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takimakiiiii · 6 months ago

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The Adventures of Loverboy and Twinkle Toes ~

lando norris x driver!female & platonic!grid x reader

angst, fluff, more angst with a dash of extra angst + established relationship + breakup

¡happy ending! dw, i’m not that mean

TW: swearing/profanity, bullying

WC: around 1k-ish?

disclaimer!: not all of these stats are accurate and the timeline doesn’t stick to the 2019 as it had to change for the story also the drivers had to be shuffled around for the story to make sense. basically it’s a big of a mess ALSO THERE IS USE OF Y/N IN THIS FIC

a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app for the last few month cuz i got bored one night at 3am

ALSO THE STARTING IS SO CHEESY SO LIKE BARE WITH ME IT GETS BETTER I SWEAR 😭

also with the driving parts it’s so bad okay I don’t even know what I’m talking and so pls don’t hate on me

sorry if it’s so bad I just wanted to finally post this so it doesn’t die w me in my notes app

<—————————————————————————————————>

You first met Lando Norris at the ripe age of 8 and my god was he an asshole. A constant pain in the ass, he attended the same private British school you did in Bristol, an academy for only the brightest and well, richest in the country.

Lando Norris’s family was a wealthy and famous one too, it wasn’t a secret. Yours, on the other hand wasn’t, and that too wasn’t much of a secret either. You’d gotten a scholarship to attend the academy after winning a competition. And from the minute you stepped into the school Lando Norris never failed to make you feel like you didn’t belong there.

You came from a line of mechanics and at a young age your Father got you into karting. And it was clear you had a talent for it.

Well as expected, it didn’t sit well with Lando, you were the only girl. It didn’t sit well with any of the boys who you karted with. That brought along of other things too, you were treated like a boy, something that you’d come to expect whenever you stepped onto the track. The boys would call you horrible names, something such a young girl shouldn’t be hearing, they’d belittle your wins and make you feel like shit.

You were a girl who’d fallen for a boy’s sport.

Something Lando would constantly remind you over and over again - that you didn’t belong there. Not at the fancy rich academy and definitely not on the race track. Only to make matters worse, he was incredible at karting. By the time you were both seniors at the academy he was already well on his way to the glory of F1.

Yet somehow you both were always the ones battling in that final lap, perhaps that’s what made him hate you so much was because you offered something no one else could: competition.

“Hey Twinkle Toes, you’ve got balls coming back onto the track after what you pulled last time.” a voice cut through the silence of the garage.

That same voice that had been annoying you for years on end, snapped you from your train of thought. You looked up and saw Lando pulling his gloves on, looking down on you as you sat on the steps of the garage. Something inside you began to tick, like a bomb about to go off.

He was referring to your last competition in which you’d pushed him off the track, unintentionally of course but he didn’t see it that way. He’d had a good yell at you afterwards in front of everyone, embarrassing you in front of all the other boys too. You clenched your fists as you stood up, yet his height was unmatched as you glared up at him. You hoped your face was able to match up the words that were about to leave your mouth.

“Yeah? Well at least I have balls dipshit.” you retorted angrily as you picked your helmet up from the stairs.

You turned around and he was now closer, a few mere centimetres away from your face. You nearly caught yourself jumping in surprise but managed to keep a collected face as he spoke.

“If you try that again today you’re going to wish you never stepped foot onto that track. Got it, Twinkle Toes?” his voice was laced with poison as he stared straight down at you. You stared back into his deep green eyes that seemed to glint with a harshness you’d grown to hate. You poked your inner cheek as you bit back an insult, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, Loverboy.” you replied with a humorous chuckle as you walked past him. You could basically feel the anger radiating off him as you exited the garage, heading in the direction of the track as your pulled your helmet on.

<—————————————————————————————————>

“What? Do you think you’re better at karting than me?” Lando asked as he lowered himself to your level, you were still sitting at your desk. His hands were down on the wooden table as he glowered down at you. Class had just finished for lunch and to explain it briefly - Lando wasn’t happy how the race had ended that weekend.

“I don’t think I’m better than you, Lando Norris. I know I am. So why don’t you stop being such a dramatic prick and leave me alone.” you shot back with a smile, knowing that would piss him off. You picked up your books and stood up, he did the same, now towering over you once again. You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled your bag off the chair.

“You’re so full of yourself, you don’t belong here Twinkle Toes, you never have and you never will. You’re a fucking outsider.” he replied, you swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. You knew you shouldn’t take his dumb remarks to heart but the words would often eat you alive because deep down you knew he was right. Surrounded by all these rich kids with their rich parents, compared to them you were absolutely nothing.

“Fuck you, Norris.” you spat, inhaling slowly, looking away so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Go cry about it.”

And that’s how you found yourself sobbing in the bathrooms during lunch.

You could hear hushed whispers outside of the stall as other girls walked in and out of the bathroom. You knew they could hear you crying, yet none of them had the decency to even ask if you were okay. Rich British people were just like that, you guessed as you wiped your face with the back of your hand.

“Is someone crying in there?” a girls voice whispered in a hushed tone outside of the stall, you could see two pairs of black shoes and white socks from underneath the door.

“Yeah. I think it’s-“ the other girl replied, voice dropping low out of earshot. There were more hushed whispers before you heard one last remark.

“He’s such an asshole.”

That, you could agree on.

There was a moment of silence before a gentle knock came through from the other side of the door. Your heart jumped in your chest as you stared at the stall door, the girls on the other side still unknown.

“Hey girl? You okay in there?” one of the girls asked. You weren’t sure how to answer so you got to your feet and slowly unlocked the stall door. It swung open to reveal two girls, one a tall sun kissed girl with beautiful braids. The other, a pretty asian girl you recognised from French class, her name was Lisa or something.

“Hi.” you finally said. There was a long dreading moment of silence as you waited for them to laugh in your face but it didn’t come.

“It was what’s his name, Lanky Norris or something, right? He likes to pick you on, doesn’t he?” the tall girl asked, you instantly liked her. You let out a laugh through tears, the two girls smiled, success clear on their faces.

“Yeah.” you nodded, wiping your face for any stray tears that still lingered on your cheeks.

“He’s so annoying, the only reason he’s here is because his Daddy’s rich, ya know?” she grimaced as she crossed her arms.

“You’re also here because of your Daddy’s money, Sandy.” Lisa reminded her with a gentle nudge, you let out a laugh at Sandy’s frown.

“Okay, calm your farm, girl. I’m trying to insult him to make our new friend here feel better.” she shot back, throwing an incredulous look your way as she shook her head.

Lisa held her hands up in defence with a grin on her face.

“Okay, okay. Well, Y/N, let’s get you out of here and get you something to eat.” she suggested. The two girls pulled you out from the bathroom stall and you left the bathroom with two new friends and a smile.

<—————————————————————————————————>

Lando had heard the rumours going around, two popular girls he wasn’t a big fan of had found you in the girl’s bathroom crying. He knew he was the one at fault for that, Lando knew you weren’t as strong as you came off to be. But he always let his pride and selfishness take over because the truth was you were right, you were better than him. And he knew it too.

And that’s what pissed him off the most is that you were and would always be better than him. Not only at karting, in school and everything else too.

He guessed he owed you an apology, the hard truth was that he sort of admired your strength, you weren’t as strong as you came off to be because you were much more stronger. He’d seen you be treated badly by most of the other boys on the track, but he was too much of a coward to stick up for you because that would mean his feelings for you would be obvious. If only you knew-

“What do you want, Norris?”

He stopped in his tracks oblivious to the fact that he’s stopped right next to your locker. His palms instantly became clammy like they did each time he saw you as he attempted to find his words that had gotten caught in his throat.

“I didn’t- I mean- “ he stumbled on his words, mentally cursing himself as he made a fool of himself in front of you.

You let out a scoff as you shut your locker door with a loud SLAM, gaining the attention of other students who lingered around, their eyes floating toward you both. Lando flinched from the sound, becoming aware of the surrounding eyes.

“Save it. Your words mean nothing but shit to me.” you spat angrily.

Lando stood defeated as he watched you walk away. His heart was beating loudly in his ears, his mind was telling him to do something, but what? He didn’t know.

“I’M SORRY!” he yelled at the top of his voice before he lost the courage to do anything at all. Everyone in the hallway stopped to stare at him. If people hadn’t been interested, they sure were now. A scarlet red hue appeared across his face as you slowly turned and walked up to him, a giant grin on your face.

“What’d you say? I don’t think I heard it the first time?” you held your hand to your ear, propping up on your heels. He let out a sigh, you could be a big pain in the ass when you wanted to be. Yet he could still fell his heart beating ever so loudly in his chest.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled, aware of all the eyes now watching you both.

“Didn’t catch that, wanna repeat it one more time?” you asked, a smile pulling at your lips as you leaned closer which only made his face redder.

“Fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those thing. It was dumb and fucking stupid. You do belong here, hell you’re probably the only one who does, you didn’t use your parents money to get here unlike the rest of us. So, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve all of the shit I’ve put you through the last few years.”

You pulled away, staring him in the eyes you nodded. A silent thank you.

“It’s alright, Norris. It’s no secret i’m better than you anyways.” you chimed with a laugh. Lando felt his heart flutter as your laugh echoed through the hallway.

“C’mon, we have English class.” you turned on your heel and that’s all it took for Lando to follow after.

<—————————————————————————————————>

School passed in a quick intense blur as both you and Lando graduated in no time. A couple months after becoming close friends you’d gotten together, a bit of a shock to everyone at school who’d only ever seen you fighting before. Especially Lisa and Sandy, whom you were still close with despite your busy schedule now.

Your relationship with Lando was going great, both of you had slowly moved from the ranks of F4 to F3 to F2 and now you were both at the age of 19 soon to make your F1 debuts.

Lando had signed with McLaren, a team he’d had close ties with ever since he was a teenager his father was a close associate with Zak Brown. Lando alongside Carlos Sainz were to be the 2019 McLaren team.

You, on the other hand had signed with Ferrari, a big dream ever since you were a young kid. You were going to be driving with Charles Leclerc, a guy who was like a god to your family. You’d be driving alongside some of the greatest drivers of all time, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Fernando Alonso and many more.

It was no secret that you were dating Lando, most of the public seemed to take it well and the media weren’t too concerned with trying to pry into your relationship. One thing you were thankful for. Yet you were oblivious to the fact that it might change once everything started in F1.

You knew with Formula 1 more obstacles would come your way and attempt to break you and Lando’s relationship, you just hoped it would be enough to stand it all.

“Hey love? You alright?” Lando’s voice sailed across the living room of your parents’ house from the kitchen. Your silence when he asked a question prompted him to check if you were okay.

“Yep.” you quickly replied, laughing when Lando poked his head from around the corner for the sole purpose to raise his eyebrows at you.

“You sure? Wanna talk about it?” he offered, walking over to you and joining you on the couch. You smiled as you pressed up against him, pecking him gently on his cheek.

“Just thinking about what it’ll be when the season starts.” you told him as he wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to lean against him. His touch allowing a sense of peacefulness in the moment making you believe it would be okay.

“Me too. It’s kinda of scary isn’t it? Everything we dreamt of is coming true.” Lando mused as he leant his head down against yours. You let out a gentle exhale, “Yeah.”

There was a long moment of calm silence as you both sat there in the comfort of one another. Lando drew circles on your palm with his fingers as you closed your eyes.

“But. . .?” Lando offered, looking down at you with a soft smile. You chuckled, “You know me so well.” you grinned as you nestled your face in the crook of his neck.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked.

You let out another sigh as you pulled away facing the tv that was playing FRIENDS.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just scared of what might happen to. . . us. You know? I’ve seen what can happen to couples when their lives are shoved into the spotlight.” you held your breath as you looked up at him, awaiting his reaction.

He gently rested his head on yours again, relieving the tightness inside you.

“That’s not going to happen to us, I promise, Twinkle Toes. I trust you, I trust us. I always have. Whatever happens we’ll get through it together” he assured you with such certainty it nearly made you believe him. You smiled, he always managed to make your heart flutter no matter how long you’d been together. The chemistry had managed to continue after all these years was unmatched.

“I love you, Loverboy.”

“Love you more, Twinkle Toes.”

<—————————————————————————————————>

“ITS LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO.”

Your heart jumped inside your chest as you hit the accelerator, the car moving forward to your command. It almost didn’t seem real, the loud cheers of the people in the grandstands were one to rival a concert.

It was the same exhilarating feeling each time you raced, pressure but nonetheless excitement resting on your shoulders. The first few laps went by smoothly, you were in P12 after beginning in P14 after qualifying. Not too bad if you could say so yourself.

Soon enough you found yourself in the second last lap, you were currently in P6 after a spinning out from Daniel Ric took out three other drivers. The commotion after that had lasted quite a while as everyone was forced to wait. But the race still continued, a certain McLaren was on your tail as you both fought for P6. You were struggling to keep Lando at bay, defence was never one of your strengths. In this case it proved to be a big liability.

The waving checkered flag came around in no time as you and Lando crossed the finish line half a second apart.

“Who’s pole?” you asked your radio engineer as you pulled off the race track, loud cheers greeting you as you stopped the car.

“Hamilton, P1, Verstappen P2 and Leclerc P3.” your radio engineer replied.

“Sweet, that’s great for Charles.” you replied, “Good job guys, P6, that’s not half bad.”

<—————————————————————————————————>

The 2019 Championship went by in a quick exhilarating blur. And so did 2020, 2021 and 2022. Covid posed a problem for a while but everyone managed. Lando and you had been stuck at home focusing on other things, he with his Twitch channel and you on your own things.

Maybe you chose to ignore it, too focused on your career to pay attention to the cracks that had begun to surface in you and Lando’s relationship.

So now here you were in off-season awaiting 2023. Both unsure of what to do with each other’s time after being away from one another for so long.

“Hey, love? You going to come sit down and eat?” Lando’s voice called from the kitchen table. You’d moved in together in an apartment in Monaco not long after your first F1 season. A sense of hopelessness tainted his words, one you chose to ignore.

“Yep! Give me like one second!” you yelled back from your bedroom. You knew you had to stop pretending everything was fine, it clearly wasn’t and you both knew it too.

It was the time and the media at fault, something you would constantly tell yourself over and over again. Yet if you really thought about it you could only really blame yourself. There was no use in blaming all of those other things if it was just the two of you in the relationship.

You got up and walked into the dining room, smiling softly upon seeing Lando sitting down already. But the smile wasn’t reciprocated on his face and the one on yours had vanished by the moment you got to the table.

“Y/N, I think we need to talk.” he said gently, looking up at you. You let out a breath one you hadn’t noticed you were holding, nodding as you replied. “Yeah.” you breathed, the shakiness in your voice evident.

You took a seat across from him and awaited for everything to spill out.

“What’s been happening? What happened to us?” his simple words hung in silence as you found your own.

“I don’t - I don’t know.” you admitted, unable to meet his eyes that you knew were filled with disappointment, you stared down at the plate in front of you.

“Then why haven’t we tried to fix it? Is this it? Do you not want to be with me anymore?” he asked, his voice breaking as he looked at you helplessly for your answer. Your heart jumped as you looked up at him, his face breaking your heart as they searched your eyes for an answer.

“No! Lando, of course I want to be with you, I just- I’m scared.” you inhaled, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. Your heart was thumping loud in your chest as you closed your eyes.

“Scared of what?” Lando asked, reaching his hand across the table to hold yours. You took another breath in. . . and the words slipped out.

“They want me to take your seat at McLaren.”

“What?”

“No- It’s not what it sounds like, I promise. I just found out, I swear. I was going to tell you when they told me but I-” you stammered as you searched to find some way to salvage from the damage that was now done.

“When did you find out?” Lando asked, his hand had now retracted from holding yours and now at his side. Your lip wobbled, unable to lie to him you answered, your throat closing in on you. It was something impossible, a change in seats and teams being so close cut to the season?

It was basically impossible and yet here you were.

“At the end of last season.” you managed to say as your voice wobbled.

That was well off two months ago.

You knew you should’ve told him the moment they suggested it to you. It would’ve been the right thing to do but you just could never find a good time to tell him. Yet that was just something you’d told yourself to make it seem better.

Lando let out a scoff, “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, standing out of his chair, a loud scraping noise filled the apartment, dinner on the table long forgotten. You stared up at him, regret tainted your face.

You stood up too, reaching out for him.

“I did, I mean I tried to. I just didn’t know how to tell you, they didn’t want me to. I know I should’ve told you. I’m sorry Lan, I really am.” you stammered, tripping over your own words.

He pulled away from your grasp like you had burnt him. “I thought we were in this together, I trusted us, I thought you did too. But apparently not.”

“No, wait, Lando. Stop, where are you going?” you asked helplessly as you followed him to the door. He grabbed his keys from the kitchen bench, unable to look in your direction as he answered.

“I have to go. Go somewhere away from you.”

The front door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed against the wall in a heap of sobs.

<—————————————————————————————————>

A week passed and Lando didn��t come back home. You called him, texted, all of them going to either voicemail or delivered and unanswered.

You tried asking the other drivers of the grid whether they’d spoken to him but they all answered with the same thing: that he’d asked them to leave him alone for the time being.

You hated yourself right now. You should’ve told him the moment McLaren offered his seat to you. You had been scared that if he knew he’d leave, and well, keeping it from him resulted in just the same thing you wanted to avoid.

You wanted to feel mad, mad at him because your selfishness couldn’t help but want to blame him. Yet, you knew it was wrong, the only person at fault was you. So here you sat in the waiting lobby of McLaren, surrounded by so many people who were associates with Lando it made you feel like a fool. You felt as if everyone was staring at you and not only that but judging hard as if they knew what had happened.

That’s when you spotted him, Lando was walking through the lobby, he was in the same clothes as that night. Your heart dropped as you stood up, unsure of what you were going to say him but you pressed forward. Your footsteps echoed around the lobby as you caught up to Lando who wasn’t yet aware of your presence.

“Lando!” you called, he paused and hesitantly turned around to face you. All those walls you’d broken down throughout the years were now back up again as he stared at you coldly. And it was just like it was back in school, Lando staring down at you as you looked up at him helplessly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked bluntly as he looked pass you, unable to meet your gaze. You swore your heart broke a little when he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Please don’t do this, Lando. I know I messed up. I should’ve told you the second they offered the seat to me. I didn’t want to lose you, I thought that if you knew you’d leave.”

“Well looks like you’ve lost me either way. I don’t care about the seat, Y/N. I care about the fact that you chose to hide it from me, I thought we were in this together.” his eyes flitted from your eyes to away as he took a step backwards. You could feel him slipping from your heart, you reached forward.

“We can! Please, I promise we can fix this, I can fix this. Just don’t leave me, please.” the words tumbled out of you only to come out as desperate and pathetic. It was wrong, you knew it too.

“I can’t do this right now, Y/N. I have to go meet Fred Vasseur at Ferrari.”

“Ferrari?”

Lando let out a sigh, stepping past you as he replied.

“Yeah. Ferrari’s offered me your seat.”

You felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach as you watched Lando walk out the McLaren doors. Tears slipped from your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as you stifled a sob in your hands. You watched him leave, taking your heart with him.

<—————————————————————————————————>

A couple of months later

“Race in 15 minutes.” a voice called in passing as you sat on the steps of your garage. Your eyes floated around to where Oscar stood next to one of the engineers, both peering down at a screen, jabbing at something on it every so often whilst nodding.

Oscar was the other driver who joined the grid this year to race alongside you with Mclaren. He was a young polite funny Australian guy and from what you’d heard and seen- one of the best drivers of the newest generation. He’d already impressed you before on numerous occasions when you would go with Lando to go watch the F2 races when you got the chance. The two of you would go watch your old buddies race and join them in drinking afterwards.

“All good.” you replied, anxiousness creeping its way into your voice as you attempted to banish any thought of Lando. You swallowed hard as you pulled your gloves on, hands trembling as they did before any race.

It was the first race of the 2023 season, there was a new lineup of drivers, some old, some new. Many of the drivers had transferred teams, this included both you and Lando, Carlos, Daniel Riccardo making his comeback and a couple of others.

You and Lando had both decided to call it quits after the whole thing that went down during the off-season. The other drivers were aware of what had happened and honestly it didn’t take a lot of thinking to put the two things together. You and Lando had swapped seats at Ferrari and McLaren, and alongside it your relationship had crumbled and fallen apart. Charles and Max, the two drivers you were closest with and looked up to like brothers had also provided comfort, saying they would’ve done the same. But you knew it wasn’t true, they just said it to make you feel better.

You and Lando hadn’t spoken since the day he’d packed everything up and left the apartment. You’d been absent when he’d left.

Neither of you had the bravery to reach out yet and neither of you could too busy with other things. Yet, two months later you still missed him, longing for his comfort and endless love he’d given you. It made you feel sick, it all felt so misplaced and wrong.

Both Sandy and Lisa had provided you with solace and comfort with their weekly movie nights at your apartment with buckets of ice cream. But it wasn’t the same, you still felt like you were missing something. Or someone. And either way, it would’ve been Lando.

Life just felt so wrong without him. There wasn’t anyone to ramble to each time you came back from work, no one to sit down with and watch corny movies with popcorn with. No one to sit on the balcony with and watch the stars late at night, no one to go on day trips to beach with and build sandcastles only for them to be swallowed by the ocean at the end of the day.

All of those things you’d found within Lando ever since Day 1. He was the person who kept you grounded, the person who’d stay up rubbing circles on your palms late at night when you couldn’t fall asleep or who would keep you company as you cooked in the kitchen.

And all because of a few dumb thoughts you’d lost it all in a mere few days. If you could turn back time you would’ve gone back and fixed everything. Now the only thing you could do was sit and wallow in regret and self pity.

<—————————————————————————————————>

You felt a soft tapping on your helmet, you looked up through the visor of your helmet to see Charles standing next to you, a wide spread grin on his face.

You broke into a smile as you stood up, pulling your helmet off.

“Hey old man, what’s up?” you greeted your former teammate with a hug. His smile dropped, replaced with a grimace upon hearing the nickname from you.

“Came to see you, you traitor. Can’t believe you’d choose this colour over this colour.” he remarked in disgust as he pointed to your suit and then his own. You had to admit, the bright red did look a lot nicer than the papaya orange you were currently sporting.

“Part of the job, I can’t say no unfortunately. It’ll grow onto me eventually.” you shrugged spreading your arms out and looking down at the papaya coloured suit.

Charles clicked his tongue dismissively before his expression turned soft, something you’d seen too much of lately.

“You sure you okay though? Have you spoken to-“ he cleared his throat, leaning in before whispering, “Lando.” like it was some sort of forbidden word. You bit back a laugh.

“It’s okay you can say his name.” You chuckled, Charles eyed you suspiciously.

“Are you sure? Because the last time I did you cried for 2 hours.” He answered.

You swatted him defensively, “That was ages ago!”

“That was last week.”

“Whatever.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Will you talk to him?” Charles asked.

“Nah, it’s fine though, we can’t talk. Not for now at least.” you told him, but your voice was strained as your eyes flickered around the garage. Charles knew you hadn’t taken breaking up with Lando well. As your “older brother” alongside Max the two of them made it their sole mission to keep you from harms way, that being Lando.

He looked at you with pity, you caught his eye before scoffing. Wallowing in self pity was something you’d done too many times this year.

“Don’t look at me like that, Charles.” You said, letting out a huff.

“Like what, Y/N?” he prompted cautiously. You couldn’t get pissed at Charles, he knew it too. After all, that’s what a big brother did, annoy the shit out of you.

“That you feel bad for me. I’m fine, I swear.”

But you didn’t believe the words that came out from your mouth either. He chuckled as he ruffled your hair affectionately before you swatted his hand away.

“I know you are, petite soeur.”

Your nose scrunched up at the nickname Charles had dubbed you ever since your first season. It meant little sister in French or something like that, you were yet to Google it.

He let out one of his contagious laughs before patting you on the back gently, before leaning in and whispering;

“But seriously, if you want Max and I can push him off the track anytime.”

“Okay, time to go, old man.” you said as you shoved him out the garage door. He rounded the corner with one last dumb grin and salut.

“See you out there, petite soeur!”

<—————————————————————————————————>

1 more lap to go.

You could feel your foot getting a cramp from switching between the accelerator and brake, you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your neck and your breathing was heavy.

Right next to you, battling for P2 was Lando. Such a coincidence. Thanks universe, you thought as you turned the steering wheel as you rounded turn 3. Max was long gone in the distance probably nearing the checkered flag already leaving the rest of the grid in dust.

Zhou and Stroll were out already both crashing into the same barriers at turn 7, something you were used to at this point. (IM JOKING, I love them)

In the corner of your eyes you could see and feel Lando closing in on you, pushing you off the track.

You gripped the steering wheel, turning it in the direction of the Ferrari but he was quick to use this as a chance to slip in front of you as you both rounded a corner. You hit the steering wheel angrily as you watched Lando in front of you.

A long strand of curse words left your mouth as you crossed the finish line. The FIA was sure to have fun with that.

Your heart was pounding in your ears loudly as you pulled the car aside to a stop. Your team cheered, you’d gotten on the podium. But it wasn’t a win to you, you’d fallen for Lando’s terribly obvious trap and allowed him to take advantage. You felt like such a fool, he seemed to have that effect on you.

Thanks, universe, you’re a pain in the ass, you thought as your team surrounded you celebrating loudly. Any thought of Lando disappeared in an instant as you were pulled into hugs from your team and instead replaced with smiles and laughter.

