming the sobs still making their way through his chest from time to time. “But I’m not going anywhere Bunny, and neither are you.”

She guided his head under the water and her mourned the loss of the feeling of her hands in his hair.

“It’s okay to need help.”

Izuku felt a shudder work its way through his chest as he nodded, realizing just how right she was.

He showered in silence, Izuku thinking and she let him, only interrupting him occasionally with a gentle washcloth, a nudge under the water, or a brief kiss.

Once he was clean, he returned her kindness by washing her gently. His head felt heavy with guilt and sadness, and he relished in the ability to lose himself in her. To focus on cleaning her. Her arms, her legs, her chest, her face, her everything.

His everything.

After they were clean, after they dressed their wounds, Izuku found himself in his bed, wrapped in her arms as she hummed softly and combed his hair with her fingers.

It was rare that they were this quiet. Between the two of them, mindless conversation lasted for hours. It wasn’t ever silent until they fell asleep, and even then Izuku had the habit of mumbling in his sleep – a gentle sound that she found difficult to sleep without now.

Izuku found his chest was becoming tighter and tighter with every passing moment that the words were stuck there.

“It’s okay.” She whispered into his ear, her breath like a caress.

With a shudder, like her words were the permission he had been waiting for, the words came unstuck and poured from his lips.

He cried and talked, telling her everything that had been swarming in his head, his chest, his everywhere – even to the tips of his fingers – for the past hour and a half.

As he talked, Izuku felt the overwhelming love he oft found himself consumed by surround him, around his heart. She just listened. She let him ramble like that for at least forty-five minutes. She made a few noises of agreement, letting him know she was in fact listening, and pressed kiss after kiss onto his shoulder when he had to take deep breaths to calm his uneven breath. And when he was tired, worn out, and feeling like all of his edges were frayed, she wrapped him in her arms, her legs, the blankets, and their love so he could attempt at sleep. She sang softly when he told her he needed her to make some sort of noise to block out his thoughts and didn’t stop until he was snoring softly.

And when he woke up, she was there.

She was there to ease him away from the nightmares, to make him tea when he woke up with a throat drier than the Sahara. She answered his calls and talked to his manager. She sat with him on the couch and watched his old All Might movies with him. She let him think, let him ramble, and gently encouraged him to eat and take care of himself.

He showered her with praises, with thank you’s, and soft kisses. He told himself that, when he could, he would once again return to spoiling her at every moment.

She wasn’t some magical cure to his pain. No, quite the opposite. She was his magical permission to feel his pain safely.

Izuku Midoriya had loved her since fist seeing her. And now, as she sat and encouraged him while he put back together the pieces of his own heart, he was sure that he was fixing something that solely belonged to her and nobody else.

#izuku #deku #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #fluff #angst #hurt comfort #midoriya #izuku fluff #izuku angst

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itsmoonphobic · 3 years ago

Text

𝐓𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. ☾︎

𝑁𝑒𝑤 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡!: 𝑀𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑟,𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒.

-> For my friends [a group of losers :)] Thank you,it's been a hell of a run,but all good things must come to an end one day. I will come visit soon,until then: I'll be lurking somewhere in the shadows. ☁️

"𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓,𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒏." ❥︎

moon's time on mcytblr election server: 10/12/2020 - 05/17/2021 ❣︎

He felt cold.It had been so long since he felt this cold.His head was clouded,throbbing with regret and guilt of the things he said.It felt like somebody was constantly ripping his mind apart,putting it back together and taking it apart all over again.His hands shook, pale fingertips tracing his black gloves aimlessly and blue eyes shining brightly under the dark indigo sky. Moon ruffled his wings,cupping his back with the furred leather in an attempt to comfort himself and calm down his beating heart. The hollow bones hummed,crisp wind gliding over their shells and further cold nestling into his veins. No clouds were on the canvas above him,only little shimmering freckles splattered across the deep colored tarp. Moon cocked his head to the side,observant orbs gliding over the stretching landscape ahead of him. The tavern was close now,the phantom hybrid could pick up the faint chatter of people,gentle strumming of guitars,and soft ballads. The lights of houses,vibrant mosaic windows of the church he remembered visiting as a child. Moon breathed deeply,closing his eyes and nuzzling his face further into the black mask covering his nose.

His thoughts continue to buzz. He missed them. He hurt them. The young hybrid would never forgive himself for making his family and friends cry,no matter how many times they reassured him they weren't upset. Was he being selfish? He shook his head, black hair messily falling over his eyes,he brushed the strands away with the back of his hand. Teeth gritting and nose scrunching up in the process,his hair was a disaster - just like the rest of him. The assassin sighed,dropping his shoulders and retracting his wings under his black robe. They felt heavy,he didn't want to fly tonight,flying was considered a award and Moon definitely didn't deserve one after what he did tonight.The black haired hybrid rubbed at his eyes tiredly,everything felt wrong.His ears perked up at the far dong of the city bells,it ringed too loud for his liking. His sensitive senses were overwhelmed by every little noise surrounding him. Bugs and mice crawling over the moist grass under him,bubbling brooks and croaking frogs sitting by the flowing water of the river close by.

Moon clasped his hands over his pointed ears,taking a moment to calm himself and cool down. He couldn't keep this behavior up,it was unnatural for him to act like this - act so vulnerable. He hated this side of him,he wanted to cut it off with one of his blades, throw it away and never have to experience it again. Though,like most things are in life,it wasn't that simple. He would pull his knees to his chest,curl his tail around them,drape his wings over his shoulders and turn into a ball of his own fears and worries. Moon dropped his hands down abruptly,eyes filling up with tears and glazing over his blue eyes. Near. Near would hug him. They would open their arms and wait for Moon to accept their embrace himself,not wanting to push the unstable hybrid further by ambushing him with physical affection. Moon's lips quirked up - the motion so small that not even he himself seemed to catch up to it. He will miss that. He will miss it alot.

Moon cracked his neck,straightened his back and rolled his wrists. He needed to keep moving for tonight,he knew a place he could spend the night and in reality it didn't matter when he would arrive there,but his head is pounding and his thighs are aching. He just wanted to eat,drink some hot beverage and sleep. He slid his tounge over his canines,propping his hands on his knees and jumping off of the branch he was settled on. His black combat boots landed soundlessly on the furry moss,it felt nice. After a moment of processing and calculating the route that would lead him to the tavern the fastest,the hybrid was on his feet and running away into the night - his slender form blending perfectly into the shadows.

•

To say Moon was happy to be in the town center again would be a big fucking lie. It was loud,crowded and the smells were intense. Being a ghost story amongst the lands was making his problems only worse,he couldn't stroll carelessly down the brick concrete path,he needed to hide. His black hood covered his head,a shadow casted over his face and keeping him anonymous to the world. He watched the people casually,pings of jealousy climbing along his brain like wines on trees. Little kids were dragging their friends along,enthusiastic hands grabbing eachother's limbs.Their laughter and giggles filled his ears and his eyes furrowed in annoyance.The image of Violet and Rib popped up in his head. Two overly irritating brats that only seemed to get on Moon's nerves whenever he arrived at the guild. Yet the hybrid smirked fondly,he adored the two like his own siblings and would kill anyone who even dared to look at the them the wrong way. It sparked a flame of protectiveness in him that Moon never knew he could have over a pair of bothersome kids.

Moon's head peeked up behind the alleyway,his eyes cold. He scanned the crowd,spotting the tucked away motel in a corner. It wasn't far now,he just needed to successfully navigate his way though the ocean of people. The assasin pushed his back away from uncomfortable surface behind him and looked at it with disgust,middle finger flying up. Moon's hands pulled his hood down futher,extra precautions to keep himself safe. With one final sigh of uncertainty the hybrid collected all of his confidence that seemed to dissapear under all the stress,and headed towards the oak wooden doors. Focusing perfectly still,trying his hardest not to pry his eyes away from his goal and get distracted by the shiny jewelry and crystals being sold all around him. Kiosks lined the streets,both sides filled with diverted goodies that he just wanted to touch and maybe even slip them into his pockets unknowingly.

He had money,golden coins and silver medals. But the thrill of stealing was just so much more fulfilling. He knew it was morally wrong,blinking away the fact that he was a trained killer,but it didn't bother him in the slightest,Moon stopped thinking about morals a long time ago.He shook his head once again,stomach growling loudly under piles of felt and cloth. He cringed,grabbing his belly irritatingly - a pathetic attempt to stop his hunger.His throat burned,a dry wasteland dancing over his tounge. Thankfully Moon made his way over to his sanctuary for the night without problems. His feet stopped automatically infront of the small timber doors leading into the pub,cracks and ripped bark decorated the pale wood. The phantom hybrid pushed against the doors lightly,opening them in a swift motion.

Immediately the smell of cheese,dried ham,honey and bread filled his nostrils. Rum and beer,wine and herbal teas. Smoked salmon pomegranate and roasted oranges. He picked up many fragrances. And he enjoyed them to the fullest, some were stronger than others but he couldn't deny they were pleasant. Bright eyes inspected the large citadel.Dark spruce tables and chairs,cussions made of cotton,soft wool and silk. His fingers twitched,he knew they were soft,he wanted to lay his head on them and breathe in the smell of lavender and mothballs. An image flashed again. Goose used to give him scented candles to help him fall asleep. They were nice to him,they always helped around the guild. He would give them lettuce and greens in return as a thank you.Moon pushed them aside,he needed to focus on the task at hand,getting his hands on some proper food to satisfy his empty stomach.

He dragged his feet across the dirty floor,boards creaking loudly under his heavy steps.The sound attracting curious faces. Silence overtook the room slowly,the sound awfully loud. Moon didn't react,he knew they were directed at him. He could feel more and more sets of eyes settle on his form,unnerving shivers traveling along his spine. His wings shuffled quickly - defense mechanism. Puzzled murmurs filled the space of the bar,the people clearly confused about the mysterious stranger. Moon was pretty sure he looked like death itself at the moment,dark clothes covering his body,knives rattling threateningly,face completely redacted. He didn't spare any of them a glance,knowing how they would react. Fear and commotion was the last thing he wanted to cause with his presence.

'For the love of god I just want to eat some fuckin' food in peace'

With long but slow strides Moon made his way over to the bar. His thoughts from earlier in the forest slowly creepin back into his brain and biting at his cold pricked skin. Goosebumps tenderly rose over his arms and collarbone,he felt them tingle. It almost made him stop in his tracks but he kept pushing his tired feet towards the chair. He gripped the smooth wooden object rougher than intended and a soft 'sorry' brushed past his lips. The bartender stiffened,eyes widening for a brief second before collecting herself again. Moon eyed her carefully under his hood. Her skin was peachy tanned,blonde curly hair pulled up in a simple bun,eyes the color of his birth stone,Peridot. She didn't seem to catch his piercing eyes,instead shakingly grabbing one of the clean glasses and drying them off. Her back was turned to him,but he easily noticed the way she would throw a sneaky look at him over her shoulder. He took in her white dress,spiraling designs flowing over her waist,colorful flowers sprawled down her chest.

Moon breathed. It was hard,exhausting just to take a small huff of air and release it again. He kept the warm air inside longer than expected and huffed it out tardily. His head was still hurting like a bitch,like somebody breaking his shull open with their bare fists. Another imagine crossed his mind. The cozy atmosphere and smells of the motel made him recall buried memories,times when he felt warm and safe. The hybrid dropped his head tiredly,rubbing his face exhaustingly.He pulled at his mask warily,giving it a second thought before finally deciding on not caring any longer. He needed to relax,needed to feel human. His hood stayed up. Songs started playing again in the background,the aura in the pub returning to the one he felt when he entered through the doors.

