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psychovigilantewrites · 4 years ago

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Chapter 14 - A Different Point of View

Summary: Things that happened that you weren't aware of.

Word count: 9,163 words

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me. I struggled with this chapter due to its nature. I had to further dive into Bruce and Dick's character that I wasn't too familiar with.2020 was a very tough year for me. I lost lots, learned lots. And I thought that the quarantine would mean I would write more. But I was wrong. Life hit me hard, and I stopped doing a lot of things I used to enjoy.Despite being virtually absent last year, you guys stuck by me anyway. Thank you. I love you all for that.Special thanks to my two beta readers. You know who you are. Here it goes.

(i recommend you guys read previous chapters to refresh coz I had to lol)

Ao3

Masterlist

The roles that people played were false- a mere necessity for their career or survival. Everyone was playing a role, whether it was of their own accord or not.

Bruce Wayne was a role- superficial, fake, yet vital to Gotham. Batman, on the other hand, was a completely different role, born out of exigence and a sense of justice.

Dick Grayson, however, genuinely enjoyed playing his role.

Nightwing felt right to him. Being a police officer felt right to him. And especially, if not ultimately, being an older brother.

He listened to the dial tone of his phone, which rung for a few seconds before you finally picked up.

“Hey,” Dick heard your voice, the usual chirp absent that day.

Dick frowned to himself. Bruce was right about you being troubled after all.

“Hey, sis!” he forced the concern out of his voice. “You busy?”

“Nah, I’m just going over some old case files. What’s up?”

Dick leaned back into his sofa. Aside from the traffic blaring outside, the silence in his apartment made it easier for him to concentrate on analysing your speech patterns.

“Can’t I call just to ask how you’re doing?” he teased, easing into the conversation.

Everyone had always told him how he was natural at talking.

“You already called last week…”

Dick smiled to himself. He could already picture your narrowed eyes regarding him with suspicion.

It was good that you were always on your feet, but it was becoming borderline unhealthy. It reminded him of Jason and how he was always so guarded .

He pushed the memory away.

“I can’t call you again?” he rolled his eyes at no one.

“Bruce put you up to this,” you accused.

That’s because he’s worried about you, kid.

If only you knew how much Bruce had changed for you. Dick was glad that you were being loved by Bruce, yet he still couldn't help but feel slightly bitter that he never got that kind of treatment from his father- not the same treatment he gave you.

But he would rather die than admit his selfish thoughts to anyone.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “He was worried about you after last night.”

“I’m fine, Dick,” you insisted.

How many times has he heard those very same words from Jason?

“Well, if you’re not, then you can talk to me,” he offered.

A short pause.

Your response would be what differentiated you from his late brother.

“Actually, yeah,” you admitted.

There it was. No matter how stupid he knew it was for even comparing the two of you, he found that he always had to remind himself not to.

“How did you deal with it? Did it affect you?”

Dick told you his own experience with gore and dead bodies, how he overcame it, how he coped. There was silence after, and he just somehow knew what you were going to ask next.

“How did, uh, he deal with it?”

Your voice came in a whisper, hesitation evidently clear.

Dick was expecting it, but his heart still sank. He knew how everyone acted when Jason was brought up in conversation- he was guilty of reacting as well. He also knew how you were smart enough to avoid that topic.

It had been years. They should all have moved on, because Dick knew that they were also hurting you.

“He came to me as well.” Dick recalled Jason’s hesitant voice over the phone, never directly saying what was wrong, just rambling about things other than what was really going on in his head.

“Then he gradually called less and less when he learned how to deal with it himself.”

The day Dick noticed it, he was happy for Jason, but a small part of him was saddened that his little brother no longer needed him.

“I’ll have to look for that cognitive therapy, then. Thank you for calling, Dick. Talking to you helped.”

Did it really? He noticed your voice had changed again. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone on about Jason like that.

“No problem, kid. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

The familiar beep left him isolated with his thoughts, wondering if you would trail in Jason's footsteps.

When will the day come when you eventually stop calling altogether?

***

He felt indebted to his city- the city he loved. The city he hated. The city that robbed him of his childhood.

He felt indebted to his family- the family he would give up everything for, the family he couldn’t stop hurting.

And he was sorry. God, he was sorry.

Sorry for everything he’s said and done- or didn’t do. But he still couldn’t stop. Because he didn’t know how.

Yet, no matter how much he claimed to love his family, the problem with Bruce Wayne was that he always expected them to be the people he wanted them to be.

Never like himself, though. No, he would never want them to turn out like him.

“That’s an order. Stay-”

The silence that followed the click in his ear represented the first time you had ever disobeyed a direct order.

It was a little late on your side. Dick and Jason had begun to disobey him within their first six months in uniform. But you had always been obedient- which made it easier for Bruce to trust you in the field.

This first time came as an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. And Bruce was…

Disappointed.

He grit his teeth when he saw you on the ground with the warehouse burning behind you. If he had just been a few seconds late, would you be in the fire, too?

“I almost had him.”

Bruce didn’t miss the wince of pain as you got up to your feet.

He had heard those exact words before countless times from J- no.

Bruce shoved that thought away.

“He would have gotten away, and we wouldn’t have known who it was that did this,” you argued, brows drawn together in a frown, mouth downturned. Your respiratory rate was high, and you were having trouble breathing.

When did you grow so tall? So confident?

Bruce silently pointed to the active security camera he noticed the minute he arrived and saw your expression fall- only for a second.

“I still think I made the right decision,” you insisted.

“You disobeyed a direct order.” He hated his own voice. The way he spoke sounded too militant.

“I acted how I saw fit,” you continued, “You always say to follow my instincts-”

“Not if your instincts contradict my orders.” He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. He thought he had changed. But no, Bruce was still a dictator.

“Wow. Just- wow.”

He could see the little twitches of annoyance within the disbelief on your face. He understood it completely.

You were walking away, clutching onto your side and weakly limping to your bike, adamant on not seeking his help.

He hated seeing you injured, in pain. It was his fault. If only he was faster, he could have stopped Red Hood from beating you up. If only he predicted it sooner, if only-

“I’ll be heading back now.”

He missed what you had said before that.

“Robin,” Bruce forced out, “Have Alfred check your injuries.”

He should have been there.

When you drove away, he lingered at the crime scene.

Bruce flipped a switch in his helmet, and his lense changed. Non-organic material lighted up bright white. He noticed a fractured piece of shrapnel lying on the ground, less than a centimeter long.

He picked it up and placed it into a test tube from his belt. Switching his view to normal, he saw that it was red, maybe made from fiberglass. He could only deduce that it was a piece of Red Hood’s helmet.

Despite Bruce’s frustrations at you for disobeying him, he felt a swell of pride. You probably landed a hit hard enough to crack the helmet just a little bit that you yourself probably didn’t even realise it.

He shone a UV light on it. A small portion of it glowed.

Bruce had always been numb when he played investigator so that he would remain impartial and objective. That was true justice.

But when he pocketed the evidence and sped to the Batmobile, he felt something he had never felt before.

Against all logic and rationality, he found himself dreading to uncover who the blood belonged to.

***

Bruce never drank his sorrows away. It was dangerous, too easy to develop an addiction to. He could have easily drowned in alcohol at any given chance, like when he thought of his parents, or when he thought-no, knew- he wasn’t enough.

But no, he only restricted his drinking for leisurely activities. He was disciplined. It was the reason why he was who he was.

However, in that moment, staring at the results of the DNA analysis after hours of anxious waiting, he wished he allowed himself a drink.

Not because he was distraught, not because he was in grief- but because he just didn’t know what to feel.

It wasn’t numbness. It was just plain confusion, an internal tornado of emotions whirling inside him all at once.

Footsteps.

He tapped on a button once, immediately closing the window of the test results displayed on the screen.

Composing himself, he clicked on another pending case to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. It’s just another role.

“Master Bruce.”

Why was he still up at this hour?

“Yes, Alfred,” he turned to meet the butler’s tired eyes- just as tired as his own.

Tired because of him.

Alfred was always up because of him. Because Bruce was a disease, constantly burdening others, dragging them down, keeping them up at night.

“I made some sandwiches. They’re light. Please do eat them,” he set the tray on the cluttered desk, simply pushing aside the numerous stacks of papers.

“Go to bed, Alfred,” he told him. Alfred was too old to be up at this hour. And whose fault is that?

“In due time,” he responded calmly, “What of the blood results, if I may ask?”

“Inconclusive,” Bruce lied.

“I see.”

Suspicion shrouded Alfred’s voice.

“How are her injuries?” Bruce asked, the pain finally creeping in, seeping into his bones.

“I commend you for asking about your daughter’s injuries after only four whole hours of staring at the screen, Master Bruce. You would definitely win father of the year.”

“I was occupied,” he sighed, “Please.”

“Her injuries are only superficial,” Alfred said, “Surface contusions at most.”

He still hurt her.

“Thank you, Alfred. Now go to bed.”

“It was only a little more than two decades ago when I was telling you the same,” he grumbled away.

Bruce made sure Alfred was gone before pulling up the results on the screen again, the glaring ‘MATCH’ sign staring angrily back at him as if it were shouting at Bruce, yelling in rage.

And Bruce understood completely. He had failed Jason Todd. He had betrayed him. And now he was back, vengeful, and full of resentment.

But that didn’t matter to Bruce.

Because despite it all, his son was alive.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

***

What did my son do to my daughter?

Bruce watched in horror as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed, hooked to the IV bag. He couldn’t stop staring at the bruises littering your neck.

Bruises that were far too small and evenly shaped to be the effect of a mere throttling.

He knew how the people close to him viewed him. He knew they thought he was strong, unforgiving, cold, emotionless. Especially when they put him side by side with Clark.

But he forced himself to be those things, because if he didn’t, he would have broken down years ago.

He was used to it. The pain. The darkness.

But this time, he felt like he was being crushed.

He felt like he was hanging on by a thread- no. A delicate strand of thin, brittle hair.

“It’s okay, doctor,” you had said, “I know what you’re going to ask me. No, my genitalia does not hurt. He didn’t do anything to me.”

He felt a wave of relief crash over him.

Jason wasn’t that far gone, then.

But as Bruce looked at your neck again, he still couldn’t help but feel nausea crawling into his core.

He still touched her.

Jim left after his questioning, and you drifted to sleep. He went over to you and looked down at your face, taking everything in.

Since when did you look so mature? When did you get so beautiful?

He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Even in sleep you had your eyebrows tugged down, as if you were angry that you had to go to bed. He didn’t know why he never saw that small part of you that shouted rebellion despite you almost always following his orders.

He realised that when he watched you sleep, you looked a bit like- no. Don’t ever compare the two.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to convey all of his feelings to you.

He was sorry. So god damned sorry for dragging you into this, for hurting you, for pulling you down to the depths with him.

Hoping you didn’t feel the teardrop that fell to your forehead, he quickly wiped it away before leaving for his press statement.

***

“Master Bruce, please!”

Another crash.

Alfred’s plea snapped him out of his blinding fury, his crushing pain.

He was standing at the hallway near the Manor entrance, glass and broken wood shattered at his feet, feeling the walls closing in and narrowing as Alfred looked at him in alarm.

“I-I’m sorry, Alfred. I-” he stammered, feeling like the small, helpless boy who watched his parents die before him.

He remembered the time when he was little, only a couple of months after the tragedy. He had done the exact same thing, taking out his anger and anguish by destroying things, triggered by something he had long forgotten about.

At that time, Alfred had held him closely in his arms as he stained the butler’s suit with his snot and tears. Again, a burden to the man who raised him.

This time, he refused the old man’s offer of comfort, walking past to descend to the cold darkness of the cave he was so familiar with.

Bruce didn’t usually drink his sorrows away, but this time, he did.

***

Dick wasn’t a good person. He was far from it.

Case in example, it was the first time he saw you after your kidnapping.

He meant to come sooner, he really did. But he was just so busy in Bludhaven, he couldn’t spare any time to rush over the moment he heard his sister was hurt. He tried to justify it in his head by thinking that you were probably handling it fine.

But he was just trying to make himself feel better.

What a great brother he was.

“So, why are you obsessing over violent crimes?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Desensitization was one thing when you worked in that field, but obsession was a whole other problem. And he didn’t want to see his sister walk down that path.

“A lunatic just kidnapped me a couple weeks ago, Dick, maybe this is my coping mechanism,” you huffed, giving him your signature eye roll.

A lot of things start with just a coping mechanism, kid.

Dick knew it about it all too well. The people he brought in on an almost daily basis, high as kites. The accident last week on the highway at three in the morning, two innocent lives taken because of a drunk man who had started drinking three years ago to cope with his mother’s loss.

The man downstairs in the cold cave, who was just a little boy when his parents died, now living with the trauma while going out night after night to beat up criminals, sleeping only three hours a day at most.

“I don’t want your pity, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m fine.”

Yeah, you were. And that was what worried Dick the most.

“I know you are,” he tried to smile, “Which is why I don’t think this is your coping mechanism.”

You talked to Dick about Red Hood, sharing your concerns about him. This is what made you, you. Opening up to him, offering your thoughts and feelings. It was something he never had with Bruce or Jason. The both of them were similar in that sense.

“He won’t tell me either,” Dick huffed, “It’s always been like that with him. No matter how hard I try to get closer to him, sometimes it feels like he’s getting further away.”

It was the same with Jason as well. Did everyone he cared about just end up running away from him?

“I can relate to that,” you sighed.

“But I have a feeling that he will tell you eventually,” Dick tried to comfort you, “It seems too important not to.”

Dick knew better. Bruce had always excluded information from him, whether it was important or not.

“And,” Dick hurriedly tried to change the subject, “I heard from Alfred that you’re not talking to Bruce. May I ask why?”