You were pulled up onto the platform next to Max, and Lando whom you avoided interacting with the entire podium stand part. Everything after that was a quick blur until the after race press conference.

“Here we’re joined by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris and Y/N

L/N.”

You forced a smile, honestly the only thing you wanted right now was to be at home eating ice cream with Sandy and Lisa. Or be sleeping, you’d be okay with either of those options. Yet, here you were sitting on a couch alongside your friend and ex-boyfriend in front of a bunch of reporters.

You glanced over at Max who’d thoughtfully placed himself in between both you and Lando. Something you were sure to thank him for afterwards. He sent you a gentle smile, one you returned without hesitation.

The first couple of questions were pretty simple ones, you avoided adding onto Lando’s answers and he to yours and there was no need to.

That was until a young female reporter took the opportunity to ask about you and Lando’s relationship. Something that caught you unprepared and by surprise.

“So Y/N and Lando,” she began, you could feel your heartbeat spiking as you looked around, every PR training you’d sat through instantly disappearing from your mind.

“There’s been rumours going around that the seat transition wasn’t something that was thoroughly discussed before the contract signing. Is there something you’d like to add on about this?”

You swallowed hard as you avoided meeting Lando’s gaze, one you could see in the corner of your eye.

“N-no comment.” you managed to say.

“Right. So how about you and Lando’s relationship status, there’s been some sources claiming-“

“Okay. I think that’s enough. We’re here to answer questions about the race, nothing else.” Max cut off as he stepped in with a stern voice, one that was sure to make anyone go silent. You prayed to god that no one heard the giant sigh of relief that you let out after Max interjected. You could feel yourself shrinking under the stares of all the reporters and photographers as you sat in front of them.

The rest of the conference went by in plain awkwardness, answers were now only answered by Max, yet another thing you had to thank him for.

You finally exhaled as you stepped out of the conference room, Max behind you, Lando had gone out the other door. You leant against the empty corridor wall, head pressed against the cool plaster.

“That was a nightmare.” you groaned loudly, the exhaustion obvious in your voice. Max let out a sigh as he crossed his arms disapprovingly.

“That was unacceptable on their side to allow the reporter to keep asking such questions.” Max mused, anger tainted his voice. You let out a laugh as you turned to him.

“Thanks, Maximilian.” you broke into a grin knowing how much he hated being called that. He huffed disapprovingly, “Maybe next time I wont save your sorry ass.”

“Okay, okay. Calm your farm, pal.” you replied as you both began walking down the corridor headed toward the entrance where there was sure to be a giant crowd waiting.

“I’ll go get that reporter fired.” Max announced loudly despite it only being the two of you in the corridor. You looked up at him, holding back a laugh despite the look on his face being the opposite.

“Admirable goals, but it’s fine really. I’m sure Twitter will have a fun time tearing her apart.” you waved it off with a gentle smile knowing just how brutal the audience on Twitter could be.

Max chuckled, “Everything else okay though?” You knew instantly what he was talking about, you appreciated the concern, you really did but you could handle yourself.

Your smile fell, replaced with narrow eyes and a clenched jaw as you eyed him.

“Did Charles put you up to this?” you asked him skeptically, he shook his head.

“I’m allowed to worry about you too, you know.” he added with a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks Maximilian, for everything.”

“Okay, you can shut up now.”

<—————————————————————————————————>

“Y/N?”

“One second!” you called, trying to avoid the oil that was spattering into a puddle beside your face. You were currently in your father’s mechanic shop underneath a car working away at it. You were still blowing off steam after the press conference that had happened on the weekend and your father was more than happy to lend you the garage for just that. You knew some part of you wanted Lando to approach you after the race, even if it wasn’t to talk but just to say something, you know?

But even if he had you were sure how you’d react.

“Can you pass me the wrench?” you called to the unknown person. You heard a loud clatter of metal before a wrench was stuck in your face.

“Thanks.” you grumbled as you took it from them, pausing as a shock of realisation hit you.

Wait, that watch on their wrist.

Your dumbass tried sitting up on the board while still under the car.

BAM.

“Ouch, fucking hell.” you swore loudly as you pulled yourself out from underneath the car. Rubbing your forehead in pain as you stood up, before your eyes settled on the person in front of you.

Your mind blanked as Lando stared back at you. You could see him biting back a laugh at your misfortune. He was in a white shirt, one button too many undone for you to know where this was going. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he stood watching you as you walked his way.

“Fine. Laugh, you asshole.” you grumbled as you brushed past him. Gripping the wrench in your fist as you held back the strong urge to whack his head in with it. Lando laughed and you’d be lying if the sound of it didn’t still make your insides turn and do flips.

“Calm down Twinkle Toes, I’m not here to laugh at you. I’m here to . . . apologise.” his tone turning serious, you let out an steady exhale.

You missed being called that, it was a dumb nickname he’d given you as children, back when you were each other’s biggest rivals on the track.

Twinkle Toes and Loverboy, a duo to rival Chandler and Joey. Or at least that’s what your dumb asses came up with at the time.

You let the wrench fall from your grip and onto the bench with a loud metallic clatter, breaking the silence before you spoke.

“Yeah.” you breathed, staring at the wall in attempt to not let your guard slide down so easily.

“Want to go for a ride?”

You turned around with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed and all. Lando stared back at you, heat flushing up your cheeks as a smile tugged at his lips.

“What?”

“C’mon, Twinkle Toes, let’s get out of here.” he said with a gentle nod of his head in the direction of his car parked outside.

And that’s all it took for you to drop everything and follow him out the garage.

<————————————————————————————-—————>

You let out a soft gasp when Lando pulled up at the track where you both used to race on during your karting days. The sun was already beginning to slip back the mountains and buildings and out of view, you bit your lip nervously as you opened the car door.

Was this right?

Were you making a big mistake?

Despite your lingering doubts you followed him onto the empty track. The first few minutes of walking were full of silence, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable despite everything that had happened. It was peaceful of all things.

“I-“

You both immediately retracted your words as you both began at the same time. You looked away, “God this worse than that movie we watched that one time.” you murmured with a soft laugh. Lando found himself chuckling knowing exactly which movie you were talking about.

“Let me go first, then.” he offered, you nodded silently. A long string of silence filled the air, only the sound of your footsteps on the track could be heard.

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Honestly? I would’ve done the same thing. I shouldn’t have given so easily on us, I should’ve given us a second chance. Because bloody hell these last two months without you have been absolute shit. I don’t even know who I am without you, and maybe in someway that’s a bad thing but I don’t care as long as I have you.” he stopped in his tracks and faced you, his dark green eyes reflecting the light in the sunset as it cast its gaze over his face.

Your hand cupped his cheek softly, your heart fluttering when he pressed his face into your hand, loving how it fit perfectly.

Just like that it was like you were both high schoolers again. Slipping out of class to steal kisses in the hallways before they were crowded with students. Sneaking out at night through your window to go walk around the streets late together.

You swallowed hard and spoke.

“After everything happened, my life completely just stopped still. And it felt like I had lost half of who I was because the truth is, Lando, that you’re a part of me. Ever since we were kids it’s like without you i’m lost. I should’ve told you the moment they offered me the seat, I was just ashamed and scared. Because I wanted a future with you, because I still do. I want to marry you, have a family and grow old right next to you.”

You stared longingly into his eyes as he pulled you closer. You fell into his arms as they wrapped around you like your own protective shield. Because the truth was that Lando was your home. You let out a shaky breath, as you pulled back and leant in for a kiss only for your lips to be captured in a gentle motion.

It was something out of a cheesy teen movie, one that the two of you would just hate - two figures kissing as the sun set in the back of a race track.

“You’re crazy.” you whispered against his lips.

“Crazy for you.” he whispered back, sending you both into fits of laughter. This was it, this was right, this was home.

“C’mon, let’s go home Twinkle Toes.”

“After you, Loverboy.”

A/n: STOP ITS SO CRINGEY I WANNA DIEE

Jk.

Tysm for reading! I apologise again for the bad writing, this is just an old piece that I really wanted to get out there, I hope u cringed just as much as I did reading this! Stay safe and have an amazing day - xoxo takimakiiii (yes I changed my name it was long overdue lol)

#lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando x you #oscar piastri #charles leclerc x reader #f2 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 angst

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atlabeth · 1 year ago

Text

dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.2k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake.

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point.

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel.

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there.

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always.

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.”

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?”

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.”

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.”

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says.

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes.

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says.

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.”

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs.

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.”

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.”

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file.

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene.

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house.

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt.

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control.

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics.

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it.

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything.

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect.

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.”

“What has he been charged for?”

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail a little less than a year ago, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs.

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind.

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive.

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.”

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh.

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising.

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock.

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford.

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.”

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?”

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?”

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says.

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…”

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house.

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all.

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub.

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.”

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?”

He nods. “I had a change of heart.”

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.”

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.”

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Louis area.”

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him.

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things:

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be.

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school.

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts.

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says.

You glower at him, but you stay silent.

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.”

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.”

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?”

You nod. “He lives with me.”

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

“Why is that?” Hotch asks.

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too.

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going.

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.”

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.”

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?”

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you.

“Really?”

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him.

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her.

And he didn’t even know when she died.

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad.

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went last year.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says.

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb.

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.”

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.”

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even.

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.”

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.”

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.”

“Do you want them to?”

“…No.”

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.”

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.”

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.”

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says.

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.”

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.”

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door.

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again.

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up.

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?”

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.”

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret.

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.”

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case—

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.

You’ve changed a lot. So has he.

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him.

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind.

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.”

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!”

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.”

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts.

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief.

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe.

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused.

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss.

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.”

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.”

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses.

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once.

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck.

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on.

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity.

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs.

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world.

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air.

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger.

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it.

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing.

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people.

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong.

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you.

Because god— what are the odds?

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother?

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years.

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time.

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant.

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you.

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.”

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties.

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you.

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?”

“Not one for small talk,” you remark.

“I never have been.”

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.”

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now.

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face.

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.”

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.”

“And home is?”

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.”

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says.

“Sources can lie.”

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.”

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.”

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up.

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had.

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened.

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”

“None of those sound like questions,” you say.

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“You don’t know,” he repeats.

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I stay out of his business.”

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it?”

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.”

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?”

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“You didn’t tell him—”

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?”

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse.

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.”

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.”

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.”

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?”

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.”

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply.

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly.

“And you’re wrong, by the way.”

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken.

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.”

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you.

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.”

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.”

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. You know he already knows it, but it still seems to have some effect on him. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.”

“…I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least.

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.”

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.”

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.”

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.”

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron.

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“You know th—”

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.”

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.”

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file.

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking.

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.”

“The profile—”

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.”

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly.

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this.

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right.

You have to be right.

The room feels even colder.

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do.

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him.

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room.

“She does not like you.”

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie.

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.”

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands.

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor.

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.”

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.”

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him.

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him.

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things.

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.”

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again.

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.”

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.”

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.”

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation.

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.”

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego.

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.”

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside.

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch…

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore.

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you.

“They sent a new one in,” you say.

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual.

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off.

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation.

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time.

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks.

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks.

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says.

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet.

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong.

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier.

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once.

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron.

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s chest as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard.

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you.

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round.

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed.

Aaron says your name, and you hum.

“Are you listening?” he asks.

“Of course,” you say.

“Your eyes are closed.”

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?”

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly.

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully.

Your eyes open and you frown.

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate.

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.”

“…Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?”

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.”

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?”

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron.

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction.

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up.

“Go for it,” you finally say.

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?”

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.”

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you.

“Thank you,” he says.

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.”

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything.

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand.

Sometimes you need reminders.

“I love you too.”

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.”

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs.

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third.

No one expected this to happen so soon.

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt.

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work.

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation.

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved.

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it.

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press.

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.”

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.”

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.”

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on.

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.”

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight.

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city.

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information.

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.”

“What are they?” Hotch asks.

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says.

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks.

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.”

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.”

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.”

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests.

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.”

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?”

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.”

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully.

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.”

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.

“And?” Hotch asks.

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.”

Hotch frowns. You?

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.”

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again.

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.”

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.”

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up.

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.”

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.”

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.”

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died a year ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail nine months ago after a six year stint.”

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.”

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.”

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.”

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.”

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.”

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.”

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says.

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods.

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him.

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says.

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks.

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.”

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him.

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him.

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?”

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.”

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?”

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—”

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.”

“What would I do without you?” he asks.

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.”

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up.

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him.

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze.

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind.

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”

And he does.

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear.

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale.

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame.

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner.

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff.

Of course you have to deal with this now.

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down.

“You’re already packed.”

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.”

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning.

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask.

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks.

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?”

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.”

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit.

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him.

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?”

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head.

You take the box from him and smile thinly.

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open.

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.”

“They haven’t been back, have they?”

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail.

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests.

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.”

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops.

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff.

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.”

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit.

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.”

“I agree with you,” he says.

“That’s it,” you muse.

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up.

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.”

“…Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.”

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?”

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to.

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.”

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.”

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.”

“What have they said about me?” he asks.

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…”

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.”

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.”

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.”

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.”

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home.

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up.

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before.

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard.

Then, there’s nothing.

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is.

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at.

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims.

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters.

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that.

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him.

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that.

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?”

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.”

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.”

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching.

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up.

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night.

And now…

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not.

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?”

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it.

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.”

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly.

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him.

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.”

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words.

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why.

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes.

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs.

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze.

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.”

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.”

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body.

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life.

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.”

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.”

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?”

“…You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.”

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.”

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.”

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say.

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.”

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.”

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises.

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother was dead, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided.

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?”

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!”

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.”

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.”

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to.

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly.

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget.

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out.

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw your way back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here.

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now.

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.”

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.”

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.”

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.”

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says.

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats.

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.”

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.”

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?”

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.”

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you.

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns.

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think.

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?”

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.”

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave.

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.”

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.”

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?”

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.”

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.”

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.”

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.”

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.”

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you.

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.”

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you.

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it.

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground.

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you.

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him.

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force.

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead.

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake.

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms.

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment.

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers.

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron.

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!”

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours.

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete.

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.”

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name.

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die.

You wake up in the hospital alone.

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you.

The real surprise is that you wake up at all.

Lucas is dead.

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded.

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real.

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life.

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day.

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all.

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life.

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind.

He was going to kill you.

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU.

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner.

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him.

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you.

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside.

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly.

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.”

“And how long have I been here?”

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.”

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask.

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…”

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.”

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.”

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?”

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start.

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.”

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.”

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.”

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!”

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.”

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—”

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same.

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper.

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life.

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues.

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number.

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.”

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner.

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.”

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together.

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.”

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.”

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit.

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.”

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.”

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out.

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume.

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.”

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down.

“Okay.”

And he stays.

This time, he stays.

#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it #i wrote 15k words in 5 days #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

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angelwishess · 8 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 Floyra Intro Post !

❝Because theres no one on the land or in the sea more in sync than those two.❞

|| playlist. || moodboard. || pinterest quotes. || pinterest board. || (<- in the “Dynamic w Floyd” section!) { A more “emotional” yap session of Floyra and how much deeper their relationship is }

— Floyra Content Masterlist

Floyra is the ship of my main oc, Kyra and Floyd! Kyra is my Yuusona twisted from the Disney Princess Stereotype.

This intro post is just to graph out the timeline and details of their relationship. Funfacts at the end :3 (Fair warning though, this ended up being SUPER long… So feel free just to skip to the funfacts if you want HAHAHA)

Please note I may or may not have changed some things in the canon storyline for my own amusement hehe. Nothing too major though.

Tropes :

Idiots to Lovers, Bestfriends to Lovers, Soulmates, literally the DENSEST people ever … Actually they’re more like cowards. Mutual pining, mutual SIMPING they ADORE eachother they are absolutely WHIPPED, chaotic lovey dovey couple, tooth-rotting fluff, no i mean seriously this is the fluffiest ship EVER, they make eachother both better and worse simultaniously. They share the same braincell. Basically already a couple before they even start dating but they dont realize it.

Kyra: “What?? Ofc we’re not dating lmao wdym we’re just friends!!” <- just held his face tenderly and looked into his eyes adoringly while calling him the prettiest boy in the world and kissing his face all over

Floyd: “yeah lol why would u think that” <- arm around her waist, basically always looking at her with a dopey grin and heart eyes

First Impressions

When Floyd heard that there was an unexpected appearance of a magicless student at the entrance ceremony that blazed in with a flaming fire tanuki and set fire to the mirror chamber, he was intrigued. When he learned that very same student was, quite literally, from an entirely different world, he was even more intrigued.

Not to mention the fact she lived in that rundown, deteriorating 'dorm' that was literally called Ramshackle, and she was almost expelled with two other guppies on the very first day of school.

But, when he saw her for himself he was... Disappointed.

Often times she just stood by the sidelines, seemingly in her own world with a far-off look in her eyes and an empty smile that ticked him off for no apparent reason.

She never reacted to anything, letting people walk over her like some sort of welcome mat. Somehow, she didn't even feel alive.

To put it bluntly— Floyd thought she was boring.

Just a wimpy, puny little shrimp who didn't even have any magic. Who wouldn't even run away if her life was on the line, weak and defenseless. Naive. How boring, and here he thought he had another play thing... But wheres the fun if he doesn't get a reaction out of it? How lame.

Kyra and Floyd only officially met during book 2.

Kyra passed by Floyd a bunch of times before— but never actually ‘saw’ him. Floyd on the other hand, already had an opinion of Kyra.

Seeing her just simply standing by the sidelines again and saying nothing and just… Staring. He decided to finally approach her straight up.

Deciding to give her a squeeze for the fun of it— he didn’t expect at all for her to hug him back and basically turn the situation on him instead. It flustered him, and made him walk away from the whole scene out of confusion and embarrassment.

Despite everything, Kyra thought Floyd was amusing.

Building Interest …

As time passed they seemed to keep catching glimpses of eachother. And with each passing day, she seemed to get more and more... Interesting.

Facing overblots despite having no magic, causing trouble left and right and getting into such ridiculous situations it makes you wonder how she does everything she does without getting tired of how absurd it all is.

When his first impression of her was her being ‘boring', his second was her being naive. How else could you explain it? She had to be either ridiculously brave or incredibly stupid and naive to do the things that she does.

Kyra, however, noticed Floyd from time to time. She noticed how he’d say and do things without caring how other people viewed him. He did things because he wants to, and doesn’t because he doesn’t want to.

He was so… Free. So unapologetically himself. So full of life, and genuinity. He was alive. Kyra couldn’t help but be a little jealous… Couldn’t help but admire him. Because everytime she looked at him, and saw him… Being him, she always wondered: Could I be like that, too?

Kyra and Floyd don’t have any notable interactions until the main events of Book 3.

When Kyra decided to strike up a deal with Azul to free all of the students under a contract— Floyd thought she was stupid. Naive, and way too easy of a target. It was laughable. It basically confirmed everything he thought of her.

As Floyd and Jade were monitoring Kyra and Grim as they packed up their things, Kyra acted as if nothing major was happening. Talking to them and cracking jokes like they were old friends. It was then Floyd and Kyra found out they might be more similar than they thought, saying the same things at the same time and holding the same opinions.

When Kyra almost dropped a bag of her things, Floyd helped from impulse. He laughed it off, but Kyra decided to give him a kiss on the cheek as a ‘thank you’.

He froze in place. Not expecting that kind of reaction from her once again, and just kind of… Staring at her as she passed. Jade had another laugh at his brother.

When Kyra first saw Floyd in his merform, he took the chance to try and scare her a little. Just for fun. But just like before— it totally backfired, and Kyra just looked at her with the same wonder as she did the first time. She had the nerve to call him ‘Beautiful’ under her breath, too.

So, Floyd simply swam away after realizing she wasn’t going to give him the reaction he wanted, deciding to play with someone who will.

But when he tried to attack a nearby friend of hers— She punched him straight in the face! A fire burning in her eyes as she straight up threatened him.

Floyd was… Confused. Confused about Kyra, i mean. One moment she was staring at him like he was a of work of art, the next shes throwing hands at him with zero hesitation. He thought she was a pushover— but maybe he was wrong.

She had guts, though. Thats for sure. A magicless little thing like her deciding to put her hands up and fight, even threatening him? A 13ft long eelmer that could rip her apart without a sweat? Something about it.. Scared him a little. Ending up with a bloodied nose, staring down someone who didn’t show any fear or any regret.

Floyd always wanted a challenge. But did he expect that challenge to come in a 5’8 package, decorated with pretty pink bows? No, not at all.

But thats something. And boy, does Floyd love the thrill of the unexpected. After this interaction that past intrigue he had in her before came back 2 times stronger.

It only worsened when Kyra’s little plan to destroy Azul’s contracts actually worked… And Floyd got chills seeing the look on her face.

It was so unlike what he thought of her. A big, smug grin. The face of someone who knows they already won. It was almost malicious. And it was then he realized— she wasn’t as dumb or as naive as he thought she was, either.

But when they got back to the Lounge, it so happened that Leona seemed to have missed one, single contract. When they spotted it, Kyra was the first to react. Managing to grab it before Azul.

Azul wasn’t too happy about it, screeching and yelling for her to give it to him, grabbing her while doing so.

And in that moment of tension, of fear and action, she did something that shocked everyone. In the face of danger, she held the sole contract tightly in her hands and she—

…She ate the contract.

She shoved the glowing papering in her mouth, and swallowed the thing. And it worked. Honestly they didn’t know which was more ridiculous… Her decision, or the fact it was a success.

She grinned so widely, so proudly. She had the nerve to even laugh in Azul’s face. “Yeah, thats right! Screw you, octoboy!”

Floyd couldn’t surpress the laughter that bubbled up his throat watching it all go down. The sound of her laugh ringing in his ears. It was just so… Ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

She had just outsmarted Azul… And the best solution she could think of was to eat the contract? It was downright cartoonish!

But when Azul overblotted, Floyd got to see Kyra in action. He was surprised all over again. But he should be used to it by now, he should expect it. She just keeps surprising him.

She was no pushover— rising up to the challenge when needed. Even if she still acted unserious, even if she acted goofy and wild, she still got down to business and made it work nonetheless.

And he realized she wasn’t anything like what he thought of her before. She was… Nothing like what he thought. Always surpassing his expectations of her no matter how much they changed.

Everytime he thought he had her figured out, she goes and does something that makes him rethink it all over again…

She was very, very interesting. And now, shes got his full attention.

Strangers to Besties!

After the main events of Book 3, Floyd had started following around Kyra more often. Actually, scratch that. He started following her around constantly. She eventually apologized for punching him in the face, too. Surprisingly.

Realizing they were actually very similar, they began hanging out more and more, until they eventually became an inseperable duo that everyone knew about.

At first, most were surprised. Kyra had only just started coming out of her shell, so most were still under the impression she was a sweet, mild mannered young girl.

But after befriending Floyd— all of her self-control truly did go flying out of the window. If she was bad before, she was even worse now. Freely skipping classes more often without a care to go find Floyd, trying to juggle live fish in the courtyard, or jumping out of a window just to escape some of the staff. and the like.

Late night adventures, dancing in the rain, sneaking out of class, spontaneous hang outs and sleepovers, pulling pranks and causing trouble left and right… They were so in sync, its was scary. Kyra was almost like a second Floyd, and everyone knew that it was probably best to run in the other direction when you see them side by side.

No matter what the situation, they always had eachother’s back, too.

It was strange to think they were ever strangers. They felt like they’ve known eachother for years— thats how well they’ve grown to know eachother. They were as thick as thieves!

Hanging out everyday, whenever they could, they just had so much fun together all the time!

To everyone’s dismay, of course. They were far too in sync, if the chaos around one of them was bad it combined when they were together.

Floyd finally found someone who could keep up with him, and even better, keep him on his toes. Kyra surprised him everyday, and thats what he loved. He found someone who understood him, too.

Kyra on the otherhand, found someone who encouraged all of her once repressed desires. She found someone she could be herself with, with no fear of judgement.

Never one without the other, those two. Wherever Kyra was Floyd was surely close to follow, and wherever Floyd was Kyra was most definetly near. They followed eachother around, always stayed close to one another.

Slowly, they’ve grown to not only seek eachother out to go and have fun, but also for comfort.

Platonic ..?

What started as a simple friendship which focused on the high of ‘having fun’ and causing trouble, or just basically being partners in crime— slowly turned into something much more… Intimate.

When Floyd stormed all the way to Ramshackle after a bad day at Mostro Lounge, he didn’t really know what to expect, he just wanted to get away from everyone else and Ramshackle was the best place he could think of.

He didn’t expect Kyra to be so caring. Pulling him into her arms and running her fingers through his hair while encouraging him to rant.

Kyra had always been an affectionate person, he knew that. It started small— little kisses on the cheek and forehead from Kyra to him, hugs and the like. But this was different. It felt different, atleast.

The way she held him felt different, and the way her lips gently kissed his skin made all of the stress from before sizzle into nothing.

He couldn’t help but melt, and before they knew it this became a routine for them, too.

They grew to find themselves comfortable being vulnerable around eachother. Showing sides of themselves to eachother most wouldn’t see. And they knew eachother better than anyone else did.