It was nice. He would occasionally pick up on a few cautious looks but his body was too tired to react. His elbow rested on the desk infront of him,his other hand flying to his knife holder instinctively. Empty. He fumbled with the holsters hastily,sharp blades touching his exposed fingers,but one spot -his favorite spot- was empty. Where the fu- oh.

<- memory lane ->

"Vibes."

The owner of the name looked at the black haired assassin expectedly. Their big grey eyes lightning up with curiosity,soft dimples sneaking onto their face. Moon smiled fondly at his friend, tenderly taking their hand in his - never breaking eye contact. Vibes watched cautiously as the hybrid reached towards his ribs, guiding his gloved hand towards his knife holders. Vibes gasped, breath cutting short as they observed what Moon was holding out towards them. Soft yet fond whispers were heard behind them,yet both of them chose to ignore them and focus on the special moment being shared between them.

"I need you to take care of something very important for me while I'm gone okay?"

The silver blade reflected gleamingly under the torches and chandelier of the guild citadel. Sharp edges and curved points. Tiny,barely visible if not payed enough attention to,engraved lettering on the shiny metal.

Simon.

Vibes' eyes glanced up at Moon contentedly,their grin further widening as the realization finally fully hit them. The masked assasin flicked their forehead playfully,Vibes letting out a small 'oof' at the impact of Moon's slender finger against their skin.The phantom hybrid smirked teasingly,ruffling their hair warmly.His ego tugging harshly at his heart strings in the process. He pushed the feeling far away,concentrating on making his last visit a memorable one. His lips returned to their usual bored line,sharp canines peaking over ever so slightly.

Vibes stopped messaging their now reddened skin and patiently waited for Moon to continue. Said hybrid once again held out his palm,this time however the blade was weightlessly resting upon it. Unsure hands reached out towards the sharp weapon,grey eyes beaming up at the phantom. Moon understood the wordless question: 'Are you sure about this?'

"Go ahead."

Moon couldn't help it,for the hundredth time that night he smiled. He watched as Vibes dragged their finger pads,nails and palms over the knife. Taking in the weapon from every angle in awe.They stopped their movements,locking eyes with Moon once again:

"I'll take good care of him!"

Moon rested his hand on their shoulder,their marigold hoodie crinkling under its weight. He breathed.

"He's in good hands."

<- end of memory lane ->

Right. He gave Simon to Vibes. Moon once again couldn't help but feel the threat of a smile ghost over his lips - Vibes. They were a good friend,somebody he got along with from the moment he joined their little group. His trust in them grew over the months, everyone probably saw it coming that Simon would end up theirs.

"Moon?"

The hybrid's eyes shot up,a little too fast to be considered normal, at the mention of his name. Hands flying to grip his knives and wings threatening to escape under his robes. The moment he caught the female's eyes he stopped in his tracks.

Des.

He relaxed,falling back into his chair. He calmed down the rushing of blood in his ears,head thundering at the combination. His pale eyes watched as the giddy female propped both of her elbows down on the wooden bar table and she comfortably rested her chin on her crossed hands. Her brown hair was disheveled,soft hazel eyes searching for his blue ones. Her freckles dotted over her milky skin as always,a big contrast to his paper white color.She wore her simple white button up,few of them popped open to expose he collarbone,denim overalls keeping it in place.The last time Moon saw her she wore the exact same outfit and the hybrid really started to think that she either didn't own any other ones or that it was simply put her favorite.

She reminded him of Clove. He missed them the most- the two of them had their fair share of memories and even though they still send eachother letters every day,he misses their personal conversations. He left only a few hours ago but it felt like he was gone for months,years,decades. Clove was nice. Moon's eyes filled with a thin cover of salty tears,blinking them away swiftly before they could spill over. Clove and him used to go on walks together, they would talk about all the stupid and useless shit that came to mind,he liked their company.

They would bail him out of time out and sometimes even drag his ass in there themselves.He breathed.

"My,my - look what the cat dragged in." Des didn't even make any effort to hide her surprised and teasing tone while she threw her question at him.Moon shifted slightly in his seat,wings lowering back to their natural pressed form.He slid his mask off of his face, blinking dull up at her. She noticed his unsure movements. Not wanting to further rile him up,Des dropped the joking manner and instead happily asked him what he wanted to order.

"The usual please."

Des smiled,nodding her head at him sharply before turning away and beginning to prepare him his food and drink. Caramel glazed aprikot cheesecake and Strawberry citrus tea,Moon's favorite.The young hybrid had found his way into her hub for many years now and she knew him like the back of her hand. He used to arrive regularly,once or twice a week. She knew the assassin wasn't really able to settle down without bounty hunters being on his tail and searching the whole town when people would say they spotted the infamous 'Nighchaser' running through the streets. But things changed when Moon only started arriving once per month,his attitude along with his hair being well taken care of. She had asked him where he spent his time and he always replied the same:

"With a group of morons."

Des knew,of course she did. She knew the young hybrid found a place where he actually liked going back to,she figured he had people waiting for him back there,somewhere. Time passed and she watched him grow up,bringing back more and more stories from this mysterious place where he stayed at and introducing her to new people everytime he stopped by on his travels. He grew on her and Des knew that whoever those people were,they made Moon feel happy and that's what mattered the most.

Her hands gripped the porcelain plate gingerly,petite hands cartying the sweet goodness over to the tired assassin. She noticed his dark bags the moment he placed down his mask.They were a stark contrast to the color of his skin,ghostly pale. She didn't comment on it,she simply placed down his meal and watched as he stared at it hungrily. Moon gave a low hum of appreciation and started to dig into his food.

•

"So", Des started,Moon watched as she washed off the last of his dirty dishes and placed them organized on the counter above her, "where are you heading to this time?" Moon glanced at his hands, his thumbs twirling around eachother,fidgeting quickly while he thought about his answer.

"I don't know." He had told her truthfully,shoulders shrugging. Becouse honestly? He really had no clue where to go from here. His decision to move on and explore the world by himself was abrupt and sudden but he knew it was right,he knew his friends and family weren't mad at him but he was still angry at himself for leaving them behind. He loved them but he also knew he had to take care of himself. He wanted to scream,cry and rip his hair out becouse he felt like absolute shit. All of his worries and guilt that were lingering at the back of his head now came rushing in and they uncomfortably sat atop of his shoulders. He just wanted to sleep and let the darkness consume him so he could shut off everything around him.He breathed.

He missed them alot. Fox,even if he wanted to bash their head in most of the time made him smile. Dis,his grandma was a kind soul, she was always nice to him even if she did get on his nerves. He knew many people,he still knows them and he will keep it that way till the day he dies,he will carry their names in his head into his grave. Moon shuddered a breath,slowly getting up from his chair, interrupting Des before she could question him further:

"I'll head off for tonight,thanks for the food." With a small wave of his hand,Moon grabbed his bag and climed up the staircase, red rugs removing any trace he stepped on them , where he knew a soft bed filled with blankets and warm milk with honeycomb waited for him.

"Anytime little one." Des smiled.

•

Dropelts of water fell from his hair,the smell of tulips and eucalyptus danced in the air,flushing delicately against his torso. The room was quiet,windows wide open letting him hear the hushed howls of wolves and crickets chirping,moths gliding with the cool summer wind.Moon tangled his hands into his wet hair, fingers untangling his wild locks.His eyes closed as he slowly massaged his scapl,nails ever so slightly scratching the sensitive skin on his head.He had changed his clothes,neatly piling them up on the rocking chair in the far left corner of the small room. His tail swung carelessly behind him,the bones rattling against the wooden floor. He hid away his wings,laying his bare back against the soft,fresh bed covers. Blankets and pillows drowning him in the best way possible. He sighed contently,looking out towards the clear sky and resting his gaze on the moon.

In that moment the phantom hybrid smiled,a tear slipping quietly down his cheek. His hand came up to brush it away - but they kept coming back no matter how many times he wiped them off. The assasin draped the covers over his chest,muscles relaxing into the soft material almost instantly. His head cooled down and for the first time that night Moon breathed properly.

He breathed,closing his eyes and finally got the rest he wanted.

He loved his friends to the moon and back. ♡

<- Author's note ->

Hi. This is a little something I wrote for my dear friends over on the mcytblr election server. You guys changed my life these past months and I can't thank you enough for that. I needed to take a rest,move on and chase my dreams - no matter how cheesy that sounds we simply ignore it. I love you all so much and I will definitely,not only visit,but return one day to tell you all about how crazy the world gets out there.

Love you idiots :)

[Ps: Story is set in my personal AU of the discord - I didn't manage to personally mention all people individually so bare with me: You all are important to me <3]

#not mcyt #mcytblr #mcytblr election #writing #original story #story writing #original writing

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komahinasecretexchange · 4 years ago

Text

Title: maybe not star-crossed (but daybreak)

Author: @fieldofsunflowers8

For: @emmakoneko

Pairings: Hinata Hajime / Komaeda Nagito

Additional Characters: Kamukura Izuru, Nanami Chiaki

Rating: M

Warnings: No specific warning applies beside the ones that could be applied in Danganronpa in general

Prompt: Hajime realising he loves Nagito.

Author’s notes: hi!!! this is my exchange piece for the komahina secret exchange!!! this was super super fun to write, and i really hope my giftee likes it! special thanks to my friend for looking over this and making sure it’s coherent :D have a good day, loves!

Hinata Hajime is not a romantic, but romance fills his thoughts anyway.

It’s an identifier that isn’t exactly of importance, of course. Romance on Jabberwock Island, specifically in the aftermath of the Neo World Program, is something privately kept by each individual pairing. Occasionally, it’ll be the subject of harmless speculation on the slow days, but overall, it is just… a part of life.

A part of life that most of them never got to fully experience.

A part of life that Hinata doesn’t necessarily need to have a piece of.

A part of life that he wants, all the same.

He isn’t certain if it’s the influence of Kamukura on him that makes him hesitate in the face of it. The other is a lull in the back of his head most of the time, diminishing everything to uninteresting, and yet seamlessly taking control when Hinata gives the slightest hint of needing help, slipping into the role of the Ultimate Talent easily. It’s a difficult dynamic, and it would be a lie to consider it a linear sort of thing– lines blur when you are made to become another person, and further, residing with that person in the headspace.

Hinata wonders if, before it all happened, back at Hope’s Peak Academy in the suffocating reserve course dorms, with little to hope for… he maybe pined after romance in a desperate way, if he wanted something to break the suffocating silence, if it would all really be any different to him now.

It’s not something he needs right now, which is what he tries to convince himself matters the most. He has enough overwhelming quiet, and even more overwhelming noise. He has tasks to commit to– even though all of the Remnants have awakened, there are Future Foundation members to call, emails to send, resources to manage, buildings to reconstruct, surgeries to conduct… it keeps him busy, to say the least.

(He hardly allows himself more than the clinical, repetitive process of healing. Not his own healing– that is far from the forefront of his mind. Rather, constructing robot arms and extracting rotting body parts and starting up chemotherapy. For the others. Not him,

never him.)

Prioritizing romance is selfish, in all cases. Putting it before himself and everyone on the island, losing himself in the want of something he isn’t even sure he could recognize, if he saw it in front of him, if he had a flickering chance of love… it’s selfish. Excess. A lapse.

However, there is still a kind of yearning he keeps in the back of his mind, in the endlessly swallowing part of his throat, in the throes of his heart. A sort of fixation, solely focused on a single individual, who keeps him awake through restless nights and sends him directly to the infirmary for more work, who leads him to discover new places on the island that the person tends to frequent, who leaves him with an unfamiliar warmth that his body rejects like a disease because love is not-

One that defies all his wants and needs, all his thoughts on relationships and the others, all his thoughts on the person whom he thought he hated more than anything.