“So that’s why you’re here,” you eyed him suspiciously. . “I came to check up on you,” he stated, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come here right after, but my little sister did just get kidnapped.”

When are you going to stop putting your guard up around me, kid?

“I told you, I’m fine,” you insisted.

“Then you’re fine enough to tell me why you haven’t been talking to Bruce,” Dick pushed, “I won’t judge. I’ve had my fair share of cold shoulders and fights with him too. I know first hand how frustrating he can be. So come on, tell.”

He saw you hesitate for just a moment, before conceding.

“We fought,” you began, “It was when I got back from the hospital. He wouldn’t tell me who Red Hood was. And he- he called me ‘Jason’.”

Ah, fucking hell, Bruce.

“Jesus,” he whispered, “What did he say exactly?”

“‘Back down, Jason’,” your voice cracked.

Dick saw the way Bruce spiraled after Jason’s death, and he would never tell you this, but deep down he was against Bruce adopting you so soon after. He thought that Bruce was using you to fill up the hole he too felt with Jason’s absence.

You were so like him, yet so different. Still, Bruce must have been really distracted if he could slip as badly as he did.

Dick would ask later.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in years,” Dick chuckled humorlessly.

Jason arguing with Bruce about using excessive force. Jason sneaking out to go for patrols whenever he was grounded. Hell, even Jason stealing whiskey from the cabinet at the age of fifteen.

He could still remember it so clearly. Jason with his dark hair poking into his eyes that were full of fury, cheeks puffed up and red as he pouted angrily at Bruce for making him stay at the Manor on nights Bruce insisted on going alone.

Dick tried to shove the past away. He knew he was making you even sadder.

“Has Bruce made any attempts to reconcile?” Dick remembered the conversation he was having with you.

“Yeah, but I’m still mad at him,” you pouted.

“And you have every right to be,” Dick nodded, “But Bruce, well, you know Bruce. He keeps these things to himself, but obviously he’s still hurting.”

You have know idea how much he’s hurting, Little Wing.

You avoided Dick’s eyes, looking down at your fumbling thumbs as the room became silent.

“I’m seeing someone,” you changed the subject.

“You are?”

Interesting.

“Yeah,” you blushed, “It’s still very new, and we’re not official yet or anything. But we’re definitely testing the waters.”

“That’s great,” Dick grinned, “Who is he? Tell me the deets. Spill the tea.”

He sort of loved gossip. It wasn’t a secret.

“I met him in the library a while back,” you excitedly said, “We exchanged numbers. Started texting, meeting up from time to time. He’s really cute.”

Ah, young love. What Dick would give to be at that age again.

“I bet he is,” Dick teased.

“What’s with that face?” you laughed, “He is! He’s slightly older, and he’s got this sexy bad boy look, you know?”

“I thought you liked the nerdy types?” Dick responded. He saw a picture of you and your classmates on your Instagram. Typical prep school kids.

“I never had a type, you ass!” . “You’re right. I thought you were completely uninterested in boys,” he wondered out loud, “Is he nice, at least?”

“Yeah he is,” you smiled to yourself, “He didn’t know I was Wayne until 2 weeks ago. Before that, we were mainly texting. Now we’re meeting up more. I feel like I can be myself with him. I don’t know, there’s just something about him that makes me trust him.”

So you still have some of your walls up with me, but you trust a stranger? Who is this guy?

“I’m not going to tell him anything!” you quickly added, “I’m not stupid. I know I shouldn’t trust someone I just met. It’s not about the confidential stuff. It’s the little things like how I feel, and my problems, and just- stuff, you know?”

The thought didn’t even cross his mind. Dick trusted you enough with their secret, just as how Bruce did.

“I get it,” Dick tried to rationalise, “You don’t know what it is about the person, but you feel like the two of you just click, am I right?”

It had been like that with Barbara. It had been like that with Kory.

Now Dick was alone, and deep down he knew that they saw him as how he truly was. Selfish.

“Exactly,” you smiled, “Been with anyone like that before?”

“One or two,” he brushed it off, “People like that- whom you just click with- they’re hard to come by. You should see where this leads. Who knows, maybe he’s one of those that would stick around, huh?”

What he would give to have at least one person who would stick with him.

After he met with Gordon, Dick went to the cave to see Bruce who was, of course, facing the computers.

“I know what you’re going to say,” his father’s voice echoed without even turning to look at him.

“Then you know how much you’ve hurt her?” he crossed his arms.

Bruce did turn around to face him, and Dick suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

He knew that Bruce hardly ever slept, but this was different. He looked disheveled, his complexion pale, his eyes more bloodshot and the dark circles even more prominent.

Alfred did say how badly Bruce took the kidnapping, finding him passed out on the cave floor with an empty bottle of scotch in his hand, but he thought that Bruce would have gotten himself together by now. It was surprising to see him that way, and Dick felt… Uncomfortable.

Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the kidnapping, nor his fight with you.

“You found out something,” Dick narrowed his eyes, “Something important. What is it?”

He caught a flash of guilt in Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Bruce,” Dick groaned, “This is why you keep on hurting her.”

Hurting us.

“I’m protecting everyone.”

“You can’t use that excuse with me anymore,” he sighed, “I don’t need your protection. So tell me.”

“No.”

That was his final word, and he knew that Bruce would never budge.

“Fine,” he let out a breath, “Did you know that she’s seeing someone?”

Bruce frowned.

Which made Dick frown. Since when did Bruce miss things? What the fuck was going on with him?

“Name?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. And no, don’t you dare,” Dick pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Do not do a background check on him. She deserves privacy. Hell, don’t even bring it up. You have no right to go poking into her relationships.”

Dick was being defensive, but that was because he was trying to convince himself as well, which was why he didn’t ask you for a name. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I wasn’t going to,” Bruce reassured, “She… She deserves a life. A normal life. Not this- not-”

Dick knew then he had to leave, because Bruce’s voice breaking meant he was far from okay, and he knew that Bruce hated to show his vulnerability to anyone.

“Bruce,” Dick said, this time softly, “You’re not alone, you know. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and I’m still with you now.”

And with that, Bruce turned his back towards him again, silently going back to his goddamned computers.

“He’s been that way ever since the kidnapping,” Alfred informed him when he walked up to the manor.

“I don’t think it’s just the kidnapping, Alf,” he frowned at the butler, “There’s something more to it. Did he figure out who Red Hood is?”

“Perhaps,” Alfred pursed his lips, “But he refuses to tell me.”

“That means we know him personally,” Dick theorised, “Who the hell could it be that he’s so adamant on keeping it a secret?”

“I do not know Master Dick, but it can’t be anyone good if he’s got Master Bruce drinking during the day.”

***

Bruce knew that he was wrong to call you by his dead son’s name.

But his dead son was supposed to stay dead instead of haunting him with that glaring red bat across his chest, and having that thought in his head all the time, he slipped up.

He prided himself with his contingency plans and detective skills and preparations, but no amount of time could ever prepare him for when he found out his dead son had sexually assaulted his daughter.

You seemed to have dealt with it surprisingly well, exceeding his expectations. In fact, Bruce thought it was a bit odd that you weren’t as affected by it.

And then he saw it.

He saw what he thought was the internalized anger you felt finally bursting through the seams of your tightly lidded emotions.

And he wasn’t prepared for it.

Bruce didn’t think you had it in you, or else he would never have made you Robin.

But there you were on the ground, beating a man beyond recognition.

He couldn’t dread this moment because he never saw it coming. Not from you. Never from you.

He hurriedly ripped you off the man, flinging you away with force.

Pulse was present, but weak. Flail chest. It took him only a few seconds to observe the damage you did to the man’s face. It didn’t look good.

“Stay back,” he growled at you when you came close.

He couldn’t look at you. He didn’t want to.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he heard you whisper.

“Call an ambulance,” he ordered.

There was no other choice. He had to take the fall for you.

“NOW!” he snarled at you again. In the background, you were on the phone, but Bruce’s thoughts were elsewhere, calculating what needs to be done.

You moved-

“Leave. I’ll deal with this.” You needed to go. You couldn’t be here when the ambulance and police arrived.

“Batman-”

“I said leave,” he snapped. He couldn’t even hear your voice.

He waited for the ambulance to come before leaving, making sure they saw him escape. Making sure he would be the one the media would attack.

And while he drove back to the Cave, he decided to give his son a call.

“Bruce?”

“Dick,” he sighed. He knew he had always been unfair to his eldest, giving him so much pressure to perform, pushing him to be his best- and ultimately away. He knew that he never showed it, but he was proud of Dick. He always had been from the very beginning.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t a surprise that Dick picked up immediately that something was wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact that calling him out of the blue was what gave it away, Bruce himself trained Dick.

“She- she crossed the line tonight,” he tried to explain, “Jerome Miller. She attacked him. The damage she’s done to him is irreversible. I suspect he will be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.”

“Jesus,” Dick breathed from over the line, “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“I wasn’t there,” he grit. He thought he could trust you.

But deep down Bruce knew that it was all his fault after all. Who was he to act so righteous when he was the reason your parents died?

“I don’t know if she’ll talk to me, Bruce,” Dick sighed, “Not about something like this. She’s probably beating herself up over this already.”

“As she should.”

“Bruce.”

“Please,” Bruce asked, “I’m worried. She isn’t herself and I can’t blame her for it, but the chances of her talking to you are much higher than if I were to try.”

“I’ll try,” Dick agreed.

“Report to me after.”

“Bruce, we’ve talked about this,” Dick grumbled, “I am under no obligation to report to you. I’m doing this for her. Not you.”

He was trying not to go back to the man he was before, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

They’re your children, not your soldiers.

He had to remind himself time and time again. It was easier to be just a father to you as compared to Dick and Jason, yet even then he made slips.

“I know,” he apologised. “Thank you.”

Click.

And then Bruce was alone again.

***

Bruce watched you from the corner of his eye when you came back. He noticed that you had put more effort into dressing up when you left the house that day.

There was a slight bounce to your step and a small smile that played on your lips.

Dick was right after all. There was someone you were seeing.

But no, he couldn’t look into it. In fact, it would be hypocritical of him if he did. Dick had many girlfriends and flings, and Bruce didn’t want to know about any of them. Mainly because Dick was his first, and the thought of a boy he raised maturing and having relationships made him feel confused about parenthood.

Not that many of them lasted too long anyway.

Jason was a little different. While Dick had girls lining up after him all the time, Jason was much more subtle about the girls he liked, and that made Bruce more curious- but not enough to investigate.

He thought about when Barbara had caught Jason looking at her, making him turn red. He wondered if Jason would like you.

A tight squeeze in his chest.

He didn’t let his mind linger there.

Bruce felt obligated to protect you, which tempted him to investigate the boy you were seeing. It could be a trap, it could be someone using you for fame and money, or something even more sinister. Hell, it could be Jason himself after that stunt he pulled off.

But there was no evidence, and Bruce wanted to be a father to you this time instead of Batman the mentor. So Bruce would have to trust you on this one.

***

There was something holding Bruce back from telling everyone the truth about Jason.

And because he is who he is, Bruce knew what it was.

Guilt. He blamed himself for what had happened, and telling others about it meant owning up to his mistakes. Bruce never ran away from his fears and feelings despite what others might think. On the contrary, he held to them very strongly, using them as a motivation to fight head on.

This time, though, he felt more self destructive- the worst he had ever felt since he carried Jason’s corpse from the rubble- and so he tried to delay the inevitable.

But time was running out. He had enough time to wallow in self pity. It was time to pull himself together, and the first step began with Alfred.

The Cave was colder than usual that night, air thin and darker despite the illumination he had provided. Bruce was slumped in his usual wheeled chair, cowl resting on the desk after patrol, the weight of his suit almost crushing him in his weakened mental state.

“Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Please, take a seat. I have something to tell you.”

“I assume this is about the identity of one criminal who has been terrorizing your daughter?” Alfred retorted, sitting down anyway.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded, “This… This won’t be easy, Alfred. I suggest you prepare for the worst.”

“And the worst being..?”

Bruce wheeled himself closer to the butler, leaning forward. “It’s Jason.”

Alfred merely blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid my ears have caught up to my age. I must have misheard you, because for a moment, I thought you said that Red Hood is Jason.”

“You didn’t mishear me, Alfred. It’s him.”

Bruce saw the confusion in Alfred’s eyes, the frantic search for reason. “Our Jason? Jason Todd?”

“Yes, Alfred.”

And then, Bruce felt it. The pain he had been suffering with for weeks spreading to the man who raised him. Alfred clutched his chest with one hand, the other clenching tightly over the armrest of his chair, his breathing quickened.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “Jason died. How?”

“There was an event regarding The League and Superboy punching reality. I won’t get into details, but I suspect that was what caused the initial resurrection. The restoration, however. We know of someone who has been continuously restored time and time again.”

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” Alfred concluded, “But why? Why on Earth would he restore Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce frowned, “But it is an almost perfect revenge plan. I would like to entertain the idea that he has brainwashed Jason into thinking we are the enemy, but I can’t put it past him to develop a hatred for me. I… betrayed him.”

“Master Bruce, this is not your fault,” Alfred rose to his feet, “If it is indeed Jason, we can still help. I have faith in the boy.”

“Me too, Alfred. Me too.”

Bruce didn’t miss the sob that echoed faintly through the cave when Alfred ascended back up.

***

As if in slow motion, he saw every change of emotion on Dick’s face. The way he blinked once in confusion, the surprise approaching as he widened his eyes, and then his eyebrows stitching together in a deep frown, his lips downturning and nose flaring in anger.

Bruce saw the punch coming, but he did not do anything to counter it. Gladly, he took the right hook Dick gave him, appreciating the sting that radiated from his cheekbone to his jaw.

“How long have you known?” his son shook in anger.

“Dick-”

“HOW LONG, BRUCE?!” Dick roared, fists clenched, voice echoing in the cave.