Simple, friendly touches became something more. The playful wrap of Floyd’s arm around her waist became tighter, and Kyra’s touches on him lingered for longer. Suddenly the playful ‘I Love You’s didn’t seem platonic anymore— atleast not with the way they looked at eachother while they said it.

Simply seeking eachother out to go cause chaos turned into seeking eachother out to just simply be in eachother’s presence instead. Whatever activity they did started to come second, and as long as they were together they were as happy as could be.

Of course, they never recognized this change. In their point of view, they’ve always been like this. But everyone else can see as plain as day, that something definetly changed.

It was painful for everyone involved, really. For some reason neither of them seemed to acknowledge the obvious feelings between eachother.

Everyone could see the way they looked at eachother, the way they acted around eachother… Everything was so painfully blatant… But they still couldn’t admit it. Even when the lines between friendship and intimacy began to blur.

Realizations!

Nothing about their relationship really changed at this point. They just kind of realized their romantic feelings after being deep in denial for WAYY too long.

The first to realize their feelings was actually Kyra, believe it or not. Which is funny because shes never been the best at realizing her own emotions in general.

It happened when Floyd said something that struck her with that arrow of realization. She asked one day, why exactly does he hang around her, asking if it was because she was pretty. She was only half joking, there was a part of her that genuinely wondered why he stuck around her for so long. Even she didn’t expect this friendship to last… But it did. And she can’t imagine her life without him in it anymore.

And thats exactly why she asked. Though she was smiling, she was somewhat scared of what he’d say.

“What? ‘Course not. Why’d I ever care about something as stupid as that?”

That shocked Kyra straight to her core. It was something so simple, yet it was new to her. She, who has never been valued for anything other than her beauty.

For a moment, that facade of false bravado faded, it cracked and her smile dropped. Genuinely surprised at how quickly he answered, and how honest he seemed while saying it.

“I like you because you’re fun. I don’t give a damn about how pretty you are, if you were boring I would’ve ditched ya a long time ago! Hahaha!”

She couldn’t do anything but stare. “…You think i’m fun?” “Well— Yeah. The most fun person I’ve ever met. I’ve never gotten bored with ya, Sea Angel!“ again, it was something so simple. Almost childish, in a way.

But yet… Something like that made her heart race faster than it did when facing any kind of danger.

She swears her heart was trying to escape from her chest with how fast and how hard it was beating against her ribcage. And her stomach began to turn… Is this what they call ‘getting butterflies’?

To know that her favorite person in the world truly didn’t care about what she looked like… That for once, her beauty never mattered? That he’d never cared for it?

Again, it was so simple. Honestly it was basic human decency, but to know something like that after a life of being seen as a pretty object to oggle at, it was so, so refreshing.

But… Just as it was the first time her heart raced… It was one of the first times she was truly scared.

She was definetly panicked about it, and decided to not say a word of it to anyone. She didn’t want to ruin the friendship they had, after all he was her dearest friend. So she kept her mouth shut and continued on pretending like it was nothing.

She felt selfish having such feelings. She felt as if she didn’t deserve him, like he deserved better than her because she grew up thinking she must be unlovable. And so she kept quiet for the sake of him, too. She thought it was best for the both of them. (<- LIARRRRR!!!!!!)

Kyra had thought she did a good job at keeping everyone at arm’s length— but when she turned around she found herself in his arms instead.

She spent her entire life building up walls that were taller than her, to hide her true self from everyone else. To hide how she really feels. But, Floyd went and teared down all of those well-built walls without her even realizing it.

She never expected someone to ever be able to see her as something more than her appearance. She never thought anyone could look past the surface everyone saw as “her”. But…

Floyd… He made her feel… Normal. He made her feel human. He didn’t seem to care much about how she looked at all and that… Made her really, really happy. But still, even then. He still deserved better.

He deserved more than someone as empty as her.

So, she pretended those feelings didn’t exist. Or, atleast she tried to…

She was honestly a mess. Usually she was so comfortable doing the things they always do together. Holding hands, kissing eachother’s faces, cuddling— but now that she knows how she really feels ??? Oh, shes struggling so SO hard to keep her cool.

Shes always been good at hiding her emotions. But shes never been in love before, and its all so new to her that she doesnt know how to handle it.

In a way its somewhat overwhelming. Although she does a rather good job at keeping her inner turmoil hidden, shes still freaking out internally.

Shes still able to keep up their whole dynamic, its just now, its a little harder. Since now she had to fight back the blush that threatens to stain her skin. How embarrassing…

(She totally giggles and kicks her feet about him once shes alone btw LMFAOOO) (then immediately feels guilty after HELP)

“In my heart there is only you. I think thats because its been waiting for someone like you this entire time.”

“Thank you… For making me feel human.”

Floyd realized a little later, it kind of just hit him one day. They weren’t doing anything in particular, he just looked at her and went “Oh. Ohhh.”

Like a lightbulb went off in his head. He didn’t say anything about it either for awhile. Eels are cowards, after all. And he didn’t know if she felt the same. So he just decided to act like nothing happened, continued this routine of theirs that they’ve grown attatched to.

Maybe there were afew times where they wanted to say something about it, to finally admit the unspoken thoughts they’ve had kept in the back of their minds… But they never go through with it. Always backing out last minute, brushing it off.

The two were cowards, dancing around their mutual feelings. Unsure of how the other felt, so they decided to just leave it all unsaid. Even if the look in their eyes said otherwise.

Saying they were just “best friends” was just so much easier. It was what they were used to, what they were comfortable with. It was easier to brush it all off as them being comfortable eachother, sharing beds and exchanging gentle touches. It was all platonic, of course!

…Though Floyd was hesitant with his own feelings. He never expected to find someone that captured his interest so much… Yet he wondered, was he ready to commit?

Strangely, there was no doubt in his mind. It was yes, it always was, yes. The moment he asked himself that question he answered it immediately at the same time.

Of course, because he realized if it was Kyra, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do. Man, when did he get so whipped for such a silly shrimpy?

Merfolk only choose one mate for life. And Floyd is sure he wanted his to be Kyra.

He was scared of course after realizing his own feelings. Besides Azul and Jade, he's never let anyone get this close to him. It was strange letting Kyra in like this. He didn't plan on her, not at first at least. but now that he has her, he wants to keep her forever.

Man, she just kept surprising him, huh? He never even thought he could feel so deeply for someone. But hes so glad that he found her, that they found eachother.

“I could never get bored of you. You make me feel all… Weird. Seriously, just what did ya do to me…?”

Difficulties…

When Kyra left with Epel, Rook and Elena during Book 6, Floyd was upset.

Thats an understatement, really. He was furstrated, worried, and somehow he even felt betrayed.

Why didn’t she tell him? Why didn’t she take him with her? Doesn’t she know its dangerous?

He knows Kyra can take care of herself, he knows shes capable and he knows she can defend herself. But that doesn’t stop him from worrying.

Throughout the span that shes gone Floyd is restless. Hes snappier, hes moodier and he cant seem to stop pacing around no matter how hard he tries.

But when Kyra gets back— he completely ignores her.

Kyra was so very confused. Actually, everyone was. This was a first for the two of them. Honestly, Kyra expected him to run towards her just like he always does. But he doesn’t.

Kyra is back, but that doesn’t change his mood. If anything, it worsens. And Kyra doesn’t have a clue why! Everytime she tries to approach him, he just turns his heel and walks away. And hes never looked at her like… that..

Kyra is a total mess. And suddenly shes not as good as keeping her real feelings at bay like she usually is. She wondered if she did something wrong? Said something wrong? Was he finally sick of her? And that was when she realized— she was terrified of the thought of losing him.

In desperation she went to Jade. Maybe she should’ve asked Elena for advice instead, but before she knew it she was sat infront of Jade, asking for help with his brother.

If anything, Jade seemed amused with her situation. Of course he did. But with a mischevious twinkle in his eye, she had a feeling he had a scheme brewing up in his head.

Maybe she should’ve known better than to trust Jade… But she didn’t really have a choice, or so she thought as much.

Something about this situation felt so… Deliberate. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it seemed like he knew she’d come to him for help sooner or later.

After giving Kyra some advice and words of encouragement, he did something rather out of character of him. Bringing into a hug, he held her rather close to himself.

Kyra didn’t really notice this, and accepted the hug with no hesitation. Wrapping her arms around him and sighing as she melted into the well-needed hug.

Little did she know, Jade’s eyes were glued onto his brother’s figure, looming by the doorframe with a scowl on his face. It made Jade chuckle, deciding to tighten his arms around Kyra juust a little more to see what he’d do.

Of course, Floyd wasn’t happy about it. Now, Floyd is not a jealous person by any means. He has better things to focus on, other things to keep him entertained. But at moments like these, when hes already in a bad mood, he can’t help that primal instict, its in his blood after all. A moray is a moray.

Tearing her away from Jade, he drags her to somewhere else. Leaving a very amused Jade watching them leave.

And so, an argument occurs !!! Its a back and forth, Floyd mad about what he just saw, Kyra trying to explain the situation then her getting mad at him back for avoiding her like the plague.

It ended up with Floyd admitting he was mad because she didn’t tell him about her going with them, but at the same time he was mad at himself for not being able to be with her then.

Kyra realizes that, yeah, she probably shouldve let him know she was going. But she couldn’t just brush off the fact he hurt her by doing what he did, shes grown enough as a person at this point to not let her own feelings go unheard.

Reconcilliation!!! They both apologize and promise to do better, and what better way to catch up on lost time than a sleepover??

Best believe that after they made up, they went back to their normal selves as if nothing happened— actually, maybe even worse with how much clingier they are. They seriously missed eachother, seeing how much they stuck together. 😭

“Home”?

When Kyra got news of the possibility of finding a way back to her home she was in shambles. So very conflicted between the place she called home and the place she felt was home.

She knew she had to leave some day. She knew this freedom she had was temporary. She knew one day, she’d have to go back to the life she grew to despise, the life that was never hers.

She didn’t want to leave, though. Of course she didn’t. But still, she didn’t really have a choice.

She decided she wouldn’t do the same mistake and leave Floyd out of the loop. If anyone deserves to know first, its probably him.

And so, while theyre sitting on the rooftop of Ramshackle she mentions it. And Floyd is… Upset. Of course he is. Hes beyond upset, really. He just got his best friend back, now hes hearing she might be going away again? For good? Forever?

No way. He couldnt accept that, there was no way he could. But before he could even say anything— Kyra spoke first.

“I don’t want to go back. I really, really don’t.”

“…You don’t? Huh? Why?” There was a wave of relief that crashed over Floyd when he heard those words fall from her lips, his eyes glued onto the girl beside him. Hanging onto every word she says. “No. Its just… Its not my home, atleast not anymore. I dont think it is.”

“I think, this is my home now.” She chuckles, eyes glued down to the ground below. “…Because you’re here.” She says, turning to look at him. She spoke in that tone that she only used behind closed doors. When no one was looking. That soft, sweet voice she used whenever she carded her fingers through his hair and whispered sweet nothings to him until he fell asleep. It wasn’t unauthetic like the voice she used when they first met— no, it was genuine. Real. Full of adoration, of fondness. Her gaze held so much love.

“…Hah, what’re you gettin’ all sappy for, Sea Angel? Thats so cringe.” He laughed, but his heart soared. Even if it was cheesey, he couldnt help but swoon with just the way she looked at him. Like he was the most beautiful thing in the world. She always said he was the prettiest boy in the world.

She moved forward, her face leaning ever so close to his, so close he could see every line and curve of her features. He laughed at first, “Hey, what’cha tryna do, huh? What? Do I have somethin’ on my face?” He joked, but she didn’t respond. It looked like she was thinking, like she was deep in thought. “…Kyra?”

Her name left his lips for what was the first time. Hanging in the air like a silent prayer of longing, of want. And her own lips met his. Capturing it in a sweet, sudden kiss.

Time seemed to have stopped. It always felt like that when they were together, but this was different. Nothing could prepare him for that— hell, he didn’t even get the chance to kiss her back, the moment felt as if it went on forever but it was over too quickly all the same.

There was a flash of realization on Kyra’s face as her cheeks flushed a red that could rival Riddle on a rampage. Stumbling and stuttering, she couldn’t handle the embarrassment, and before he could even say anything she ran away. Leaving him on the rooftop, wide eyes and a stomach full of butterflies.

Yeah. Kyra is really stupid sometimes.

After that whole thing, she ran to Leona to let out her thoughts. He listened, though he said he ‘didn’t have a choice anyway’.

“So… You kissed him then you just.. Ran? Seriously?” “I PANICKED!!!”

Floyd and Kyra don’t really interact until Malleus’ overblot. And during the time they’re in Floyd’s dream, shes hoping he doesn’t bring up what happened at the rooftop.

Choose.

Okay soo, lets say that they really do find a way to send Kyra back home !!! Not just a possibility anymore, its there and now she actually has to choose.

Of course, the decision was already made a long time ago. She knew from the very beginning she’d have to go home, but she doesn’t want to. Not at all.

Floyd is the most upset about this, to no ones surprise. Is she seriously just going to get up and leave? Just like that?

All of those moments together, all of those times they shared… Did it mean nothing to her? At all?

“I’ll always be right by your side!” Liar. If that were true, she wouldn’t be leaving.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, you’re the best person ever!” Then why are you choosing to leave?

“You can always count on me, alright? I’ll be here for ya, no matter when or where.” —Liar. “Its okay, let it all out. Im here for you.” Liar.

“Mm, after we graduate… Wouldn’t it be fun to live together? Haha, I just couldn’t imagine a day without you in it.” Liar.

“I love you, Floydie!” Liar. Liar liar liar liar.

All those times, everything she’s ever said that stuck to him like glue, it all came rushing back to him. Yet instead of the warmth and fondness it usually brought to his heart, it instead felt cold. It felt like betrayal, cold and cruel.

How could she do that? Say all those things then just leave like it all meant nothing? How could she leave like they didn’t share all those memories together? As if they never held eachother through the cold nights and whispered sweet nothings? Giggled like little kids while peppering kisses on eachother’s faces, ditching classes to go have a day out in town— kissing on the rooftop?

How could she leave just like that? Like it all meant nothing. Like he meant nothing, to her?

To say he was angry was an understatement. He was that and more, a raging storm of emotions, and Floyd has never been one to control them the best.

Unlike what happened after Book 6, this time Floyd confronts her directly. It ends up as an argument, Floyd not understanding why shes choosing to leave Twisted Wonderland if she doesn’t actually want to, and Kyra not wanting to “bother” Floyd with how she truly feels.

Kyra keeps her reasons secret, mostly. Just as she does with the rest of who she is. She wants to tell him, she really does. She hates having to keep things from him but she thinks its for the best.

She just wants the best for him, and she thinks that her leaving will be better for him. So she won’t be a bother anymore, so he wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore.

While Floyd doesn’t understand why Kyra is choosing to leave, Kyra doesn’t understand why Floyd is so upset about her leaving.

Why is he so persistent? This is for the better. They’ve had good times and god, will she miss it all dearly. Not just miss it, but yearn to relive their time together again, and again, and again.

Kyra doesn’t truly understand how much she actually means to Floyd. Its never even been a possibility to her that he could ever love her more than a friend.

And so, they have another argument. And unlike the last one, it doesn’t end as well. They end off on a rather bad note, Floyd saying something that he really shouldn’t have and leaving Kyra all by herself.

She didn’t cry, but god did she want to.

But yet, part of her still was hoping that… That he’d ask her to stay.

…Cue ink dripping cutscene here!!

Overblot.

…Yeah. Kyra overblots… (and Floyd is one of the direct reasons why LMAO)

How does Kyra overblot despite having no magic???????? Uhhhhhhh, idk plot !!!! Plot stuff !!! Plot armor !!!!!!! Something something absorbing magic from overblots n stuff blah blah blah ….

While I’m not exactly sure what happens during this, I know it happens right before shes meant to go back to her home world.

For context, I’ll try to summarize the reasons she overblots.

Kyra had never lived for herself. From the moment she was born, she was already assigned her role in life: To be the perfect princess for her people.

Only ever valued for her beauty and her status, she grew up thinking she wasn’t human simply because of how most treated her. They praised her yet their love was conditional, only ‘loving’ her when shes ‘perfect’. Only when shes ‘flawless’ like she should be. Which just meant to her that her true self must be unlovable.

She grew up lonely. Never let outside of the palace walls, she dreamed of a life of freedom she knew she would never have.

But, after waking up in Twisted Wonderland, that was exactly what she got. A life of freedom, where she began to discover her true self instead of the version of her that the public expected of her. Experiencing all of the things she never thought she would, and beginning to accept who she really is.

But of course, someone like her doesn’t deserve good things. Her birth is her biggest sin and she was meant to spend her entire life to try and repent for it. It didn’t matter how much she wanted something or how hard she fights for it— in the end, what she wants will never matter, because she doesn’t matter.

(Quote from Book 7 while talking to Malleus.)

Shes spent her whole life supressing her emotions. Building walls and hiding how she truly feels from everyone, regardless of how ‘close’ to her they are. Hiding how she feels, because she already feels like a burden with her being herself. Not wanting to bother anyone any further.

Kyra was healing. She was, she was getting better the longer she stayed in Twisted Wonderland— but all of that went down the drain once she got news of them finding a way for her to go “home”.

Everyone has her limits, and as much as Kyra tries to convince herself this is all for the better, there was no part of her that truly wanted to leave. And all of the sudden, all of those surpressed emotions from years past, comes bubbling up to the surface and bursting at the seams.

She explodes, because she doesn’t want to leave.

She ends up hurting not only herself but others during her overblot, Floyd being one of them. The two ending up very injured after the incident.

(FUNFACT!!!! The Adeuce duo were the ones to snap Kyra out of her overblot :3)

Tearful Confession.

After her overblot, Floyd was heavily injured. But that still didn’t stop him from making his way to the infirmary room where Kyra was. He paid no mind to the objections of others trying to convince him to calm down and rest, because after seeing Kyra like that, how could he rest?

He knew Kyra. Atleast, thats what he thought. But he was starting to think he didn’t anymore, and that made him even more frustrated.

Frustrated that she didn’t tell him anything, again, and frustrated that he didn’t realize just how much she was suffering all by herself.

Floyd was never the kind to make other people’s issues his own, but it was different this time. That was his Sea Angel, right? His partner in crime and best friend… The one he was sure he loves. How could he ever call himself a good mate if he couldn’t even tell she struggling that much?

He was angry, upset, sad and so worried all at the same time. A mix of emotions all swirling together in his chest and beating in his head, but they all told him to do the same thing: Find her.

Plus… That argument they had before she overblotted… He had to make up for it.

It didn’t matter if he had to limp and stumble and struggle all the way there, he’d crawl through hell and back if it meant he could be there for her. A kind of devotion he didn’t think he was even capable of, but he couldn’t imagine a thing he wouldn’t do for her anymore. Especially when he knows she’d do the exact same for him and more.

And honestly, knowing she’d do the same and more for him was exactly why he had to be there. She was so foolishly selfless at times, always putting others before herself. But not this time. Not anymore.

Eventually he made his way to her room, where she was still unconcious. Laying in the infirmary bed, looking so peaceful. She was a mess, though. Messy hair and bandages running across her body, wrapping her skin in white cloth.

He stayed there, sitting right beside her and gently laying his head atop her chest. Listening to her heartbeat. The steady rhythmn soothed him, and he eventually calmed down, putting a hand over hers as he waited until she woke up.

And she did. Awhile later, she wakes up and hes very happy and gives her a hug— but then he remembers his concerns and switches back to how he was earlier.

Floyd begins to ramble about why she didn’t tell him anything and why she just let herself get that bad. Did she not trust him? Why did she keep so many secrets from him when it felt like they never hid anything from eachother?

Kyra was somewhat confused on why he seemed to care so much. Well, mostly because she never thought anyone would really care about how she felt, being so used to her own feelings being brushed aside and shrugged off.

And then, he says it.

“Damn it!— I love you! I love you, okay? I love you so damn much but you keep doing stupid things like this!”

That makes her freeze. What is he saying?

He… Loves her? Someone like her? Someone as unlovable as her? Surely, he must be lying. He must be joking. There was simply no way that someone as wonderful as him could ever love someone as worthless as her.

He was full of life, of unexpected thrills. He was everything beautiful in life. He was electric, fun and adventurous. He was full of emotion and genuinity. Her? She was empty. A shell of someone that once was, a broken thing trying to learn to be alive too late. How could he love someone as unlovable as her? Someone who doubts her own humanity?

The words were so simple yet they held so much meaning. The way he was looking at her and holding her shoulders the mix of emotions in his eyes… She knew he wasn’t lying. After all, he was never the kind to lie about something like this.

And… She cries. For the first time, she breaks infront of him. Tears rolling down her cheeks like raindrops on a car window on a rainy day, she was trembling.

She shook her head, tried to deny it. She tried to convince him she wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worthy of his love. She wasn’t worthy of the friendships shes made here in Twisted Wonderland, she wasn’t worthy of any of the good things shes received so selfishly.

She wasn’t good enough for him. How could he love someone like her? It didn’t make sense. None of it did. Atleast not to her.

Floyd couldn’t believe what he was hearing. If anything, he was almost speechless. But seeing her crumble like this right infront of him… Seeing the tears roll down her face and hearing the words coming out of her mouth… He was angry. Not at her, but to whoever made her feel like this.

To the ones who made her feel less than human.

He pulled her into a tight hug, “Thats not true. None of that is true. Stop it, just… Stop.” His grip on her was tight, and she realizes hes trembling just as much as her.

He could’ve lost her. That overblot was no joke, and seeing her like that… Oh, god… How could he say he loved her even after seeing her like that? After seeing her like this?

She was a mess. Teary eyes and snotty nosed, messy hair and wrapped in bandages, covered in wounds— both literally and figuratively.

He’s seen it all. Her real self, the one she was sure was unlovable. All of her ugly sides and now her darkest moment. The ugliest of all. She wants to push him away, she wants to beg him to leave, she doesn’t feel worthy of any of this, he was too good for her but…

She wanted to be selfish. She wanted to be selfish when it came to him, and she hated herself for it. No matter how much she told him to leave, his hold on her never loosened, and he didn’t say a word.

After she settles down in his arms for awhile, he moves to look at her, a hand cupping her cheek and making her look at him properly.

The tears never stopped, he wondered just how long she’s been hurting like this and never told anyone. Never told him.

And… Slowly, he began to kiss away all her tears. Kyra froze, feeling his lips on her skin, gently kissing away all of the tears that fell from her eyes. Each touch filled with so much love and tenderness, it made her cry more, tears of happiness. How could he be this loving to her? It didn’t make sense. She didn’t understand.

“I love you,” he began to say over and over with each kiss. “S-stop…” Krya said inbetween sobs, but yet she didnt even struggle. If anything, she melted even more into his touch. She needed this… She needed him.

“I love how competetive ya are,” he just kept going. “Love how you look when you see somethin’ ya like.” And going, “I love seeing that stupid grin on your face when we’re about to go do somethin’ stupid,” and going.

He began to list off all the reasons he loved her, and…

“I love you, Kyra.” And she knew he meant it. She knew he meant everything he said, knew that he was being genuine and honest with her. No matter who you were, no one could replicate the way he looked at her at that moment, there was simply no way to feign emotions like that. She could feel all of the love pouring out of his words, his touch. And she knew, he loved her for her.

“How could you love someone like me…?” She sobbed out inbetween, her voice so meek and tiny. Shaky. Unlike her usual tone. “How could I not?” Was all he said. He said it so matter of factly, he couldn’t imagine not loving her.

By the end of it, Kyra was too speechless to respond with anything but… “I love you too.”

Finally giving in, Kyra hugged him back tightly, and before they knew it they were sharing a sweet kiss. Melting into eachother’s arms, and spending the entire day there, together.

And OHHH MYYY GOD FINALLY TBH. DAMN THE SLOWBURN WAS BURNINGG WITH THIS ONE !!!!!!!

“But, no more secrets, got it?” Floyd huffed, pinching Kyra’s cheek. “G-got it…” Kyra chuckled.

Kyra couldn’t help but wonder… How did she get so lucky?

“Its About Time!”

After Kyra’s choice of staying in Twisted Wonderland is confirmed, it was actually Professor Crewel and Paige that adopted her and sorted out all of her paperwork. So, now she had legal guardians, all of the needed paperwork, and basically everything she needed to stay in Twisted Wonderland without any issues.

AND Kyra and Floyd were officially in a relationship now!!!! YIPPEEEEE!!!!

Kyra is much happier now. And while theres still a twinge of guilt for not returning back to her home world, she was relieved that she was staying in her real home. Where she can truly be herself, surrounded by people who truly love her.

Kyra is still healing and trying to get better, and Floyd is right there as her biggest supporter.

Shes learning to be more open and honest about how she truly feels. And slowly but surely, she gets there.

Unapologetically showing and voicing how she really feels, and she even stopped surpressing her own moodswings.

Being with Floyd as lovers instead of just ‘best friends’ was honestly the best thing for her. Of course, there wasn’t much that actually changed between their dynamic, but still. Knowing someone like him truly loved and supported her made her unbelivably happy and hopeful.

…Though, for others, they somehow got even more annoying. And I say that with all the love in my heart LMAOO

Both Floyd and Kyra like to brag about eachother, and they somehow got even more clingy to eachother after getting to a relationship.

Seriously, its baaad 😭 do not seperate them or one of them will be biting people (/j)

Being together has allowed both of them to be completely vulnerable around someone. Although its new to the both of them… Its honestly refreshing. Its a good thing for both of them.