One fixated on Komaeda Nagito.

And this is where his doubt is born.

–

The first time he hears the name Komaeda Nagito is in a time before the seeds of despair were planted by his hands, before The Project became more than just a whisper of Hope’s Peak conspiracy and research. He hears it from Nanami Chiaki, before she became just a program, before an entire class gave into despair at the sight of her death.

He hears it from her at the fountain. Their fountain, he has taken to calling it, because while they aren’t exactly the only people to come here, they are most certainly the two students who frequent it the most. Before, it was a place to admire Hope’s Peak from a distance (one he maintained out of respect, or maybe self-hatred, or maybe an amalgamation of both), but after meeting Nanami, the cynical tones of the setting were replaced with a sort of safe haven.

It’s now comforting, for him, to hear the sound of her game starting up against the sound of rushing water, leaves and blossoms fluttering around them as the sun lights up the campus around them.

In all honesty, it’s easy to get lost in the surroundings, in his own thoughts, especially when he has the space to. Nanami rarely presses any matter, unless it is something she’s particularly passionate about, so Hinata zoning out isn’t exactly an issue for her. It’s not like she doesn’t do the same. Which leaves them with a pretty nice relationship, because either of them are free to completely lose themselves in their thoughts without having to make small talk.

However, he does jar himself back to reality to pay attention to the game she’s playing– it’s a survival game, which is sort of exciting, because that’s the kind of video game he thinks he’d be best at– and listens to the soft breath she always takes before she starts to speak.

“Do you know a lot of Ultimates, Hinata-kun?” is what she asks, her voice as dreamy as usual.

It’s sort of a harsh question unintentionally, since it sort of nags at the parts of him that wishes he could be an Ultimate, would do anything to be an Ultimate, but he shoves that down and keeps his voice casual. (It’s not a big deal, anyway. Nanami affirms him of his worth a lot, and really, he should just… accept that things are the way that they are. But it’s really, really not that easy. Not when everything seems to loom above him, dangling promises of talent and hope).

“Uh, not really?” he answers tentatively. “I mean, I know Koizumi, and I sort of know Kuzuryuu because I’m friends with his sister.” Friends is probably not the right word for it, but being her friend is pretty much impossible. “And I know you, of course. But, I dunno about the others.”

“Mm,” she hums. She focuses back on her game for a while, and Hinata focuses right alongside her, but she ends up speaking again only a few moments later. “I was just thinking… a lot of my classmates would really like you.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, just a bit. “I don’t really know much about them, but maybe?”

It’s not really relevant, in any case, or possible, because I’m a reserve. So, why do I want to entertain this impossibility?

“Well, I can tell you about some of them.” There’s some passion in her voice, underneath the languid sort of pace her words take.

He shrugs. “Sure.”

She opens her inventory as sort of a pause screen, organizing all of the items while talking. “There’s Mioda-san. She’s… sorta loud, but she’s the Ultimate Musician, so that makes sense, I think. She’s really optimistic, she likes bright colors… reminds me of a dancing game… you’d get along with her, probably.” The idea that Hinata could be friends with someone like Mioda Ibuki is unsettling in a hopeless way, but he’s interested in the descriptions regardless. “She gets along well with Pekoyama-san, who’s the Ultimate Swordswoman. She’s really pretty and quiet; she’s defensive over Kuzuryuu-kun, too. Like a Skyrim housecarl, kinda. I remember Komaeda-kun saying something, once, and she was immediately at Kuzuryuu-kun’s defense. I don’t think Komaeda-kun meant it badly, though.”

Hinata tilts his head. “Who’s Komaeda?”

Nanami bites her lip, stacking some potions before saying, “He’s the Ultimate Lucky Student. He’s… sort of an outcast, I think, but he cares about the class a lot. I wish he would talk to us more.” She puffs out her cheeks in a cute way. “You might like him… but you also might hate him. Maybe.”

“Why would I hate him?” From what Hinata’s hearing, maybe dislike would make sense, but hate sort of implies he would have done something… really off.

“Mm… Komaeda-kun has strong views on talent and hope. It might annoy you, but…” she sighs. “I dunno.”

That’s a vague description, but it gives Hinata enough information to sort of… make inferences. Of course, Hinata sort of expected some Ultimates to view talent as superiority, and he knew that some of the adults believed it, but to hear it being an actual thing from someone his age… sort of sucks. At least the rest of the class seems to not agree with it.

But… is Hinata really sure of that?

In any case, he tunes back into the way Nanami continues talking about her classmates, about a sheepish mechanic and a princess she seems to have a slight crush on. He laughs along with her, listens with intrigue and fascination at some of the things her class has done and somehow not gotten expelled for, and feels the sense of peace grow overtime (alongside his quiet bitterness).

All the while, though, part of his mind thinks about Komaeda with a… weird sort of interest.

(And for some reason, Hinata wants to both avoid him as much as possible– which might be a bit harsh, admittedly– and also… maybe meet him.)

–

Hinata doesn’t sleep well.

His sleep patterns vary. Sometimes, he falls asleep in a random place– he’s been found on the floor of the dining hall and at the beach, once, both instances embarrassing– and stays asleep for the better part of a day, barely brushing below twenty hours as he restores his energy. Then, he pushes himself, neglecting rest for three days straight until he downright collapses again.

He tends to get nightmares, too. When he’s sleeping deeply and for a long time, it’s not enough to jar him. When he first woke up from the Neo World Program, though, they were relentless, leaving him paranoid and guilty constantly for all he has done to his friends– his family, now.

His family that he needs to stay awake to care for. His family he has to keep intact– physically and mentally.

(He remembers that, for a week, all he saw in his dreams was a burning warehouse.)

He doesn’t sleep well, working on restocking and labelling all the medications they have in the infirmary, and he finds that none of the others sleep well, either. Some sleep too much, some function on caffeine and nothing else. But there’s one other person on the island that varies with Hinata, not exactly the same but similarly.

Komaeda.

Hinata’s been monitoring Komaeda’s progress closely, almost closer than the way he fusses over the others. Komaeda’s health is precarious, even with the rotting flesh of Enoshima’s arm fully removed from his body, and one of the facets of his lifestyle that directly impacts his not-ideal progress is his shitty sleep schedule.

A simple example: he falls asleep at 4:00 PM, wakes up at around 7:29 PM. He goes to the dining hall, all of the other inhabitants having finished dinner and retired to their rooms for the later parts of the afternoon, and eats a worryingly small portion of dinner. He goes to his room, stays up for hours, and falls again the following day at 10:00 PM, successfully bypassing lunch and repeating the process.

It’s horrible in every possible way– it doesn’t do wonders for his prognoses and mental health, and Hinata doesn’t like the dark circles under his eyes that grow more familiar with each progressing day.

(It doesn’t suit his face. Because, well, Hinata can acknowledge that Komaeda is very, very pretty. But the shadows are… worrying. He still looks beautiful, but he looks more fragile than he’s ever been, even in the green pods, and Hinata wonders why he’s worried in a way beyond medical observation.)

However, there is one benefit to it, a meek silver lining that could hardly be considered one at all: Komaeda and Hinata end up accidentally interacting quite a lot. Komaeda follows lights– buildings with fluorescents open, signalling that Hinata is currently occupying them– and Hinata follows the soft sounds of Komaeda hanging out at the beach, throwing rocks into the ocean or tripping on some ridges and yelping.

The latter ends up happening when he exits the infirmary and sees in the distance a white-haired man face first on the beach shore, and he sighs in a way that isn’t fully exasperated as he walks over to help him out (maybe fond, maybe fond).

Komaeda tilts his face, his cheek still buried in sand, and looks up at Hinata. He decisively accepts his help, straightening himself out and brushing the sand off his pants with a smile. His voice is cheerful– far too cheerful for 5:00 AM– as he says, “Good morning, Hinata-kun! I’m so sorry you had to see me in such a disgraceful way!”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “You weren’t disgraceful. You just tripped. Also, why are you even out here?”

Komaeda’s lips curl slyly. “Do you even have to ask, Hinata-kun?”

“Ah.” Fair enough. “Well, you should, uh, try to get some sleep.”

“Will Hinata-kun get some sleep?”

It’s equally frustrating to talk to Komaeda and get him to do anything… and interesting. There’s also a bit of heat that wants to pour into his cheeks, something he fights with a poker face, at the idea that Komaeda cares about his sleep schedule. Technically, a lot of people on the island do, but it all comes back to the inexplicable feelings he has around the other. In any case, Komaeda’s due for an answer. “I was actually heading back to my cabin to do that.” It’s sort of a lie. Sort of.

(He was probably going to lay awake, staring at the ceiling again. Maybe he’ll think about the other, maybe he’ll think about everything else.)

“Can I come with you?” Komaeda asks.

Hinata squints. “… Why? How would that help either of us sleep?”

“It could be relaxing to be near another person,” Komaeda defends, his logic slightly flawed. “But I understand that being around me is absolutely dreadful, and I shouldn’t impose even the disturbing thought upon another person. I apologize for that, Hinata-kun! I’ll get out of your sight, now!”

“Wait,” Hinata finds himself saying before Komaeda can actually leave. The other stops and looks at him, a curious but not demanding expression in his murky grey eyes. It’s sort of cute. Hinata isn’t sure why, why he looks at the other in that way.

It’s with a defeated sigh that he says, “You can come with me,”

and Komaeda’s eyes light up in a way that’s really, really endearing.

–

The first time he meets Komaeda is a month after his conversation with Nanami.

Stress has settled onto his shoulders, making a permanent residence there, as exams approach at increasingly rapid paces and life-changing emails chase him forward, forward, forward. He finds little enjoyment in his spaces between classes, isolating himself up in his room and hardly having time to reply to any of his friends (not that there’s an overwhelming number of people on that list). Occasionally he takes a break, but these times just remind him that he has so much to do, so much to consider, his entire life might change with a few signatures and-

-he needs a breather.

He ends up leaving half-finished history homework on his tiny desk, nearly tripping over his laundry bin in exhaustion as he makes his way out of the dorms. He figures a small walk might do him some good, since he’s hardly seen the sun as of recent and it might be less intimidating to think through things when he has fresh air to breathe and the soft ambience of nature surrounding him.

He hums to himself for the first part of his walk, careful to stay out of the way of others, but he eventually falls into silence as the number of people around him dwindles. He’s tired– he’s so, so fucking tired– and he should probably be adjusted to fatigue and restless nights, since he’s not exactly new to overworking himself, but he hasn’t. Not fully. And God, he’d probably kill for a nap, for someone to hear him scream everything he thinks, to go to a completely different school for a few days and relax.

But would he even want that? Would he know what to do with so much free time? Would it even be okay, going to a place that would view him as equal, not endlessly lesser than another sector of the school? Would it even make sense to be worth something, when he has spent so long not being worth anything?

It’s in this rumination that he ends up near him and Nanami’s fountain, and he almost expects to see her there…

… but instead, he sees someone else.

The Main Course uniform is the first thing he sees, the red tie loose around the Ultimate’s neck, their jacket still buttoned properly. They must have been out there for a while, since their white hair, unruly atop their head, is slightly ruffled from the wind. Their grey-green eyes that remind Hinata of mercury he had seen in chemistry class is focused on the pavement, but looks up when Hinata’s footsteps grow closer. On their face, there’s a pleasant smile, one that Hinata finds strikingly pretty…

… one that disappears when they make eye contact with Hinata.

He can’t say he expected anything other than this.