“Since the night he blew up the warehouse,” Bruce replied.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dick ran his fingers through his hair, “Jesus, Bruce. That was over a month ago.”

“I know.”

“We-” he choked on his words, “We deserved to know.”

“I know.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” he slammed his fists on the desk. Bruce caught a few drops of tears that fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologised, and meant it. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.

“You’re sorry?” Dick looked at him with eyes far too cold than he knew, “He was my brother, Bruce. He told me things he never told anyone else. We shared secrets and jokes. We went to the same diner once a week to catch up. He asked for my help and I asked for his. And then he died. Just like that, because you couldn’t keep him on a leash. And now he’s back, and you knew it was him, and you’re just sorry?”

Dick’s eyes were wet and red, and filled with contempt. Bruce couldn’t blame him. He hated himself, too.

“Does she know?” he whispered, “Does she know that the man who attacked her is your son, and is my brother?”

Like always, he pushed the pain away efficiently, logically, objectively.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I told her this afternoon.”

“And she’s not angry?”

“If she was, she did not show it,” Bruce described, “In fact, she looked… Worried.”

“Of fucking course she would be worried,” he snarled, “She’s worried that she’s going to be irrelevant to you now the dead Robin is back.”

“She’s not,” Bruce growled at that, “She’s not his replacement. She never was.”

“Does she know that, Bruce?” Dick snickered, “Did you finally get over yourself and tell her that? Because the last fucking time I spoke to her, you called her Jason.”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond to that. He was good at smiling at the cameras and making speeches and charming an audience, but he was never good with words, real words that described his true feelings to the ones he cared for the most.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, now numb to everything throughout years and years of practice. “I promise, I will bring him back. Will you help me?”

“What can I do that you can’t?” Dick scoffed.

“You knew him, Dick,” Bruce said, “You knew him in ways I never did. I can predict his movements, but to accurately guess what his motivations are- you knew him better than I did.”

“Fine,” Dick conceded, “But I’m not forgiving you for this, Bruce. I swear, you’re going to pay for all the secrets you’ve kept from us, be it by my hand or someone else’s.”

***

“Did you know that your daughter went out last night to see a boy while we were patrolling?” Dick brought up.

He was looking at Bruce’s back, as he always was.

Bruce was on the computers, going through hours upon hours of security footage and traffic cams for Red Hood- for Jason.

It was difficult for him to put the two together. Jason had always been his little brother. Young, naive, inexperienced. And now that same person was the leader of the underground.

It was definitely difficult.

“Alfred mentioned she went out, but I didn’t know it was to meet a boy,” Bruce replied without glancing his way.

“Well, she lied to me about it at first,” Dick sank in a chair, looking at his nails. “Got pretty defensive when I brought it up. Even tried to deflect by using Jason against me.”

Dick knew you meant to hurt him with your words, and it worked.

He was definitely surprised that you would stoop that low because he always saw you as a sweet, kind girl.

People change. That’s what happens when you stick with Batman.

But Dick didn’t expect you to change so fast.

“She… used Jason against you?”

Bruce finally turned towards him, the ever constant frown a little bit deeper that moment.

“Yeah,” Dick straightened, “It was the first time she’s ever spoken to me that way.”

“What did she say exactly?”

“That I was distracting myself by using humor as a coping mechanism, and that I should come to terms with the fact that it was my brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted her,” he repeated bitterly.

“What did you say to her that she responded that way?” Bruce asked.

“I was just making fun of her boyfriend,” Dick shrugged, “Why? Do you think she’s hiding something?”

At first, Dick thought that you were genuinely angry at the both of them because you were right- Jason did kidnap you. Jason did do those things to you. And Jason was supposed to be under both Bruce and Dick’s responsibility.

Dick didn’t blame you for it, because he would have probably been angry if the situation was reversed.

It was one of the mistakes he always made as Robin when Bruce was teaching him how to accurately deduce by reading people. Never assume that someone’s motivations would be the same as your own.

“She hid that she has… someone from me. There must be a reason why.”

“Or she knows how you are and would rather not have your nose in her business, Bruce. She did find out about that tracker you put in her necklace. How did she even react to it?”

Bruce had done the same with both Dick and Jason while they were Robin, though it didn’t come disguised as a pretty, shiny piece of metal.

On the contrary, during Dick’s Robin days, Bruce had hid it behind his third molar while he was unconscious. He only found out after a year, when he was held hostage by a mercenary who wanted to use him to lure Batman. Said mercenary had detected the tracking device and pulled it out along with the tooth.

It made him increasingly more hostile towards Batman and his never ending need for control, but at least it saved him a trip to the dentist.

From what Dick knew, Jason died with his tracker on him.

Bruce had said that it was all done in the name of safety.

But would you tell Jason the same thing now?

“I apologised and never replaced the one Red Hood damaged. I thought that would have been sufficient for her to trust me again.”

Dick let out a bark of laughter at that, but it was void of any humor. “Only you would think that not replacing her damn tracker would make her trust you. No wonder she hasn’t told you anything.”

It was probably best not to mention that you were now also sexually active.

“Do you think she’s hiding something important?” Bruce asked.

“Are you actually asking for my opinion?” Dick smirked, “No, but it’s too soon to tell, anyway. Relax, Bruce. It’s like you forgot what it was like to be young and in love.”

That was obviously a joke. Bruce grew out of his childhood the moment he saw his parents getting killed in that alley.

As for being in love, did Bruce ever allow himself that?

***

“What did you say she called herself?” Nightwing asked softly.

The poor girl was scared out of her mind to the point where Dick found it difficult to extract important information from her ramblings.

Well, that’s what happens when someone makes you kill a person.

It was difficult, so difficult, to face the fact that it was Jason behind all of that.

“I t-think, V,” the witness- Elena- stuttered. “She with him. But try to stop him.”

Behind him, he felt Batman pause. He was walking around the club and analysing evidence while listening to the conversation.

“She tried to stop him? Him as in Red Hood?” Dick frowned.

“Yes,” Elena looked down and rubbed her arms.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but,” Dick tried, “You told me they were partners.”

“Yes, but she try to stop him,” she repeated, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Dick offered a smile, “Thank you very much. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Am I going to prison?” she looked at him with big, wet eyes.

“We’ll make sure you won’t,” Dick assured, “You’ll get the best defense team in Gotham.”

“You can do that?” she asked, hope in her voice.

“It’s the least we could do,” Dick answered, a sad smile playing on his lips.

He’s our responsibility.

“Thank you,” she gave a watery laugh, “Even prison better than with him, I want to be free.”

Dick heard footsteps approaching. As he turned around, Gordon entered the crime scene, followed by his team.

“Of course you’re here first,” he sighed at Batman.

“Gordon.”

“You might have to speak to the police again, okay?” Dick told Elena who was suddenly nervous again by the presence of so many people. “I’ll make sure they know you’re innocent. Gordon is the only one you can trust, okay?”

She nodded, her gaze turning downwards.

“Gordon,” he approached the aging man. He was used to talking with Gordon in Batman’s stead, even when he was Robin, and remembered feeling proud of himself whenever he finished speaking to Gordon regarding cases without Batman having to add anything.

“Nightwing,” he blinked, “It’s been a while.”

“Desperate times calls for desperate backups,” he grinned, “Anyway, the girl. She’s a victim of Victor Ibenescu’s human trafficking trade. Romanian, only thirteen when she was kidnapped. She was forced to shoot Victor by Red Hood.”

“This Red Hood likes his poetic justice,” Gordon snickered.

“It’s still first degree murder, or at least, that’s how the law would make it seem,” Dick reminded him, “But I assure you she’s innocent. Red Hood threatened to kill and rape her if she didn’t shoot.”

That was a lie, on both his part and Elena’s. Judging by the way she averted her eyes and touched her own arm, Dick could tell that she wasn’t telling the whole truth about being threatened by Red Hood- but he also knew that he couldn’t expose her and get into more trouble.

He wanted to let out a tired sigh, but that would give him away in front of Gordon and the other officers. He still needed to maintain his air of hopefulness, and he couldn’t seem like he was troubled by his thoughts.

Time to meet Bruce back at the cave and watch the surveillance footage.

***

“He’s got a partner now,” Dick voiced out his findings, “Since when did Red Hood partner up?”

Bruce’s frown was deep as he stared at the screen.

Dick pursed his lips. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Whether this is Red Hood or Jason?” Bruce hummed, “This definitely does not seem like anything Red Hood would do. He’s always tried to separate himself from others because it furthers his authoritarian agenda. He does not get friendly with people because people are disposable to him.”

“So you think this is Jason, then?” Dick concluded, “Well, Jason never had much of a problem working with others in the past, and he made some friends. He wasn’t the type to be hostile to people.”

“He did have trust issues,” Bruce pointed out, “At the very beginning.”

“Yes, and he kept a lot of things to himself,” Dick agreed, “But he did have friends.”

“Special friends,” Bruce added, “Friends who gained his respect and trust. So the question is- who is this girl and how did she manage to gain his trust?”

“Hey, play it back again,” Dick said, “Those moves.”

Bruce played the security tape, showing the mysterious girl and Red Hood taking down Victor’s men.

“Arnis,” Bruce pointed out.

“It’s a little different.”

“She has incorporated silat in as well. Low stance,” Bruce observed. “She’s skilled, but not polished. It could be anyone.”

There was something familiar about the girl that Dick couldn’t pinpoint. Dick usually had strong intuition- a gut feeling that enabled him to know which facts to focus on during an investigation, or a strong ability to see through people.

But the problem was that it wasn’t solid proof or evidence, something Batman heavily focused on. It was a gut feeling that told him he knew who the girl was.

“Do you think it’s-” he broke off without completing his sentence. There was nothing to back his claims.

“She has no reason or motive to work with Jason,” Bruce shot the idea down, “He’s hurt her. And… She wouldn’t betray me like that.”

“She’s been keeping secrets, Bruce,” Dick reminded, hating the fact that this time it was him who was suspicious.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Because he never would have thought that Jason was capable of torture and murder, either.

Why didn’t he come to me?

“As you clearly pointed out prior to this,” Bruce grit, “She has her reasons as to why she’s keeping secrets. And it is most probably because of me. All of you kept secrets. But this time, I’d like to let her keep hers.”

It was sweet, seeing Bruce that way.

“Is it guilt?” Dick asked.

“It’s repentance.”

Dick hated playing the bad guy.

Because he wasn’t supposed to be. He was the one people looked up to for inspiration, he was the light to Batman’s darkness, he was the smiles and charms and laughter.

He wasn’t the one who would accuse his little sister of fraternizing with the- was Jason the enemy?

Shit. Jason had messed with his senses. Dick’s head was chaotic, his emotions causing him to tense up.

Was he wrong? Was he just like Bruce? Was he jumping to conclusions just because Alfred told him you were out? Should he investigate this Carter you said you were with?

No. I’m not Bruce.

And now, you were looking at him with angry eyes, betrayed and appalled by his accusation.

*** Large.

That was the first thing that came to Dick’s mind when he saw his little brother.

The last time Dick saw him, he was much shorter, and definitely not as bulky.

And the last time Dick saw Jason, he was giving him a hug goodbye, complaining that Dick had messed up his hair.

And now, Jason was aiming a gun at him.

The gunshot didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought that Jason had indeed shot him. Did Jason hate him that much?

You’re almost as guilty as he is, Jason’s voice echoed in his head.

“Bruce,” he gasped in the comms, “I’m down. They got away.”

“I heard a gunshot,” the deep voice in his ear spoke.

“Yeah, Jason shot my leg,” Dick winced, “Didn’t hit bone but I think it nicked my artery.”

“There are children here,” Batman said, “I was right. He’s sabotaging the Powers’. Gordon should be here soon. You control your bleeding.”

Dick nodded to himself and took a deep breath before plunging his finger into the gunshot wound to keep himself from bleeding out.

***

“...suspects that the crime lord only known as Red Hood and an unidentified female were behind the home invasion. Maria and Joseph Powers were left in a gruesome state according to reports, but their only child Carrie Powers was unharmed. The authorities are not sure what Red Hood’s motive was, but more will be elaborated during Commissioner Gordon’s public address later this afternoon...”

Dick heard you close the door.

“You didn’t come home last night,” he lowered the volume of the television.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered.

Dick looked over at you. You seemed tired, eyes swollen and red from crying, wearing an oversized t-shirt that he didn’t recognize.

“I was at-”

“Carter’s?” he finished your sentence for you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

Dick frowned to himself. Your arms were crossed, you were avoiding eye contact, your body was angled away from him.

“You heard about the Powers’?” he turned his gaze towards the television.

“I saw the news on the way here,” you monotoned.

You smelled like a different shampoo. It was familiar, but Dick couldn’t remember where he had smelled it before.

“So you know that-”

“Yes, Jason did it,” you said rigidly.

“Along with-”

“His partner.”

Ah, now he remembered the smell. Jason’s favorite shampoo. He used to make fun of him for choosing one that was called what it was called. He didn’t really care about it, Dick kept his hair soft and fluffy with multiple women’s hair products. He just liked to rile Jason up because he was so defensive about it.

And with that, Dick let out a long, disappointed sigh.

“Bruce is in the cave. I suggest that you think long and hard about what to tell him,” Dick offered you a soft smile, “But no matter what you choose to say, you’ll always be my sister, and I’ll always love you no matter what, okay?”

You gave him a look of shock, and then realised that he had figured it out.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” you lips trembled, your eyes started brimming with tears.

“No, kid. I’m sorry,” he replied, “Go.”

You nodded and left.

Despite being right all along, he didn’t feel any sense of achievement. Dick couldn’t help but partly blame himself. For being so absent, for being neglectful, for being a bad brother.

Dick wasn’t perfect, but like hell would he stop trying to be.