They make eachother better. (And worse.)

Funfacts!

Floyd was kind of scared of Kyra for a little while LMAOO 😭 shes a little TOO freaky …

Floyd has stayed over at Ramshackle so much that he’s has a bunch of stuff over there. An extra toothbrush, some changes of clothes, you name it. Its probably there. You can bet Floyd just lets himself into Ramshackle all the time, sometimes even in the middle of the night. But Kyra is always so chill about it 😭 (only because its Floyd HEHE)

Before they even started dating— behind closed doors they already acted like an old married couple 😭

Kyra and Floyd are lowkey super domestic behind closed doors, especially after a sleepover. Waking the other up with kisses ….. Helping eachother get ready for the day, helping eachother get dressed … Cooking together …….. theyre so sickening …………

Even if they aren’t with eachother all the time, they still manage to include eachother in their lives somehow. Whenever they go off on a solo-adventure, they always come back with some sort of trinket that reminded them of the other.

Speaking of, they’re both avid collectors of anything they deem cool enough. Random rocks, acorns, a lost penny, you name it. They like to show eachother the things they found throughout the day to eachother!

They have this silly little game Kyra started. She began hiding little sticky notes with sweet messages or a doodle and sometimes gifts in places she knows Floyd will find, and he’s started doing the same thing. Ever since then, its kind of become more like a competition on who can find the most sticky notes 😭

Kyra gets cuteness aggression from Floyd. Yeah thats it.

^^ she genuinely believes hes the cutest thing ever. Whatever u say queen!!!!

Floyd loves giving Kyra random gifts out of nowhere. The gifts can range from ‘a cool rock’ to a designer jacket. Kyra doesnt know which she prefers HAHAHA

Kyra herself prefers handmade gifts, so she loves to make Floyd pieces of jewelry and clothing! Shes always so proud whenever she sees him wearing something she made :3

Floyd and Kyra have been kicked out of class several times for laughing too hard.

They admitted to eachother before they even started dating that they couldn’t imagine their life without the other… can they pls take the hint omg

Floyd always feels super bad whenever he loses control of his temper around Kyra. One time he snapped at her, and he immediately apologized 😭 he told her to slap him if he ever did that again, hugged her so tight too and Kyra honestly found it so cute 😭

Floyd always perks up whenever he realizes Kyra is close by, always running straight to her. Kyra does the same thing and quite literally jumps into his arms.

Both Kyra and Floyd’s main love language is physical touch!! But Kyra loves to compliment him all the time, and Floyd loves gift giving :3

Kyra always greets Floyd with a kiss on the cheek. Yeah she started doing this before they were event dating im afraid ….

Kyra and Floyd love to read together at night, though Kyra usually falls asleep first AHAHAHA

But !! Kyra is also the first to wake up more often than not, and always wakes Floyd up with butterfly kisses on his face :3

Floyd convinced Azul to add some of Kyra’s favorite foods to the menu of Mostro Lounge just to get her to come visit more often

Kyra fights anyone that bad-mouths Floyd. Floyd doesnt know whether to find it cute or annoyed that she keeps getting herself hurt 😭

^^ SPEAKING OF, Kyra literally unlocked a much more caring side of Floyd with her being so accident-prone 😭 girlie got herself injured so much FLOYD had to step in smh …

Floyd is the kinda guy to carry Kyra if her feet started to hurt while walking or if she sprains an ankle teehee

They’re both banned from an arcade in town after they broke a claw machine and stole all the plushies inside. And other things but that isnt as important.

When Floyd feels like hanging out with her, he’ll look for her around campus then just throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes then just walks away. Kyra never struggles or objects and kind of just … accepts her fate 😭

Rambling…

Kyra grew up thinking the love she received will always be conditional. That she always needed to live up to some sort of expectation, and so she created a ‘perfect’ persona in order to do just that.

She still keeps that persona from the Prologue to Book 1, but begins to break away from it during Book 2– but while in her past she was only loved for the version of herself she created for others— it was the opposite with Floyd.

He disliked her so-called ‘persona’, but fell so deeply in love with her real self.

^^ she was very confused, yet so very happy.

Floyd thinks everything is fun as long as Kyra is with him <3

Kyra only ever started showing her more vulnerable side to Floyd during her character development. He was the very first to ever see her break away from the unbothered act she always put on.

Floyd was never one to let himself be so soft and vulnerable around anyone, ever. But strangely, he lets his guard down around Kyra. Kyra knows of the much gentler side to him, and she adores it so very much.

Kyra is extremely understanding and patient of Floyd and his mood swings. She knows he’d never intentionally hurt her, and always knows just how to cheer him up. Whether with a silly joke, a spontaneous adventure or just lying in bed with him in her arms.

Kyra trusts Floyd with her LIFE. She trusts him so much its ridiculous. No matter what the situation, she always feels like she can rely on him… But she wont trust him with her food. Or her plushies.

Extra: Incorrect Quotes (?)

I have more on my 🎀! twst shennanigans tag lol

#🎀🦈! floyra #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst yuu #yuusona #oc x canon #twst oc x canon #floyd leech #twst floyd

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magical-reid · 7 months ago

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Depressed!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Setting: Modern MCU timeline, Avengers Tower.

Warnings: Reader struggles with depression

Perspective: Third Person Limited (Reader’s perspective).

Word Count: 1.3K

Prompts: 16: “All I’ve ever wanted was a place to belong. Somewhere I could call home and you gave me that becuase you are my home.”

26: “I’ll be damned if anyone makes you feel like you aren’t worthy of love.”

33: “Can you stay? Just for tonight, please. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.” “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

42: “I don’t want you to die for me, I want you to live for me.”

48: “what are you doing here?” “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Summary: After a tough mission, the weight of guilt and personal struggles pushes you into isolation, until Bucky notices your pain and refuses to let you carry it alone. Through quiet support and unwavering presence, Bucky helps you confront your vulnerability, offering you a chance to heal and reminding you that you're worthy of love and peace.

The mission had been tough. Too tough. You’d been through countless battles, but something about this one was different. Maybe it was the familiarity of it all. The dark corners of the world that reminded you of the places you’d tried to leave behind. Maybe it was the faces of the people you fought beside, who had no idea that beneath your armor, you were breaking.

Your family had always been there in the background, steady, even when they couldn’t understand you. And now? Now, something had happened that made it all come crashing down, all at once. A phone call that you hadn’t wanted to take. News that you couldn’t ignore.

You’d gone on the mission hoping that keeping busy would help, that the adrenaline of the fight would drown out the noise in your mind. It didn’t.

Your mind was racing, connecting the dots between the mission and your family. You couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was somehow your fault. Every mission, every wrong step felt like it led back to them. The guilt gnawed at you, and it showed.

But you couldn’t let them see. You couldn’t let anyone see. So, you wore the mask. The one that told everyone you were fine. But Bucky saw through it. He always did.

A few days after the mission, Bucky had started to notice the change in you. You weren’t yourself. You hadn’t laughed during training, your movements slower, as if you were fighting something much worse than the exercises. You would leave quickly, retreating to your room whenever the day ended. You avoided the common areas, slipping into isolation like it was a cloak that could protect you from everything.

Bucky wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong, but he could feel it. There was a heaviness in the air around you, a darkness that clung to your presence like a shadow. He didn’t push, but he didn’t let you go either.

One evening, after you’d left the training room earlier than usual, Bucky found himself standing in front of your door. He had hesitated, unsure of whether to knock or just leave you be, but when he heard the soft sound of your sobs coming from inside, he didn’t hesitate any longer.

He knocked lightly, but there was no response. Slowly, he turned the doorknob, pushing it open just enough to peer inside.

You were sitting on the floor, knees pulled to your chest, your head buried in your arms.

Bucky stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice thick, like you hadn’t been able to breathe properly for a long time.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said softly, taking a cautious step forward. He didn’t want to scare you, but the sight of you like this—so withdrawn, so broken—cut him to the core.

You gave him a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Really.”

He knew better than to believe that, but he didn’t press. Instead, he sat down beside you, resting his back against the wall, his presence as steady as the ground beneath you.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just sat there, letting the silence settle in, the weight of everything pressing in on you.

“I know you’re not fine,” Bucky finally murmured, his voice rough with concern. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to pretend around me.”

You shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to bring anyone down.”

Bucky’s hand found its way to your shoulder, gently squeezing. “All I’ve ever wanted was a place to belong. Somewhere I could call home. And you gave me that. Because you are my home.”

You looked at him, eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. You had always been there for him, through everything he had been through. But now, you felt as though you were the one who needed saving. And you didn’t know if you were worth it.

“I’ll be damned if anyone makes you feel like you aren’t worthy of being loved,” Bucky said firmly, his voice full of conviction. “You don’t have to carry all this alone, not anymore. You never have to carry it alone.”

You let out a shaky breath, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “I’m so tired, Bucky. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending like I’m okay. I don’t want to be like this.”

Bucky’s heart broke at the sight of your vulnerability, the rawness in your voice that spoke volumes. He gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you cried against his chest.

“Can you stay?” you whispered through your tears. “Just for tonight, please. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.”

“I’ll stay for as long as you need,” Bucky promised, his voice soft but resolute. He would stay for you, no matter how long it took. He would stay through the darkness and the pain, through the moments when you couldn’t even bear to look at yourself.

You nodded, letting yourself lean into him, finding some semblance of peace in his presence. He didn’t try to fix anything. He didn’t say anything else. He just let you be, letting you feel safe in his arms.

The hours passed quietly, and when the weight of your exhaustion finally caught up with you, you fell asleep, still nestled in his embrace. Bucky stayed awake for a while, watching you sleep, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He couldn’t change what had happened with your family, or the pain you carried with you. But he could be there for you. He could help you find a way through it.

In the quiet of the night, he whispered into your hair, the words a promise, a vow.

“I don’t want you to die for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I want you to live for me.”

He didn’t know how, but he would do everything in his power to help you find your way back to yourself. You deserved to feel worthy of love, worthy of peace. You deserved to find the light again.

The next morning, you woke up slowly, the haziness of sleep lifting. You were still in Bucky’s arms, your head resting against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in weeks.

When your eyes fluttered open, you found Bucky watching you with a soft, patient expression. His fingers gently brushed through your hair, a silent gesture of comfort.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice warm and caring.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling slowly. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel completely broken. You didn’t feel like you were drowning in your thoughts.

“I’m still here,” you said quietly, your voice steady, though still tinged with sadness. “I’m not okay yet, but I’ll get there. I’ll try.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I’ll be here. Every step of the way. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat threatening to return. “Thank you.”

Bucky smiled softly, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “Anytime. You’re worth it, you know? All of it. You deserve to be loved, more than anyone I know.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting his words settle in. Maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back. With him by your side, you could find the strength to fight through the darkness, to hold on to the pieces of yourself that had been lost. Because, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone.

And that, you realized, was all you ever really needed.

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gomzdrawfr · 1 month ago

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NAKED GRANDMA

Now that I have your attention, just wanted to put out a few things. This does not apply to anyone in particular, but set as a reminder to everyone, though I will be directing some of these to people who warranted it. This applies to both here on tumblr and on my twitter page.

At the end of the day, Raven is MY original character.

about the top/bottom thing

I get a lot of asks pushing the idea that Raven must be dominant or topping Price because she's a badass which let me be clear, Raven is a switch. Sometimes she tops, most time she doesn't. If I've already talked or drawn things where she's explicitly bottoming or just being submissive, you who comes in and push her to topping instead in an already established dynamic and context is kind of a dick move to me. Listen, just because a character is strong and competent doesn't mean she is also dependent in the bedroom, that they are only valid if they're dominant at all time. Get that misogyny bs out of here.

about requests and rude comments

If you're sending ask telling me to draw a mlm art with Price, going as far as telling me that Price is gay why do you have to do what every tiktokers/artist and ship him with a skinny copy and paste girl- Get out. This is my blog and you're coming here to frame her presence and existence as somehow inferior just because "it's better" then please fuck off. Take your sexisms and poorly disguised fetish FAR AWAY FROM ME. I won't entertain these asks and simply won't care. This is my main OC with stories and lores I care about. You want mlm? then find it elsewhere, there are places out there with this sort of content. Also, just fucking block me if you hate my OC stuff so much. Block the tags block my blog everything, if you need a tutorial here's one. I promise I don't give a flying fuck of your feelings.

Also, another subset of asks who's somehow disappointed about the fact with Raven marrying and having a family with Price (which mind you, the kids exist in a different timeline and not the canon one even), as though settling down with someone you love is????wrong???bad????? You people gotta be coming from the most narrow-minded or cesspool of tiktok/twitter to think settling down is downplaying her character. Again, this must be fucking linked back to the idea that "strong woman" must remain cold, isolated, work all the time to be valid. Don't bring your "oh she could've earned her Master degree and that high paying job at New York but noooo she settled with a boy without frontal lobe development who still stays at his mom's basement without a paying job instead :(((" and "just as worse as early Disney Princesses story" into MY NARRATIVE. Raven and Price are both approaching 40, coming from high demand and stress work who WANTS to settle down and build something NICE and domestic together. It's healing and they deserve it. Don't go around projecting your dislike for marriage and kids onto my, or ANYONE'S characters and dynamics (again, it's my OC??? like???? kindly fuck off once more??????)

Raven should and must do this or that

No, Raven should rest. Tone is important, if at any point it sounded like a pressure than a chill hey an idea :D then out the door you go as well.

Final note

I'm not trying to deter anyone from sending ask about Raven, you're welcome to make your HC and interpretations about Raven because well it's the internet and part of the fandom experience. I do enjoy and love answering ask about them! On the occasions I don't engage or respond to them, it's not personal alright? I just don't agree with or vibe with the take, I'm very specific with Raven specifically because she's the closest OC I've got here. But please please don't keep pushing your view onto mine, especially when I've already established my take on her.

I am sharing my OC with you, because I love her, I love her story and everything I've done to build her, and to share some of those moments both sad and joy with you because it's fun. I'm not here to warp her by popular demands or to change what she does just because you're whining about it.

Thank you for reading this far, and thank you everyone who has been kind and respectful. Here's to more OC shenanigans.

#psa #i really dont like making posts like this but it's gotten to the point where I have to #gummmyspeaks #my oc #[oc]Raven #do you even know that I take out any character tags out of my OC posts because people are that bothered about it?#like im taking out jp from PriceRaven doodles because people who are scrolling the jp tags are yelling at me to stop plugging the timeline+#with “forced” oc stuff #incredibly insane asks #I don't think ive gotten really bad ones but you'd be surprised #friends gotten them and holy shit yall really need some help or just are not suited to join Tumblr #the sexism shit also happen to people who does “mlm” OCs btw. people are getting too comfortable and priviledge to find the audacity #like saying Character is not gay why do you make em gay asks #utterly mindboggling please stay the fuck away from me #rant

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unowneyenon · 10 months ago

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I saw a post on here back a little while ago claiming that Stanford built the shack in Bill’s image when they knew each other (or something like that!) and that’s why there are so many triangle & pyramid motifs built into the shack. I think that idea’s really interesting, but there’s one problem; it’s impossible based on the journal three timeline.

according to this timeline in journal three, ford came to gravity falls in 1975, a good 6 years before he first met bill. so, using his grant money, he built the shack and all of the triangle and pyramid things inside…for some reason. why?????

ok so hear me out if it’s IMPOSSIBLE for ford to have known bill when the shack was built, maybe ford somehow knew him in a…subconscious way?? the image above is from TBOB, and it seems like from a young age ford was already interested in yellow floating triangles; and while this could totally just be foreshadowing, what if it implies some kind of …fate-related thing? something something ford was just MEANT to meet bill by some predetermined twisted fate created by the universe & that fate of them meeting was also subconsciously the thing that made ford research all that is strange & weird, thus making him end up in gravity falls???? i’m not sure how to put this into words! but just based on the shack triangle stuff and the photo, there’s just something there that screams that bill was and always has been subconsciously in ford’s thoughts and they were always meant to meet in this universe for better or for worse (it’s for worse)???????

edit: hey it’s five am and it has now come to my attention that he could have probably just remodeled/somehow made his own stained glass windows & such, BUUUT it’s still a personal theory that there is some kind of fate thing going on with ford and bill, & REALLY holding onto that theory with how ford was mesmerized by that kind of stuff at straight up infancy….hmmm time for bed for me

#should i tag this as billford??? it FEELS like it #there’s something about this fate theory that just makes them all the more doomed #it was always meant to end it tragedy between them there is no happiness here #it was never meant to end in anything other than pain and sorrow #makes you wonder why this is the path it had to go down #the universe is CRUEL with this one #billford #gravity falls #stanford pines #ford pines #bill cipher #book of bill #the book of bill

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kidicaruslover911 · 4 months ago

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Chapter 9: Mournful Whisperings

Mizu x Fem!Reader

summary: Over the course of your travels, you and Mizu find ways to relax around each other.

You finally meet with your master- mother (?) again and it's not pretty.

*inserting devious grinch smile* alone time with mizu????

abit angsty and very very messy afterwards but it gets better, i promise.

LONG ASS CHAPTER AHEAD AND LOTS OF INFORMATION i actually had to cut it in two and rewrite it again bc it's so damn long bro i was in the zone.

est. wc: 18.8k I think I’m a little insane but its whatever

story on AO3

2 am and interestingly enough, you happened to have had the place all to yourself, which was an extremely rare occurrence when resting in the plain conditions most establishments had to offer.

It had to be the second or third day of your journey towards Yunjing's humble abode and between the constant walking, training and horse riding, you had yet to find some time to properly wash yourself and neither did Ringo or his master.

Although you did try your best by stopping by any hot spring you could find on your way, unfortunately, there weren't many.

The more you got to think about it though, the more you guessed that Mizu wasn't planning on washing herself either way, given the fact that there weren't any occasions around this time and sneaking past the female owner of the inn really wasn’t an option either.

It almost made you feel itchy and did end up leaving you as the only one to enjoy the sento, giving you the opportunity to wallow within a very limited personal vice of yours.

Nicotine and its calming effects.

To smoke peacefully and away from prying eyes.

'Yikes.'

You stretched your arms, joints popping during the process, warm water enveloping your body, sinking into your muscles and soothing the tension you hadn't realized you had been holding for the longest time.

For the first time in days, you felt the knot in your shoulders ease, the constant hum of stress that had clouded your thoughts fading into the background.

You leaned back against the wooden tub, eyes half-closed, arms spread out against the edges of the wet wood, small and silver kiseru pipe resting in your right hand while letting the heat soak deep into your bones.

That pipe, you had always kept it on yourself which often did not fail to bring back lonely memories to your mind, of bygone ages and memories in which you were doing ten times worse than now.

You had randomly told Ringo before, (for once not dodging his questions) that you weren't a chain smoker but for reasons you didn't feel like elaborating on, you decided that once in a while couldn't hurt, at least that’s what you said.

Especially in your case, your guilty pleasure had to die down eventually a bit if you were hoping to live just a tad longer.

'Never get a vacation, you find ways to take one...'

And the brothels didn't really help either, it’s not like you were the most grounded person in those spaces and the rumors showed it.

Those gossipy prostitutes had struck once again yet somehow you couldn’t seem to care less.

If there was one thing you knew, it was that over the course of the years, you had absolutely bettered yourself and you were the only one to congratulate on that.

Whether one believed it or not, there was indeed a timeline in which you smoked two to three pipes a day, cause of constant stress and anxiety, waves of depression and mania and the nicotine burning instrument had grown to have seen rougher days from which you subtracted it down to once every two to three weeks, mainly because of your health and because you were getting closer to one of your main goals.

You did hope for your addiction to come to a halt soon.

There were no signs of promises though.

Speaking about coming to a halt, your short lived moment of solace was accidentally interrupted by the semi loud creaking from the bathrooms sliding door, causing you to pause the inhalation of your next drag, small clouds of smoke lazily dissipating from your lips as you proceeded to set the kiseru aside before craning your neck back to get a better view of the intruder.

Fact was that you really hadn’t expected to see anyone with the need to wash themselves that deep into the night and yet here they were.

The sound had hit you like brick and if you didn't know any better, you'd have let out one hell of a gasp.

Your stupefaction died down pretty fast too.

"Oh-" The cheeky grin on your face said it all and you had yet to expect it.

A blow of hot steam mixed with the thick scent of soap hit Mizu's face, her eyes skillfully avoiding to look anywhere she shouldn't which made you rotate your head a bit more at her, slightly confused but not bothered by it in any type of way.

It actually made you unbelievably happy a nd she was fast too, one second Mizu was undoing her chignon and the next she had already soundlessly slid into the small bath with you, right before you'd have the chance to make out any significant parts of her nude body amidst the rather heavy steam.

That and the burning water were the only things covering up her and she liked it that way, regardless whether it was you she was bathing with or not.

It made things more or less…’difficult’ for her and you never missed an opportunity to mess around with her for it, not that you ever meant any of the things you said but as always it was just fun to poke and prod at the samurai for your own amusement.

Then again this was only the second time she wordlessly allowed you to witness her like this and didn't bother asking why.

If she felt comfortable enough around you or if it just truly was the tremendous need to clean herself, you’d be the last one to complain about.

After all, you grew to think of it as a privilege of its own, to see Mizu… unraveling herself from that stoic vagabond persona she so well portrayed, even just for a moment, presenting herself as honest and sensible as she’d allow herself to be around you.

And that in itself was…something.

The water almost reached up to her clavicle and by the looks and sounds of it, she needed this bath just as bad as you did, a similar sound of contentment gracing your ears.

'Hm.' You mindlessly bit at the inside of your cheek.

You weren't children anymore and so you couldn't have felt more honored and just a tad shy (you'd never let her know) at the fact that she did end up deciding to wash and decompress herself in your presence, you couldn't help but smile.

The context was different, yet this was the second time the samurai was intruding on you while you were trying to cool off, enjoy a moment of rest and it seemed like she just couldn't help herself, always breaking in on at the 'wrong time'.

Not that any of you seriously minded.

Seriously, what about you had she not seen at this point?

You had been inside of the bath for about thirty minutes by now so naturally, "I would've expected you'd already be done-"

She started with a more breathy voice, eyes averting your gaze while she tried to ease up her shoulders and back a bit, making the sides of your lips turn upwards instantly.

You still were in a public Onsen after all.

Steam rose gently from the surface of the bath, curling around her slender form like a soft, comforting blanket.

The flickering oil lamp in the corners of the room casted a soft, golden glow, its scent of lavender mingling with the steam and a faint whiff of nicotine.

’She smokes…?’

The cobalt eyed woman didn't comment on it since, one, she never actually thought about it or expected it and you were grown.... and two, health issues put aside, from the short instant she had caught you handle that pipe, she effortlessly thought that it suited you…unbelievably well.

Not catching herself thinking beforehand once again she thought that the silver in your hand made you look...important and chic, very sore to the eye as always.

It made her skin crawl in confusion and guilt.

"Alrigggght, I get it now, Mizu" Pushing a bit back in the water to give her space, your voice sneered at her, a teasing tone meeting her ears which simultaneously painted themselves red.

"..." It was the waters heat.

"You sure this isn't about you really wanting to see me naked?"

There she was and she immediately went to suck her teeth, rolling her eyes only to return them at you, staring you down and seemingly not amused at all.

It almost didn't sound like a question and the woman should have pinched you by now.

Maybe she didn't need to take a bath that badly after all, she pondered but at the end of the day, you were both women, and that, well, it made almost everything simpler, and many times all the more difficult.

Not always but...your bodies, stripped of adornment, of any need to mask or hide, never carrying the weight of complete judgment between you ever since you had found one another again.

Comfortable, and even though she tried not to, your situation turned out a bit awkward, especially with some moments you choose to joke around with her.

After all, Mizu didn't show herself completely bare to you, the last time you had stopped at a hot spring you had covered your eyes for her to get undressed until she had set herself in the rejuvenating waters.

Simply shaking her head, she cocked an insensitive brow at you, "I'd rather not" while throwing off a breathy chuckle and eyeing you a second later, Mizu was at a loss for words and just a bit…lost.

‘Just what is it with her-…’ She didn’t dare finish that thought, she didn’t need to and the feeling was absolutely not wanted.

You were sitting on the other side of the hot tub now, right in front of her and her response made you cock a brow, not taking her words personally while you threw your head over your shoulders, humming in a curious manner as a response.

Funny.

"A lot of lying today,"

Nonchalance dripping from your tongue, you scoffed. Like usual, you were just toying with her and she didn’t always exactly know how to handle it.

Your attitude and…’humor’.

Not that she completely hated it. It was just...bold, tickling and it never completely ceased.

Another unsure look. "If you prefer, I can leave right now?" You heart almost skipped a beat.

No.

No, it didn't, you had simply gotten shivers from the wet skin area that had been slightly exposed to the damp air.

It made you shiver, that was all.

"No..." You murmured, head rolling back up to look at her.

Properly holding eye contact with her this time, you shamelessly drowned in her image, quenching your thirst for a few moments until you realized once again, that this actually was your first time seeing her so...easygoing?

Serene.

That was it.

You liked it and you weren't that full of yourself either.

Obviously enough you didn't want her to leave.

Not when you had her all to yourself like this, l ike a rare flower that only bloomed once every full moon in the dark of the night with two striking patches of blue adorning her core.

A girl.

A very pretty girl.

That and the more...subtle yet still apparent reliance that grew whenever it was just the two of you.

It was unspoken and as much as Mizu tried to refrain herself from showing it too much, you could tell.