“I thought reserve course classes were still in session,” they muse, which is an interesting conversation starter in any case. Paired with the way they were almost glaring at Hinata, it left him with… an unsettling feeling.

“They, uh, aren’t,” he replies eloquently. “They ended a bit ago.”

“Ah.” They smile, slightly, but it looks… more cold than friendly. “Can I get a name? Or should I just refer to you as ‘reserve-kun’?”

Hinata quickly decides he doesn’t like this person. “Uh, Hinata Hajime.”

They nod. “Komaeda Nagito.”

That name is… kind of familiar.

Oh. Oh. That’s the name of Nanami’s classmate. The Ultimate Lucky Student, who has strong views on talent and hope, if he remembers Nanami’s words correctly. Someone that Hinata would either like or hate– and it is strongly veering towards the later– someone who is a bit of an outcast. Someone who Hinata isn’t sure if he should have a lot of pity for, or none at all.

He’s heard more stories since, ones where Komaeda is a background character. He’s gotten the vague idea that aside from his unsettling opinions, he also tends to be an overall concerning individual, with a shocking inferiority complex, calling himself trash near constantly. It seemed to worry Nanami, which in turn worried Hinata.

But from the way this guy is talking, it doesn’t really seem like this guy feels inferior at all. At least, not compared to Hinata. Which is…

… not surprising.

Hinata isn’t really sure how to progress the conversation, especially one that started this oddly, so he figures he should make do with this new information, asking, “Oh, you know Nanami, right?”

“Nanami-san is my classmate, yes.” He tilts his head to the side and sits up a bit straighter. “You must be the reserve she’s friends with, then. In retrospect, I remember she’s mentioned your name once or twice. I thought she was kidding.”

Yeah. Hinata definitely doesn’t like this guy. “Well. She wasn’t.”

“So it seems.”

This conversation is going nowhere. “Well, I’m gonna go. And, uh. Finish my walk. So-”

Before Hinata can leave, Komaeda speaks up. “Don’t you feel awe, Hinata-kun, walking around Hope’s Peak, looking at a school filled with such hope and talent?” He punctuates those words, wrapping his arms around himself and looking up at Hinata. “Doesn’t it put you in your place? Knowing that you’re a stepping stone for hope, just here to further the Ultimates’ abilities? Isn’t it beautiful, so beautiful that you know you’re unworthy of it? Do you have another purpose aside from this, or do you put your value in mindlessly pacing the perimeter of Hope’s Peak Ac-”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Hinata interrupts. This guy looks really worked up over the random bullshit he’s saying. He’s managed to get under Hinata’s skin really fast– which, yeah, Hinata has kind of a temper, but Jesus Christ.

This must be the whole concerning thing.

Komaeda just smiles wider. “You’re rather disrespectful for a reserve. Shouldn’t you be worshipping me? I mean, I’m utterly worthless in every possible way and deserve to be destroyed like the filth I am– but at least I’m an Ultimate.”

Hinata gives up, walking away from the other and running an agitated hand through his hair. He can hear Komaeda laughing raspily, still at the fountain, and it just forces his steps to go quicker.

(The most aggravating part of all of that is that it hurt. It shouldn’t– the opinion of a slightly-unhinged, annoying, pretty Ultimate shouldn’t hurt him. But it did.

Because there was some truth in that mess of shit he was saying. Hinata is inferior. Hinata would always be inferior to the Ultimates he looks up to– not as much as Komaeda said, but still. The whole being a stepping stone thing, he didn’t get, but… he is unworthy of this place. That much is true. That much hurts.)

He decides, without much hesitation, not to mention the encounter to anyone.

–

“Uh, make yourself at home, I guess,” Hinata says when Komaeda steps into his cottage, his eyes wide as he looks around the scene. Which is fair– Hinata hasn’t exactly had time to clean the place, and he’s sort of a restless sleeper, so it’s a shitshow of a mess, as of current. Komaeda’s room, from what Hinata’s seen, is a lot neater than this, so hopefully he isn’t all that judging.

(Not that Hinata really cares about Komaeda’s thoughts on his cabin.)

“Thank you, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda replies politely, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hinata sits beside him, and they both ignore the bed sheets that are tangled at their feet. “Once again, I apologize for intruding.”

“I invited you,” Hinata points out.

Komaeda frowns a bit. “Well, yes, but-”

“I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you here. I don’t exactly do things out of pity or kindness when I’ve been awake for over a day,” he states bluntly.

The other stares at him with a weird expression in his eye, something like understanding. “Ah.”

“Yeah.” Hinata kicks the sheets. “Speaking of.”

“Are you going to sleep, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda sort of teases, but there’s a level of seriousness in it. Hinata sort of hates the way the other makes him feel like he’s fucking up by neglecting himself (which is sort of an oxymoron in thought, but). It’s something Komaeda has always done– made Hinata feel like a fuck up, that is– but it’s sort of different, now, when it’s more of a constructive criticism than a blatant attack.

He’s not sure how he feels about the change.

“I was going to talk about you sleeping, actually,” he retorts, clearing his throat.

Komaeda smiles mischievously. “Did you invite me here just to watch me sleep? How flattering, Hinata-kun, but I assure you I would not be able to do harm to others or myself whilst asleep.”

“That’s,” he takes a deep breath, “not what I meant.”

“Ah, okay. Sorry for assuming!”

“It’s fine?” It sounds too much like a question to his ears, but. Whatever. “I just meant, like. I’m sort of concerned about your health.”

“This doesn’t seem like the mood to discuss this,” Komaeda observes.

Hinata blinks. “Was there a specific mood set by any of this?”

Komaeda looks unimpressed. “Hinata-kun, we’re in your room at 5:00 AM, spending time together. I don’t think this is ideal for a medical visit– especially considering how exhausted you are. I thought you were more trying to be a person than a doctor, right now.”

… There’s some truth in that. There’s some pain in that. Hinata doesn’t try to be inhuman in any way, but he knows, deep down, that it’s a difficult task to accomplish. Months of conditioning combined with the instinctual drive for survival resulted in Kamukura’s eternal boredom and apathy to manifest as a defense mechanism, one that Hinata employs in situations that aren’t necessarily defense-requiring. Like administering medicine, or investigating his own psyche, or trying to breach any topic with Komaeda.

He hates it, but it’s part of him, neither nature nor nurture. Just… a trait, forced upon him, one he has to adapt to.

“Hinata-kun?” Komaeda’s smile is thin. “I apologize for overstepping!”

“It’s fine.” He sort of has a headache. Maybe he should sleep. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“Ah, Hinata-kun doesn’t have to apologize! He can do whatever he likes! I still appreciate him regardless!” he reassures enthusiastically, in an almost adoring way.

… And. The thing is.

Hinata has been viscerally aware of Komaeda’s attraction to him ever since he awoke from the Neo World Program. It didn’t take overwhelming amounts of self reflection and memory analysis to realize that Komaeda has had feelings for him, ever since the Despair Era, when neither of them were the person they are now or were before it all began. It’s present in Servant’s endless worship and Komaeda’s subtle (and sometimes, less subtle) affections.

It’s something that Hinata thought, initially, he could just… accept. The fact that the other likes him is simply a fact of life, like the fact that this same individual is still suffering from frontotemporal dementia and lymphoma, like the fact that the other has trauma neither of them can even begin to impact, like the fact that Hinata is privy to entirely too much about the other that he’s hardly aware of.

This is why his yearning and fondness for Komaeda, despite his conflicting thoughts of romance, takes him by surprise. The idea that Komaeda’s affections could be requited is a shocking concept to both of them, one that might be earth-shattering or simply a natural progression of their current behavior. It’s a thought that he keeps in the back of his mind, primarily, believing that not much can be done until Komaeda heals.

And yet, it surfaces in the quiet moments like this, where Komaeda has that energetically adoring expression, where the moonlight accentuates his face in a pretty way that will only get more beautiful with daybreak, where Hinata is just staring at him mindlessly. It surfaces like this, and Hinata wonders, to himself, if he loves the other.

If this is how it comes to him.

“Hinata-kun?”

Or maybe it’s just a lapse.

“I’m tired,” he replies, which isn’t a proper response but it is the only thing he can find himself saying, right then.

Komaeda nods and starts to stand up, “Ah, okay! I apologize if I bored you, I know I can tend to do that. I hope you sleep well, Hinata-kun-”

Hinata catches his wrist.

“Maybe,” he inhales. “You can stay? And sleep beside me?”

Komaeda’s face shifts, emotions spreading across his face like auroras, but they’re quickly stifled by another smile, one that seems a bit more genuine. “Ah, of course! Whatever Hinata-kun wants.” He takes the eagerness Komaeda exhibits while taking off his shoes and scooting to the center of the bed as confirmation that Komaeda wants this as well.

It’s odd how Hinata has the courage to ask something like that, despite everything.

Hinata draws the curtains closed, hoping that the sun won’t wake them up, and he slips beside Komaeda in bed. The other adjusts well to sleeping in someone else’s bed, all things considered, but he looks fairly stiff all the same. Hinata knows there’s nothing he can do to change his slight discomfort– anything he could do would be a bit too courageous, and he’s already expressed a lot of bravery considering that he’s more contemplative than rash, at the moment.

So he lays down beside him, facing the other who faces away, and he finds himself tracing the contours of his body (innocuous and entirely unrelated to medical concerns), the way his hair curls against his nape, how his hands lay at his sides. It calms him to study the other, and he wonders if that is love, if all of this is love, even if he has a thousand other concerns.

It takes a pathetically short five minutes before he says, “Komaeda…?”

“Yes, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda still sounds awake. He wonders if he was planning on sleeping at all.

He breathes out a soft exhale. “Can we talk?”

–

He does not see Komaeda again until after despair overcomes the world.

But by then, both him and Komaeda are separate people. The memories prior to the creation of himself– Kamukura Izuru, that being– are vague and only documented in a diary that Hinata Hajime struggled to maintain. And Servant, while not suffering direct memory loss of everything regarding Hope’s Peak Academy, does not appear to want to verbally recall anything regarding the school to Kamukura. This could be from lack of trust. This could be his nature.

They meet in a bloodied street, bodies scattered across the asphalt in an unpleasing way. From an aesthetic standpoint, it is disgusting, but Kamukura does not necessarily dislike it. He does not dislike anything.

He only finds this despair base.

Servant’s hands are dirtied from crusted blood, which is to be expected. His hair is awry, his face in a considerably tormented frown, and his attire is dirtied aside from his chain that drags obnoxiously loud on the pavement.

Kamukura clears his throat.

His face shifts drastically when he sees Kamukura, which is the most interesting part of his appearance, as of current, and he immediately drops to his knees. It is certainly an interesting display, yet predictable, and Servant’s voice is raspy when he says, “Kamukura Izuru.”

“So you have heard of me.” That is understandable. The only reason Kamukura is at this location, after all, is because Enoshima requested prior to her death that Kamukura take ownership of Servant. She had considered it a present to him, but Kamukura finds nothing to be a gift, especially when it is at her hands.

One of her hands is severed and attached in place of where Servant’s would be. Expectable.

“You’re the Ultimate Hope,” he breathes. “I- I have been looking for you-”

“How convenient,” he cuts off his likely obnoxious rambling. He does not want to hear about his godhood from the lens of a worshipper. “As I was looking for you.”

Servant’s face flushes. “You were looking for me? Ahaha, I’m sure you must be mistaken.”

“Enoshima stated that in her death, you were to be my property. Transitive ownership.” His face twists at the sound of her name, which is not necessarily expected, but can be easily explained retroactively. “You are mindlessly idling, as of current. You plan to travel to Towa City, but have not done so yet. You have killed seventeen people directly in your time of being a Remnant of Despair, but you are growing bored.”