***

For years Bruce had tried to stop feeling guilty for being relieved whenever someone else takes care of a problem he couldn’t solve- especially when it involved murder.

Bruce had tried to take down the Powers for almost a decade, and everytime he got close, there was always another obstacle in the way. It was difficult to expose the rich and powerful without resorting to violence, without resorting to breaking his principles.

So Bruce was ready to stop himself from internally celebrating their deaths. This time, however, he wasn’t as pleased. Because this time, it was Jason who brutally murdered two people. Jason, who was supposed to be under his care and responsibility.

“Bruce?” he heard your timid, small voice from behind him. “I have to tell you something.”

And there it was.

Bruce turned around and looked straight at you, piercing your eyes with his own as he waited on your confession.

A minute passed.

“I’m V,” you struggled to speak, “I’ve been meeting up with Jason for a few months now. I didn’t know he was Red Hood until you told me. But when you did tell me, I chose to confront him and team up with him anyway.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

“He- he’s not a bad person, Bruce,” you justified, “He’s just really hurt. He needs help.”

You were telling Bruce things he already knew.

“I- I fell in love with him,” you continued, “And I let my feelings cloud my judgement and betrayed your trust. At first I thought that he was onto something, that his… methods were better than yours. And I was angry that you kept secrets from me. But after last night- after what I saw- I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay.”

Bruce clenched his jaw.

He suspected it. Dick suspected it. But for your sake, the both of them chose to put their trust in you. He had tried so hard to change from his old ways. He learned his lesson with both Dick and Jason.

He didn’t want you to go through the same thing they did.

So, he chose to blindly trust you anyway, hoping that he wasn’t right.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” you were sobbing now, “I’m so sorry. Please, say something.”

After another minute of watching you break down in front of him, Bruce finally spoke up.

“Hang up your colors. You’re no longer my Robin.”

#Red Who #Red Hood x Reader #jason todd x reader

324 notes · View notes

thran-duils · 4 years ago

Text

My Perfect Pet

Title: My Perfect Pet Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Boss Tony Stark. Reader disobeys Mr. Stark’s order to work in his office and learns her lesson for disobeying when he tells her to do something. Words: 2,303 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Dom/sub, fingering, shameless smut, boss/employee relationship, punishment, office sex Author’s Note: I had a dream, alright? I got distracted from the other fics because of it.

Masterpost (mobile)

You walked into one of the old filing rooms where one of the old assistants was already working to scan old documents in. A whole archive had been discovered recently and they needed all of the papers uploaded onto the Stark database.

Aeisha looked up when you walked in and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I thought Abby was going to be down here with me.”

“She really wanted to be around and in Mr. Stark’s office.”

When you had arrived this morning, the head security told you where you were supposed to be. Mr. Stark gave orders at the beginning of the day where all of you were supposed to be and he had wanted you assisting him today. But Abby had complained to you, pouting. You figured it was not a big deal and told her you would take her job down in the filing room instead. She had been ecstatic.

The other girl snorted and said, “Of course she does. She’s been trying to get him to fuck her for months.”

You stammered, “W-what?”

“He has his favorites. She wants to be one of them.” She held up her phone, the newest version, and smirked, “He gives good gifts to keep us away from HR. Not that I would ever consider that.”

“You… have sex with him?”

Aeisha shrugged, “When he wants. It’s not often. In between the ladies at his parties and some other girls in the building, there’s time in between.” She saw the look on your face and gave a hearty laugh. “He’s good in bed. Don’t worry. When I said I wouldn’t consider going to HR, I mean it. That man knows how to work my pussy.”

‘That’s not what I’m worried about,” you muttered, opening one of the boxes. ‘I didn’t know I was gonna have to potentially fuck my boss if he ever gets a wild hair. Wasn’t in the job description. Sure, he’s extremely attractive – sexy – but, Jesus. That’s asking for issues if you ever wanna be in a relationship with someone and he’s still expecting it. Maybe I should be thanking Abby for taking his office today.”

Aeisha closed the scanner and shot you a curious look. “Wait… did you clear that switch with him?”

You shook your head and she rose her eyebrows, looking concerned.

“What?”’ you asked worriedly. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal. We are both gonna do the same thing no matter where we are at.”

“He wanted to see you in there, Y/N. He’s very specific about his instructions.”

Your stomach did a flip flop and you asked worriedly, “Am I going to get in trouble?”

Aeisha shrugged, “Who knows? If he hasn’t sent Abby back down here in the next twenty minutes, maybe it’ll just slide.”

You did not want to lose this job; it was well paying, especially for NYC.

“I guess I’ll just… go up there if she gets put back down here,” you said slowly, thumbing through the files.

You picked some of the papers up and asked Aeisha where she was filing the paperwork before going to your own scanner. You kept tensing whenever you heard someone walk by, thinking it was Abby coming down to fetch you and make you go upstairs where Mr. Stark wanted to see you. It was customary for you to wear pencil line skirts and low-cut shirts with heels, something that had been encouraged by the hiring manager. And you learned quickly it was just the norm with all of the assistants. Thankfully, you had already had a good enough collection started with going out wear that was easily masked as office wear. Such as the bodycon dress you were wearing today, the long zipper up the back that you had had to have your roommate help you with. But now you wondered if maybe you should cut back on it a little bit, knowing what you did now.

Shaking your head, you pushed the thoughts of your mind, focusing on your work.

<><><>

It was almost 9:00pm when you were walking back from the filing room. You told your immediate supervisor that you would take a few more hours today to be able to get off early tomorrow for your appointment tomorrow afternoon a few weeks ago.

You stopped though outside Mr. Stark’s office, hearing noises coming from within. You furrowed your brow confused considering how late it was. You put your hand on the door, your ear coming closer. Someone yelped loudly inside and you threw the door open in alarm, thinking someone was getting hurt.

Upon seeing Mr. Stark being straddled by a naked woman and another kissing him beside them on the couch, you almost vomited in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I thought—goodnight!” you stammered, closing the door clumsily and rushing off.

<><><>

You were not surprised in the slightest when you arrived the next morning that Mr. Stark wanted you in his office. Reluctantly, you walked to the door and knocked. He called from inside and you took a deep breath, your heart hammering. All you could see was them on the couch last night and feel your mortification that had kept you up half the night.

He was working off to the side of his desk with a hologram table, his back to you. He was wearing a three-piece suit as usual, sans the jacket, all black.

You did not know what to say – if you should say anything too – so you just stood there awkwardly until he sensed the awkwardness too and turned around. You did not miss the slight smirk that graced his lips at the sight of you.

“Mhm, Y/N. Good morning,” he greeted you, closing the hologram and turning around to stride back to his desk.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” you managed to say.

He sat on the edge of the desk, running his eyes over you. You had chosen a mid-thigh dress, still showing leg but the top was long sleeved, no cleavage.

You blurted becoming uncomfortable with the silence, “I really am sorry.”

“For?” he questioned.

That caught you off guard and you stammered, “U-uh. Last night?”

“Oh, that,” Tony chuckled. “I didn’t know anyone was still on the floor. Quite a surprise to see you. Did throw the vibe off a bit, took me out of my element, really.” He cleared his throat and said, “As a matter of fact, thank you for apologizing because the sex really wasn’t as great as it was going to be if I hadn’t of seen you. Because it just reminded me of earlier in the day when I was expecting to see you when I came in the morning and I was severely annoyed when it wasn’t you. So, I was just a little irked during the whole threesome.”

He snickered seeing you at loss for words. “Well, I figure you can make it up to me. We can break in the couch. Just you and me.”

A strangled noise left your throat. “What?”

“Did I stammer? You disobeyed what I asked yesterday. I was gonna let it slide and give you a chance to make it right next time – aka this morning when I requested you again to be in here. I like my assistants in the building to follow directions specifically how I ask them. But then, you came in and interrupted when I was about to plow two of the hottest models on the market right now and threw off my vibe.”

That sounded so ridiculous, you said before you could stop yourself, “You still had sex with them.”

His eyes crinkled with his dangerous smile. “That’s cheeky. You are very determined to get me even more riled up, aren’t you? I didn’t mark you as bratty. Everyone’s got their surprises though...”

He stood up from the desk and you fought to stand your ground, your hands still folded in front of you. His eyes were searching hungrily, eyeing you up like a piece of meat.

“You’re definitely not a top rider like Vivian or Aeisha. They love sitting in my lap… reverse cowgirl…” Heat came to your cheeks as he ran his eyes over you again, lingering on your legs. A wicked smirk came to his face as he met your gaze again. “No. That’s not you. Not at all. You’re a perfect candidate for training.”

Training…?

“In fact, we can have your first lesson now. Lock the door.”

“Mr. Stark—”

He sat on the couch and said, “Do you remember me just saying that I like my assistants to listen? And follow directions just as they’re told? This is your chance to do that. So, impress me, sweetheart. Or leave the building and don’t come back. I’ll have someone mail your check or direct deposit. Whatever the hell you have set up.”

You stared at him in bewilderment, and he was staring back, a hard look in his eyes. He was not messing around. Swallowing sharply, you turned on your heel and went to the door, sliding the lock into place. You turned around, your heart thumping.

“Take your dress off. Put this blindfold on,” he ordered, reaching for the piece of cloth on the table. You had failed to notice it sitting there before; he had already had this on his mind before you had come in apparently. “And get over my knee.”

Mortified, you took a step back towards the door and his eyes flashed at the movement.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”

You had a choice, really you did. You could find other work, but you did not want to. Sucking down a deep breath, you walked over towards him. He reached forward again and grabbed a small remote, clicking it. The large TV turned on at the end of the office and he turned on a random show, turning the volume up.

Your dress fell to your ankles and you stepped out of it. There was a fire sparked seeing the way he was looking at you, drinking you in. But it made you extremely nervous too; what if this went sideways and you lost the job anyway?

The blindfold was waiting on his thigh and you reached for it, putting it on and laid across his lap. You could feel his length through his dress pants, causing heat to come to your core already as well. You squirmed with the anticipation.

He smacked your ass hard and you gasped loudly with the sting. His hand caressed at your ass, squeezing. “Look at that nice jiggle you had just there. You’re gonna tell me you’re sorry when this is all done and take this like an obedient girl. Right?”

“Right.”

“’Right, sir’,” Tony corrected you.

“Right, sir,” you squeaked in repeat back to him.

He hummed in approval before he smacked you again, harder this time. He yanked your underwear down and ordered you to kick them off. He helped getting them around your heels and you felt him toss them. His hand was back on your ass, squeezing and admiring. Another smack landed and then another, drawing a low groan from you.

Tony’s fingers delved past your wet folds, running up and down your sex. A finger slipped in as his thumb massaged your clit, causing you to pant in need.

“Look at you, you little wanton harlot,” Tony husked, adding another finger.

He pulled his hand away and laid another hard smack across your cheeks, leaving wetness from you.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered.

You did what he told you and you squealed when he slapped your pussy, instinctively clenching and driving your hips forward.

“Keep them open!”

Hesitantly, you did what he said, and you cried out softly when he smacked your pussy again, repeatedly. The contact was reverberating, stimulating. He was driving you insane, loving the contact on your clit from each hit. You heard him spit and his other hand came to rub at your tight ring, wet from his spit, while the other found your nub again, circling faster now. He was working you too well, it was too much pressure. You did not want to come all over him, and you clenched again, trying to stop him from touching you.

He laid a rough smack across your ass and growled, “I told you to keep your legs open!”

Whimpering, you opened your legs again to him and he praised, “Good girl. Now, are you, sorry, pet?” You nodded and he squeezed at your nub causing you to whine sharply. “Tell me!”

“I’m sorry, sir!”

“Mhm, you’re a fast learner. Such a good girl. But what are you sorry for?” he asked, his fingers picking up speed.

“Not listening to you! For interrupting you!” you panted, gripping at the couch fabric.

“Yeah, that was really naughty of you,” Tony agreed, his knuckles brushing your sex as he hit your g spot. “Very naughty.” Your breath was quick and short, and he cooed, “Sweetheart, do you need to come?”

“Yes, sir! Please!” you begged, embarrassed simultaneously how easily you had come unraveled. How easy it was for you to fall into this role.

Tony hit your spot again and you moaned pathetically. “You can let go. Come for me.”

You cried out, shaking, coming undone around his fingers. His other hand came to your throat, holding tight as he continued to stroke you, slower now as you shook with your release. He squeezed in slightly and that only added a cherry on top to your orgasm.

Empty of him, you heard him salaciously sucking on his fingers, his other hand still flexing gently on your throat, and he hummed in approval again. “I think with some more lessons, you can shape up to my perfect pet.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

#tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark marvel fic #my shit

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xhisokas-harleyx · 4 years ago

Note

okay but imagine hisoka and fem!reader going for an undercover mission, in a ball (well this gives me an excuse for hisoka in a suit with his hair down looking kinda normal yk aaaaa) and he and reader are waltzing across the ballroom, with the mutual pining, the flirting back and forth, constantly one upping each other without making it too crudely sexual while maintaining eye contact no matter what (bonus points if reader doesnt get flustered outwardly) <333

I’m sorry this took so long! Vacation and a few other things happened. I took a little creative liberty with this one I think... Hope you enjoy! 😊

Part 2 is out, link at the bottom :)

I’m getting to the other requests soon!

Song Inspiration: Fire on Fire; Sam Smith

Word Count: 2700

Hisoka x Fem Reader: Fire x Fire

You sigh as you look up at the clock that acts as a guardian for the entry hall you are sitting in. As of now, you’ve been waiting for Hisoka to enter the room for about 45 minutes. You have finished your hair, your makeup, and dressed accordingly, which took a decent amount of time- however, your male counterpart for the evening is still not ready.

“Hisoka… how much longer?!” You call to the upstairs bathroom, and you sigh melodramatically. You’d have thought he was ditching you if it wasn’t in fact a mission that HE himself had invited you to. “We’re going to be late, and that will attract attention!” You groan.