It wasn’t really a secret anymore.

Your friend was always very straight forward and mostly truthful with you, but you felt as if tonight she was just a bit more open, a bit more indulging and not, or almost not on guard mode at all.

She was bare and it made you fall silent just for an instant which passed by way too fast for you to take any notice of it.

‘She looks very pretty like this.’ You thought for the Xth time and it had turned into an indisputable fact for you by now.

From the way she spoke, to her mannerisms and down to the way she presented herself most of the time, masculine or not, she was hypnotizing.

The more you watched, the more she fitted your nocturnal flora description, h er hair cascading around her, a dark river of ink that spilled down her swan like neck and over her collarbone, curling gently at the edges as it floated on the surface of the water.

For a moment, you were drawn to its depth, the way it seemed to merge with the warm embrace of the bath b ut before your gaze could wander any further, remembering who it was you were ogling at, you pulled it back, focusing on what she was saying and the now sheepish expression resting on her face.

Her eyes were a drawn a little wide, brows raised in slight surprise with her mouth agape in a quiet breath.

She was sitting pretty next to you like this, like a painting. The person next to you.

Right.

That person was your friend.

And that same friend only rasped with a small pinch on your neck which made you crack up in a small hiss, playfully bumping her shoulder in response.

"Just because I look like a man, doesn't mean I have to smell like one?" Mizu scoffed playfully, making a chuckle erupt from your chest.

"Obviously. Mizu, I was joking." She hoped you were???

You wondered and soon enough asked about how she even managed to pass by that old and noisy lady?

The proprietor of the establishment was an elder woman whose husband had died not too long ago, finally leaving her with an entire guest house to manage on her own.

Seemed like that granny had nothing better to do than to start a small talk with every single passerby, which soon enough turned into an insufferable series of pushy questions, directly shooting unruly assumptions about you and your friend.

Not like the lady even tried minding her own business when you first asked for three separate rooms, she immediately assumed that your 'husband' had angered you in some type of way, making you want to sleep away from him for the night.

People's perception of you two was definitely...interesting and you guessed that it was most beneficial to keep it that way.

It took everything in Ringo for him to keep his lips closed and let the moment pass by as the owner of the inn went on and tried to dig deeper into why you didn't want to share a room with your 'husband' at the moment, which you simply cut short by saying that you didn't want to talk about it, swallowing down a ridiculous grin at your 'husband's' indifference at the lady's rambles.

Being too curious isn't always an...adequate trait, you might add.

Yet you were a woman and well, for legal reasons you needed your dear husband as your chaperone, right?

Gods, you hated small talk.

'Men will be men' The older woman had tapped your shoulder in as a consolating gesture. 'You shouldn't be too hard on him' was her last piece of advice to you when all you could do was share a dumbfounded stare with your navy friend who only shrugged, not adding anything else to the discussion.

'Men will be men.....' Right.

Not your ‘husband’ though…

"Let people believe what they want to, you're my very angry 'wife' after all, remember?"

And you could’ve sworn that you heard a faint layer of pride and downiness in that fake statement of hers, closed eyes while slightly turning towards you, keeping a respectful distance between the two of you at all times.

At the sight of it, your own confused gaze softened, slowly transforming into a wry, lopsided smirk.

Little did this madam know that if it actually came down to it, if the circumstances were different and if she truly were a man, Mizu would have at least tried her very best to keep a wedded life pleasurable for her 'wife', and refrain from angering you in that sort of way.

It made no sense.

Happy wife, happy life, no?

Makes no sense...

"Of course...my my, then I must the luckiest woman in the world, right?"

You cupped your cheeks for dramatic effects, ducking a bit deeper into the water as you spoke and while you didn't know when or why it happened, it was barely visible and yet, she was simpering and after letting out a chuckle of your own, for your own good, you tried not to read too much into it.

‘This woman...’

Soon enough there was another long silence, the soft flicker of oil lamps dancing across the walls, casting long shadows that swayed gently in the quiet.

The air felt thick, heavier than it should have been, as if every breath the both of you took carried the weight of things unspoken.

Things that weren't necessarily bound by vengeance or infected with murder and the both of you knew it.

It was unspoken and the two of you stood by it.

Whatever unspoken topics you held back, both of you didn’t dare to ruin it all and decided to keep it on edge.

Feeling the water levels shift poorly again, you anticipated Mizu's barely opened lips preparing to speak before abruptly, shutting closed tightly, a small wince escaping her, expression tight as you watched her turn to the side a bit more, one hand covering her mouth while the other had a finger roaming in it, searching for some sort of relief.

"Ah ..." Almost pained, the finger seemed to search deeper and deeper for the intruder, and after a few more seconds, she found it.

This went on for a minute or two and you were hesitant at first but moved closer to her, carefully tapping on her shoulder before completely placing your hand on the higher part of her back.

She didn't react and it made you let out a sigh of relief that you didn't even know you were holding but you'd digress.

"Something bothering you?" You asked, voice gently laced with concern.

Whatever was hurting her, it didn't look pretty.

"Stubborn teeth. Nothing serious but..."

Mizu had to speak a bit more slowly now but from what she explained to you, when she had just started her quest of revenge, she had happened to have fought some vagabonds after trying to gain information about the white men she was looking for.

She lost the battle, got stabbed and thrown out like some piece of shit.

When she got thrown, she had fallen onto her face and that's when one of her back teeth chirped, leaving her with something akin to a minuscule knife tearing up the inside of her cheek whenever she tried to talk and though it had been a few years already, it still happened from time to time.

"It is not very pleasant." It took you back to when you were younger, you remembered how your master had the same problem and Asano's solution was always pretty simple.

He had learned to soothe his wife's pain in an almost gentle and painless manner which consisted in rubbing down onto the concerned tooth with extremely moderate pressure in order to less irritate your mother and every time he'd be done, she claimed to feel better...

So?…

Blink blink blink.

Blinking once, then twice and then a third time again before you opened your mouth again, à short exhale fanning against your friends skin before it then finally hit you.

Silence but…

You wanted to help.

While the slender woman was practically still scratching her teeth into oblivion, you tenderly took the liberty upon yourself to remove her hand from her mouth, meeting momentarily resistance and a suspicious glare.

"I fear that you scratching it won't make it feel any better..." You returned an assured expression, sitting right next to her now, skin touching underwater which you ignored at the instant.

And she did too.

"It does the job for me."

Meeting her with an exasperated sigh, you only shook your head further before your fingers hovered near Mizu's humid jaw, her hand shooting up to grab at your wrist out of reflex, keeping your hand at bay, she squeezed, the sudden yet quiet vulnerability of the moment settling over her like a weight, blood shooting towards her ears for no specific reason.

You two were already awfully close and her watchful eye didn’t help.

This wasn’t one of your senseless tricks and games, she knew she could trust you this time.

Or did she really?

"What do you think you're doing?" She snapped at you in an instant, not in a mean way, she just didn't expect it.

"I know what to do. My master had the same issue when I was younger." It took her about a good ten seconds until you felt her hand slide down from your wrist down to your elbow, settling there.

An exhale.

She didn't know what to expect but this placement felt the most...acceptable.

You didn't flinch.

Your tone was low and serious yet still filled with a certain air of care.

"....Don't try anything stupid..." An undeniable warning.

Whatever she meant with that, you’d respect it either way and e ven if she glared halfheartedly, she trusted you.

You knew she did.

You didn't want her to hurt and your tone surely didn't help her to keep up her guard...

"Let me handle this for you." Now kneeling upwards, you tilted her head back up towards you with your fingers, rising out of the water to get a better view of her mouth and simultaneously revealing your bare and defined upper body’s muscles to her, which again, she avoided staring at like an awkward teenager.

Her hand progressively relaxed, until it was barely caressing across your elbow for support, surprisingly letting you guide her through this while you simply stuck to the task at hand.

You felt her cold and slippery digits tense up at your elbow. Immediately, you went to reassure her.

You were a doctor after all.

"Don't worry, I promise, I'll be gentle." Staring right past her azure globes and ignoring the sudden heat in the back of your neck, your fingers softly brushed against the curve of the samurai's cheek.

(doctor doctor, i wasn't familiar with your game-)

The bathwater lapped quietly at the sides of the tub again as you reached toward your friends mouth, her hand growing warm and steady despite the nervous flutter in her own chest as you leaned down closer to her face, your thumb now sliding over her lower lip, silently asking for permission to enter.

"You'll feel better, just… trust me,” You said, the words meant to reassure again, though you could hear the edge of nervousness in your own voice.

”May I?…”

Mizu glanced at you for what felt like an eternity, eyes wary but trusting, her lips slightly parting as she waited for your touch.

’You may.’ She didn’t have to say it, neither did she really want to.

Mizu was…

Obedient to say the least.

At least for this brief moment.

You handled it like stroll in the park. At least you'd like to think.

Pressure? What pressure?

You calmed your breathing pattern, feeling the warm air slowly getting to your exposed breasts and its peaks hardening at the slight shift of the temperature, which you knew Mizu didn't mind because she was just the same as you.

You just didn't really care as long as it was a female individual.

But she still noticed.

Slowly, you extended your finger, the tip gently brushing over the woman's swollen gums, moving carefully toward the back of her mouth, where the sensitive tooth had been causing all the discomfort.

Mizu tensed up for another moment but then sighed, her hold on your elbows tightening for a short instant before the pressure of your thumb led to a strange kind of relief, though the discomfort still lingered.

You continued to move your finger in small, deliberate circles, applying just the right amount of pressure, as though trying to coax the stubborn ache to let go.

She focused on your breathing, the slow and steady rhythm of your continuously rising and falling glittering bust, shortly becoming her center before she mentally averted herself.

You were insane.

Eyes looking up, back to the side, back up, maybe if she looked to the side.. the rain in her irises kept swaying back and forth, unable to decide.

Mizu's ears were on fire and it didn't help that the proximity between the two of you gave her no other choice but to stare, as much as she tried to act unbothered which at least to you, she did a pretty good job at.

You were insane.

And her eyeballs couldn't help but wander because of your gorgeous complexion, suave eyes, that nose with its inimitable wings, those lips with such well-defined contours, the intricate softness of your features undoubtedly eclipsed even those with the most stunning faces.

Your beauty that had withstood so many physical and mental corsets, so many constraints, absurd prohibitions, sadism, conspiracies and humiliations -

It was your doll like face, your scarred and toned waist and the softness of your bosom you so mindlessly exposed with the way you looked down at her, fiercely concentrated and not to be deterred...and then all of a sudden, the tilt of your own head and a breath of your lips that revealed a simple treat she had yet to discover.

You were insane and it would've been a matter of time until you'd have heard your friends heart thudding in her chest, feeling the delicate nature of the moment, of the trust she placed in you just because and without too much hesitation whatsoever...

Those small circles you kept rubbing into her mouth, Mizu unconsciously replicated them gently onto the edge of your elbow, and it took you every muscle and willpower in your being to not cup her entire face-

What were you doing?

Naked, thighs slightly touching with another woman, with your thumb in her mouth and your eyes blurring at the feeling of her lips around you...

Her lips around your thumb…with her hooded and heavy eyes looking up at you.

Digging deeper and deeper into your core as if she had long understood…

The wetness of her tongue tingling at the side of your digit…

You were insane.

Soaked all over, (literally) warmth radiating out off of your sculpted bodies onto one another, breaths fanning over each others glowing faces…

A fine line between unknown insanity and practiced restraint.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale… the both of you were doing an amazing job at keeping it casual and it showed.

Your mission seemed to come to an end when you noticed Mizu’s quietness and lack of reaction, slowing down the rhythm of your finger within her mouth, naturally keeping up with her intense gaze that had been burning a hole right through you, her fingers caressing you and still tightening, scraping right across your skin whenever it was too much...

But she never made you stop. Almost didn't want you to.

She followed your every move down to the raise of your brows until she felt something akin to a harsh slip.

It hurt but it was over soon and still, you didn’t hesitate to apologize immediately…

The last rub was the most intensive one, to the point where your aloof 'husband' let out a small gasp combined with a much more intense grip on your forearm which you decided to ignore for the sake of your own sanity.

You had turned sloppy towards the end and Mizu was convinced.

You were insane.

What the hell was going on?

You stopped, checking on last time before removing your thumb from her at once, heavy eyes on you while the back of your fingers grazed her cheek.

To make sure she was doing well and the pain was all gone.

It was an accident.

"There, all done..Feeling better?"

You were insane.

”I suppose so. Thank you.” A nod.

You had to be.

”You’re welcome.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since that Heiji Shindo guy first mentioned it, you felt like the two of you had reached at point in your journey where people automatically assumed that you were married, a samurai couple, since you still walked around with your faithful katana bound to your hip and honestly, none of you felt like going out of your way to say otherwise.

Mizu had already found her way to navigate around it all and weirdly enough, it didn’t really surprise you.

When it came to acting and playing an acceptable role in the eyes of society and to its fullest extent as well, neither of you were to be underestimated.

And again, it showed.

"Oh and...You should've listened to what the lady was saying earlier, it's a mixed Onsen, Y/N. So there was no need for me to sneak around her or anything of the sort." Mizu was talking about the old woman from earlier again.

People really were gullible, or it was just the two of you, being born as excellent actors.

Either way, you would have expected the granny to eye Mizu more intently and to ask her more about her ‘quarrels’ with you, holding her up and acting as insufferable as ever…but the woman didn’t.

Apparently.

The more you thought about it the more it would’ve been a way to give her even more false ideas...

"Plus, it's very late into in the evening, so I doubt that any more people will be gracing us with their presence tonight."

At least the owner of the inn had assured her and therefore she felt just a little more comfortable to wash herself up for the short time being.

She didn't want to push her luck too much after all.

Right.

Like you had concluded earlier, you did have the place for yourselves with Ringo being knocked out right after he got into his room and Mizu disappearing into her own, you felt favored by the gods.

And now she was here with you.

You sunk deeper, chin almost touching the clear surface with your arms wrapping around your body underneath the water while your mind turned a bit fuzzy, your eyes felt compelled to plainly watch, an intrepid compliment lingering on your tongue.

Her.

It was apparent that it had been too long since she'd allowed herself something like this—

She’d been too busy, always rushing through the country on her pursuit of the remaining three men, barely able to catch her breath.

But now, here she was.

She let out another slow, contented sigh, her fingertips tracing the edge of the tub, the water rippling softly in response.

Your words came out in a whisper, almost like a forbidden spell. "Then I'm glad."

And you knew she was listening, sinking yourself even deeper until it was only your nose and eyes staring ahead of you, the rest of your body drowned in warm comfort.

'I get to see you like this.' you repeated in your consciousness, a tickling sense of courage taking over your mind. It wasn’t calculated, nor was it a joke and there wasn’t much struggle either.

She was attractive…to you.

Your type even.

In a friendly way of course, and even then you thought you'd let her know.

There was no shame in it.

"Believe it or not, I think you're very...satisfying to look at Mizu. Very pretty. "

Her characteristics… they complimented each other well, never failing to steal your attention.

Yet you still had to be careful with the way you sounded, even when you let your heart speak.

Seriousness with the blend of a soft treat mixed in your tone, and you didn't just mean that now, the thought actually came to you pretty often lately and right now you had no intentions of hiding that from her.

It is ok to find your friend good looking, right?

You said it casually enough either way and her true emotions had unraveled for just a moment.

"..."

In hopes to not scare her off with your comment, you tried your best to make it sound as amicable as possible and not some sort of sick joke as you caught a part of her relaxed state stand stiff at your words.

Shocked?

Taken aback?

Azure eyes shot open again, not necessarily feeling the need to face you just yet.

Her already quiet demeanor stood still...a bit too still, silence creeping up your back as if the whole room was holding her breath with her.

Oh no...you saw her look downwards, seemingly towards where her chest was hidden by the waters and steam, feeling your stomach sink for just a moment and her prolonged quiet didn't help.

"I…I didn't mean to offend-" What demon had possessed you to say something like this again?

"Huh..." the woman started out, before slowly all too carefully as if not to spill any more water, turning to look at you in your entirety.

Her gaze lingered, distant and yet still so close, cerulean irises tracing the edges of your face, searching not for answers but something...more elusive, tender and honest.

Why would you lie to her like this, knowing what she had faced on a daily basis?

Why would you do something like that?

Or maybe, staring more intently now, you weren't lying?

Well, with you, one could never really tell.

”Pretty?…”

Another short silence until she broke it with a barely audible scoff.

"I don't get it...." Mizu replied slowly, small timid waves moving along with the way she spoke to you, full of honesty and respect.

She meant every word that left her mouth, "but you're very beautiful yourself. I hear people telling you all the time. They see it and naturally it's only the truth." She breathed shortly and her words almost pinched your heart.

You didn’t think of yourself as ugly per say but, ever since he happened to have been out of your life, you avoided mirrors and other such things that threatened to reflect back at you.

He completely destroyed the way you saw yourself and whenever you thought about the situations your looks, character and naivety had ended up putting you in at the time, you wished you were born a bit less fortunate in that sense.

With a different mouth, or a bit more lively skin, or a bit less distance between your front teeth, a smaller nose…

Anything that did not remind him of her.

He married you because of her-

And you, young, unexperienced and dumb as you were, lived cluelessly, transgressing and questioning your own grasp on reality.

The short lived union practically left a sealed perception of men and their most sinful motives ingrained into the deepest parts of your consciousness, always keeping you at edge.

It was a nicely decorated trap with no exit in sight except for death and finality itself with you, a bewitching mannequin, a replacement, a 'consolation price' at the heart of it all.

From a bright and promising soul to the devil and all its perverted fantasies himself...w hat good use was beauty when you couldn’t even recognize who you truly were from within anymore?…

Innocence, was it?

That privilege has been ripped from away from you a long time ago, like a ripe fruit with parasites feasting at it from the inside, slowly spiraling into whatever name you had become…

The things men would call you…

Men will be men.

Fiend, Demon, Beast…Men would always be regular men and their fury was no different.

A man’s wrath was one thing… but the Damsel’s was another.

Men would always be regular men, but the Damsel of Devastation was the devil.

So they said.

The devil…that was what your line of work turned you into, because you let it.

A woman’s wrath…

Word on the street said it was explosive, brutal and vile, the injuries found on the bodies sometimes looking more akin to animalistic ripping and stabbing rather than anything else really, since most of the time, you were unable to keep what was left of your emotions under control and ‘work’ was practically the only way to let it all out.

And it was all true, your recent encounters with Taigen only serving as a pre taste of what you usually let yourself into.

And that same dark spot within you helped in convincing you that there was no reason to feel bad about it at all either.

Your hurt and short temper, pretentious arrogance and lack of self control at ‘work’ and even before.

But…

You weren’t always like that though, there was a time where you tried to erase yourself from men’s radars, to be kind and docile, non problematic and truly willing to try and bend yourself to societal norms.

To bring honor to your family, to marry, to quit swordsplay and to bear his children even when it felt wrong and unnatural to you.

Soft on every single level.

That was a long time ago though and your encounter with himhad taught you differently.

But what did that mean to you?

Cleansing was far too insufficient for you by now and you had no intentions of redeeming yourself whatsoever, that was out of the question.

The damage this bond had done to your soul irreversible.

It was all a bad dream, a facade, things you had left behind but that never ceased to plague your mind at the end of each passing day, when you worked had finally become nothing, his mark still on the back of your neck, something you had long enough considered to cut off and out your skin once and for all.

And yet you couldn’t, never had the courage to do so even after all those years.

The ‘Damsel of Devastation’ and the red ‘crane’ on her back…an irremovable thorn forcefully blown into the shadows of your nape.

A restless wandering corpse, with an unquenchable thirst for more foul blood to spill, to punish and to keep it going…

Except that you didn’t decompose half as fast as one would have expected you to by now, no, you were more defiant.

That thing that had been burned deep into you…you’d never forget.

But Mizu could not know, she didn’t have to.

You didn’t really want her to.

And you’d try to keep it that way.

Poison.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now that your heart had climbed back to its usual spot, you could breathe again only to ask yourself two seconds later if you the one that was dumb or just stupid.

What was there not to understand in what you were saying?

The quiet that reigned now wasn't awkward or heavy but it definitely left you confused and without thinking, you shifted slightly, carefully inching closer, letting the warmth of the water guide you forward.

You wanted to be closer to her again.

You wanted to understand, you..."Mizu...I don't understand what you don't understand.." And her answer hit you like a gut wrenching punch.

How could you forget? How could she forget?

Did she still think she looked that awful?

"I don't understand what you're calling pretty." Right.

To be unsightly in a man’s world, wasn't that comparable to death itself?

Death of one's own...but not in your eyes.

You dared to answer with no filter whatsoever.

“You.” It was fearless and the intensity of your voice muted your friend in a moment of awe and something else, something deeper…more rooted.

And yet she only scowled, brows raising once again.

You should’ve known better.

“Really...Let's just say that no one has ever used that to describe me...” To her you were always pretty and ten times more alive than the others.

“No one?” To the rest of the world, what was she?

You should’ve known better.

Not even her own husband had dared to compliment her and there you came spouting such nonsense from your lips.

Unless the words ‘You’re not as hideous as I expected’ were supposed to count as a compliment.

It was the closest thing he ever said concerning her appearance. Her husband’s words, not yours of course.

And then there was you…

"...but thank you.” It came out as a whisper and Mizu slid back up a little. It was sincere.

Your head tilted at her, straightening your back which minimally revealed your chest to the damp air. Her thanks meant enough, it answered your question more than it should have but...

"Not even men- Oh uhm...right"

The more you spoke, the more brainless and sorry you felt for her and she went back to closing her eyes along with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Nope. Not their cup of tea I'm afraid." It made you break a scoff. Men will always be men, right?

'Mine neither. The men part.' You thought casually, " Oh actually you'd be surprised."

And again, you meant what you said, causing her storm-like eyes to flutter open again, frowning at you with an attitude.

After all, as far as you knew, same sex relationships between men had always been quite frequent, if not even rampantly accepted and welcomed by the Japanese society, especially between daimyos and within the ranks of the samurai...it was practically a norm.

Honorable even.

Although for women, it was ultimately more rare, questioned and borderline looked down upon.

Unorthodox.

(did my research ppl in the edo period were legit like ‘lmaoo yeah being gay is honorable ok but wlw? why should that exist??? of course it wasn't forbidden but it was definitely more lowkey!)

But what did that matter to you?

"You're already unbelievably handsome during the day and then you turn even prettier when you're....like this...at night? If I were a man, I would've already been courting you, no questions asked."

You stared back at her with nothing else but meaningfulness, while she was not entirely sure to have heard you right.

You were insane and she felt like splashing you to keep you from blabbering such nonsense.

You were 'the Damsel' after all...

"You don't know what you're saying..." Except that you did and right now, she didn’t exactly know how to handle it.

'What an odd thing to say...'

You had to be insane, there was no other way.

You threw such strong words into the conversation and Mizu's jaw tightened and yet, before she could rethink about it, "Have you ever even been courted before?"

Leaving you a bit confused and tucked into a corner by now.

'What the hell??'

Mentally face palming herself, she cursed and didn't know what she was even expecting to gain from t hat.

What did she care if you had already been pursued? And even if you did it could've hardly been-

It's not like it was any of her business and besides-

"Yes" Your answer was nasty and short but quite simple in the end.

You didn’t seem to recall it fondly though.

"....By a man?"

The question rolled off naturally with a bit too much disappointment and yet before she could 'correct' herself, something in the air had shifted, like the playful tug of a hidden spark.

Mizu noticed it first-

Your hand, just beneath the surface, moved slowly, like a quiet invitation. A mischievous glint flickered in your eyes as you glanced at the woman besides you, a faint smirk pulling at the corners of your lips.

"Wait no...forget I ev-"

Before Mizu could react, you flicked her wrist, sending a sudden splash of warm water towards her, the droplets hitting the woman's face with a soft splash, the water tickling her skin as she gasped in surprise.

You had beat her to it, h er eyes widened, and before you could stop herself, you laughed—a bright, surprised sound that echoed against the walls.

Your hand covered up a bit of your sunshine like smile before lowering it just enough to bite your index a little, in an attempt to calm your laughing down only to finally reveal the treat the samurai had caught a glimpse of earlier, back when you helped her soothe her pain.

There was a small gap between your two front teeth.

It was precious, it was what caused her smile right after you and she didn't care enough to curse herself for it right now.

"Oh…” No matter what you always seemed get bolder and bolder the more time you spent with her, she couldn’t get enough of the beam that would present itself whenever you tried to annoy, tease and get reactions out of her.

Now was one of those moments again.

And she enjoyed it.

”You’re going to regret this Y/N…”

”Is that a promise? Or just an empty threat?” The small gap between your front teeth showing itself once again.

You were giggling like a child.

“You do that again and I can promise you that you will be dealt with…” Her gaze was unmistakable, glimmering with malicious intent.

”Properly.”

The last word reached your ears with an incredibly dangerous tone and you wished nothing more than for her to back up her threats with her actions.

”Hm.” No hesitation whatsoever.

You repeated the same action again with much more force which Mizu semi managed to dodge while you backed away right before she could get back to you, your singsong laughter resonating all over the place once again, completely forgetting you were still in a public space.

"Well, I didn't know getting courted by women was a thing now...Is there something you aren't telling me or am I the one missing out?"

Coming back at her question, you wished for it in silence, watching her expression shift to an unsure one before regaining composure.