Despite his wide eyes and droll expression, Servant is clever enough to catch on. “You would like me to travel with you, Kamukura-kun? I warn you, I am useless in every possible way and unworthy of your presence.”

Kamukura glares at him. “I will determine that.”

“… Understood.” Servant hesitates before standing up, and there is shocking amounts of excitement in his expression. “I apologize for being overeager, I’ve never travelled with someone like this before. Someone like you before.”

“That is to be expected,” Kamukura says as he begins to walk, stepping over corpses with grace as the Remnant beside him trips and stumbles, babbling about despair and hope and talent all the way.

From there, an attachment forms. They continue to travel in this manner, relocating from place to place with little but each other’s companionship (and what they can find, in this cataclysmic scenario– assorted piles of canned vegetables and month-old water bottles). Along the way grows learning, basic answers to questions that benefit both of them only slightly, though prove to be boring, as Kamukura does not have a favorite color or movie or food. But the basis of small talk leads to a more expanded exploration of morality, of death and life and the liminality of such matters, philosophy and physics and their prediction for where the world will be.

Kamukura discovers, then, that Servant is not capable of matching him in intelligence. However, he nears close to having this ability, exhibiting his cleverness in a distinctly separate way than how Enoshima enforced her analytical prowess upon her victims. It is refreshing, to have this difference. It is refreshing, by extension, to have him.

That is how the evolution of their relationship begins.

Sexual ties between them have been present from the start. Servant is poor at concealing his overwhelming attraction to the other, and Kamukura has curiosities he was not interested in exploring with Enoshima. Thus begins tumultuous, albeit safe to an extent, exploratory intercourse, which Kamukura finds not particularly boring.

Then becomes an inherent domesticity in residing together, in sharing beds (although, Servant only allows himself to sleep beside Kamukura if he is particularly in pain, that day. Kamukura does not necessarily mind if Servant continues to sleep beside him, but it is a matter of principle that is tedious to undo, especially with no distinct want to commit effort to it). Along with sleeping together, there is having meals together, defending each other from robotic Monokumas when it becomes necessary, and even reading together.

It is all not particularly interesting. It is all not particularly boring. It exists in a grey area that Kamukura struggles to define.

He dislikes struggling.

There is a particular day, once, that he would consider lucky (were he to indulge in this thought towards Servant, the other would likely break down) due to the numerous realizations had. The primary one, and the most convoluted one by far, is the realization that he is perhaps infatuated with the other.

It comes whilst Servant is asleep, his body bare aside from the marring of bruises and hickeys, thin sheets layered in dust resting atop him. Kamukura observes him from where he sits at the edge of the bed, admiring the way the red sky highlights Servant’s body in an almost rosy way, porcelain skin glimmering with red contours that made the Ultimate Artist in Kamukura transfixed. Part of him desired to reach out and trace his body on impulse– and it would not be the first time he sought touch out of poorly placed impulse. However, he refrains.

A small part of him– a romantic, likely, in all but practice– finds that touching him may, perhaps, detract from the natural beauty he exudes. It is not like Kamukura is anything other than manmade.

This is a thought that crosses his mind often. Rather, the latter is. However, with Servant in his life as a catalyst, the frequency of such thoughts rapidly accelerates, and he finds a sense of permanence in the other. Something he is rather interested in exploring, given the time. There are many, many inquiries he would indulge in, given the time.

They are not given time.

He had prepared an injection in advance, one to make Servant unconscious for approximately 48 hours. It is enough time to execute a procedure that would remove Servant’s memories of Kamukura, a similar procedure that he will attempt to repeat on himself (he has done thorough research into lobotomies due to his experiences. Even without this research, it would not be a particularly difficult task. However, his emotions pose a hindrance). He is aware that he should inject Servant now, as, according to his predictions and intuition, he has confidence in the fact that the Future Foundation will locate them within that period of time.

He would like to evade them. He knows he is able to, that he has a capacity to outwit them, that Servant would heed every command necessary to guarantee their survival. After all, there is no certainty in the prospect that the Future Foundation would keep them alive.

Despite this, Kamukura is… curious. He is intrigued as to what the Future Foundation will do, once they capture him and Servant, and he knows that they cannot evade the Future Foundation forever. They will grow bored.

It is regrettable, he thinks as he injects Servant with the serum, stroking his hair for purely selfish purposes as he does so. It is regrettable that they did not have infinite time together. However, Servant is dying to his own illness, and Kamukura is dying, metaphorically, to the boredom that he can not fully stave away, even with his agreeable companionship. It is poetic, in the same sense, that they will be captured and perhaps be executed before they could fully breach the barrier of worship and love, something Kamukura is not certain he could attain.

In all senses, it is over, and Servant will not remember him by the time he awakes in the grasp of the Future Foundation.

(A part of Kamukura recalls their first meeting with feigned nostalgia, remnants of the emotion that must have existed before his creation, and he wonders– or, cynically, he hopes– that he may meet the other again, and finish the life they began.)

–

Komaeda rolls over and smiles, slightly sleepy. “What do you want to talk about, Hinata-kun?” After a pause, he asks, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he says with a little too much force. “I’ve just had some. Things on my mind. That I want to talk about?”

It’s sort of a half-truth, because it feels wrong to say that it’s been something on his mind. Because it has been, and it has been for a while– but he hardly knows if what he’s feeling is love, if it’s worth indulging in this when he has so much to work on. If he can even be certain of his thoughts at all.

But he wants to talk to Komaeda– maybe to get perspective, and finally decide.

So, he closes his eyes and starts talking. “I was thinking about the simulation, and before. More specifically, us.”

He can hear the bitterness in Komaeda’s voice when he says, “Ah. How I betrayed and belittled you?”

“Not exactly.” But it’s part of it. “… You said in the simulation that you were in love with me, right?”

There’s a pause. One that’s long enough that Hinata almost wants to open his eyes, but he needs to isolate himself in his thoughts temporarily, dissect the words and his feelings and come to a conclusion. It’s something he’s good at (but love isn’t survival games, or class trials. If they were, he would have figured this out a long time ago, back when Nanami was still around).

When Komaeda eventually speaks, it’s brief but telling. “… Yes.”

“And. You didn’t like me much before all of that, but… as Servant, you-”

“Worshipped and admired Kamukura-kun, yes.” He sounds almost nervous. Komaeda rarely sounds like this, and it’s almost enough to stop pushing. “… Why do you ask? Don’t you already know this, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata sighs. “Yeah, technically. But I’ve been thinking about it more, and…” he opens his eyes, now. Komaeda’s face is vacant– no smile, no frown, just a straight line that wavers if he stares hard enough. His eyes are filled with emotion he can’t uncover, emotions he doesn’t want to uncover. But… he watches them carefully regardless, makes note of how they shift. “We’ve had an interesting relationship, throughout all our time knowing each other. In our one encounter back at Hope’s Peak, we didn’t get along, and things in Despair were… intimate, yet twisted.”

“That’s one way to consider it,” Komaeda says, and it isn’t quite hatred in his voice, but something close. Something Hinata knows not to take personally.

“And. I’ve been thinking about where it leaves us, now. And– I mean, it’s something in the back of my head, but not really. Filling all my thoughts? It just sort of came up while we were sitting here, before I said we should sleep, and sometimes I think about it when I’m not working around the island. So it’s sort of…” a dormant thing, has been in the back of my mind forever because I put it there, because I didn’t want to accept that I like you, because I’m too afraid and I know you are too, but there’s something about you, something about this, and I’m curious to know where it goes- “Yeah.”

Komaeda nods. “I see.”

“I think you know where I’m going with this.”

There’s a silence. Then- “I’d rather not.”

“… Rather not what?”

He already knows, but he wants to hope, wants to hope that Komaeda will allow himself this, despite everything. And yet…

… “Rather not believe what you are implying, Hinata-kun.” And the bitterness is directed at him this time, but Komaeda has always tore at him claws to hide something else, whether it be personal insecurity or infatuation or fear. Hinata thinks it might be all three, now. “You are aware of my love for you, how you could use it to your benefit, how you could disregard me and I would-” his breath catches.

“Komaeda?”

“… hardly complain,” he finishes. “I would hardly complain if you used me, because it’s you. You’re aware that you could make this so easy– and you aren’t even certain of this. I’ve been certain ever since I knew you, even when I hardly knew anything about you, even when I stayed with you to wake up on that island, I knew. But you don’t, and you could make it so easy and just give up on me, because it’s not like I would love you less or hate you more, but you’re acting on impulse. You rarely act on impulse, so why are you…”

There are tears in Komaeda’s eyes.

“… When I first met you,” Hinata starts. “I thought you were pretty. An asshole, but pretty. In despair, Kamukura was interested in you, and he was bored of everything else, even her. And he knew your worship, and that was the most boring part of you, to him, because he didn’t like being treated like a god, not by you. And… and in the simulation, I remember the betrayal I felt when I knew one of the only people I trusted turned their back on me. And- and when I saw your corpse-”

Komaeda shakes his head, but Hinata doesn’t stop. “-When I saw your corpse, I was so fucking pissed, because you’re smart and fucked up and I almost missed you that trial, despite everything. And despite everything, now when I woke you up, when I had to run into the infirmary and out of it and had to do all those fucking psychodives to get you out, I thought it was worth it.”

“Hinata-kun.”

“I thought– I knew, and I know– that you are worth it.”

And even though Komaeda’s stare is intimidating, and even though Hinata’s so uncertain of everything right now, he’s confident in that.

He’s never been more confident in anything, actually.

–

When Hinata wakes up on an unfamiliar island, with an aching head and endless questions about his surroundings, he’s greeted by a stranger, with a slight smile on their face. They had slightly tostled white hair, cloudlike and wispy, that falls just above their dim green eyes, and they have a slender yet alluring physique that Hinata almost finds pretty, in his dazed state.

After they confirm that Hinata is awake, they introduce themself. “… I’m Komaeda Nagito. Nice to meet you.”

Hinata accepts the hand he offers him and stands up, brushing sand off his pants (why are they at a beach?) and replying, “Hey, I’m Hinata Hajime.”

Komaeda leads him around the island, introducing him to all the others that had left him behind, unconscious, on the beach (he can’t really blame him. He’s still embarrassed about how he just… passed out. At least Komaeda isn’t judging him for it). He offers his own quips and commentary about the island, one Hinata finds insightful, if not slightly odd at times, and he begins to develop a trust for the other.

Sort of. Because, well, it’s not like he can really trust anyone, when they all woke up on a random fucking island with no idea of what’s going on, aside from some random shit a rabbit tells them. But, for as weird Komaeda can sometimes be and the weird situation they’re in, he establishes him as trustworthy early on. Someone to rely on, even when everything goes to hell.

(And littered in there, far enough in the back of his head that he sort of forgets about it, he is sort of infatuated with the other. In a super base way– because he’s a teenager, c’mon– but, still. Komaeda’s pretty, and he’s friendly, and he thinks there’s some significance in that.

Of course, everything changes when the first murder occurs. When the trial happens, and truths are revealed. When everything spirals downwards for the rest of their ‘island vacation’, and Hinata realizes that Komaeda should have never been trusted at all.

… But he can’t bring himself to hate him, despite everything. Even when he’s faced with his corpse.)

–

There is a long silence that fills the room, after his admission.

It’s understandable, considering that Komaeda… has never quite had anyone stay by his side as long as Hinata has. He’s probably never considered the possibility of requited love or care of anything, has never been able to reconcile with the idea that Hinata wants to stay despite the fucked-up mess of trauma and disease his brain is filled with. He probably finds himself vacant, like Hinata does, sometimes, like every quirk about him that makes him distinctive and worthy of love is completely null, and that he is cursing Hinata by being around him this long.