“Speaking of attracting attention…” A smooth, low voice coos from behind you, and you jolt up from your seat on the bottom of the stairs and wheel around. “…You call that undercover?” He says, as his tongue flashes across his bottom lip, a sinful gaze in his golden irises.

~Because I, for one, can’t keep my eyes off of you.~ He refrains from saying that last part.

There Hisoka stands, with a raised eyebrow, admiring you with a smirk as he plays with one of his cufflinks. His pink hair is down, covering his eyes only slightly, but not enough that you can’t see the hungry look in his golden irises. He doesn’t have any makeup on, and he is wearing a clean white suit with a tie and napkin that matches the color of your dress.

Quickly, you close your mouth, fighting to regain your composure and not allow him to see your reaction to his appearance. This mission was going to be hard enough without him distracting you throughout…

Little do you know, Hisoka is currently appraising your appearance as he strolls slowly down the stairs. Your sleek (f/c) dress hugs your curves perfectly, covered in sequins that catch the light of the chandelier at random intervals. Both of your outfits are a bit flamboyant- but honestly, could you expect any less from this efficient duo?

“It’s all about catching them off guard, hiding in plain sight.” You say to him, tipping your chin upward and placing a hand confidently on your hip. “The more attention we attract, the better chance we have of fooling those around us and identifying our target early.” You smirk as you meet his witty remark with your own explanation.

Hisoka lets out a small chuckle before he opens the door for you. “You know as well as I that that logic makes no sense.” He points out with a coy smile.

“Sounds good though, doesn’t it?” You retort, walking past him without so much as a glance.

“As does everything that comes from your lips.” He says it in a deep and yearning tone that catches you by surprise, even for Hisoka.

You fight the urge to tense up- this party hasn’t even begun yet, and Hisoka is already trying to get under your skin as you’d suspected he might. Luckily, you know exactly how to bat him off.

“Hurry up.” You order, completely ignoring him; it was phase one of your plan. Much to your chagrin, this pursuit only excites Hisoka, his eyes twinkling as he watches you get into the limo that will take you to the party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On your way to the ball, Hisoka watches you silently as you look out the window, the stars flying by as you speed to the event. You don’t even notice, until you feel that familiar bloodlust rising from his direction.

“You’re going to have to control- that – if we are going to stay undercover. We don’t know how many Nen users are going to be here.” You say nonchalantly, looking to him.

In the low light, Hisoka doesn’t speak at first, almost as if you’ve caught him looking when you weren’t supposed to. He notices how well your makeup is done- and how much care you have taken in styling your hair tonight. He loves those golden earrings you are wearing and makes a note to steal them from you later.

You notice his silence. “Hey, Hisok-“

“We are almost there, madam.” The driver tells you, interrupting your snapping to bring the pink haired man’s attention back to you… even though it hasn’t left you he saw you sitting on those stairs.

You thank the man, and you take this opportunity to affix your knife under your dress, rolling the long fabric up to your thigh and strapping it around your leg. You know exactly what this will do to Hisoka; and yet, you do it anyway, deciding to fight fire with fire.

Hisoka’s eyes widen under his bangs, and he stifles a soft moan. He does his best to look away, knowing that, despite this game you two play… he must control himself around you. Because, somewhere deep inside, he is amazed that you even agreed to come with him tonight, and he doesn’t want to scare you off.

Luckily, you are very determined to stay unabashed.

Still, his bloodlust peaks at the sight, and you use this as an opportunity to order him again.

“Nen off. Now.” You demand, dropping your skirt back to its normal position and flashing him a side glance as the limo stops.

“Oh, is that an order?” He questions, kicking an eyebrow and biting the inside of his lip, fully expecting to trip you up. He just can’t help himself. He can’t resist the urge to play this game with you, and is so impressed with the fact that you willingly (and expertly) play it too.

“Absolutely.” You reply without missing a beat. His eyes focus on you, unsure how to take your hot and cold attitude, and your apparent disinterest in his flirtation. Still, he obeys, and clears his throat, exiting the limo and moving to your side to open the door for you.

You get out gracefully, refusing the hand he is holding out to you, which both infuriates and encourages him.

“The target is an older Nen user with blue hair. Rich guy. Tons of ladies. Right?” You whisper to Hisoka, trying to confirm the details so you can begin to scout for your victim. “Conjurer?”

Hisoka doesn’t answer you for a moment, and instead, seems distracted before coming back to his senses.

“Hm? Oh, yes. Conjurer. Those women he hangs with are replicas of the prostitutes he’s said to have murdered. Perhaps talking to them could be our key to finding him.” You weren’t questioning how he knew all of this, but glance at him.

“So you’re going to use this as a speed dating service.” You state, rolling your eyes, though your comment is meant to be more funny than mean. Hisoka, however, looks to you with a confused expression.

“You wound me!” He chuckles in response, dramatically clutching his chest, but taking great care not to reveal the actual hurt underneath. Is that what you saw him as?

There is an awkward silence between the two of you, but as you walk into the entryway of the mansion, you put on your acting expressions and begin to scout out the crowd. There are hundreds of people, live music, drinks, and conversations happening all over the large abode, and in an instant, you feel a bit overwhelmed.

“We should split up.” You suggest. Not that you wanted to leave his side, but wouldn’t it be easier to find the target this way?