“Tsk...you know very well this isn't what I meant” Mizu said shaking her head at herself, her voice a mix of amusement and sheepish disbelief.

She wiped her face, still smirking, but your eyes sparkled with challenge.

You could only return her almost self assured expression.

It wasn't?

Really?

"Then what is it that you meant?"

You were Y/N after all.

(me x yn when lowkey???)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not everyone could be fooled as easily by your antics as you liked to think.

But then again she wasn't just 'everyone'. Or anyone.

"What was the last thing I said to you?" You tried to justify yourself but she wouldn't let you.

"Master I-" You were trapped, quick and short answers without much space for arguments of your own, raspy counterattacks and that infatuating smell of her kizami.

You’d force yourself to speak, you couldn’t let her suffocate you like this. Even if you knew better, you’d still try.

It wasn’t smart but it was also something close to a once in a lifetime opportunity, to speak to your mentor again and to die once more.

After all it was better to speak than to run away and die. Even if buried alive.

Right?

She'd eat you while you were still breathing, chewing your puny little self up and your hidden faults before spitting you out to leave you bare and you knew it.

She wasn’t just anyone, she wasn’t just everyone.

Even if your main focus was Mizu and helping her a bit with the whole revenge mission, she primarily served as an excuse to drag yourself here in an attempt...

You wanted to fix things before your eventual demise and as if your situation wasn't already at it's worse...(it wasn't), Ringo had accidentally found out about your illness one fateful morning when Mizu was still tight asleep.

There was no need to deny it. You were getting sloppy and you didn't like it.

You had been executing your usual meditating and exercising routine when out of the blue your complexion turned even more lifeless, transparent and you felt your lungs tighten again.

The exact thing you claimed to handle so well and had proved yourself quite formidable to have hidden for so long, going unnoticed.

You suddenly broke down to your knees, coughing a hefty amount of blood which ended up tainting your white undergarment and flooding your hand with the ruby like liquid.

Ringo had been strolling through the crystalline woods that day, searching for mushrooms or berries like he usually did and with luck (or not) came back to you at absolute random, humming a tune which quite literally felt like a stab wound the moment he saw you.

You looked like you could hardly breathe, fighting an already lost battle and the man thought he’d felt his heart fall to the soles of his feet dropping his fruitful bounty at the nauseating sight.

You tried telling him that this happened from time to time, nose bleedings, coughing up blood, it was all because of the levels of stress, that you could handle it.

It was funny because you were the one that tried to change his mind on joining Mizu on her quest and there you were, your respiratory system overstimulated by everything little thing.

“Not a single word of this goes to Mizu.”

You didn’t even have to threaten him that seriously.

At least for now you had made him swear to you to keep it between him and the gods, threatening you’d make him eat loads and loads of eggplants if even a single syllable of this reached the ears of your blue friend.

You still couldn’t grasp how one could be so absolutely scared of a vegetable but it served you well.

Ever since, Ringo always made sure to stop by markets or pharmacies whenever you’d pass by a city or hamlets in hopes to find anything that could soothe your nerves even throughout this tumultuous journey.

You said it were your nerves but that was merely a theory...and you didn’t even try to believe it.

You had always had mixed feelings about it but the apprentice insisted he was your guardian Angel now the same way you always defended him and made him feel seen and protected despite the short amount of time you had known each other.

You were surprised how well he had been able to keep his lips sealed and allowed yourself to relax a bit more whenever you’d leave him with your cunning friend.

In other words, you had things to do before it was too late and being able to sort things out with your master was one of those.

It had to be done or else you’d be turning in your grave for the rest of eternity.

Well, that and unbeknownst to everyone here she genuinely craved to see you as well, despite her harsh words and unwavering stubbornness.

To think that she was the one that had raised you, before you had to keep raising yourself…

You still longed for her, the ache in your chest growing deeper with each passing day, week, month, year...

In the quiet moments, your mind would drift, consumed by the impossible hope that Yunjing might somehow take you back—

To at least acknowledge you as the apprentice, the daughter you once were to her, before you chose that thing over her-

Carving such a great wound in her, she believed it would never heal.

It took you a few agonizingly long seconds to make up your mind, but when you did, you decided you didn’t care who was watching.

Whether it was Mizu’s cold glare, slicing through your fragile composure behind her glasses, or Ringo’s eyes painted wide with concern, this was your last chance, and nothing else mattered truly anymore.

You were at everyone's mercy, some might even say that you were pitiful, what were you even doing?

This was unlike you and it definitely did put your friends in an awkward position, Mizu soundlessly watching the scene unfold in front of her with Yunjing’s infinitely patient form digging into doorway.

At this specific moment, Mizu’s fixing gaze was driving you insane one could only imagine what everyone was thinking.

“…” Ringo and Mizu…

They could both sense the guilt that now plagued your conscience, reluctantly reclaiming a truth you had long buried away with a myriad of complex emotions, even if the process was painful and arduous.

You were small now, and anxious and tired and you were a mess... in every sense of the word.

So what?

They wouldn't dare hold this against you. They didn't even fully understand the situation, nor did they know the extent of your quarrel with the lady.

Despite keeping her unreadable and apathetic like visage on the both of you, Mizu was...surprised to say the least.

During the last few days she had spent traveling with you, she did notice that whenever Ringo tried to pry a bit more about your master and her whereabouts, what she was like or how you two last interacted, you always seemed more than evasive about the topic and went mute.

She could have never guessed that it was that serious though.

"So when was the last time your master and you have spoken?"

"You mean in person?" He nodded.

"...About 4 or 5 years ago?"

"..." Mizu was training but it didn't stop her from eavesdropping either way, accidently or not.

It wasn't really eavesdropping because the two of you were literally at a ten meter radius from her, she was concentrated at her task at hand yes, but she really couldn't help but keep an ear open.

"Oh....that's uhh...that's a lot of time." No shit.

"Hm. You think so?" you humored him dryly, binding your tasuki sash back up against your upper arm.

Of course you knew that it wasn't normal per se but the current circumstances really didn't make things any easier for you, it didn’t give you much room to try.

You valued Yunjing's words and respected her every wish, no matter how absurd or hurtful, you always took her seriously.

And the last time the two of you had spoken she had made herself abundantly clear.

Now you could only hope enough time had past to try and be reasonable again, now that you had grown out of your teenage years and she had (you hoped) properly mourned her husband.

"Oh! I know-"

A nd you prepared yourself for another one of his breathless rambles, automatically tuning it out a bit while you shifted your focus onto the woman that was all blue, who undoubtedly had been immersing herself within her own ruthless fantasies for about an hour now, whirling her weapon around, fueling her footwork, dodging and cutting through frozen trees and leaves taking short breaks only when needed.

You had already trained that morning, for an almost equal amount of time yet less intensively due to Ringo begging you to let him watch you closer which you quite reluctantly accepted under the conditions that he stayed put and quiet.

Either way Mizu didn’t want him near her when she exercised because in her own words, ‘A simple breeze can throw a crane off course.’

Ringo was a typhoon.

You scoffed at her but it was no use arguing with her, something along the lines of how she’d like to avoid a maximum of distractions if possible.

She couldn’t focus with him around, she needed quiet and peace and so did you but you were honestly more open to the idea of taking on the role of someone Ringo would not feel like a total nuisance to most of the time.

You had accompanied him with his shopping in the small village of Miyama to give the samurai her space and much needed tranquility and it seemed like the both of you had just come back in time.

It had been around ten minutes and after all that slicing and meditating, Mizu’s workout seemed to have finally come to an end for the day.

You weren't crazy.

Ringo’s bouncy voice kept ringing your head with his prying questions ever since you left up until your arrival and Mizu had heard it all, jaw tightening at the thought of your eventual discomfort.

She knew you could speak up for yourself, she knew you probably already told him off and she also knew how forgetful Ringo could be by now.

She was sure enough to have warned him though?

"You ever tried to send her any letters? You're good at calligraphy and your stories are..interesting! I heard older women love reading mukashi banashi-"

"It's not like that"

You flatly spat at him, according him a few seconds of your attention again for him to leave the subject alone which soon enough ringed a bell.

Mizu had mouthed him crucial advice a few days ago just when the three of you had started your journey towards the east of the country for the sake of pursuing your own advice.

It was brief and discreet but right after abandoning Taigen, when she found her apprentice already asking a bit too much about Yunjing, she slid a small whisper into his ear all while making sure you weren't listening:

'For now you should leave the topic of her mentor alone. She doesn’t like it.’ Depending on what aspect he asked you about.

You seemed pretty proud, full of admiration and nostalgia when talking about your younger years with her, but whenever Ringo would ask about any recent interactions, you’d grow serious in deep thought, heavy aura shining through with dry answers.

Right.

It wasn’t very appropriate and Ringo never wanted to purposely put you in any uncomfortable situations.

He was being too invasive with your personal relationships for his own good and after you bit back with that snappy tone of yours, he was quick to catch on but he was a bit late to the party.

Eventually you’d open up on your own.

You didn’t fail to apologize instantaneously but Ringo had long forgiven you, telling it wasn’t right on his end.

Only problem was that now you were borderline scowling, energy levels laying low with the mention of Yunjing and your complications with her…

And it really didn't help that Mizu noticed it right away despite her supposedly dedicating her entire focus on her exercising only, and frankly….

She hated herself for it.

What?

It had been a month now, almost a month and a half since you, her charming warrior, assassin, doctor friend had joined her (with her approval might one add) and gods help her…

She couldn't stand it.

It made her feel even more confused and disgusted with herself really..

You frowning, you being sad, you being frustrated, angry, whatever negative emotions you displayed, she always tried her best to ignore, to turn a blind eye one them because at the end of the day, it wasn’t her center.

You weren’t her center, friendship wasn’t her center, your laughter and unnecessary bickering wasn’t her center.

You holding out food to her in offering and her leaning down without much thought to rip a chunk out when Taigen was quick to call her a dog wasn’t her center.

Why was she like that?

Seriously.

It didn’t matter much because the food came from you and with that new haircut of his you were just as fast to compare him to a baboon’s bottom.

It did make her bite her tongue.

She huffed, holding back a cackle yet this wasn’t her center.

Blowing into your ear to make you spasm and annoy you wasn’t her center, using her agility to act like a gymnast and entertain you in silent hopes to see you grin wasn’t her center either.

Her newly found friendship with you wasn’t her center.

She barely knew you anymore. You weren’t her center.

Revenge was and she hated how often she had to remind herself of that within your presence.

Still, that damn scowl really wasn't a good look on you and she was on the verge of grinding her teeth to dust if she didn’t find a way to fix it within the next 5 minutes.

She guessed this was what friendship did to a person and she hated it.

You weren’t insane.

Stealing a few glances her way every now and then and you could have sworn that even if minimal, she'd reciprocate them here and there, always careful of course.

She didn't want to give you any wrong ideas after all.

Right.

Neither did you, of course...?

What was there to misinterpret?

You only looked her way to study her body's abilities and limits, reflexes, the way her feet swayed and how her chest would rise and fall frantically whenever she'd go and breathe a little harder because of her efforts and constant concentration.

Catching her asleep, drinking up her peaceful image from the crease of her eye bags to the small gap between her lips and the softness of her small breaths.

It was a rare occurrence.

Or how she would smirk at herself whenever she'd successfully cut through whatever tree she had designated as her training dummy, her signature raven lock falling to the side of her temple while her brow would raise with pride and cockiness, the accentuation of her cheekbones and nose not going unnoticed by you.

It was rare to see her wear anything close to a smile on her face so you made sure to take a mental picture before she could go back to her typical frown which you gave up scolding her for.

That was practically her default face really.

Mizu and her training made you feel...exclusive?

Exclusively honored, yes!

You meant lucky. Lucky to have found someone to match your intensity in combat.

You really had to admit that she did occupy most of your undivided attention right now, in a friendly way of course, while Ringo kept going on about what he would have written to his own mother if she was still alive, it pained you to conclude that you had not heard a single word of what he said, your rival friend here being far more interesting to look at and it almost made you feel terrible.

"Miss Y/N?" Not right now Ringo.

You had fought her once and she was good.

She was really good and you knew that if it wasn't for your stupid mistake, you would've given her a harsher time.

So it was only natural for you to take notes for the future duel she promised you.

She didn't exactly promise but she did keep it in the back of her mind, so it was going to happen eventually.

Her movements came to a halt and you were far too intrigued to even see yourself.

Of course you couldn't.

You were staring and staring and before you knew it the navy clothed woman whipped her head into your direction, her orbs strictly piercing your way as if she had been sensing your insisting, dare she say longing eyes on her.

’Oh-‘

You were so taken aback that you didn’t even notice Ringo telling you about how he was leaving to pee and promised you not to get lost but that if he did, he’d probably be chilling with a family of tanukis for a bit but he’d try his best to find his way back to you no matter what.

”What?” He had already left.

Little did you know, she did exactly the same when you weren't watching.

Studying you, didn't matter if you trained or not actually.

She didn't even know she was doing it and Ringo would always be seconds away from addressing her new found habit.

The woman never gave him the chance to.

Mizu simply had better chances at not getting caught and her reasoning was sort of the same as yours.

She had to study you if she wanted to win your next battle, even if it was only in second position of her worries.

You were still quite the unusually interesting individual and she somehow couldn't come to terms with it.

How could she?

It was sisterly affection, she was sure of it. (i cried writing this💀 useless sapphics-)

The way you'd keep rolling your eyes at her, backing it up with confident yet sheepish snicker, whenever she'd deliver a sarcastic remark at your own sassy antics, pretending to hate it.

More often than not holding eye contact with her, or whenever you'd talk about martial arts and you'd exchange combat skills and tactics, executing your deadly techniques on her with upmost gentleness, knowing you would never do anything to actually hurt her.

And she did the same.

You could handle each other, that was the point.

Or when you'd insist on teaching her more advanced calligraphy whenever you weren't training, eating, sleeping or on the road in general, speaking to her ever so understandingly and guiding her brush with her having a hard time to ignore the burning feeling in her ear...

Or when night would fall and you'd help her change her bandages, always respecting her boundaries such as her bandaged chest and the sight of her open hair.

She didn’t know how to react to it, second thoughts always invading her mind whenever she’d enjoy your company a little too much.

Second thoughts about this friendship of yours.

Seriously, you were a problem and she had to thank the tint on her glasses for covering her fleeting gaze at all times or else she would've gone insane with the amount of times she'd catch herself (and the amount of time she wouldn’t) searching for your eyes, your company, your proximity.

It made no sense.

You were a woman and here she was acting like some moody awkward teenage boy, confused by your person.

What was happening? Why was it happening?

Sisterly affection it was.

But she'd digress.

She caught you, stretching a bit by reaching her hands to her feet in the negative temperatures, momentarily looking up towards you, she knew that if you’d decide to turn you’d catch her, and this time she didn't have her glasses.

She stopped but then it didn't even take her a minute and there she went again, staring at you from the corner of her eye, like a sphinx ...four, five, six seven-

Bingo! Oh no..

You lost! You turned too soon and luckily for her, it made you seem like the creep in this situation.

Mind you, she lost no time.

"What is it?" Mizu broke your trance swiftly and you almost stumbled upon your words trying to act unbothered by the fact that you had quite literally just been caught gawking at your friend while still looking bothered because of Ringo’s choice of topic.

What the hell were you thinking again?

Right, Ringo went to take a piss, you were a bit pissed and so it was only the two of you, once again.

Either way you weren't gawking, you were taking mental notes..!

You shrugged your shoulders fast. A bit too fast actually.

"I don't know, I'm asking you.." You singsonged at her, quickly thinking of another one of your jokey remarks before she'd nail you alive.

She’d definitely nail you alive. Mizu only raised her brows, chuckling for a second as she shook her head.

"You think I don’t see it but you keep staring at me..And I asked you first." Oh really?

You mentally ran laps and cursed at yourself again.

What a time to irritate her a bit.

Your favorite game and pass time after all.

You shifted on the floor, giving her a confused air and view of your face but she knew better by now.

Whatever was about to leave your lips would put her in an awkward position, you were always so quick.

And she was right.

"Oh...You've got it all wrong Mizu...I'm not staring at you" Was your tone ever not dripping with confidence and...everything else?

The woman only tsked at you, sheathing her blade briefly before making her way towards your sitting form, suddenly arming herself with an unreadable expression on her features.

So this is how you wanted to do things?

"I was simply..." You started, an awkward beam on your lips while you tried your best not to laugh already.

"You were simply?..." She mimicked in her rough tone, inky brow cocking at you while searching your eyes for any indicators of another one of your infuriating answers, her voice a bit lighter than usual, ever so softening whenever she spoke to you.

It was like a reflex at this point.

"The posture in your forms was off all along and I’ve only been back for 10 minutes now" You lied straight through your teeth as you scrunched your nose in order to avoid snickering too fast.

This was a friendly insult.

The word ‘insult’ was an overstatement.

It was hard not to keep your eyes on her when she was now towering over you with her lanky frame and signature frown combined with a small pout as you were struggling to read her next move.

She was already close and you were heating the fuck up.

You felt her shift towards you with the same puzzled expression on her face as she slowly but steadily started lowering her face to meet yours, almost closing the gap and you'd be lying if you said that despite the numbing temperatures, you didn't feel anything rise between the two of you.

She had bad posture, it was a fact and she knew that but on that day she was in an unusually good mood which made her entertain you a bit more actively.

Not only that but it did in no way make her forms look any less better, perfection honestly.

So?

You had to keep yourself grounded and shot her a defying glare, the one Taigen failed to resist, the one that usually left your blue eyed friend so silent.

"Hm. Is that so?" she muttered barely audible and you almost stuttered...again.

So this was how she was going to be?

"Yeah..." You felt her large hand sneak its way up your arm but didn't react to it because she was commanding your attention with her eyes, indifferently removing some of the tiny loose strands hovering your face.

What was even happening right now?

You two were friends, she was allowed to do that.

Of course only she could do that.

She was watching you and she wanted your eyes on her, it was undeniable.

It was unnecessary.

It was stupid.

"Yeah?..." You felt her warm breath fan against your cheek and you almost wanted to die from the heat rushing to your ears.

Gods be damned what was wrong with her?

What was wrong with you?

"Oh, absolutely.” You reciprocated courageously. It was final.

What was wrong with the both of you?

”…” Damn her.

“I mean...How could I not watch?" You shook your head dramatically as you bit your lower lip, the ends of your mouth twitching in anticipation.

She’d eat you alive if she could.

"So you're not denying it anymore?" Fuck her.

"Well yes because it was just that bad." You quickly saved yourself with a short breath leaning back a tad while Ringo’s bell alerted you that he’d be back any minute now.

That guy could probably only wonder if he was interrupting you two in the middle of ‘something’.

Wait- You two were women…How would that work again?

"Like reaaal bad posture." Her fingers tracing closer and closer to your neck, your body warmth radiating onto her, gods this was pathetic and you were itching for her to see through her actions this time.

"Mhm." Her voice was barely above a whisper, dropping an octave lower and if it wasn't for you already being seated, you would have too, that woman just couldn't keep her hands to herself…

Of course.

You were already halfway there, what was the point of backing out now?

”I see.”

That’s it, you were done for. Her hand was caressing the side of your nape with the back of her fingers, you almost couldn’t feel it until-

"You know, you should try andAH-"

Your tone emphasized and shrieked, breaking the glass ceiling.

And before you could add more onto the plate and egg her on any further, you were met with a squatting Mizu, feeling your train of thought being interrupted by the shuddering feeling of her long and frosty fingers finding their way onto your exposed collarbone, proudly pinching into the crook of your neck just enough to shock you but nowhere hard enough to actually hurt you.

But they were seriously so FUCKING COLD what the-

And she kept going.

"Is that all? No, don’t hold back, princess...Anything else you want to add?" HOW DARE SHE?

Oh and how this shitty nickname rolled off of her tongue, this woman, of course she had you right where she wanted.

Just this once.

"OW! NO NO NO NOSTOP AH- MIZU PLEASE AHA-" How did she even-?

It was a mix of pinching, squeezing and caressing all over your neck with her frozen digits which didn't really matter because in the end it was her and she had you squealing all over in no time, holding back a laugh or two.

"And just where exactly do you think you're going?" It made your heart jump and Mizu cackle for just an instant.

You couldn't run, you were at her mercy even in such an unserious argument and she'd take advantage of it and at the same time it had made your frown disappear.

That was all that she wanted.

She didn’t catch herself thinking but to her, you wore a smile better, taunting her, you could practically hear the malicious grin spread on her face while you couldn't help but squirm for your life.

You could've undone yourself from her grip easily. But at this very moment, you just didn't want to. (sisterly affection MY ASS-)

"OW OW OW OW OW- MIZU! MIZU I'M SORRY I WAS JOKING, I WAS JOKING SERIOUSLY, PLEASE GET THEM OFF!!" You cried out laughing, stomach fluttering with bubbles and butterflies as you couldn't help but feel like a teenage girl being bullied by her boyfriend.

Ew.

To cheer you up when you were down…to make sure you weren’t doing too bad when confronted with unsettling things, to be gentle with you whenever she could, it wasn’t her center.

She later justified her actions by saying that you had an insect clasping onto your neck. So she tried to remove it and you would’ve been a fool to ignore her ironic tone when she said so.

That’s what friends are for, no?

"MIZU STOP I’M GONNA PEE!-”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was safe to presume that the woman thought you had died.

That night, that argument, the shouts, the rain, the deception, the slap that left a trail of crimson, like a bridge connecting your stinging nostril and upper lip down to your chin, like a zipping thunderbolt.

Well, there were a lot of thunders that night, you just realized.

It was the first time she had laid a hand on you, achieving the unthinkable. You pushed her to her limits.

You two weren’t strangers, besides Asano, no one knew you better than her. You regretted it but it also made you glad that it was her after all.

1 825 days, 43 826 hours, 261 weeks, However one would like to count it.

You longed for her, the sight of her dark hair confined within strict hairstyles and still very faint strands of grey, the sound of her even throaty voice snickering and advising you, the feeling of her numbing hands on your forehead when you’d feel down at times, the bearable smell of her pipe and it’s contents…

The two alternately colored planets residing within her eyes. Like chestnuts and greens.

And they had missed the sight of you too, empty of any compassion.

She had flicked your forehead, Mizu’s pupils dilating directly just for a bit, lip separating in a small ‘o’ as she realized who this woman was.

Somewhere in the deepest parts of her mind, realized who this woman truly was.

Whose sword she had forged all these years ago, the you now wore on your hip, the one Master Eiji refused to refine any further despite her complaints and his rectifications, because of the nature of her spirit.

She didn't think she’d ever get to meet her ‘training partner’ ever again, especially not under the current circumstances.

It was the middle of the night and Yunjing’s stance was relaxed but firm and her left arm was circling her waist, the right one supporting her infamous pipe, brown tinted glasses scanning over your friends briefly before returning to you.

As if they had tried to unmask each other, but not right now.

There was no need.

She had all the time in the world for such games later. Now it was all about you and what you had to say to her.

Now or never truly.

It clicked and you couldn’t take Yunjing’s silence anymore.

There was hesitance and discomfort at first, sweaty pearls slipping down your temples not going unnoticed by your friends and your mentor before it happened.

‘Bam’ . Resonance.

It took you a few agonizingly long seconds to make up your mind, but when you did, you decided you didn’t care who was watching. Whether it was Mizu’s seemingly cold glare, slicing through your fragile composure behind her glasses, or Ringo’s eyes stretched wide with concern, this was your last chance, and nothing else mattered truly anymore.

You were at everyone's mercy, some might even say that you were pitiful, what were you even doing?

So what?

They wouldn't dare hold this against you. They didn't even fully understand the situation, or the extent of your quarrel with the lady who was clearly expecting somme sort of response from you.

What an awkward situation for any bystander, let’s just get this over with.

You were a mess, you sat there trembling, strands of hair sticking to the side of your face, hands fiddling with the tissue of your hakama and it wasn’t pleasant.

A mess in every sense of the word.

Ringo’s eyes blinked hastily and nervously while navy clothed woman kept her silence.

Right now it wasn’t their place to intervene, sort of like a personal challenge of yours.

You got this.

A loud thud resounded throughout the wooden staircase, the brief pain slowly climbing your kneecaps as you uncomfortably knelt in front of her.

All of this was temporary, all of this would pass when all would have elapsed.

And she kept standing, statuesque as ever, daring to speak first, you had a heavy heart, one slip up.

She could tell.

Not your mentor but your mother.

Not the Red Soldier from the Mountains but Tan Yunjing.

Not Tan Yunjing but ‘Mama.’

You were kneeling like a beggar, like a follower, distraught as ever, as Y/N, not the Damsel of Devastation but in fact like the grown woman that you were, crying like no other little girl should, throwing your dignity aside until your head lowered near enough to kiss the ground.

Your hands reached for her kimono, gripping it tightly, making Ringo share a worried look with his stone faced master.

Oh you had a lot of explaining to do.

Whenever there is a meeting, a parting shall always follow.

But that parting does not need to last forever.

At first, your slightly opened mouth made no sound but you pushed yourself, a wave of something delicate washing over you-

"Please…” Your voice was so insecure, it was…unfamiliar to anything anyone has ever heard before but Yunjing didn’t seem to care.

Whether a parting be forever or merely a short while…in your case it was entirely up to you.

She had tried but you had rejected her.

“What was the last thing I said to you?” crickets sang throughout the darkness of the night, a small source of light illuminating your face from within her house, memories swirling up to the surface of your brain again.