It’s more fucked up than Hinata can sometimes conceptualize, but. As he said, it’s worth it.

Hinata breaks the silence, knowing that he should be patient with the other, who has had his mentality partially shattered in a brief period of time, but slightly worried that the progress they’ve made would fall at a stalemate in complete silence. “… Komaeda?”

“Hinata-kun.” His voice is both empty and emotional, and it leaves an ache in Hinata’s chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand, still. I’m not…” he trails off.

“You are worth it,” Hinata insists, because he knows the way that Komaeda thinks, knows where his mind is going. “We don’t have to do anything, or be anything, if you don’t want to. I just… thought you should know, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot, so. Thought it was worth saying.”

“Worth,” Komaeda echoes quietly. His laugh is at the same volume, raspy and choked. “I… I really like you, Hinata-kun, but I can’t let you endanger yourself.”

Hinata shakes his head. “Your luck can’t affect me badly, remember? I’m lucky too.”

“It has in the past. Before you remember. When me and Kamukura-kun were together, and how bad luck and consequent good luck would follow us around. He thought it was interesting. I knew we weren’t safe. And we weren’t.” He sighs, and Hinata wants to reach out and brush his cheek with his fingertips, ensure that he isn’t just a ghost. “If I hurt you, Hinata-kun-”

“You won’t,” Hinata argues.

Komaeda raises his voice, slightly. “But if I do, then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Knowing that you chose to have something with me, despite all your responsibilities and all the risks I bring to you just by existing… it would kill me, Hinata-kun. I’m already dying and I’ve done it once, but… it would really, really kill me. I don’t think I would be able to lose you. I don’t…” He looks so tired.

Hinata reaches out, then, and intertwines their fingers. Komaeda doesn’t push him away, and he takes it as a good sign. “You aren’t going to lose me. And I know we can’t be certain of what’ll happen in the future, but… I think we deserve something good. So much bad shit has happened, and we’re healing and everything, but I think we also deserve to find something like… hope. In each other. Y’know? And, obviously, it’s only if you want. I’m not gonna, like, make you date me, or something.” He squeezes his hand. “But, I don’t want you to keep yourself from someone you want– something we want– out of fear. We’re not going to die, Komaeda. And even if we did… every second that led to it would be worth it.”

Komaeda’s eyes flutter shut. It hurt to see the pain in his eyes, but his scrunched eyebrows and shaky lip is almost worse. “I… I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?” Hinata asks gently.

“I…” he cuts himself off, thinking in silence as Hinata rubs circles into his palm. Eventually, his eyes open, and his expression is tentative and a bit scared, but Hinata can see some hope in it. It’s almost enough to make him smile, but he fights it off and waits for Komaeda to finish. “I… I want this. But, I don’t deserve it.”

“You want it,” Hinata reminds him softly, “and I want it. So, I think it’s okay for us to have, yeah?”

He hesitates, but eventually says, “… Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he repeats, and then he gives him a slight smile. “I can work with maybe.”

Komaeda responds with a fleeting smile, one that makes Hinata let go of his hand and tug him forward into a warm embrace. Komaeda’s face nestles into the other’s shoulder, and he can hear a muffled voice whisper, “I love you, Hinata-kun. I really do.”

A weight he thought would permanently be on his shoulders disappears, and he breathes out a long sigh of relief as he tightens his grip on Komaeda’s waist. And, with a voice that echoes himself through all of the years of knowing Komaeda, through the stress and irritation and curiosity and trust, in a journey that was just as much his as it was theirs, he says, “I love you too.”

Even after everything.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

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bonesaldente · 4 years ago

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Ferocious I Darth Maul x Reader

Chapter 9: Apart

last chapter

all chapters

ao3

words: ~2300

_____

War seems to follow him like a predator stalking its prey. Ever since he was a child, he was waging a war - against his master, against the Jedi, against himself. He knows it is the doing of the dark side that won’t allow for a moment of peace, constantly creating conflict where there is none to further fuel him. The only times he felt something like serenity were the ones spent with you in private, when he didn’t have an image to uphold or enemies to watch out for. These were the most peaceful moments of his existence, for he knew everything he needed to protect was right there in his arms, as safe as you could be.

Then, of course, there were the times of solitude with his brother. They, too, brought a type of peace, but it was vastly different in that they did not hold the same kind of honesty the times with you did. He knew his brother never chose to join him. He knew the nightsisters made him into something he was not and used him as a puppet, yet the feeling of having a brother, family, was enough to quieten the cries in the back of his mind.

Now both of these people are gone.

He clenches his fists to give his insatiable rage some outlet and allow his mind to focus once more. One person is gone forever, slaughtered by no other than master. But the other is still alive, he is certain, separated from him right when he thought they were safe at last.

Being captured by Sidious was a heavy setback, one that drew out your rescue much longer than he ever wanted. With the civil war on Mandalore and his forces spread thin, Maul feels his hopes diminish. How can he rescue you from the Republic if he doesn’t know your location, doesn’t have the forces to effectively fight them or even pose a threat to them, and now doesn’t even have his brother to confide in for advice?

He is overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and exhausted to his bones, wanting nothing more than to go back to the day in the throne room and alter his decision.

A series of coughs from an alcove in the wall snaps him out of his downward spiral of thoughts. There on the ground sits the last remaining member of his family, even though their relationship has been less than familiar in the past. He may not have been able to protect you the way he swore he would, but he would most certainly care for your sister during your absence.

“Have you found anything?” She asks hoarsely and looks up at him with eyes that hold a sadness that could rival his own internally.

“Nothing,” he admits quietly, studying the miserable state of Loa.

“What are we going to do?” She whispers, staring at the wall again while hugging her knees.

“I… I’ll get her back. I promise.”

“How?” She doesn’t trust as easily as her usually light demeanor would let on. It reminds him of you.

“If need be, I will board their cruiser alone and fight my way through. I won’t rest until she’s back with us.”

“We don’t even know where she is.”

She is right and it pains him. He hasn’t been able to feel you at all. It isn’t necessarily a sign that you are unwell, but most likely an indicator that you are far, far away from him. Space is vast and the chances of finding a particular cruiser without any information are close to zero. Now, they don’t even have the crime syndicates to get information from.

His shoulders drop and he rubs his temples, struggling to find the right words to console the one entrusted to him. Eventually, he sits down on his knees beside her.

Her force signature is largely different at first, but the more he hones in on it, the more he can feel the similarities in the small swirls of energy surrounding her and you, and it provides him with the tiniest bit of solace.

When he opens his eyes again, he is almost glad she at least doesn’t have your eyes. If she did, it would be all the more painful to see them wide open now, staring at him like the simple act of sitting on the ground defied his nature.

He clears his throat.

“Your sister is the most competent person I know. She broke out of Sundari prison in less than ten minutes, and even the Jedi won’t be able to hold her,” I hope. “She’ll find a way to get in touch with us. Either that or we will be notified of the cruiser’s location when they inevitably are forced to make a stop.”

She says nothing in response, the truth that there is nothing they can do for now hanging heavily in the air.

He wishes he could connect with her more, but there is an impermeable power imbalance that divides the air between them. It was always easier when you were around.

“You’re really important to her.”

Her statement is quiet, like it is a secret she is sharing with him.

“Ever since she saw you on Zanbar she’s been different. Before, she used to get this look sometimes, like she was missing something, though she never talked about it. But I get it now.” Her frown turns into a look of earnestness. “She trusts you. And if my sister decides you are worth her trust, then so do I.”

Trust is a sparse resource to come by these days.

“I will not fail you,” he promises, equally sincere.

However he will achieve that, he doesn’t know. Right now, all he can do is trust in your abilities. All comms are set to the highest sensitivity possible, so if you contact any Mandalorian lines, he will know.

He walks back to the cockpit and sits down in the copilot chair, staring into the emptiness of space.

Somewhere out there, you are waiting for him. And he will find you.

Your hands hold the rifle steady while you hold your breath, not allowing a single sound to disturb the silence of the forest. Your target is right in the center of the scope you’re looking through, now bowing down to feed on the leaves of a bush.

The sound of your shot seems louder than it’s ever been when it breaks through the quiet, but your prey has already fallen to the ground dead before the soundwaves even reach its ears. Satisfied with your work, you lean back on your heels, screwing the scope off your rifle and fastening the weapon on your back once more.

You remain on guard while you head toward what will be your dinner for tonight, and probably tomorrow. You and your companion, whom you did not choose to spend time with, have yet to encounter any predators. The one time you thought you did, the noise came from a branch falling off a rotten tree, but you can never be too careful.

The hoofed creature weighs more than you expected, and by the time you’ve reached the makeshift camp, you’re panting.

“Nice catch,” Kenobi comments, not turning his attention away from the wires he is crouched in front of.

“You’re presuming I’ll share it with you.”

“If I need to hunt for my own food, we’ll be stuck here longer.”

Good point. You say nothing.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to make a fire tonight. The sun is setting again and I can’t work in the dark.” “You were the one who said it’d attract predators.” You point out passive-aggressively.

“I didn’t know then that the days would be this short and the nights this long. If we ever want to send out a signal, I’ll have to work at night too.”

“Whatever,” you utter, picking up a few twigs and tossing them into the middle of the small clearing.

The biggest advantage to having an actual fire is that you can finally roast the animal’s meat instead of painstakingly holding every small piece over the small flame produced by the lighter on your vambrace.

Wordlessly, you both chew on the food while sitting in complete opposite corners of the camp. It is no secret that your brief alliance is involuntary and that neither of you are interested in becoming friends along the way, so you don’t even pretend to like each other.

The sound of a twig snapping nearly makes you jump out of your skin and you are on your feet in the blink of an eye. “Did you hear that?” You ask under your breath, eyes trying to make out any shapes in the blackness of the woods, the light of the fire hardly enough to reach the edge of the clearing, let alone its surroundings.

“I can feel something… There’s an animal.”

He ignites his lightsaber and for once, you are fine with him wielding the weapon.

“Where is it?” You whisper, slowly drawing your vibroblades.

“It’s… Down! ”

You don’t drop a second too soon, because the very moment your body comes in contact with the ground, something flies over you with a wild roar, landing only inches from you.

The animal doesn’t turn back around to launch another attack on you, targeting Kenobi in your stead. You can’t see what’s happening, but apparently, its jaw misses him, since when you are back on your feet, Kenobi is still very much alive, holding out his lightsaber defensively and wow-

That animal is massive.

Its muscled body is at least fifteen feet long, saliva dripping from fangs the size of your shinbone while its puffy tail whips back and forth angrily.

“Oh dear,” you breathe, watching as its eyes flicker back and forth between you and Kenobi, seemingly undecided on who would make for a better meal.

Please pick Kenobi, please attack him, I won’t make for a good snack at all, I-

It hesitates for a moment too long and suddenly lets out an ear-shattering cry when the blue blade of a lightsaber neatly slices one of his legs off.

Acting faster than your fear, you jump forward and use the opening Kenobi created to bury your blade right where you guess its jugular is, narrowly evading the deadly swipe of its claws and finally reveling in the gurgling sound it emits as it perishes.

For a minute, you’re both just staring at the carcass as a puddle of blood forms around your feet. Then, you squat and remove one of the enormous fangs from its mouth.

“A trophy? Really?” The Jedi sounds positively exasperated.

“I’ll use it to slit your throat once we are off this planet.”

He doesn’t look too worried.

Good. He won’t see it coming.