Unbeknownst to you, your suggestion slightly upsets Hisoka. He had hoped you would stay together, but he doesn’t protest; he nods, and you two go your separate ways. However, you find yourself glancing in his direction as he slips through the crowd, a pang of guilt stabbing your heart.

~~~~~~~~~

An hour or so later, you have still had no luck locating this bastard, and have decided to stop at the bar for a drink. You know that you’re supposed to be working, but how can you relax at all without a break? You order a drink from the bartender, and promptly begin to down it, leaning on the bar and analyzing the crowd. You can’t help but think of Hisoka, and how handsome he looked in his proper outfit which was so different than what you normally saw him in.

Often, you wondered if his flirtation was just that and nothing else; or whether there could be a chance that he feels morefor you. There were times when he could be so caring toward you… but he did have the tendency to be fickle and dishonest with his emotions.

As much as you hated to admit it… you felt morefor him. He wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, you liked that about him. You had the ability to see through his apathetic exterior to the human underneath. You didn’t know whether that made you a hopeless romantic, or just plain crazy.

Suddenly, you see a flash of pink hair in the far distance, breaking your fantasy. It is Hisoka, shining like a diamond just next to the dance floor. A wave of relief washes over you briefly, and you set down your drink to make your way toward him, quicker than you’d imagined.

However, the sight you see there before you made your stomach flip, and you question the flirtation you’d just fantasized about. Through the crowd of people, you can see Hisoka talking to a bunch of nicely dressed ladies, a drink perched in his hand like he was some aristocrat. They seem to be laughing at just about everything he said, and one of them has the audacity to playfully touch his lapel, which set you off.

Now you were disobeying your own advice as your bloodlust piqued. Your fists clench and you begin to trudge toward the large magician, who doesn’t seem to notice your presence. That could not be more false, however, and he smirks to himself as he feels your approach, parting the crowd and traversing the ballroom dance floor.

Your high heels, however, have another idea: to ruin your night.

Your heel twists, and you trip over your own feet, a few people gasping as your body flies toward the floor. However, your momentum is stopped by the stern body of your audacious savior.

Hisoka pulls your arm past his neck, his strong arm wrapping around your waist and holding you flush against his body. A few of the people clap at the display, the women especially noting how dashing this charismatic man is, and how lucky the woman in his arms must be.

Obviously, they didn’t know the real Hisoka…

“If you wanted to dance, you could have just asked.” Hisoka notes softly, with a hubristic undertone. The way he holds you, however, is soft and careful, his fingers spread along your waist as he pulls you to your feet. You scoff, and look away, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from his pleasing embrace. Still, you’re mad at him, and you don’t show your flustered expression outwardly.

Without your permission, Hisoka begins to move your body in tandem with his, guiding your hips to the beat of the new song playing in the ballroom.

“You look angry, (Y/N).” He notices your expression and rigidity but doesn’t stop moving his feet. It’s a rather timid tune at first, however, at the bridge of the song the tempo began to pick up, and you easily accommodated. You two begin to tango across the floor, much to the delight of the people watching your display in awe.

“We’re supposed to be working, and you’re over there flirting.” You scold yourself inwardly as you realize he’s going to have a heyday roasting your obvious jealousy.

“Ah, and you were working at the bar when you were sipping your cocktail?” He retorts fluently, surprising you. He has been watching you this whole time and was perfectly willing to never let you know it!

Hisoka whips his hair out of his eyes, his bangs parting just long enough to reveal to you a flash of his enchanted yellow eyes. Somehow, that hungry, almost pleading look behind his irises melts away your fear that he doesn’t feel anything for you. And from that moment on, you can’t break eye contact with him, as if he’s holding you under some sort of spell.

~God, that was hot.~ You think, but you are determined to keep your cool and not show all your cards, so you shoot him an equally suggestive look that makes his blood boil. Your eyes make him go crazy. He can’t take that look in your eyes, the way you encapsulate your emotions within them makes Hisoka lose his breath and feel a little weak in the knees (not something he’s used to). Both of you are too caught up in each other to realize how much you are both leaking bloodlust.

“Jealousy looks good on you.” He smirks, twirling your body around him, and catching you in his arms.

“Hm.” You smile, beginning to have fun with this performance. “I look good on you, wouldn’t you say?” You retort boldly, not expecting Hisoka to take it quite so seriously. His smile fades, and as you twirl back to him, the song dies down, and Hisoka bends you over his knee, hanging your body in his balance.

His gilded eyes have never looked more intense and sincere. Your comment seems to have uprooted his act, and his forehead presses to yours as it seems he is devouring your soul with his eyes.

“I couldn’t agree more, y/n.” He breathes against your lips at the closing note of the ballad, hoping that you’ll confirm his hopes and take the leap of faith he needs you to in that moment.

Your heart begins to skip beats, and you can’t hold your act any longer. Your cheeks are painted with a deep red shade, and your neck begins to crane. Somehow, on the fly, you are unsure. What would all of this lead to?

Your thoughts of leaving Hisoka hanging are interrupted by the annoying screech of one of the women from before, spewing a slurred, “Way to go, Mr. Horatio!”

Horrible fake name aside, this makes your jealousy skyrocket as you realize she’s talking about your white knight.

You turn back to him with the fire of Hell in your eyes, and meld your lips with Hisoka’s with such ferocity that it takes him off guard, and for a moment he is completely star struck. The taste of your lips ignites such a passion within him that his hand moves to your hair, tilting your head back with a gentle tug to allow him better access to your sensitive parts. His obsession for you is on full display, and he doesn’t care who sees it.

As you break for air, his lips move excitably to your neck, the both of you completely forgetting that you are in the middle of a mission and a whole crowd of people. Neither of you seem to care, and if Hisoka has his way you’ll end this party with a bang.

The guards have a different plan.

“The Magician! I’d recognize that Bloodlust anywhere!” Someone shouts, sending a force of guards your way. Hisoka can’t help but smirk in that general direction, and without a thought, he unleashes the full weight of his bloodlust, and scoops you into his arms protectively. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome, darling. Let’s head out.” He purrs. Somehow, even being chased by a force of guards, which he could easily annihilate, he is as enticing with his voice as ever. You have not the power nor will to disobey that honey-like, nuanced voice that turns your resolve to ash. Instead, you are content with the view of his hair flying in the wind as he gracefully bursts out of the mansion, running with you in his arms.

You’re completely enthralled with him, and he knows it; he feels the same about you. But as the house vanishes from your sight, your eyes widen as you remember one key detail.

“Hisoka… WE DIDN’T KILL THE TARGET!” You panic, as he slows; you’re far enough away to be safe now.

Hisoka chuckles warmly, which confuses you.

“Not to worry, y/n. I killed him days ago.” He says matter-of-factly, anticipating your reaction at hearing that the party was completely unnecessary. “My place?” He skips past it like it’s a minor detail.

Your body tenses.

“Hold on…YOU WHAT?!”

~FIN~

…I could see a very NSFW Part Two for this... -///-

Part two is here!!

https://xhisokas-harleyx.tumblr.com/post/660568203654774784/in-x-this-x-moment-hisoka-x-reader-pt2-to-fire

I loved this prompt. So cute. Hope you all liked it! <3

#hisoka x reader #hisoka morow #hisoka #hxh #hunter x hunter #love #reader insert #fanfic #y/n x hisoka

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formulanaughty · 3 years ago

Note

you should do the toto seb overstim stuff as a continuation of the seb x merc driver because ᵘʰʰ toto said something mysterious and then left ... like bro... join ? perhaps they bicker about aftercare because seb actually has feelings and toto just thinks he knows what’s best (and like tiny feelings but it’s probably the fact that he’s the boss and is in control of everything)

(ok i realized when i re-read my first little teammates blurb that i made it seem like at the end that they aren't? teammates, but let's just pretend that never happened. seb and reader both drive for mercedes under toto as TP!)

sv/reader/tw - not proofread so my apologies for inconsistencies/issues. i don’t care that much. it’s 3.5ish k of smut (and some plot). i think i like it? idk. threesomes are hard.

warnings: threesome, toto is bossy (almost to a fault), i didn’t put enough seb in (i’m Sorry), overstim, orgasm control (?), spitting, crying during sex, sub drop (if you squint - i tried not to make it too heavy), there’s aftercare!! (lmk if i’ve missed anything!)

It had been two weeks since Toto walked in on you and Seb.

Two weeks of brilliant driving, of front row lockouts, of champagne-soaked Sundays.

Two weeks of denial.

You had played every card you had with both men, tempting them to break and give in. You'd met Seb in his driver’s room after a spectacular qualifying session that he had just barely beaten you in, stripped down to your sports bra with your underwear pushed aside as you laid back on his couch, two fingers sliding in and out of your cunt. He had taken one glance at you and laughed, bending down to pick up your sweaty fireproofs and race suit before tossing them in your direction.

“Get out,” he commanded, and you were too stunned to fight him. Your rage grew with each passing moment as he watched you fumble to put on the wet fabric.

“Fuck you,” you spat, the words venemous as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

When you entered your own room, just down the hall from his, you couldn’t get your hand back in your pants quickly enough, the shame of his offhand dismissal burning you from the inside out. The orgasm that ripped through you was vicious and you came with a shout, the sound easily disguiseable as one of rage. It wasn’t enough - not even close - to quell the need that built within you.

Toto had joined your private flight from one track to the next and you ended up in his lap as soon as the “fasten seatbelts” sign shut off.

He had grinned, looking down at you with amusement. “What is this?”

“You’re smarter than that Toto, you know what this is.” To prove your point you rocked your hips, sliding your covered core over his thigh.

He waved the stewardess away wordlessly when she approached with bottled drinks and made no move to touch you. “What this is,” he said, voice already stern, “is you beginning to directly disobey one of my orders.”

“Who says I haven’t already disobeyed your orders?”

He leveled you with one of his signature looks of disapproval, eyebrow raised and frown lines prominent.

You climbed off of him, arousal giving way to anger.

“Fuck your rules! Do you realize how stressful it is? Why do you think Seb and I ended up fucking in the first place? We need something to let off some of the pressure of being a fucking Mercedes driver!”

“You think being with him will last?”

“It’s not about being with him. It’s about relieving some of the stress that you put us under!”

He gestured wide with his arms, laughter almost mean. “You’re welcome to leave, sweetheart, but we both know you won’t. Sebastian was offered the same thing when the pressure first got to him and he stayed - has stayed - every time. You don’t want to lose Seb, the team — me. So you’ll put up with it. You may even find yourself enjoying it. Just another week, and then we’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Oh, so you and him have some fucked up agreement? Is that why he’s been getting preferential treatment on the track? So I’ll be even more wound up when you both corner me in my hotel room? Is that the whole point of your ‘orders’, Toto?”

He sat up straighter, his shoulders rolling back as he moved to make himself larger. Even seated in the plane seat, he still seemed to tower, larger than life. “He does not get preferential treatment - on track or off - for any reason and you know that. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.

Besides,” he continued, a dark chuckle leaving his lips as he settled back into the leather, motioning for the attendant to bring him a drink, “you’ll be wound up no matter what we do to you. It’s in your nature.”

“Fuck you,” you had said softly, settling down in the seat furthest from him with your face towards the window. Any closer and he would have been bound to see the fury of your heartbeat through your skin or hear your labored breath. Fighting with a man in his position, with his power, was the ultimate aphrodisiac. You’d never shied away from going toe-to-toe with him, especially not the few times it had escalated beyond arguing and moved into more. Arguing with him now, knowing there were so few boundaries still existing between you yet knowing he wouldn't back down or give in was beyond frustrating.

"You wish you could," he had said with a chuckle, raising his glass to his lips.

He had been right about you and you hated to admit it. The end of the triple header was in sight and you were wound up, springs loaded more tightly than they'd ever been, and neither Sebastian or Toto had so much as glanced your way unless required to by their jobs. They behaved in front of the media and team, but when it was just you around, it was as though you didn't exist.

You decided to funnel all of your anger towards them into other aspects of the weekend, giving them the same silent treatment they were dishing out. You did your best to ignore them both, going so far as to leave the post-race briefing early before conversations shifted to Sebastian’s car.

Later that evening, you receive a text from Toto.

We need to talk. Room 853.

Even though he was located just a few floors above you, you decide to make him wait, taking your time redressing and combing through your hair.

Thirty minutes later you swing the already-unlocked door open.

Toto stands at the desk, fingers flying over the screen of his phone while Seb lounges in the plush chair on the other side of the bed.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

Toto sets his phone aside and faces you. “I said we needed to talk. Sit down.”

“I’ll stand, thanks.”

Toto grins and shakes his head. “I wasn’t asking. Sit.”

“Woof,” you bark out as you collapse backwards on the bed, already annoyed that they’ve cornered you like this. Seb laughs and for the first time in more than a week, you feel a genuine smile tug at your lips.

“Funny,” Toto deadpans.

“Is this all you dragged me here for? Or is there actually a point to this conversation?”

Toto shakes his head. “Such an attitude. What’s gotten into you recently?”

“What’s gotten into me? How about what’s not gotten into me? You catch Seb and I together and then tell me I’m not allowed to get off for two weeks, lording that fact over my head at any chance you get. Then you two start treating me like I don’t exist at all and—”

"I know she's gotten off," Seb interrupts, his face smug, “at least once. And no," he says, eyes shooting over to Toto, "I didn't have anything to do with it."

"You don't know shit," you quip from the edge of the bed, words tossed over your shoulder towards him.

He stands and moves, stepping away and then back before the mattress dips right behind you. "The entire hospitality trailer heard you. Britta asked if she needed to go make sure you were okay, but I convinced her you were just pissed, like you usually are when I outqualify you. I think I do know 'shit'."

When you open your mouth to protest, he moves from behind you and slides a silk scarf between your lips, tying it off quickly behind your head.

When you look over to Toto in shock, he grins.

"Shake your head no or tap out right now and we'll do it your way - whatever that may be - no feelings hurt. But I think," he says, watching as Seb leans in close to nose at the delicate skin of your neck, "I think that you'll enjoy it our way."

You maintain eye contact with him as you raise your chin in one last act of defiance.

“You’re trembling,” Seb whispers, his voice low and goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“She’s desperate for it.”

“Remember your sign?” Seb presses his lips to your jaw.

You reach back and give Seb’s leg three taps with two fingers.

“Good girl.” He looks at Toto and gives him a nod.

“Here’s the thing, pet. I told you no orgasms. Did you obey that rule?”

You stare him down but shake your head no.

“You should have heard her,” Seb says, his hands smoothing up and down your rib cage, rucking at the fabric of your shirt, creeping closer and closer to the curve of your breast. You barely keep yourself from arching into his touch. “She was in my room after qualifying, fingering herself, and she got mad when I kicked her out. Went back to her room and must’ve made herself cum so hard she screamed.”

“Screamed?” Toto directs his question to you.

You drop your chin in shame, remembering how you had been pushed to your breaking point by Seb’s dismissal. When the silence hangs in the air, you lift your head and nod.

“Good thing we gagged you tonight then, huh?”

Your eyes go wide and you glance at Seb.

“Sorry love. Boss makes the rules.”

“How many do you think we can get from her before she taps, Sebastian?”

“Six,” he responds, grinning.

“I think eight. But, knowing her, she’ll pass out before she taps out.”

Toto steps forward and reaches out a hand, cupping your jaw gently. “Wish I could kiss you.” He traces his thumb over your stretch lower lip and you whine, the sound strained through the makeshift gag. “No, no,” Toto chides, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead, “no whining, no begging. You wanted to cum so badly before, so we're going to let you now, as many times as we see fit. And you can’t ask for more or tell me to stop or use that smart mouth to sass me and piss me off. We’ll go until you learn that your orgasms are ours. Understand?”

You twist your head to give Seb more room as he presses kisses along your exposed skin, pulling your collar aside when he runs out of new real estate. You take a moment to consider what’s happening, what it will mean for you, and you lift your chin again, giving Toto a definitive nod.

———

You had lost count.

The first, wrought from you with Seb's fingers as Toto looked on and gave instruction, was forceful but not enough to slate the heat in your lower abdomen. The ache had persisted - insistent - until Toto shoved your knees wide and lowered his mouth to your core. Both men - Sebastian behind you and Toto kneeling below you - were still completely clothed while you writhed naked between them.