"Foolish girl, you are no apprentice of mine. Get out of my house Y/N, I want you out by morning."

Where were you?

“Master I-” Water threatened to spill and the only thing protecting you was your back, faced towards the people you cared about the most.

Seeing you like this, Mizu decided to keep her indifference for her own good. It wasn’t her place to speak. It wasn’t her place to speak, you could handle yourself…she kept on repeating to herself.

This wasn’t her center.

“Don’t make me deny you twice.” Your master wouldn’t budge.

“Mama…” the endearing title, the one you used whenever you felt at peace with her, whenever her presence made your heart feel content, the one that reminded her of who you truly were.

No, the one you truly still are.

Oh you were desperate, pleading, rummaging through your brain, you couldn’t even think straight.

It didn’t matter anymore how many times you had played this scene out in your head in advance, right now you were bare, you were helpless and your friends were being called to hold their breaths and let you handle this on your own.

But at least you didn’t recite, you spoke from the heart, that much Ringo and his master knew.

Of course Yunjing did as well. It was complicated.

Right now, you weren’t doing this for Mizu, or Ringo but you were indeed doing this for yourself.

How were you supposed to let her know?

This place had always been a haven of your own serenity until you spiraled and you didn’t want to hear a thing after your adoptive father had been killed, Yunjing’s husband, Asano.

A good man, really.

Something within you died at that time and you tried to find it again within that thing, it wasn’t your fault.

That thing really did leave a hollow place inside of you.

You had to admit it and until this day, she still blamed herself and how poorly she handled it all.

But you couldn’t understand-

Money could never replace one’s presence but at least you tried to make up for your errors.

After you left, you never stopped sending her money, lots and lots of it.

You wanted to clear yourself and after you disappeared, you felt like you owed it to her, this was the least you could do.

Hell, with all the jobs you had taken on she could’ve bought herself an estate, you knew that she knew.

And it still wasn’t enough.

“Mother, I have given you my life and rightfully so-” You gritted through your teeth, hands squeezing the fabric even tighter it almost looked as if you were about to grip the flesh of your madams thighs through it.

“With all due respect…After Asano left us, who helped you pay for the rice in your bowl, the silk on your back, the kizami in that damn pipe of yours?” you grimaced.

You supported her from afar, clearing yourself from any monetary debts.

Ringo and Mizu thought they had misheard you.

It wasn’t your place and at the time Yunjing had told you that there was no need, but you had hurt her in unfashionable ways.

You were a failed investment.

You had found a way to pay all these years of hard labor back to her, at least financially. The entire sum of money she had spent on you from the very moment she had laid her eyes on you to the day you decided to leave in the heat of an argument.

You could've sworn that it wouldn’t have taken her anything more to throw you onto the streets with that attitude of yours.

It was bloody money nonetheless since you refused to take in any money for your healing jobs.

It was ‘dirty money’ but it felt good knowing that you helped her somehow.

She didn’t need it but that didn’t matter.

The guilt never stopped eating at you.

You paid it all back during your years of absence as a silent apology and of course, it still wasn’t enough.

“WHO?” You barked, silent tears rolling down your cheeks and chin. She simply didn’t want to understand the choices you had made, the ones she so desperately tried to protect you from.

She could’ve done more, knowing who she was. The woman took another deliberately long drag of her pipe, shifting her weight onto the other leg as your poor condition reflected itself within her glasses.

You were directly looking at her and that for the first time in this whole conversation. Your eyes were soaked.

Mizu’s jaw tightened. This wasn’t her center.

“Yes, that is true,” Yunjing exhaled, pausing briefly, drinking both of your friends' expressions once more.

It was clear to her that you hadn’t spoken a word of this to them. She cocked her brow and shrugged, the action making her chest rise dramatically.

“Only to thank me with your impudence, leaving me to deal with your arrogance and that foul temper of yours” she hissed through her teeth, followed with a dark chuckle, venom spilling from her lips to which Ringo decided that he had to say something.

This wasn’t fair, it made no sense.

“You wouldn’t dare-” You were 17 at the time, she had no idea what you had gone through afterwards and you didn’t know any better.

You were foolish, yes. You still felt ashamed and guilty, you truly weren’t proud about it.

It was your biggest shame if there was any about you.

But she wouldn’t dare.

“Don’t exaggerate now!...Tsk, what was his name again?” No, she wouldn’t dare, dashing up your feet your puppy like stare changed into something much harsher.

If anyone wanted to hurt you, this was the last place they should reach to achieve that.

After a short sigh, she gasped lightly, “You chose that no good joke of a man, sneaking through your window at all hours of the night-” At the mention of a man, Mizu unconsciously bid her tongue. She had no idea.

She actually thought you were joking back in the bath house, but then again, what else were she to expect?

After all, it was what made the most sense in society's eyes-

Right? You were different.

Yunjing didn’t need to continue, the unshakable disgust in your face said it all.

‘Please don’t.’

Yunjing chose to finish her sentence either way, the topic you had meticulosly avoided so much, and she just ripped the band aid off.

“Not like an apprentice of mine but…”

Not like there was ever one to begin with.

“Like a-” A man's voice raised itself.

"StOp" Yunjing blinked, unfazed.

This was unacceptable, you were trying to be the bigger person right now, to right your wrongs and all this woman had to do was to constantly cut you off and not take any of your words seriously.

It made the two planets within your master's eyes glimmer.

Who would’ve known?

You had good taste in friends after all, she’d guess.

It wasn’t his place but he couldn’t watch this any longer, “Ringo-” the sapphire eyed woman barely had any time to react, to get a hold of his arm, before he stepped forward, adding onto the loudness of the previous sound, smoke soon enough seeping through Yunjing’s teeth, a joyful jet shocked combination guarding her face.

The man didn’t let her finish. Whatever dirty title she was going to give you, he wouldn’t let her.

This wasn’t what you deserved.

“YOu CAn’t sAY Things LIke that.” He forced himself to speak just above a whisper, knowing how loud his voice could be.

It was dead in the night after all and he had no idea if your mother had any other people sleeping inside her house.

You couldn’t believe your ears. What was he thinking?

“Ringo this isn’t your-” He didn’t care about any further consequences, and at this exact moment, he strictly cared about you.

“LISten.” And she listened, surprisingly enough to which Mizu’s eyes only bulged, meeting yours for a second.

Your mother had let a man raise his voice at her, and didn't flinch?

Was he in his right mind? This didn’t have anything to do with her or him and yet he still pushed himself to support you in this trial of sorts.

“I’M rInGo and I’m Am one oF yoUR DauGhterS FriEnds. I hAveN’t knOwn Y/N foR too Long-” Your bald friend started, clearing his throat thoroughly.

“I’m entitled to do as I choose.” Her words seemed final. “ Young man, you’re standing on my property as we speak.”

This wasn’t how you expected things to go. In a moment of despair you let go of Yunjing but Ringo had no plans of stopping now.

“It’s alright, we’ll leave at this very moment”

As if the situation wasn’t already tricky enough, you heard Mizu declare that she’d be leaving, already turning to get her horse.

What a waste of her time. But her apprentice stopped her, he just needed a minute of Yunjing's precious time.

He persisted and she…waited. Mizu and her thick head, she actually waited just a bit more for you.

“I don’t agree with what you’re doing right now. I don’t know what she possibly could have done to anger you like this but she’s trying her best to make up for it. Truly. She’s here now apologizing in every way she possibly can and you, you’re just walking all over her…”

From what he gathered, you paid her literal money for years, knelt in front of of her trying to prove how serious you were about regretting your actions and this lady still wanted to put on a tough fight.

It made no sense for her to battle her kid.

He understood that she wasn’t someone that could be easily swayed but this wasn’t right, you were visibly at your breaking point.

And she didn’t care?

“What kind of mother does that to her child?” He was brave and Mizu glared daggers at her apprentice in disbelief, her gaze morphing into a troubled one.

You didn’t do any different.

For the first time that night, Yunjing’s lips pressed into a straight line, smoke escaping her nostrils now.

She was actually listening and let your friend speak, never cutting him short.

“I don’t have a mother anymore but if I were given the chance see her or to speak to her again I’d be a fool not take the chance so immediately. And Y/N shares that sentiment” Despite your reluctancy to do so, he knew you did.

When Ringo started talking about his mother, you could sense Mizu’s attitude shift drastically, even more quiet than before and less prone to objecting to whatever the man had to say.

It made her feel…uncomfortable and it was as if all the nerves in your body alerted you of her...regret.

You turned to look at her “I can’t even imagine what I would do if my own mother rejected me in my worst times of need.” He was hinting at your unstable health, you needed solace even just for a short period of time, he was sure it could help.

This was the only home you had left.

You’d forever be grateful to Yunjing, she knew that.

Ringo’s mention of his deceased mother had Mizu’s irises shining a melancholic grey behind her orange lenses and of course her change of mood radiated off onto you almost instantly.

While Ringo was doing gods work, you subtly slid your pinky towards her index without saying a thing, keeping a straight face, interlocking them underneath her coat for just about ten seconds.

It felt secretive and delicate but honest. Just like when you touched her hand before your encounter with Heiji Shindo.

She didn’t say anything as you didn’t let her see your face during that action, it would not have been a pleasant view and either way you didn’t want her to see you like this, eyes puffy and dried tears of buildup anger and unrequited shame, your message came through nonetheless.

I’m sorry about your mother…and I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. I’m a bad friend, I know.

Before she could reciprocate anything you let go.

You were hoping to make things easier for Mizu in her quest today and instead, you had put her in this strange position which had nothing to do with her.

To say you felt horrible was an understatement. You purposefully hid things from her because they were just too painful to talk about, you knew she’d understand eventually.

Now your mother was fuming.

Literally.

Your chef friend felt like this had to be cleared up once and for all, even if he didn’t know all the details.

You could talk to her in private but he couldn’t stand seeing you this hurt anymore.

At least for tonight.

“Madam, she is your daughter. She’s done bad things but you should still try and treat her as such.”

Silence, complete utter silence. The kizami in her pipe had burned itself up down to the last weed and right now her main point of focus seemed disoriented.

Sort of like you, Ringo noted that the both of you were truly unpredictable. Like mother like daughter. A tragedy almost.

You had nothing else to add, your round friend had stolen all of your words by now and all of you waited for Yunjing’s reaction, a movement, words, anything really.

You were her daughter and Ringo was determined to make Yunjing forgive whatever faults you had committed, Mizu deciding to opt for silence on her end once more while thinking that maybe she really did want to spent more time looking for information on her own rather than like this.

But she couldn't help but remember the ‘joke of a man’ your master had been talking about in such a nasty tone…

The words wouldn’t stop haunting her mind…

And she knew that she wouldn’t really have any business asking you about it but she still couldn’t help but wonder…

You had someone courting you once?

A man?

Even the thought- with your character and your rather...questionable ways, you and a man courting, marrying or anything of the sort-

A man could never handle you, disrespectfully.

'...'

It didn’t take long for Ringo to apologize with you, “Please accept my apologies for intruding alongside hers, I mean it. She means it.” You were mute.

The path of death and destruction you shared with Mizu really wasn’t his call and yet here he was defending with all the volition in his heart.

You didn’t even know if she’d let you in after the stunt you just pulled but that didn’t stop the apprentice at all and he was serious about it.

He kept going.

“I can help around your house, I can cook, I make the best soba in the world, I’ll help you clean anything you need, I can sew, I’m big and I’m strong and I can carry things for you but please don’t be mad at Y/N like this anymore.” Another long silence followed.

Hell at even Mizu lowered her head at your mother, she didn’t need to but she still did.

“My sincerest apologies once again, Lady Yunjing.” She simply uttered and it made ask yourself why the hell these two were going through with this.

Right now you felt as if this wasn’t completely about revenge anymore.

What were they even apologizing for?

They didn’t need to know the details, they just did it. You felt like your legs were about to give out but of course, Mizu noticed before she could catch herself doing so.

What mattered right now was you and your unstable self, the dark haired woman didn’t like seeing you like this at all, it made her feel anxious which she didn’t like either.

Seeing you unwell made her ache and she couldn’t stand it.

And right now it didn’t matter.

You almost wanted to gasp when you felt her light hand on your shoulder, like a grounding stone. It was light and the action was short lived but it spoke very loudly for itself.

Hang in there. She didn’t question herself for caring about you this time either.

She just did.

And suddenly, there was a crack. Not an audible one but there was a crack.

A crack in that witty mask of hers, that unattainable persona Yunjing executed so well.

The shield she had developed in times you weren’t even born, unbreakable but at this specific moment in time, it cracked open just a bit.

You were sure she’d laugh at him, right into his face but to everyone’s surprise, she simply sucked her teeth lightly, something akin to a fox’s grin.

And seconds later her beam softened again. She was genuinely smiling, pleased with…something?

Her hands fell her sides and with no warning, she stepped to the side. She was eyeing your blue friend who failed to speak this entire time.

And yet she knew, she had a feeling Mizu needed to talk to her.

It really came out of the blue.

Letting out a small huff the woman’s voice commanded.

“Why if it isn’t Mizu, I’m assuming you’re the one looking for a nice long heart to heart chat with me?” She disregarded your state and no one could have prepared you for her drastic change of heart. Just what was she thinking this time?

Uhm...

The air was thick with filtered confusion on your end and something close to shocking embarrassment on Mizu’s.

‘How the hell…’ You bit the inside of your cheek, but before you could ponder any further the woman’s responded politely, the faint disbelief in her voice making you frown.

“There’s nothing more I’d like than that…but right now might not be the right-“ Your blue friend being interrupted and she could only sigh.

“You can raise your head at once, young man.” Yunjing’s wish was simple “It’s late now”

Cutting Mizu’s already short answer even shorter, the older woman didn’t add much onto what had just happened, she minutely wore a neutral expression now, explaining that there were two free rooms, Mizu and Ringo being men should have no trouble sharing one and you could sleep in your old one.

'This makes no sense'...to you, none of this made any sense. Mizu had just met the lady, how did your mother know her name?

Whatever spell Ringo had laced into his words, you would have to thank him later in the morning.

”The three of you must be exhausted. Get washed up quickly and then go to bed. Tomorrow is another day…”

She was avoiding your gaze now and it was clear that the large man's words made her...well, you'd pick up on this tomorrow.

Like she said, it was late and right now none of you had the energy to continue this conversation, if you could even call it that.

”We’ll be able to talk and discuss further all that you want. Or that you need to know.”

The three of you muttered your most sincere thanks and without much more waiting, you stepped through the door, passing by the owner of the house and slipping off your shoes before entering the ancient place of your serenity, still processing everything that had just happened.

The only source of light was a small oil lamp sitting in the hallway of the entrance and therefore you almost couldn’t see a thing.

Good for you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Something that the strange ronin had no way of knowing, too busy bedding and poisoning other women, was that the amanranthine woman he had come to misuse and fool over the course of the years....well...while on her quest to find him again, she had no other choice but to grow to mistrust, reject and even run away from a multitude of men."

You mused, snow crunching underneath your feet as you descended your way downwards to the fishermen's town to go and get the ingredients for yours and Mizu's medicine.

"And yet she never lost hope in her one and only's loyalty, the one she was absolutely spellbound with and practically ready to sacrifice herself for."

It was the continuation of an odd story but a good one and even if your freshly made acquaintance didn't understand all of it's undertones and metaphors, it didn't matter, he only wanted to hear you talk more.

'She has a gift for story telling', was what he kept thinking to himself and your friends apprentice secretly wondered if by any chance your master might have told you these stories when you were younger, given how vividly and carefully you recounted them with no fear of saying anything wrong, still keeping a certain air of wisdom.

As if you had already lived through countless lives, these stories felt like a mirror of sorts. You had that effect on him and he barely even knew you.

That was to say that Ringo had failed to contain his curiosity about what turn the tale might have taken, he just couldn't help but urge you to continue your narrative (even after promising that he would stop talking given how early it was in the morning) and you on the other hand secretly could not have been happier than to indulge him.

It was strange, but it felt innocent, fluffy and light, Mizu's apprentice and his unconsciously tranquilizing, childlike energy, he wasn't heavy on you at all.

Though the young man probably wasn't even aware of it, you took note to tell him later sometime. It was a good trait and from the first time you had set your eyes on him you knew, you could already tell that he was truly kind and did not wish you any harm.

Hell, if he'd ever mess up as Mizu's assistant (as if), you'd be the first person he'd think of turning to. That was his first impression of you and maybe for now, it was for the best.

You honestly wouldn't recommend it though.

Like a warm welcome, you had merely known him for a day but you couldn't ignore how easy he was to talk to and how naturally you felt at ease with him, he listened with no ulterior motives lingering in the back of his mind, his jumpy voice and constant questions sometimes echoing loudly but never truly bothering your space.

You twinkled.

"Wait- earlier you said that the pretty lady found her husband-" Right, you made it explicitly clear that the pair in the folkloric tale wasn't married, but something Ringo didn't know was that in this story, things were just a bit more complicated than what they seemed.

Just like real life.

The young man was quick to correct himself, briefly clearing his throat before continuing.

"You said that the pretty lady ended up finding her lover with some other woman, making...uh.. making love to her like he never had never done with her. Now you're saying that he was actually 'poisoning' multiple women while he was away?" The apprentice urged, wanting to make sure he was still following your words correctly.

You nodded.

He didn't fully understand, muttering his words out in a short breath.

A small glance over your shoulder reflected the image you had just recounted of him in your mind and the round giant made sure to step a bit closer to you, returning your kind expression.

It made you think how you instinctively thought of him like...a younger brother?

An irresistible, annoying younger brother definitely.

You had always been an only child so you had no idea what having siblings felt like, but if you were to be asked about how you perceived Ringo as for now, you would qualify him as...likable enough for you to let him 'bully' you into telling him stories.

You'd guess that that's what older sisters did, pretend to not care about their siblings wishes and needs only to succumb to them immediately later, it took you a few moments before you shortly turned your head again, yet this time you were faced with a seriously interested expression in the man's irises as his brows furrowed lower, still listening intently.

'You have good taste' Was your conclusion towards Mizu's choice of an apprentice, even when she claimed that she really did not want him around her, you were convinced that it was for the better since one didn't need to be a genius to know that she did not take care of herself as well as she should.

He wanted to learn from her and in exchange he'd watch over her well being.

So he seemed something close to a voice of reason just like your own mentor used to be for you.

Now if she chose to listen to him or not was entirely up to her and though it seemed a bit weird you were really happy that she had found a 'caretaker' of sorts.

What you did not fully agree on was him deliberately throwing himself onto a path littered with death and sin.

It wasn't his calling, you thought and on the other side you had to respect his determination and loyalty, and if this was what he desperately wanted for himself, then so be it.

Even if you felt like he didn’t fully understand what he signed himself up for, he must’ve had his reasons.

He was a grown man, he could decide for himself.

Your brows rose at him while you kept up the walk downwards the cliff's road, the fishermen's town slowly but surely making it's appearance on the far right, the half frozen lake reflecting the suns barely noticeable rays of light while the bland sky howled with heavy clouds.

You took it as a sign to get back to the matter at hand.

"The truth was...she hated men. She hated men and wanted to do unspeakable things to them, hurt them in every single way possible. Cast filth upon them, make them a spectacle." Slowing down your pace, your tone was grave, filled with an undermining layer of...pity, sympathy?

Understanding?

It was impossible to ignore.

Ringo couldn't quite shake the feeling of entering an almost secretive like atmosphere, like a confession of sorts.

He wasn't sure he could understand.

"...Oh...Really?" Silence followed.

His tone pitched carefully in contrast to your vaguely serious one, his body leaning more towards you with pinched brows anew, keeping up with your pace while you stared right past him into nothingness, somewhere his eyes couldn’t see, not even sparing him as much as a glance.

"Why?" His breath materialized itself as a small cloud of smoke in the freezing morning light.

He didn't know you, so of course he was still new on how to deal with you as a person, your sudden changes of topics, your unpredictable sways of mood and reactions to things he’d say...

He knew better than to take it personally, after all, this story of yours did seem to resonate- Well, never mind, he thought that he couldn't really know. He didn't know.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to know and h e could only guess what you were hinting at.

You cut yourself short thinking about how you'd formulate the rest of the tale, what words you could choose.

He wasn't a child but it was...at least to you-

After a few more silent moments interrupted by the crunching of the snow underneath both of your soles, you sucked your teeth, letting out something Ringo believed to be a chuckle before answering without much hesitance.

"Because she's hurting...I guess." You guessed. Like a shotgun, the next question fell upon you immediatly.

"Why?" The apprentice faithfully pushed, feeling he'd irritate you any moment now if he wasn't meticulous with the way he spoke to you.

This time it was your turn to step closer to him, pausing shortly once again. You shot him a very direct and puzzled glare.

He didn’t budge but he did feel thrown…off.

Silence. This was really odd.

Now the chef wasn't too sure about whether he actually wanted to keep prying.

The distant crash of the lake against the shore echoed like a low, constant rumble, sending minuscule shivers through the frozen ground. Each wave hit with a soft, rhythmic thud, a stark contrast to the quiet yet intimidating tension of the moment.

The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating across the ice and snow, filling the emptiness with its persistence, until it became the only thing you could hear.

The air was so still, so thick with cold, it took you a while to get back on track, mainly because you listened to your environments noises, still thinking about something distant.

You knew this fable by heart.

Then again, without much questioning, you answered.

"She suffers constantly day and night, without letting up, no matter how much resilience she showed, no matter how much she persevered."

A short hum acknowledged your response and you could sense Ringo's growing uneasiness. He wanted to know more but he didn't know if it was 'ok'?

"I'm sorry to be a bother but..." Why the hell was he sorry? He felt like apologizing instinctively, instantly.

But this wasn't a real story? It was a thousand year old tale that you merely happened to recount with such intense manner...so why did he-

"Because on her quest to search for her lover, she happened to have had a poisonous thorn forced deeply into the base of her spine..."

‘Yikes’…was the apprentice’s first thought.

A poisonous thorn forced into the base of a woman's spine.....

And this wasn’t even the most graphic part.

It didn’t take long for Ringo's mouth to go dry, realization first fighting against what he had heard, your last sentence reverberating within the crevices of his brain, the weight of your words undoubtably tugging at the strings of his heart.

"Against her own will." You let it sink in.

He would have never guessed. Man…Did all of your stories always take such a dark turn?

The man sighed, still unable to contain his inquisitiveness.

You didn't mind as much as he feared the story’s ending.

"Why...why didn't she ask a friend to remove it for her?" You flashed him a lazy smile, eyes rolling in frustration.

"Don’t you remember? She had always been lonely and therefore she had no friends, except for the ronin of course, he was the only one she still trusted after all that had happened to her." You heard the sound of seagulls at the base of the cliff and it didn't take you two much longer to reach the small beach, the one from yesterday’s events.

Chiaki's corpse was nowhere to be found.

One could argue that no matter how rotten a person was, everyone deserved a proper funeral.

You let out an innocent scoff.

To each their own.

From there you had a bridge tracing its way directly to the small town just like you remembered it.

And so you went, Ringo never failing to follow your lead close by.

"But believe it or not, if she had known that someone, anyone knew the secret around her thorn and would want to remove it, she'd kill them." You announced with a semi grimacing expression, something between a jumpscare and a full on poker face.

The man only gasped, his dull wrists slapping over his mouth, surprised brows shooting into his hairline and all, he was 100% invested.

"Why?" That’s a good question.

"If one were to remove the thorn, she'd instantly suffer an indescribable amount of wounding pain sourly mixed with salty guilt and vinegary shame. Something that no one could ever imagine, even in their wildest nightmares."

"..."

"She'd rather die on the spot." With each step, the wooden bridge groaned underfoot, the planks old and weathered from years of use.

Your feet’s rhythm did not falter once by now.

Your friend's apprentice didn't have anything else to add, speechless as he was actually still making sure he was processing everything you said properly.

The ronin had no way of knowing but during his leave, his actual lover had already tasted the pinnacle of atrocity, helplessness, fear and agony when a group of wild beasts held her down, while another one ripped the thorn inside of her...

For nothing in this world she'd want to go through this experience ever again.

a/n: i just love writing them like two ordinary non murderous girls living casually fr thank you for reading, i’ll see you in the next one, take care luv sic! again, if you're enjoying the story so far do let me know by commenting 🤎 theories, criticism or other, i'd love to read/engage with you!

Masterlist I Next Chapter

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evilbihan · 1 year ago

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MK1's Lin Kuei

Can we take a second to talk about how bad the Lin Kuei are at what they're doing in MK1? They're supposed to be this ancient clan of elite warriors with years worth of combat experience and knowledge and skills beyond anyone's comprehension... but they're actually so comedically terrible at their job.

I won't include the teahouse fight in this since it doesn't count because they had to hold back against Kung Lao and Raiden but everything happening from there just contradicts all that the story wants us to believe about the Lin Kuei.

Cage mansion fight

Both Sub-Zero and Scorpion get absolutely destroyed by Johnny (who doesn't even seem to have any special powers in the new era, unlike the old timeline's Johnny). Of course, one might argue that they had to still hold back here since Johnny wasn't an enemy, they were just trying to recruit him and Liu Kang was there too, but it only gets worse from here.

2. The Ying fortress

This is one of the most hilarious scenes in the story mode. "No, you two can't come with us although you effortlessly defeated the three of us before because it takes YEARS to master the art of stealth."

What stealth????