“Perhaps keeping the body here will scare off others of its kind,” he ponders.

“Or they’re sentient enough to feel vengeance,” you finish the thought. “I say we get rid of it.”

“Good luck, then.”

You freeze, examining his barely illuminated face.

“You won’t help me.”

“Correct.”

“Come on! You want to keep this around because you think it might scare other animals away?”

“They’ll smell it!” He argues.

“It won’t smell like much of anything other than death once it starts to rot,” you retort angrily.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” His entire demeanor has changed to something less contained, less defensive than his usual stance. “After all, you’re the expert when it comes to cold-blooded murder.”

You take a step back in surprise.

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”

“Do you think I want to be stranded with you here?” He hisses. “Well, I don’t. I don’t know how, but the longer I’m around you, the more I feel like the dark side surrounds you.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not even force-sensitive.”

“I know that.” His tone is slightly calmer now. “But I know what I’m sensing.”

Silently, you calculate the expression on his face, fiddling with the ring on your finger.

“Is it possible,” you begin quietly, “for an individual to, I don’t know, plant something inside the mind that would… alter a person?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just answer the question.”

The Jedi sighs, sitting down tiredly a few feet away from you.

“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility, though that person would have to be extremely powerful in order to… Wait, are you talking about Maul?”

“What?”

“Maul, is he manipulating you? Is he forcing you to…”

“No, how could you even- I’m talking about the Sith lord!” You shake your head in annoyance. “Remember, the one you and your council are so desperate to find?”

“You suspect he manipulated you?”

You swallow and avert your gaze, feeling fear get a hold of you when you simply think of the hooded man.

“Maybe,” you whisper, then resume with a slightly stronger voice. “I am unable to talk about him. When I do, my body forces me to stop, like he is taking control of my mind… Just thinking about him makes my skin crawl.” You shudder.

Kenobi narrows his eyes.

“For that, you’d at least have to have met him.”

“I have.”

He looks taken aback.

“That would explain it.” He pauses. “I’m not sure if anything can be done about that. We have healers at the temple but…”

“Forget it.”

He sighs.

“I’ll get back to working on the communicator.”

You just watch him while he dismantles the device further, laying out the single parts on the forest ground tidily.

It is strange - the seething hatred you were once able to feel for the man has faded into a faint dislike. He is still your adversary, of course - it is quite impossible to forget that fact since it’s how you ended up in this situation in the first place, but it feels less personal and more formal.

In a different life you may have respected him.

______

Happy holidays to everyone who celebrates something right now! I hope you're all making the best out of the current situation while staying safe and healthy! For everyone hoping for a reunion this chapter - My bad. We're not quite there yet :,) As always, comments are much appreciated (I check my inbox like twenty times a day after I post a new chapter simply because receiving them makes me so darn happy) <3

@princessayveke @spaghetti-666 @noiralei @larawl @secretnerd00 @bagpipes606 @zabrak-show @brilliantbutbatty @eleine-t1d

#darth maul #maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #darth maul x you

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keanuvibe · 4 years ago

Text

Noses in Roses (John Wick x Reader) Pt. 5 (Final)

A/N: okay yall, this is it. Im saying goodbye to the Noses in Roses universe ;-; I loved it, i loved writing for it. But sometimes you just gotta say bye :( (ps im the worst updater in the world!) (pps this was 10 pages in google docs omfg i need help yall. Do i write too much detail lol)

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: violence, killing, mentions of pregnancy

July 8th, 8:17PM

“Don’t forget, Heather needs a new toothbrush.” You mindlessly spoke to your husband, staring down at the phone in your hand. It was a rare summer evening where you and John had managed to find a sitter so you two could go on a date. It’s been since your third baby was conceived, so seven and a half months, since your last. With him constantly going out on jobs and you being a full-time mom, it was hard to find the moments in between.

“Should we stop at the grocery store?” John's gentle voice asked, resting his hand along your thigh. The two of you currently sat in his car, stuck in typical big city traffic. You’d already gone to dinner at some fancy, overly expensive restaurant in Manhattan and now were on your way back home. Looking up from your phone, your eyes met those of your husbands.

“Yeah, there's a few other things I need to grab anyways.” You hummed. John’s hand that donned your thigh gave it a gentle squeeze as his attention turned back towards the street. His car roared to life, when the light finally turned green, as he unnecessarily sped through the intersection. You could tell he was eager to get home. With his profession and the enemies he’s made, he prefers to keep you and the children home. That’s most of the reason as to why you hadn’t gone back to teach after Heather. Another part was the fact Helen is still out there. She’d already given you a run for your money once, and you certainly didn’t want to face that again.

Sure, it’s been four years since all that happened, but you still sat on the edge of your seat. John had vowed to kill the woman if she put a hand on either you or the kids. It was a nice thought, but the actual killing part left an unsettling sour taste in your mouth.

The man definitely keeps his work and home life separate as much as he can manage, but you recall so many late nights where he stumbled into bed covered in cuts and bruises. Sometimes he’d come home so stitched up he could barely move and you'd have to dress him or, in a rare case, feed him.

Your dark thoughts clouded your head and you blinked a few times, watching the passing lights of the city. The movement of John's hand gently placing itself on top of your own, which was resting on your large belly, caused you to look at him. His gaze was still facing the road, eyes occasionally blinking. He had tucked some hair behind his ear, exposing just how handsome his profile is. He’d let his beard become bushy, same as he did shortly after Heather was born. He donned a fresh scar from his most recent job on his cheekbone, though it’s hardly noticeable when his hair isn't tucked back. Subconsciously you squoze your fingers with his, intertwining your hands. They were rough and worn, but still somehow gentle to the touch.

“I can feel your stare,” His voice interrupted the silence.

“Sorry,” You spoke bashfully, averting your gaze to looking back out the window.

“What're you thinking about, darling?” Your husband pushed. His hand gave yours a squeeze, a silent showing of affection.

“A lot,” You responded with a sigh. The car pulled to a stop at a red light, prompting the man to look at you once again.

“Does it have to do with my job?” He murmured, carefully treading about the topic.

“Yes,” Your voice came out as only a whisper. This was an ongoing fight in your relationship, obviously. You can't count how many times you've gone to bed sour, or crying, or heartbroken because of his career. Sure, It paid for your lifestyle and the ability to comfortably raise your kids; but at the risk of losing John? It didn't feel worth it.

“Let’s not focus on that tonight, darling. You know I’m not going anywhere. And if I die, I'm going to haunt the house so you truly can't get rid of me.” John's light humor caused a little laughter to bubble up your throat.

“I’m going to hold you to that.” You mused, tapping him on the shoulder. A smile crossed his face as your eyes met. You still felt butterflies erupt in your belly when you two made eye contact. Just as they did when he first walked into your classroom all those years ago.

Cheesy music from the eighties echoed throughout the grocery store as you and John walked towards the pharmacy section. You pushed the cart while your husband followed beside you, his eyes warily looking around the semi-busy market.

Patrons eyes turned and gave you and John a look over, which wasn't uncommon when you were out in public together. He is a tall, brooding man, with his eyes always set in a glare unless he’s looking at you, the kids, and your new dog Winston. Their looks only prompted John to stand closer to your waddling figure. One of his hands firmly planted onto your back as you walked. It was a feeling of comfort for you and him; a physical reminder of the other.

“Do you think she’d like this one?” You murmured, stopping in front of the toothbrushes and grabbing a pink, sparkly one from the hook. Heather is going through a princess phase, requesting everything she owns to either be covered in sparkles or be pink and purple. It’s quite adorable, besides the fact that glitter manages to find its way into her small hands and then all over the house. You found glitter in the washing machine once, but only after you'd already done a load. John’s street clothes were sparkly for two weeks before all the glitter finally rinsed out.

“I'm sure she will.” John responded. You could feel his presence stiffen, signaling something was bothering him. Your eyes immediately looked up, trying to peep over the shorter aisle walls in the pharmacy. The store was semi-crowded for late evening, but not too bad. You glanced at the people walking past, looking to spot what had John on edge, but couldn't see.

The man's hand on your back gripped onto your dress a little tighter, as though he was keeping you close. Swallowing thickly, you looked back up to your husband. His brows were furrowed and his lips sat tight. You had to admit he looked pretty menacing. The only time you've had a glance of John Wick was when Helen kidnapped James. It’s as though he turns into a completely different John; like a switch he can easily flip if need be.

“What’s going on, baby?” You whispered just loud enough so your husband could hear. Upon hearing your voice, the man's hand loosened but his gaze didn't shift.

“I think she’s here.”

His response sent cold shivers through your veins and you frantically whipped your head around looking for the woman in question. You didn't have to ask to know who it was: Helen. Instinctively you stepped closer to John until your back was flush with his chest. His hand moved from your back and grabbed your arm instead, gripping tight enough to bruise.

“Let’s buy Heather’s toothbrush and leave.” John spoke, voice low. You quickly grabbed the toothbrush, abandoning the cart in the aisle. John walked ahead of you acting as a sort of shield, while you waddled behind trying your best to keep up. The grip on your arm was starting to hurt, as he was basically pulling you towards the checkout stands.

Approaching the self checkout, John let go of your arm, gesturing for you to scan and pay. He then turned his back to you, watching people on the surrounding machines. Swiftly scanning the toothbrush, you could feel the panic and mild horror coursing through your veins. It was beginning to feel overwhelming; The people, the noises, the music. Your head was starting to spin.

Once the receipt printed, John grabbed your hand intertwining your fingers tightly. The two of you made your way to the exit, but you kept your head down as a nauseating feeling passed over you. Stepping through the doors, John’s eyes kept glancing around the parking lot, wary of each person that passed.

“I think i'm going to be sick,” You murmured, putting your free hand to your head. You felt the clamminess of your skin, sweat from the summer heat only worsening the feeling.

“We're almost to the car, darling, just a few more steps.” John's voice was instantly soft at your claim. He adjusted his position, letting go of your hand and placing his own on your back, guiding you towards the vehicle.

Once you made it to his car, he quickly unlocked it and helped you in; following by climbing in himself. The quietness of the interior felt odd as the man put the key into the ignition, bringing his car to life.

“Hello, John.” The cocking of a gun caused you to turn your head, eyes widening as the sight of your husband's ex-wife holding a gun to his head.

“Helen.” The man responded, voice low. His gaze was fixated on the rear view mirror, looking at her sitting in the backseat. You could feel the anger radiating off his body.

“What, I don't get a nice greeting anymore?” The woman smirked, never moving the gun from its spot. John didn't bother to answer, he only stared at her with a heavy glare.

“Mrs. Wick, you look lovely. Expecting again I see.” Helen changed the topic, her gaze turning towards you. You felt a chill run down your spine as her eyes bore into your own. They were lifeless and cold as she carried a smirk across her perfectly painted lips.

“What do you want?” John took her attention from you, speaking up. Her eyes lingered, however, glancing down at your belly before looking back towards your husband.

“Oh, John. You never were one for pleasantries.” Helen mused, shaking her head. In her pause, you took the time to finally look at your husband. His gaze still remained forward, staring at Helen through the rear view mirror. His fists were clenched tightly onto the steering wheel, so tight his knuckles had turned white.

“Anyways, I just thought I’d pop in and see how you were doing without me. It’s been four years since our last run in, I missed you Jonathan.” She spoke, almost softly, but there was still an unsettling ring in her tone.

“With a family and everything, I figured you’d forgotten about me.” Helen pressed on, sighing after she spoke. “James probably misses his mother.”

“You were never his mother.” You found the courage to speak, anger beginning to boil your blood like hot water. Sure, James isn’t yours biologically, but he is your son and no one is allowed to claim your babies. Especially not the woman with a gun pointed towards your husband.