The second and third orgasms were claimed by Toto, his mouth working easy and lazy against your clit, as though this was just a hobby for him, and you let your head fall back onto Seb's shoulder as he dove back in for the fourth.

"You should see yourself," Seb says, voice low in your ear. His hands roam over your torso, fingers firm as they dig into your skin and move to pinch at your nipples. You back arches, offering more of yourself to the men before you, and your eyes drift closed.

"You look incredible," he continues, his hips lifting to press his hard length into the small of your back.

You work to open your eyes and look up to him, pleading as best you can without words, until you feel Toto work a finger into your dripping slit and your eyes flutter shut once again.

"That's it baby, come on. Let it go," Seb says, his eyes fixed on where Toto's mouth has sealed over your clit, tongue barely peeking past his lips with every rhythmic swipe of it over your tight bundle of nerves.

When another orgasm builds, every muscle in your body goes taught until it all snaps and you scream into the gag, arching away from Toto's mouth and Seb's hands and their combined overwhelming presence.

They give you a moment of peace while you work to catch your breath, inhales and exhales forceful through your nose and around the now-soaked scarf.

When Toto kneels on the bed he's finally naked, moving up the sheets until he's in front of you. "Doing so well, pet." He leans in over you, his nose brushing yours. "You still okay? We can take away the scarf if you want."

You lean into him, hands lifting to hold him close as you inhale his scent and feel his skin against yours. You pull back and nod your head, watching as he reaches around you to untie the scarf and toss it aside.

"Better?"

You nod, clearing your throat a few times before Seb, naked now too, appears behind you with a bottle of water. You sit up to take a few quick sips and pass it back, watching as he swallows the rest down easily.

Toto takes your chin in his hand and pulls you close, his lips meeting yours much more gently than you had expected, but the kiss deepens quickly. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you moan, his lips pulling into a grin against yours until he pulls away. "You taste divine," he says, licking at his lips again.

Seb's hands settle on your hips and he tugs, swiftly raising you until you settle onto your knees, stance wide as you lean into Toto.

"Don't cum in her," Toto commands over your shoulder, and a shiver runs through you at his words.

"But--" Toto breaks off your thought with a finger to your lips.

"Just because I took the gag off doesn't mean you can talk back. Understood?"

"Yeah," you answer, watching as he leans back onto the bed, his hand moving down to stroke once, twice over his hard length.

"Try again."

"Yes, I understand." You continue watching his hand, distracted by the prominent veins and dark pink head of his cock. You lick your lips and he chuckles.

"Gets rid of the gag and immediately wants something back in her mouth," he teases, his words directed at Sebastian.

You glance over your shoulder to see him, his eyes fixed on your ass as he runs one of his hands back and forth over the smooth skin there. The other hand holds his cock with what looks like a too-tight grip.

"Sometimes I have to stick a finger or two in her mouth while I'm fucking her. Keeps her quiet at least." He already sounds wrecked as he teases your folds with the head of his cock.

You scoff and Toto reaches a hand up, burying it in the hair at the nape of your neck. He drags your head down to his cock and you open your mouth automatically. He's larger than Seb, wider and a bit longer, but something inside of you begs to impress him, to be able to take him all in one go.

"What did I just say?" he asks, holding you just out of reach.

Seb chooses that moment to suddenly - finally - push his way in, your wet pussy making the slide easy, and you mon.

You whine when his hips hit your skin, the feeling of being filled almost too much already.

You don't have time to process the intrusion before Toto is pushing his cock past your lips. Seb pulls out slowly and then presses back in. Before you know it, you're being filled as quickly as one hole is empty, from one end or the other, and you lose yourself in the rhythm of it as they use you.

When Seb reaches around your hip to settle the pads of two fingers over your clit, you buck into his hand, Toto's cock falling from your lips as you swear, already too sensitive. He bats your reaching hand away and thrusts harder, fueled by the hitching of your breath and the way you tighten around him, squeezing like a snake.

Toto pulls at your hair, straining your neck to meet his gaze. "Cum on his cock, pet."

“It’s too much,” you choke out, barely a whimper, as Seb begins to grind into you with each thrust. It’s overwhelming, being fucked by Seb while Toto commands your attention.

“Don't stop,” Toto directs at Seb. Then he looks back down at you.

“She’s so fucking tight,” you hear Seb say, still looking up, watching the way Toto grins at his words.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

You follow his command and he grabs your jaw with one hand, holding your mouth just where he wants it. He stares for a moment before opening his own mouth and spitting slowly, his hot saliva hitting the center of your tongue. He holds you there, your mouth open, for just a moment before pressing your jaw up.

“Swallow.”

“Fuck, shes cumming again, I can feel it. She’s just— Fuck!”

Seb pulls out suddenly and even through the tremors of your own orgasm, you can feel the hot splashes of his release across your back. He groans and stumbles back, collapsing into the nearby chair.

“Toto,” you whine, desperately needing both more and for this to end. You can feel the beads of sweat slide down your back, the tendrils of hair at your temples damp and sticking to your skin.

“Come here.” He grips your arm and drags you up, rolling over you as he moves you where he wants you: on your back underneath him. He pushes your knees up almost too-high and looks down your sex. “Look so pretty, all fucked out like this. Pink and puffy.”

You flush at his casually obscene observance, at the act of him looking at you - at all of you.

“Should I get my mouth on you again? Make you cum with my tongue? Maybe two, three more, make you beg me to stop.”

“Toto,” you beg, unsure of what you’re asking for. More would wreck you - ruin you - but yet the ache for him, for anything, still sits hotly within you.

“I could do it. I could sit with my face there for hours, pet.”

“Please fuck me,” you try instead, head swimming with his words, with how tempting it is to take him up on his offer.

“Now she uses her manners.” He moves up and aligns his cock with your slit, teasing your entrance just as Seb had before. He thrusts in fast then, lowering himself to swallow your cry direct from the source. He holds still, his breathing easy as your chest heaves, hips already working in search of friction.

“Please,” you beg, near tears, as the mere feeling of him filling him up sets you off, the wave of another orgasm building quickly. “Toto, please, fuck me, please.”

He pulls back and nearly out, glancing down as the head of his cock catches on the rim of your pussy. When he pulls all the way, you cry out, your desperation met with a chuckle. “I told you pet, your orgasms are mine. You cum when I say you can cum. Sebastian makes you come when I say he can. Are we clear?”

You nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with desperation.

“Good girl. And just so you don’t forget it,” he says, thrusting back in, hard, “we’re going until I’ve had enough.”

You arch into him, your body taking over as it seeks out any tendrils of pleasure he’s willing to give.

He takes his hands in yours and raises them above your head, his body stretching long over yours as you cry out with his deeper thrusts.

You suddenly still, your legs trembling around him as your tears fall, the sudden orgasm absolutely stealing your breath. He groans and slows, grinding his hips into yours, the pressure of him inside you prolonging your release as he relishes the feel of you constricting around him.

“That’s it, there you go. So good for me.”

“I can’t— Toto, I—”

“You can, I know you can. Such a good girl, you can take it. Give me one more, come on, you’re so pretty when you cum for me like this.”

His patient, deep thrusts are more than enough to set you off again, and you sob as you feel it creep in, absolutely nothing to be done to stop it. Your voice is hoarse when you shout as it finally crashes over you, your vision going white and hearing going fuzzy.

Toto’s thrusts turn erratic then and he too pulls out with a groan. You watch with barely-open eyes as he grips his cock and strokes himself just once before painting your stomach with his own release.

“Fuck,” he pants, staring down at your body.

Tears continue to gather at the corners of your eyes and when you blink, they tumble down your temple to mix with the stale sweat there.

You sniffle and hear some shuffling before Seb appears, kneeling on the comforter next to you.

His voice is quiet when he speaks. “Come on love, let’s get you cleaned up. Did so good for us, let me take care of you now.” He turns to Toto. “Go get a warm, damp cloth from the bathroom. She’ll want to be held and I doubt you want to get jizz everywhere.”

“How do you know what to do?”

“Because she and I have talked about it! As much as it kills you to give up some control here, just follow my lead. She might ask for something from you, she might not. But just shut up and let me take care of her.”

Toto stares for a moment, watching the way Seb moves in - to press a kiss to your temple, to muzzle at your cheekbone - and how it almost brings a smile to your face, before he follows Sebastian’s request.

He returns and passes the rag to Seb, listening to the soothing way he praises you as he wipes your skin clean, folding the rag over itself to wipe at the sweat drying on your collarbones and neck.

When Seb turns to toss the rag away, you grab for Toto then, tugging him down almost beside you, half of his body still heavy on top of yours. He adjusts and wraps himself around your back, his frame completely engulfing yours, watching as Seb mirrors the pose in front of you, still speaking in such hushed tones that leave Toto straining to hear what’s being said. When your voice breaks through, his name somewhere on your lips, he leans in.

“Of course he’s proud of you,” Seb replies to whatever question you had asked. “I am too.”

Toto leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder and your head turns, now-bright eyes meeting his. “Thank you,” he mumbles, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to your skin. He continues his gentle assault, lips brushing any inch of skin he can reach. “I mean it. Thank you.”

#tw #sv #fn.fic #fn.answer

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eatyourchancletas · 4 years ago

Text

SUMMARY | y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

[chapter index] [playlist] [previous chapter]

AUTHOR’S NOTE | woops, finally have chapter 3 here! alex wasn’t able to finish it so i (monnie) did, but alex edited it so it was a smooth process. please like and reblog!! feedback is greatly appreciated!! please excuse any mistakes!

WORD COUNT | 4.7k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

hongjoong had gathered everyone around, gaze settled upon his members. “this mission is very important. we’ve managed to get a good deal. he says if he manages to make a good first impression with us, he’ll be willing to work with us at a smaller price.”

everyone nodded along, understanding what he was trying to say: don’t mess this up.

the leader continued as everyone seemed to catch the drift, “but we’re going to be very careful with this. we don’t put ourselves out there, so i don’t know how he knows our reputation enough to want to further business before we’ve even started.”

seonghwa perked up, arms tightening around himself, “that means old business is talking.” hongjoong nodded, letting him know they were both on the same page.

after a moment of silence, hongjoong sucked his teeth and looked up at y/n, eyes holding an emotion the older couldn’t read. the two held eye contact for barely 3 seconds before hongjoong spoke in yeosang’s direction. “i want you to stay here with y/n,” at those words, the younger gave a look that explained his feelings very well, y/n thought.

yeosang thought this was bullshit, but he couldn’t speak out on it because he trusted hongjoong knew well enough. “don’t take it personal, i don’t trust y/n fully. we don’t know what can happen.”

yeosang could only nod, deciding against disobeying hongjoong’s orders.

“alright, everyone get ready. we leave in an hour, i wanna get there early. scope out the place.”

y/n felt ashamed and angry.

ever since the group left for the mission, almost an hour ago, yeosang has been rude and treating him like he was the cause of all his problems. he felt ashamed because yeosang’s bruteness made him feel, somewhat, small and embarrassed, like it was his fault they were in this situation.

“get out of my way,” yeosang had shoved y/n on the way to the kitchen. the older stared dumbfounded, patience wearing thin.

“a simple excuse me would’ve been nice.”

yeosang scoffed, opening the refrigerator. if there was one thing that bothered him, it was being on babysitting duty.

“yeah, well i’m not exactly in the mood to play around and be all goody-two-shoes. so you know what would be nice?” he directed a sharp glare to y/n, not giving him a chance to answer his rhetorical question, “if you would fuck off.”

y/n bit his tongue, sizing up the smaller. his thoughts blocked his irritation, taking in the fact that yeosang was a gang member. he’s pretty sure size wouldn’t inconvenience the younger when handling a physical situation, much less a verbal one.

the doctor went to walk away as yeosang placed a plate in the microwave, until he noticed red markings on the skin of yeosang’s wrist, his shirt sleeve sliding down as his arm lifted. “are you okay?”

“last i checked, i didn’t ask for some psychological evaluation. so for the love of god-”

“no- i meant your wrist… is your wrist okay?”

a barely noticeable blush covered yeosang’s ears, “i’m fine. it’s nothing.”

y/n’s head tilted, an unsure look on his face.“do… do you mind if i take a look at it?”

yeosang stilled, the low hum of the microwave filling in the silence. he hesitated, but decided against it, knowing yunho had told him he needed to get it looked at because there wasn’t much he could do.

his eyes drifted to y/n, his arm slowly gravitating in the direction of y/n, a silent approval. the doctor carefully walked forward, gently grabbing yeosang’s hand and pulling the sleeve slightly. a small gasp left his mouth, the sleeve barely pulled back but the wound already looked pretty bad. “do you have a first aid kit?”

the metal lid of the small trash can clinked as it swung back and forth, ointment-clotted swabs and bandage wrappers crinkling within the confinement. “thank you,” yeosang’s voice was small, his upset mood dissipating as time went on.

“it’s no problem,” y/n finished wrapping yeosang’s wrist, careful not to make it too tight, “that was a second degree burn though… how’d you get it?”

yeosang looked down, a blush settling on his cheeks. his head dropped and his feet swung under the medical cot he sat on. he mumbled something, biting his lip afterwards, and y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “i’m sorry, what was that?” and yeosang mumbled once more, y/n still not hearing what he said. “huh?”

“i said i burned myself trying to help seognhwa hyung make your meals!”

y/n blinked, “oh.”

and for the next few moments, it was deadly silent, the ticking of the wall clock echoing. y/n couldn’t take the awkwardness any longer, clearing his throat, “well, next time you get hurt, please don’t be afraid to come to me. it’d give me something to do, i already feel pretty useless and lonely here, to be honest.”

yeosang looked up, his feet no longer swinging, and a confused look on his face. “you’re not useless. we wouldn’t have kept you alive if you were.”

at that moment y/n inhaled, not knowing how to respond to that. “uh, jeez, that uh… hm, that makes me feel better… i guess?” a moment passed before the two chuckled, a comedic break turning out to be a lot more comforting than they expected.

minutes passed, their conversation dying down into light replies and subtle smiles when yeosang asked a question that threw the doctor off. “do you know anyone by the name of heeseung?”

dozens of thoughts raced through y/n’s mind; why does he want to know? is heeseung okay? did he do something he wasn’t supposed to?

“. . . yes.” but y/n couldn’t ask any further because before he knew it, yeosang had nodded and gotten down from the cot, walking out of the infirmary area.

meanwhile, miles away the others had arrived at the meeting spot, every member cautiously looking out for anything strange. seonghwa began pulling in closer to the black van adjacent to theirs, letting hongjoong and wooyoung scout to make sure this was the man they were meeting with.

after confirmation that this was dongwoo, they holstered their weapons within the waistbands of their trousers and exited the van.

“have you got it?” hongjoong cut to the chase; he was quite a brute person when it came to work. and dongwoo and his people wanted to make a good first impression? he’d see how well he could handle him.

“yep, got a truckload of ak-47’s, m16’s, and a couple 9mm’s. all smuggled from america.”

hongjoong pursed his lips, an impressed nod making dongwoo’s ego subtly inflate. word on the street said no one had successfully managed to smuggle weapons, specifically guns, to ateez without the korean law getting too heavily involved. the trader always got caught, and ateez always made sure to utilize their connections and silence those who they couldn’t trust to keep their mouths shut.

hongjoong had to go to some expensive lengths just to get the glock 17’s they used now. the quality of the gun proved its worth though, they learned. however, it was rare that they resorted to guns—they didn’t rely on them unless they themselves were in danger or if someone needed to be silenced quickly.

“looks good to me,” hongjoong complimented, turning his head slightly toward wooyoung, “bring out their payment.”

wooyoung nodded briefly, bringing his hands from behind his back, a large herbal drink-branded bag being showcased. dongwoo raised a brow, peeking over and catching a glimpse of the rolls of cash that filled the bag to the brim.

“thank you for your service,” hongjoong beckoned wooyoung to hand the bag to dongwoo, before he went to step toward his shipment.

“wait, what?”

at dongwoo’s abruptness, san stepped forward, “what do you mean ‘what’? take the deal or leav—” his words died down and he cowered back when hongjoong’s sharp glare met his eyes, immediately silencing him.

the leader clasped his hands behind his back and made a sharp turn toward the man. “is there something wrong?” his head was tilted and a curious look was on his face, there shouldn’t have been anything wrong with this offer and if there was, there was only a problem on dongwoo’s side. call it being ignorant, but hongjoong didn’t say he never had a problem because he wanted to be cocky and egotistic. it was simply the truth.