Fast forward to the Lin Kuei trying to get inside the Ying fortress. Surprisingly, they can't make it three steps until they're discovered by Nitara and one of them almost dies because he had to show off instead of climbing the wall efficiently and, most importantly, without raising unnecessary attention.

How did Smoke not consider that a guy floating in mid-air would be spotted from a mile away? You can almost pinpoint the moment his brothers realized it was a mistake to bring him with them.

Not that they're doing much better though. On their way in, the three trigger pretty much every single defense the fortress has to offer. Nitara, Ermac... the guards that show up later on.

In fact, this whole thing couldn't have gone any worse if they had brought a marching band along with them.

Next, we get to see Bi-Han and Kuai Liang sneaking up on Shang Tsung so close behind him I'm pretty sure their footsteps would have given them away. They're completely out in the open, Kuai Liang is not even watching his back. It's surprising they made it this far.

3. Capturing Shang Tsung

As we learn, their plan to capture Shang Tsung is, in fact, nonexistent.

I don't know where their experience and years worth of training suddenly went in that moment, but this scene of them just... jumping out of their hiding spot and running at their enemies full speed with no real strategy behind it was so ridiculous and disappointing to me. It just feels rushed and unprofessional and of course, this not at all thought through maneuver triggers the guards to show up and intervene.

It's such an amateur mistake it makes you wonder why Liu Kang trusted them with this task in the first place.

Somehow, the brothers then get overwhelmed and end up captured themselves. The story really wants us to believe the two of them combined couldn't take on a few guards, but later on Scorpion is able to defeat them alone using the power of plot armor.

While Bi-Han had at least some significant wins against Nitara, Ermac, Quan Chi and Shang Tsung, the story of course forced him to lose in the end, Kuai Liang's losing streak for some reason magically ended the second he left the Lin Kuei and Smoke??? He got to beat up an old lady in a staged fight.

It's sad to see how little the writers care about the Lin Kuei, even with the franchise's most iconic characters both being Lin Kuei in the new era. I will never not be upset about the potential that went to waste here. Smoke didn't even get to be in a single fight, we saw nothing of Bi-Han's strategical genius and cunning and the rest of the Lin Kuei only showed up for the staged teahouse fight. They all deserved so much better.

#bi han #bi-han #mk bi han #bi han sub zero #mk sub zero #kuai liang #kuai liang scorpion #mk scorpion #tomas vrbada #mk smoke #lin kuei brothers #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1

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greyyson-but-wrong · 12 days ago

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ALIBIS; part two

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: typical marvel violence, airport scene, swearing, hydra mention, canon-adjacent civil war + post credit scene

summary: captain america vs iron man, was it ever going to go well? but now, with a chance to prove bucky innocent via a talk out with t'challa, freedom is right around the corner. the conversation ends better than you thought it ever could.

author notes: oopsie, it took me so much longer to get around to this than i thought it was... we've got a heatwave over here in the uk and my cat has fleas so ive been very very busy :/ hope you enjoy this and if i'm being 100% transparent, timelines get confusing towards the end and i forgot about the hint at them fucking previously so as far as everybody is concerned, they aren't together/haven't confessed yet (call it a fwb situation i guess...)

word count: 5.1K (the most i've ever written for fanfiction L)

There was no way on this holy Earth that all of you were going to make it out of this fight. The airport was a mess, crushed infrastructure, planes broken in two, cars and trucks chucked every which way. Even broken concrete from where Wanda and forced Rhodey into the ground earlier on. You weren't the most skilled here with combat, I mean, you were up against the likes of Iron Man and Vision, you were simply Hydra's brains, they hadn't put much effort into the little combat training they gave you. But you had the serum, only two other people here had it, and they were both on your side.

This fight was not the priority, everybody on this side knew it. The need to save people from the other group of Winter Soldiers was more important than this petty argument. The other team disagreed greatly and as a result, this fight was happening, and no change was being made.

A distraction was needed. You and the others had figured out that in order to win this fight in the end, some of you would have to lose it. Steve and Bucky were priority, they knew where to go, what to do, and were the strongest — you were not priority. Even though Bucky would rather die than to have to leave you behind, there wasn't any other way this would work. Those two would have to go to Siberia and figure it out, you and the rest would receive penance, probably prison, maybe something worse. Maybe you would finally tell them your name — they would find it out somehow, eventually. If you were losing Bucky either way, you might as will give the rest of yourself up.

Rhodey blasted you, arm held up and pointed directly at you. You launched yourself out the way, rolling against the concrete so the blast when above and over you. Semi-automatic pointed towards Rhodey, you shifted, intentionally missing and hitting the truck he was placed in front of.

He turned, laughing under the mask. "You missed."

"Did I?"

The bullet had lodged itself into the engine of the truck, but it wasn't just any other bullet. You turned, sprinting as fast as physically possible away from the vehicle. The truck blew up in five seconds, launching Rhodey into the ground, the explosion ricocheting into the nearby building, windows smashing and walls falling. You didn't wait around to see what Rhodey would do, instead running away from the explosion and towards the fight currently between T'Challa and Bucky. It was this argument that could be easily settled, perhaps even without fighting.

But you knew grief, you understood it better than most people, and anger was something that many couldn't combat when it stood alongside grief. It's a difficult thing to overcome, especially when the person his anger is directed towards was standing right in front of him.

Index finger up to your ear, you spoke. "Any update on that distraction? Steve and Bucky, you need to get to that carrier."

"It needs to be something big." Steve spoke, through the comms. You turned to see him throw his shield at the kid in red that you hadn't yet been acquainted with yet, all you knew was that he was young and on Iron Man's side, which meant he would do anything stop you and the others. "Has anybody got any ideas? "

"I'd blow something up but we need to keep debris at a minimum." You murmured, launching yourself at T'Challa and knocked him off of Bucky who seemed just as confused as the king did.

"Something big you say? " Ant-man, or Scott as he had introduced himself, came through on the comms from far across the runway.

T'Challa landed like a king, running towards you and leaping, claws sharp any ready to inflict pain when needed. Seeing him coming for you, you rolled to the side, letting him crash into the concrete floor, you grabbed the gun at your hip and shot, knowing that while the suit was made of vibranium and bullets would do nothing, the distraction meant that Bucky could get away.

"I might tear myself apart but hey, what a way to go…" Scott mumbled on the radio.

You tried looking around for him, but with no luck, opting for a finger to your ear again. "Scott, whatever it is, do it. We need to get these two out of here, stat." You had T'Challa on his back, super solider strength keeping him against the concrete as you watched Bucky run across the runway, towards the hanger. He was shouting something, but you couldn't hear what. He met with Steve, and then a second later, Scott went through with his plan.

From a small, Ant-like being, he enlarged, becoming a literal giant.

"Fuck—" You couldn't help but laugh.

The other team was very much distracted, the plan went perfectly. You spotted Bucky, jaw agape as he watch Scott become this giant, his eyes trained upward at the man, a slight sense of fear instilled. There wasn't long. You ran, just about making it towards him before anybody noticed. He saw you, hands flying to your cheeks to check you were okay. Fuck. This was going to be very very difficult. Reaching up to your cheek, confusion worked its way into the roughness of his face and you pulled it down, entwining your fingers with his. He didn't wait for you to say anything, just followed you as you started running towards the hanger.

Just a couple meters away, Steve was running too. Bucky had clocked back into reality and didn't need your hand to run anymore. If the three of you didn't make this, then everything would be over. Everybody would go to prison, Zemo would get to the other Soldiers, then chaos and power would unveil.

Someone shot at the building, brick and metal beginning to creak and fall under the pressure. You all picked up the pace a bit. Then the rubble stopped moving, held in mid-air, giving you and everyone else more time to get through and to the hanger. Footsteps echoed behind you, the best you could guess was T'Challa and maybe Black Widow. A scream reverberated across the runway, and the brick stuttered, readying to fall onto you.

Just as Wanda was forced to let go, the three of you slid underneath the rock and infrastructure, only being able to hear it crash behind you, not whether all of you made it though.

Did he make it through?

Is he alive?

You scrambled onto your feet, spinning to spot him. Just a couple meters along from you, he was lying flat on his back, groaning. A metal pipe was pressing into the bicep of his metal arm, so while you were able to sigh in gratefulness, you moved quickly, using your strength to lift it off him. He caught your eyes as you did so, but you barely saw, the only thing in your head being get him free.

His eyes were trained on nothing but you. He caught onto your black eye from the run in with Black Widow earlier and was filled with such an immense sense of guilt at being the fault of your pain, that the second the pipe was lifted away from him, he launched himself at you, arms around your torso, face squished into your neck. "I'm sorry—"

Hands palming against his shoulders, you furrowed your eyebrows and pushed him away. "What?"

"This is all because of me."

"Buck—"

"You're in danger because of me."

"That's not—"

He shook his head, palms against your cheeks, eyes closed as if he was training himself to remember your face without it being directly in front of him. "I should have never brought you into this mess, I can't— I don't wanna lose you, I—"

"James—!" You grabbed his chin between your thumb and forefinger, forcing him to open his eyes and listen to you. "I decided to be brought into this mess when we met in Romania. I remembered you, and trust me, I was in this mess long before I met you, okay? We're doing this for you, yes, but we're also doing this for the people that are gonna die if we don't stop Zemo."

"But you're hurt."

"And so is everyone else." You spoke, voice soft now as you let your grasp on him go. "You have to get onto that carrier."

He was in your peripheral, the Black Panther, who had launched himself into the air, in yours and Bucky's direction, claws once against ready to cut anybody who got in his way. You grabbed Bucky's shoulders, pushing him away from you and towards Steve, who was ready to, pick the solider up and direct him towards the jet. Arms out, you braced for impact, your horizontal arms blocking his vertical. If his weapons were anything but his claws, it wouldn't have worked and you'd be dead meat.

He shouted, clocking onto what had happened, and you pushed him, manoeuvring yourself somehow so that you were now on top of him, keeping him from moving.

From across the hanger, you could hear Bucky shouting.

"I'm not going without her, Steve!" He cried, fighting Steve's grasp on his arm, shaking the captain away from him. "I can't— I won't do this without her. I lo—" Steve had no choice but to intervene. There was a plan, and that plan meant only him and Bucky going, leaving you here. You had already dealt with that reality, you knew it would be a struggle to convince him.

The Captain groaned. "Buck, this was the plan, we don't have long. Come on."

You turned your head, looking over toward them, shouting. "James! Go! I'll be okay, go save those people, get them out, stop Zemo!"

He turned, that same fear carved into the blue of his eyes as he found yours and simply stared at you, not knowing nor understanding how and why he had to deal with leaving you. "I can't leave you— What if it goes wrong and one of us— I might never see you again!"

"That's not going to happen." You smiled, pushing down that lump in your throat at the hypothetical he was bringing up. "And if it does, I'll find you. I always will."

Bucky visibly gulped, fists clenched at his side as he quickly turned back to Steve who was waiting in the back of the carrier. He turned back to you, eyes wide and looking as if he was beginning to lose any hope he had managed to keep. "You promise?"

You nodded, taking in a deep breath. "I promise."

He nodded back at you, the storm behind his eyes calming as he turned and ran towards the jet, joining Steve. They fired up the power, and soon enough were flying off and away to Siberia, straight into danger but straight into a possible safe future.

Knowing Bucky was away and safe, you let go of the pressure you were putting on the Wakandan King, who pushed you off of him at the released. Your back hit the concrete harshly, grunting out as reality of the situation hit you. "Listen, I know your mind is being messed with as you grieve your father, but I swear to you, on everything that I am, he didn't do it, your majesty."

"Tell me then, if you're so sure they didn't do it, why are they running?" He panted, lifting himself up to stand at full height, and offering you a hand.

You took it.

It had been two days, you think. Apparently, T'Challa had pulled some strings and gotten you a different cell to the rest of them. Yesterday, he had come and spoken with you, saying that there were a group of people wit files and information that needed to talk to you. Romania. Your people, who had been tirelessly working away in the lab to get enough evidence to prove Bucky innocent, and they had come through. So you told T'Challa that's what they were here for, and he had agreed to hear you out.

And so, the files were tucked under your arm. Every single detail needed to prove Bucky innocent, that you would be able to show T'Challa and he would accept. Hopefully. But the point was that this was your oppertunity, and you had to take advantage of that. Your people back in Romania had really come through, and had been able to get every piece of evidence to the Avengers warehouse, or whatever that was becoming now that the Avengers had partly disassembled.

T'Challa was already in the room when you opened the door, accompanied by two guards, standing either side of you. The room wasn't anything special, two chairs and a table. That was all it needed to be.

You smiled at the King, partly out of politeness, but mostly out of understanding and the kindness of your heart. You knew what he was going through, and that's what was important in this situation. Understanding. Of both sides, of both people, of both stories. He was hurt, but so was Bucky. He returned the smile as you took your seat opposite him.

"Good evening." He greeted, accepting the file as you slid it over to him. "I hope you're well."

Nodding, you shrugged and pulled open the files. "As well as one can be when certain government bodies are keeping the whereabouts of her best friend a secret."

T'Challa chuckled a little, eyebrows furrowed and a glint in his eyes. "Best friend?"

"What else?"

"You two are not an item?"

"I— uh." There was nothing you could say.

Because, yeah, you would like to be. You couldn't act as if the idea hadn't swirled around your mind a couple times. That your eyes hadn't strayed to Bucky's lips and perhaps even further downward in the year you shared a living space. But it was so complicated. Hydra had broken the both of you so much, then built you back up again just to break you down once more. Neither of you were in the right state of mind to even think about a relationship, especially not in the current climate and the brainwashing technology still murmuring inside the both of you.

T'Challa shook his head, holding a hand out for comfort. "Do not worry about it. Forget I said anything. How about we move onto the evidence?"

"Yeah." You nodded, pulling the endless documents and photos so that they faced the both of you, visible to all. First was a photo a Zemo, and his file. "This is Helmut Zemo, he's Sokovian and he's done this all in order to break apart the Avengers and, ironically, avenge the lives of those lost in the Sokovia battle."

The King nodded, lifting up the photo to get a close look. "If this was all him, why did our security footage show Barnes at the scene?"

Flipping a couple pages, you opened the file onto the one that described the technology that Zemo used. It included a detailed description, and photos of the different tech that your team had gotten both in person and from different sources (you avoided the fact that you had stolen a lot from government files). "He's been developing this tech over the years, facial stuff, it can make him look like anybody he wants to be, and he chose Bucky."

He was believing it. "What are his backgrounds?"

"Military. He's technically a colonel." You spoke, flicking through and past a couple pages. "Has a lot of connections, that without, he wouldn't be able to achieve what he has."

T'Challa sighed, reading over a couple lines. "What were his exact plans?"

"That's what Rogers and Bucky are dealing with now, or have dealt with." It was only the beginning, there was a lot to explain. "While Bucky is the most well known Winter Solider, he wasn't the only one. They're all in cryogenic chambers in an old Hydra base over in Siberia, but since Zemo was able to awaken the Winter Solider in Bucky, that means he can awaken the others. We estimated about a dozen, from this data—" you pointed towards a particular graph that you remembered making back under Hydra's view. "and if Zemo can control them, he can control anything he wants to."

"Hence the urgency."

You nodded. "Yeah."

A moment of silence wavered over the room. Then, he spoke again. "He still killed a lot of people."

"His body did." You answered, almost too quickly. You had to act as if you didn't know someone was going to say that along the lines. "His mind did not. Please, your majesty, you have to understand what Hydra did. We have more proof. Images of him being tortured, of me being tortured, of the tech, mission repor—."

He held a hand out, pausing your speech. "I understand, believe me."

You nodded. "Thank you."

"People still died at his hand."

"I understand that."

"The brainwashing is still a part of him, you say?"

"Yes."

He took in a deep breath, raising a hand to his chin as he ran through the different options for going about this. All you could do was sit there and watch, maybe ponder as to what the different options could be. Prison? A cabin in the middle of nowhere? A psych hospital? Surely the government has some form of charity of formation that was made to deal with cases like you and Bucky. That would probably be the best option.

It was difficult. Both Ross and T'Challa had refused to tell you where Bucky was. As far as you were concerned, he could still be in Siberia. He could be dead. No. It was Bucky, he would survive out of anything. And you promised you would find him, you never broke a promise. Especially when it came to Bucky. You pushed the thought of him being dead far out of your mind.

T'Challa let out his breath. "How would you feel about staying in Wakanda for a couple of years?"

"As… a prisoner?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head. Your confusion and answer had amused him. "No… as a citizen, or guest. My sister, Shuri, I think you would get along. You're both creative, brainy people."

It seemed to good to be true. "Is this a trick?"

"No." He repeated, leaning forward to sit up straight, hands clasped atop the table as he looked towards you. "Barnes is currently being kept in a forced coma inside the walls of Wakanda. The American Government handed him over when their officers found him at the scene in Siberia yesterday. We may have the technology and ability to rid his mind of the Winter Solider once and for all, but we were unsure on whether to go through with it. We were waiting for your evidence."

He wasn't dead. He was safe. For the most part.

You dragged a hand down your face. "So what's going to happen now that you have the evidence?"

"Once his arm has healed properly, which shouldn't take long due to the serum advanced healing, we will wake him up and begin the journey of removing the brainwashing tech." He spoke, as if the concept of getting rid of the Winter Solider was like going to the shops and getting a loaf of bread. Normal. Expected. Unsurprising.

Truly, you had no choice but to pause him. "What do you mean letting his arm heal properly?"

He shrugged, clearly unsure as to how you would react to the information. "We have removed the metal arm Hydra gave him. In it's place is a short metal stump that, if needed, can have another arm attached to it."

"You've made him a new arm?"

"Vibrainium." He spoke, lips curling upwards slightly at the joy carved into your features at the news. "Lighter, easier to maneuver. But through the journey we think it would be best if he learnt to live without the arm. It will disassociate himself from Hydra and his past the the Solider."

You nodded, practically ecstatic. "I couldn't agree more."

"So you would like to join us in Wakanda?"

Taking in a deep breath, you looked down at the desk, and the endless files that had cluttered the entirety of the surface. A photo of Bucky had fallen out from somewhere, one from before the war, before the Winter Solider. He looked so soft, so unaware. It would have been nice to know him back then, but this was your Bucky. Your James. You wouldn't trade him for the world. You looked back up to T'Challa again. "I would be honoured."

It was warm. Not an overwhelming, sweltering warm but a settled, comforting warmth. The sun was high in the sky, laying a golden glow across the horizon as the sunrise came to an end and the day hit late morning. Beneath your feet, the grass was warm, the blades of green tickling your feet ever so slightly as you watched onto the two young boys running across the field. You didn't know them very well. Hell, you hadn't even been here very long. But they were nice boys, funny, mischievous, a bit hectic, but a sense f goodness in this hard hitting world.

You'd spent the past month with Shuri, in the lab, in the city. T'Challa had been right, you did get along, very well. Both of you enjoyed gossiping too much, messing with new inventions and ideas, spending endless nights brainstorming different concepts. It had been fun, and a great contrast to the dull experience your lab in Romania had been.

Then news had came that Bucky's arm would be completely healed and it was time for you to move. The plan was for Bucky to start his journey just outside of the city, by a set of small huts, one for Shuri, for Ayo, one for you and one for Bucky. Apparently Shuri and Ayo had a bet going that your hut would not be used as much. T'Challa had obviously passed on the information of your feelings onto his sister, who, like the gossip she was, passed them onto everyone else.

It had been a lot. The change, the differences. Preparing for what it would be like when Bucky woke up. Would he like Wakanda? Would he even still want to see you anymore?

No, he would. Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

Then, after a long night with Shuri in the lab, she convinced you that once he was awake and ready, you would tell him about your feelings. She settled your nerves, and offered up the idea that if he didn't reciprocate anything, you could just move back into the city. Wakanda was big, it didn't matter. So that's what you planned on doing.

Now, you were sat outside his hut, of which he was fast asleep inside, let out the coma but retracted from it in a way where it would just feel like he had been asleep. The grass against your feet and the sun on your face made the scene picturesque, as if there wasn't going to be a better time than this. Everything was grounding you, because everything was real. Nothing was holding you back, nothing was telling you what you could be or what you couldn't be. This was the realest things had ever felt for you, and in truth, you accepted the fact that you were content. This could be a good life, life could be enjoyed.

You turned, briefly, to where Shuri was stationed outside of his cabin. She grinned, holding two thumbs up and mouthing over to you, he's waking up, and you let a small smile paint itself on your lips and the concept of seeing him again.

The sun hit your face as you turned back around.

There was a crackle behind your, feet against bark, then you heard Shuri speak. "Sergeant Barnes, good morning. How do you feel?"

A pause. Then— "Good." Though he couldn't see you listening in, you were. A sigh left you at the single word he spoke, knowing that he felt safe and perhaps for the first time in a while, understood. "Where— where am I?"

You didn't need to listen as Shuri explained what happened and where he was. She went through what the plans were, who was going to be involved and what happened after the airport situation, having been filed in by both you and T'Challa. Bucky simply listened. That was one of the things he was good at, listening. Always intently, always letting you finish before he offered his own opinions or thoughts. His silence as Shuri spoke was all you needed to just be able to sit contently where you were. Against an old tree log, looking out over the lake, then the fields behind it, smiling at the sheer tranquility of it all.

When she stopped speaking, not much was said. Bucky processed, looked around, then caught the image of you, sitting on the log, your body silhouetted against the late morning sun. "Is that…?"

"She's been waiting for you to wake up."

"Can I?"

Shuri laughed, you heard it even from where you were sat. "I think she'd kill you if you didn't."

Hesitantly, but so insistent that he had to talk to you, the solider slowly padded through the grass, in your direction. You listened as his footsteps disrupted the silence, he grass crunching slightly under his weight, though much less now, without the arm. Soon enough, you could feel his presence behind you, his comfort, his warmth, his love. Slowly, you lifted yourself from the lo, a soft smile on your lips as you turned to face him. He looked good. Like really good.

For the first time in years, he looked healthy, well. Hair freshly washed, now nearly down past his shoulders, a lighter brown than usual due to the sunlight and half of it tied up in a bun behind his head. No cuts on his face, no bags under his eyes, no bruises. Shoulders not tensed but instead relaxed, calmly expanding then retreating along with his breath. And there was a glint in his eyes, one you had only seen a couple times, during late nights on the sofa back in Romania, that soon ended as the reality of your situation settled into the both of you. But that wasn't the case anymore. This was the reality. This was your new home, with new opportunities.

The blue that was staring back at you shined in the sunlight. "Hi."

"Hi." You repeated, your own shoulders relaxing at the sight of him alive and safe. But he didn't respond, instead choosing to simply keep staring at you, his breathing steady and lips parted ever so slightly. You laughed a little. "James?"

He hummed, "Hm?" But his eyes were still trained on you.

You broke out into a full grin, then. "Guess what?"

"What—?" He finally came back down to Earth, catching your eyes properly this time, his smile mimicking yours.

Your eyes darted downward for just a second, to his lips, parted and pink. Oh, the amount of times you had dreamt them pressed up against your own, but without the actual capacity to let yourself truly indulge in him. Yet, now, everything had changed. The two of you were safe, for the first time in 70 odd years, there was nobody chasing after any of you, no bounties, no missions, nothing to do and nowhere to go. Now, there was only each other. So, moving up onto the tips of your toes in order to reach him, balls of your feet still pressing into the dirt and grass below, you let your hand press up against his cheek. He didn't see it coming when you leaned forward, pressing your lips against him.

But just because he didn't see it coming, doesn't mean he didn't react well.

You felt him breathe in through his nose, lips moving against yours. Not hungry, not needy, not aggressive or rough, but instead a softness that you had never really seen from him before. The shift of his two lips pressed between your bottom lip, calm, smooth, everything that James was and nothing that the Winter Solider used to be.

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you taught against him. You half expected the other arm to meet his hand at the small of your back, but he didn't have it anymore. You didn't even know whether he had realised he didn't have his metal arm at the moment. But did you care? No. Of course, you didn't, because James Barnes was kissing you like it was the only thing that could keep him going. Like it was everything he's ever needed and everything he ever will need. So, no, you didn't care about his metal arm being gone. You didn't love him for his arm, you loved him for him, not some harsh reminder of trauma and pain.

You sighed as he pulled away, lips tingling and aching for more. He chuckled a little as you settled back down fully on your feet, hand never leaving where it was pressed against the small of your back. He smiled. "You have no idea—"

"Shut up." A hand to his mouth, you silence him, catching his grin and practically plastering it onto your own face at his reaction. "Because I have wanted to do that since the first time you stepped foot in my apartment in Romania, okay?"

"Okay—" He mumbles into your palm, the words muffled by your skin.

And you giggled, removing your hand from against his face, feeling no less content as you had ten minutes ago when you had sat down in front of the lake. You brushed a hand across his chest, the robes he wore soft against the skin of your palm as your hand slid upwards and towards his shoulder, feeling the metal encasing that T'Challa had warned you about. His face dropped as you did so, but that didn't stop you leaning forward and pressing a kiss against the area, resting your forehead against his collarbone and breathing him in.

He was safe. He was happy. The two of you had a future that didn't show death seven feet ahead of you. Soon enough, he would be rid of the Winter Solider and some form of… normality could be found.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, smiling up at him.

He grinned at you, taking in a deep breath then looking out into the open lakes and fields in front of you. "I haven't got a left arm anymore."

You laughed.

a/n: hope you enjoyed!! pls support I beg I swear I'll write more I just aah yeah. I promise? lmao

#bucky barnes x reader #grey writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes

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