“Oh? I birthed him, did I not?” Helen coyed, cocking her head and looking towards you.

“You abandoned him, did you not?” You sneered back, eyes narrowing. Helen blinked, shocked you’d even snap back. Her mouth pursed tightly, clearly upset by your words. The gun in her hand pressed further into John’s head making your heart race; the man seemed unphased, however.

“Drive, John. I can’t kill you and your Bitch of a wife in a parking lot, that’s too obvious. Third Ave and Main.” The woman spoke, eyes glaring back towards your husband. John put the car into drive, pulling out of the grocery parking lot and onto the street. His knuckles were still white from gripping on the steering wheel so tightly.

“You know, Heather has grown up to be quite cute, I must admit.” Helen chimed, eyes staring directly towards you. She's trying to get a rise from you, finding it amusing. A little smirk covered her face, seeing you and John both clench your jaws.

“Do not talk about my daughter.” John finally spoke, voice low.

“Last time I checked, she isn’t even yours.” Helen mused before continuing on, “Right, (Y/N)? Your dead ex-husband's kid? Does she even know her real father’s name?” The woman pressed on.

You and John remained silent, swallowing the anger that was threatening to release. There was no point in wasting your energy and playing the woman's mind games. Heather does not need to know her real father, for John has been the best dad to her since the moment she was born. Even before that, when you were pregnant, he loved her. Plus, Helen’s nose doesn't belong in your personal business.

The remainder of the drive wasn't too long as location actually wasn't too far from the grocery store. John pulled into the parking lot of a warehouse. The building stood surrounded by other warehouse types, however they were smaller and looked to be falling apart. Big machinery littered the area as well, clearly having not been used for years as rust had begun to decay them. The street lamps were dim, near the end of their lifespan; leaving the place ill lit.

“You remember this place?” Helen murmured, looking at your husband. You could sense this area didn't bring back happy memories, judging by the stiffness of John's person.

“Turn the car off, and slowly exit the vehicle.” She spoke, tight lipped. The two of you willingly complied, climbing out of the vehicle slowly just as asked. Your mind couldn't help but wander; thinking about Heather and James at home. You only prayed that Helen didn't get their first and that they're still okay. The babysitter is probably curious as to where you two had gone. It's already late, nearing ten o’ clock according to the watch donning your wrist.

“Lean against the car, hands behind your backs.” Your kidnapper hissed. You and John did as she asked; you leaning against the passenger side, while John leaned against the driver side. She pulled a thick zip tie from her pocket, swiftly tightening it around Johns' wrists first. She then stepped over to your figure, grasping your arms and tightening the restraints around your own.

Furrowing your brows from the pain of the zip tie digging into your skin, you weakly looked up eyes met those of Johns. He couldn't say what he wanted, but his eyes told you everything he needed. He’s going to get you out of this, one way or another.

“Into the building, let's go.” Helen spoke, shoving the gun into your spine, urging you to walk. Your heart picked up in speed noting the second weapon she had unsheathed. She now had two, the one against your spine and the original pointed towards John again.

Approaching the warehouse doors, she urged John to slide it open. The man turned around and awkwardly slid the doors open with his hands still bound. Helen then ushered the two of you in, her gun jabbing your spine unpleasantly. The inside was large and mostly empty, save for some abandoned equipment, a few small shipping containers and some scaffolding. Moonlight shone in through some windows that were high up on the wall, giving some light to the large dark room. You noticed two chairs in the middle of the space as well, probably where you and John were to sit.

“Sit.” Helen then spoke as soon as you reached the seats. With force, the woman shoved you into the rickety fold up, causing you to nearly fall backward.

“Touch her like that again and I’ll kill you.” John spoke, his words filled with venom and threat yet he somehow remained mostly monotone. Helen merely stared at the man before laughing, shoving him into the seat as well.

“Don't tell me what to do.” She then replied, sheathing the second gun and leaving only one in her grasp.

“What do you want from us?” You questioned weakly, eyes veering up to meet your kidnapper. The woman seemed to be pleased by the tone in your voice; as it is so clearly beaten and broken. Hell, you’re also heavily pregnant and the sick feeling you felt earlier still hadn’t gone away.

Helen's perfectly painted lips pursed into a smirk, crossing her arms at the same time. She stood in front of you, bending over to meet your eyes. Your heart raced, but you didn’t dare break eye contact. You are strong, and you aren’t going to let this woman belittle you.

“I want to kill you, (Y/N).” The way she answered was filled with delight and amusement. “I want to watch life leave your eyes as John screams in anger.”

“You really need therapy.” You spit back, causing the woman to stand up straight and step back. She let out a snort of laughter, haphazardly waving the weapon in her hand around.

“They tried. Didn’t you, John? You and Aurelio.” She mused, beginning to pace in a circle around your sitting figures. “It’s for your own good, Helen.” The woman's voice mocked, “‘You are sick’, ‘You are a threat to yourself and others.’’’

“I couldn’t see you get hurt.” John finally spoke up. You looked over to your husband to see his head drooped in defeat. You’d never seen him so broken before, this wasn’t anger, it was sadness. The man had to process his past, something he’s been running from for years.

“You couldn’t handle me becoming a better assassin than you.” Helen retorted. “Our whole relationship, you tried to put me into a box. I’m not some little housewife, John.”

“That’s not true.” The man responded, finally raising his head. Helen had returned to standing in front of you, arms folding once again.

“Whatever, I’m still going to kill you in the end.” The woman spoke, shrugging her shoulders. “And after I’m finished with you, I’m going after your children.” Immediately, your eyes cast to your husband wide with fear. You could see the defeat leaving his expression as rage began to fill it instead. His brows furrowed, forming an angry crease as he looked up through his lashes to meet Helen’s amused face. She struck a chord, and it was obvious.

Without a blink, John raised from his chair charging Helen and knocking her over, prompting the two of them to fall onto the ground. The gun in her hand flew from her grasp, landing by your feet. Standing up as well, you kicked the gun closer to your hands, leaning down awkwardly to grab it.

John maneuvered his body so his cuffs and arms now were in front instead of behind his back, giving him more of an advantage. Helen swiftly stood too, pulling out her second gun and pointing it towards your husband. The man reacted, using the restraints to pull the gun from her grasp, sending it flying across the room. He then quickly jabbed her in the throat, causing her to choke and falter back slightly. Grabbing onto her shirt, he then kicked her shin following by flinging the two of them to the ground, putting her into a choke hold using his legs.

The woman retaliated, however, squirming her way out of his grasp. They stood up in unison again and Helen began to hit his side, catching him off guard. She then used the zip tie handcuffs to her advantage, holding onto them as she swiped under his feet, knocking him to the ground. She then straddled him, trying to get any hit in she could, however John was quick to kick her off.

In the meantime, you frantically looked around for a sharp object to cut your ties. Nearby sat a pile of old tools, rusted and decaying. Making your way over and searching the area, you found an old hand saw with some chipped blades. Bending down to your knees, your back faced the saw as you searched blindly for the blade; due to your hands still being bound. The rusted blade cut into your forearm from your search, prompting a whimper of pain to escape your throat. Blood began to pour down your skin, dripping onto the ground. Biting your lip and pushing aside the pain, you began to saw at the restraint until the zip ties finally broke free.

Standing back up, you grabbed the gun that had fallen from Helen and made your way back over to them. The grunts and groans of their fighting persisted, and you saw that Helen had managed to find a piece of old tarp. She wrapped it around John’s throat, causing him to thrash around in an attempt to rid himself of it.

“Let go of him!” You yelled, shakily pointing the gun towards the two of them. Your voice caused them to pause and stare into your direction. John saw the blood dripping from the cut on your forearm and furrowed his brows with concern. Helen let out a manic laugh, tightening the tarp around John’s throat which prompted the man to squirm a bit more.

Time felt slowed as the scene unfolded in front of you. Staring into your husband's eyes, he gave you a gentle nod, as though he was giving you permission. Your grip was still shaky, but you aimed the best you could and closed your eyes; pulling the trigger.

A body slumped to the floor, but the ringing in your ear clouded most sounds. Your eyes still remained shut, too scared to face whatever the outcome was. The tarp sound crinkled throughout the warehouse and footsteps approached your figure.

“Darling, it’s alright,” John’s soothing voice echoed. Finally dropping the heavy weapon, a sob escaped your throat. Your husband gently pulled you into his arms, his chin resting atop your head and arms wrapped around your body. He began whispering gentle reassurances, turning you so you couldn’t see Helen’s dead body on the ground.

---

A warm early morning breeze caused you to blink and look down at the decaf coffee in your hands. Your eyes wandered to the bandage wrapping your forearm; a grim reminder of the events that occurred last week.

You killed someone.

Granted, a bad someone, but she was still somebody.

Returning home that evening wasn’t an easy feat. You had passed out from the loss of blood and the overall shock. John told you that he got you home safely and stitched you up to avoid hospitals. Somehow, he’d also kept you hidden from the kids and the babysitter.

Every night since then, when you close your eyes you hear the bang of the gun and the body slumping to the ground. You didn’t actually see her body, which you’re grateful for. But the sounds still haunted you. Of course you hadn’t told John how you felt. How could he relate anyways? He does this for a living, the pain and emotional baggage probably doesn’t even affect him anymore.

“Mommy! James caught a snake!” Heather's eager voice broke your thoughts, and you blinked, looking at your children with Winston walking alongside them. Sure enough, in your son's grasp was a small garden snake.

“Oh gross, baby, go throw it over the fence.” You responded, shaking your head in amusement. James has really come to enjoy the local wildlife that wandered, more like slithered, around.

“But it’s cool!” He defended, holding it closer to your figure.

“Don’t bother your mother, you know she doesn’t like snakes.” John spoke, coming through the sliding glass doors to the backyard. He too carried a cup of coffee, still donning his pajamas. You gave him a gentle smile, then turned your attention back to the kids. A chorus of sorry’s came from the two of them before they ran over to the fence; Winston close behind.

“How’re you this morning?” John murmured, pulling up a chair next to yours.

“I didn’t sleep well,” You sighed, eyes greeting Johns. He furrowed his brow with concern, tucking some hair behind his ear.

“Darling, is there more going on than what you’re telling me?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

“I’m just haunted.” You spoke softly, casting your eyes back down to your coffee. A gentle sigh came from your husband before a hand rested on your thigh.

“I struggle with that every day.” He responded, causing you to look back up at him.

“You do?” You questioned, raising a brow.

“Yes. But I put on a brave face and conquer the day the best I can.” John replied, scooting closer and grasping your hand into his own.

“I know she was bad, but-”

“Correct. She was, and you did the right thing.” John cut you off before you could justify anything. “The kids are safe because of you. We are safe because of you. It had to be done.”

You nodded, feeling a lump begin to form in your throat. Your mind has been so clouded by the negatives, you forgot to remember the positives that had come from that. Both you and John are alive, and your kids. Resting a hand on your belly, you felt the baby squirming around, another reminder of the good you'd done.

“It still hurts,” Your voice broke as you spoke, and a gentle tear rolled down your cheek. John was quick to wipe it away. Gently grasping your chin, he raised your face until your eyes met.

“I know a therapist for my profession. I’ll call her for you. She’s helped me through a lot. ” He spoke softly. You nodded, sniffling and wiping your eyes. Things could only go up from here. The main threat to yours and John’s future is gone, and your kids can grow up only knowing love. Your baby can be born and know nothing of the pain that you have gone through. Maybe now, your family can know peace.

“I love you, Mrs. Wick.”

“I love you too, Mr. Wick.”

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