out of every issue he and the others had encountered with a deal, none had gone wrong on their part. it was part of the reason their group was at the top—they were efficient business partners and leaders. something only went wrong when non-mutual expectations weren’t met.

“there’s no ‘we’re looking forward to doing future business with you’?”

a small smirk had taken over hongjoong’s lips, hidden by the hanging of his head. “mr. yoo, we further business with those of the same intentions as us. do you, perhaps, know what those intentions are?”

dongwoo stood dumbfounded; of everything he heard about ateez and their leader, he didn’t think to find out just what their goal was.

“it seems you don’t know, so i’ll tell you. we, ateez, have come this far from one thing and one thing only—loyalty. when i heard your proposition of your first impression leading to cheaper traders, something was a little off,” his eyes squinted and he bought his pointer finger and thumb to barely touch, “you know a little too much, don’t you think?”

dongwoo’s eyes widened slightly but he recovered, however, it was noticeable. “what are you talking about?”

“someone’s been talking, haven’t they? leaking information about us that they, most certainly, weren’t warranted to give, but you probably don’t know much—you’re not the loose tie that needs to be cut off,” he looked dongwoo dead in the eyes as his own narrowed, “i hope.”

his intimidating stare lasted for a few moments more before a light smile covered his face, eye lightening. “take your payment, we’ll be taking our things and leaving.”

hongjoong gave a nod of his head, him and the rest of ateez splitting up to hook the small weapon-filled-trailer to their own vehicle, dongwoo and his men pulling off once it was unattached.

“boss, i don’t feel so good about this right now. i think we should hurry and get out of here.” yunho spoke, a hand rubbing at the hairs that stood on the back of his neck. hongjoong didn’t question further, sharing the suspenseful feeling that creeped up his spine, giving a prompt nod.

after 5 minutes were spent attaching the trailer and making sure they were ready to go, seonghwa started the engine and waited for everyone to get in. just as san and mingi were about to get in the van, the screeching of tires sounded nearby.

“get down!” and bullets went flying.

“do you like raisin bran?”

y/n gave a slight nod, folding his hands in front of him. “sure!” yeosang held the box in the air, stopping mid-grab.

“aren’t you a doctor? raisin bran has a lot of sugar…”

y/n shrugged his shoulders, standing to get bowls for the both of them, “i’m a doctor, not a dentist. besides, i’m quite the sugar addict. with the injuries i see and multiple hour surgeries i perform, i need some type of a high—so sugar high it is!”

yeosang laughed, shaking his head and setting the cereal box on the counter before grabbing the milk from the fridge. “quick question doc,” yeosang began and y/n looked at him, setting the bowls and spoons down. “milk first or cereal?”

yeosang held a laugh in when y/n had a visibly offended look on his face, a hand pressing to his chest. “yeosang, please tell me you put cereal fi—”

“shit! y/n where the fuck are you?!” someone had frantically shouted from the front of the house, yeosang and y/n giving each other a worried look before tripping over their own feet to reach the living room.

“oh my—what happened?!”

“fuck,” hongjoong let out a belligerent roar, “get him to the infirmary!”

y/n panicked, grabbing onto the injured man and hoisting him up into his arms, rushing to the infirmary. he looked down at the paled man in his arms, huffing out a breath of air, “don’t worry san, i’ve got you!”

san lies on the medical cot, eyes still and closed and chest rising and falling in a calming pattern. y/n is sitting next to him, checking his vitals every few minutes and making sure his labs are okay. after verifying everything is stable, he sat the clipboard down, closing his own eyes and lying his head in his arms on the cot, dozing off.

it’d been about 3 hours since san was bought in like this. y/n could’ve laughed at how freaked out he was earlier—san’s injuries weren’t even the worst he’s ever seen or treated, but your emotions and professionalism change when the person lying on your operating table is someone you have a nice relationship with… and when said patient’s fellow gang members are breathing down your neck, reminding you that there’s no other option than survival for him...

“how is he?” hongjoong’s voice startled y/n out of his exhausted haze, the older jumping in his spot.

“he’s fine now. if you’d have been any later, he would have coded… and i can’t do much for coding outside a hospital.”

the leader nodded his head, his chest and shoulders dropping slightly as if he could finally breathe. y/n watched him, watched how hongjoong toed around the cot, staring san’s unconscious form down.

y/n fumbled with his fingers, running over his next words in his head before just blurting them. “is it hard?”

“what do you mean?”

he shrugged his shoulders, looking at the shorter, “being a leader… having to watch over everyone,” he held eye contact with the leader, trying to read his expression, “it must be suffocating when something happens to one of them.”

hongjoong’s tongue swiped over his teeth as he stared the taller down. the air around them was tense—hongjoong knew y/n meant good by his words, but he’s not the type of person to just get emotional with people, especially those who aren’t exactly close to him. the others may see y/n as someone more than a hostage, but to hongjoong, he was just that. a person they were taking advantage of—a person who was only cooperative because his life was on the line.

“we’re going to head back to the shooting scene and see if we can find anything that’ll lead us to dongwoo, son-of-a-bitch. wooyoung and yeosang will stay with you and san… so let them know if you or san needs anything.” y/n cleared his throat, giving a curt nod before standing up and walking toward the cabinets, desperate to escape the awkward and tense aura.

when he heard the door to the infirmary shut, signaling hongjoong had left, he let out a sigh before starting to occupy himself again. he opened a cabinet, grabbing a roll of gauze—it was time to change san’s dressings.

as he made his way back to the cot, he noticed san was now awake and it caused him to stop in his tracks. “when did you wake up?”

“unfortunately, when it got awkward,” san watched y/n’s face fall, a look of embarrassment overtaking his tired features. he held back a teasing smile, leaning back on his arms, although hissing in pain and sitting back up when the pressure sent a stabbing pain through his side and shoulder. he watched y/n walk toward him and lift his clean shirt to start snipping at the dirtied gauze anchored around his naked shoulder.

a few moments went by of y/n re-bandaging and wrapping san’s wounds before the injured boy’s head tilted to the side. he didn’t know if it was because he was high off pain meds or if it was because he’s been so deprived of seeing an unfamiliar face… but y/n looked really handsome and flattering. even thinking about feeling that way sent a drunk feeling to san’s head, his mind getting lost and going blank in the echoing cavity of his skull. it was no secret to himself that he was rather flexible when it came to his romantic relationships and feelings, but he was still foreign to it.

he decided to push it to the back of his mind, feeling rather rushed and irrational at the moment, “y/n hyung… are you feeling better now?”

the older turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “i should be asking that—you’re the one who got shot in the shoulder and stomach,” he pulled san’s shirt back down, careful not to put pressure on his shoulder. he turned around for a moment before turning back and wrapping san’s arm in a sling.

“thank you,” the younger softly spoke, before continuing, “i just noticed you’re more at ease with all of...this. it’s almost a complete 180 from when we first met.”

the doctor’s hands froze against his own lap, a sigh leaving his mouth and his eyes fluttering in a blink of realization, “i guess so.”

“they’re not here—”

hongjoong sighed through his nose, looking rather composed; and the others thought it wasn’t much of a deal until the leader kicked the seat in front of him, scaring seonghwa, who was in the driver’s seat. “call yeosang.”

“been here for a while, what’s up.” said male spoke through their communicator, sounding calm and unbothered.

“can you please stop doing th—can you find anything about dongwoo’s whereabouts?”

“give me a sec,” the boy registered, the clicking of a keyboard sounding into the communication device.

“alright so while yeosang’s doing what should have been done, please tell me why there wasn’t an extensive amount of research on this client?” hongjoong was pissed. not only did their transaction end in a one-sided gunfight, it ended up with one of their own having more than one bullet wound.

wooyoung swallowed, knowing damn well the question was aimed at him. “hyung, i did do research. i made sure to look up what links he has with other businesses and everything that i could think of. i’ve never failed at doing so-”

“then why did you fail this time?”

it got heavily quiet, seonghwa looking at his boyfriend through the rear-view mirror. no one uttered a breath and looked away from a fidgeting wooyoung.

“aight i’m back.”

hongjoong ignored seonghwa’s prompting gaze, “what did you find?”

“nothing. they’re good at covering their tracks and maybe that’s why wooyoung couldn't find much. usually, we resort to hacking, but i’ve never seen these sorts of codes before and if you want me to break the wall down it will take longer than what you’d want.”

the leader sighed once more, pinching the bridge of his nose while bouncing his right leg. “No it’s fine, we’ll just hope dongwoo and his crew don’t appear again.”

“but hyung, isn’t that a little reckless-”

“you shouldn’t be one to speak right now.” hongjoong turned to glare at wooyoung, the younger male pursing his lips and nodding. “everyone get in the car, we're going back.”

“...so i’m not going to try and hack this? aw.”

“what’s wrong?” san frowned as wooyoung sulked while sitting next to him on the cot.

“hyung’s mad with me…”

y/n had his back facing them, trying to arrange the mess that was on the counter where all the ointments and supplies were. yunho had came in earlier to apologize for not keeping it organized, his exact words being “i just clean up their wounds as best as i can, and i’m not really in here unless it’s an emergency.”

san lingered a glance at y/n as if the older would do the same. “is it because of dongwoo?”

the younger nodded with a pout, leaning on san’s side. “mhm, and he hasn’t talked to me since.”

“well you know joong-hyung, he’s…” san thought for a few seconds, and when he couldn't find the words, he bit the inside of his cheek. “ he’ll get over it, just give it time. or talk to seonghwa-hyung, he’ll know what to do, he always does.”

wooyoung whined, “i already did! and he said ‘i can’t do anything’ with that pained smile of his!”

san blinked, “what? you’re lying, hwa-hyung would never fail us-”

“no no, i was there. he talked to hongjoong-hyung before wooyoung came up to him...or at least tried. joong-hyung isn’t talking to anyone right now. that’s why hwa-hyung told you he can’t do anything.”

“yeo, i swear you’re the nosiest person ever. like, please, i’m not sure if that’s good or bad sometimes.” san grimaced after processing yeosang’s comment through the earpiece.

“as far as i know it’s done us more good than bad. plus, it’s my job to be nosy, remember? we all get paid for things, and i get paid for sticking my nose up yall’s business.”

“wait you do that 24/7?” wooyoung frowned.

“uh, no. sometimes i don’t even intend to do it, ya’ll loud as fuck so sometimes i don’t even need the communicators. and i only comment on things that mean something. and before you ask this did not mean anything, i just wanted to join in the conversation.”

san snorted, “then why didn’t you just walk in here?”

“cus i’m busy right now.”

“doing what?” wooyoung grabbed san’s hand and played with his friend’s fingers.

“doing what i was not authorized to do—hack that wall.”

“won’t you get in trouble?”

“maybe,” the sound of him smacking his lips sounded, “but at least i won’t be given the silent treatment.”

wooyoung sat up. “yah! yeosang i will come down there and kick you!” when he heard no response he jumped off the cot and walked out the room, “yeosang i warned you!”

while hearing his best friend yell down the hall, san laughed. his attention returned to y/n who had his head tilted and a confused look on his face. “what’s wrong, hyung?”

“how...were you two talking to yeosang?”

san hummed, smiling while tapping the clear earpiece in his ear. “we have them on unless we’re showering and sleeping or something. but when we’re on duty we have them on, speaking of that, i’ll tell jongho to get you one-”

y/n shook his hands in front of him as san was about to move, “you shouldn’t move too much, you might reopen a wound. i’ll call him…” y/n’s voice died down when he realized what he was volunteering to do.

at the sudden look of horror on y/n’s face, san laughed.

“don’t worry, jongho’s just a buff teddy bear unless in danger. but for now, i’ll call him over.” san raised his hand to his earpiece, making y/n question why he couldn’t do that before. “jongho, can you bring an earpiece for y/n?”

san nodded when the younger agreed, saying he’ll be there shortly. he lowered his hand and rested it on his lap. “have you gotten along with anyone here yet?” he tried to spark conversation with the doctor, highly interested in him and feeling the need to know more about him.

“aside from yeosang, seonghwa and you, uh, not really. maybe yunho? i mean, he’s never showed any sign of hatred towards me so i guess we get along decent too...but i haven’t really had a chance to meet the others.”

the younger nodded, “well we may look tough and all, but i promise we’re all chill. hongjoong-hyung is only tough and straightforward when he’s on the lookout. just give him some time and you’ll see how nice and caring he is.”

y/n hummed, “i guess..”

“i have arrived with the product~” jongho smiled while walking inside the room, a box in hand. “once you put it on it will send yeosang a message and he’ll grant access to it.”

san watched jongho gesture y/n to grab it, but he took it before the doctor did. “here, i’ll put it in for you.”

jongho did his best to not snort or laugh, leaning against the wall instead. he watched san help y/n with setting up the earpiece, amused at how san seemed interested in the doctor.

“ok done, yeosang should grant access soon.” san smiled at y/n, the doctor returning it with his own.

a few minutes of quiet tension passed and jongho felt the need to do something; he pressed the button on the side of his earpiece. “yeosang-hyung, are you not going to-”

“give me a second, i just kicked wooyoung out. if he goes up there with a black eye don’t question it, he’ll say what happened without you asking.”

“you didn’t actually give him a black eye did you-”

“if he did then that can easily be taken care of…” y/n commented while watching jongho roll his eyes.

“yeah i did-”

“no he didn’t.” wooyoung butted in, it sounded like he was munching on something. “it was the other way around-”

san chuckled, shaking his head at his friend's bickering. he realized y/n’s earpiece was successfully connected when he saw the older grin.

“i bet they both have a black eye.” y/n nodded to himself.

jongho rose a brow, a grin prominent on his features. “and how much are we betting?”

y/n hummed, “thirty bucks.”

“i wanna bet too~,” san grinned, “let’s check it out then. can i move now?”

“hmm...i’d say no but you probably wouldn’t really listen to me so... as long as you don’t make sharp movements.”

san cheered, extending his free arm to get help in getting off the cot. “let’s go then!”

“hello?”

“mrs. l/n! how are you? it’s heeseung...lim heeseung.”

the woman on the other end of the phone gasped in what sounded like happiness, “heeseung! It’s been a while since i last heard of you, is something wrong?”

the nurse leaned back into his couch, “well i called to ask if you've seen y/n…”

“i see...well we haven’t heard of him for quite some time now. we thought it was because of work you know? but you two are close aren’t you, i assumed you would know about his whereabouts”

heeseung sighs softly, “well we were close before we broke up...i called because he hasn’t appeared at work for almost two weeks now. everyone knows y/n is a workaholic so it’s rare for him to miss days. and i wanted to ask if i can go to the police and file a report.”

“have you checked his apartment? you do know where he lives right?”

“i do...”

“well if he isn’t there then yes, go to the police station. please let us know if you find anything!”

“of course, thank you.” heeseung smiled painfully to himself, bidding farewell to y/n’s mother before hanging up. soon after he turned off his phone and sighed, he really hopes y/n is at his apartment and only took a vacation.

y/n couldn’t help but bust out laughing when the three of them walked inside the kitchen. wooyoung did indeed have a black eye and so did yeosang.

"darn it." jongho huffed as y/n ended up winning the bet.

seonghwa stood there confused, spatula in hand as he's setting out their plates for dinner. "and what's this about?"

san grinned, "we made a bet to see if yeosang and wooyoung gave each other a black eye or not. and luckily y/n ended up winning."

"would that be called a doctors intuition?" yeosang rose a brow while glaring at the plates seonghwa handed him.

"good question." y/n chuckled while walking up to the second oldest. "need help?"

"oh, yeah, thanks." seonghwa smiled while gesturing to the drinks. "set them on the table, everyone will serve their own drinks."

"got it. oh, and after dinner, i'll need you two to come with me so we can take care of those shiners."

“yeah yeah...”

#kpop x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop fics #ateez fics #ateez x reader #ateez x male reader #top male reader #sub idol #bottom idol #choi san x male reader #choi san #male atiny #kpop scenarios #t.k chapter #tinted kisses

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mochegato · 4 years ago

Text

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - First Mission

She was late. She was late. She was sooooooooo late. Stupid last minute fabric misorder that caused a backup in production, which left everyone scrambling and rushing to figure out a solution. Bright side, they figured out a solution that was better than the original and Marinette was a huge part of it, gaining her accolades from her supervisor and the director of design. Down side, Chimera was now extremely late for the mission briefing. Her first mission briefing. She would be lucky if she made it there before it was over.

Marinette ducked into an alley close to the zeta tube and transformed. She grimaced as she stood in front of the opening. There was no way to make this discrete. It was going to announce her lateness for everyone to hear. She couldn’t portal in just to avoid embarrassment because that was considered “personal use” and she didn’t know how much time they would have before they had to leave so she couldn’t take the chance that she would have to detransform, feed Kaalki, then retransform. So she was just going to have to deal with the extreme embarrassment. She took a deep breath and walked through the opening.

“Recognize Chimera B12”

Chimera let out a deep sigh. Yeah, there was no way they didn’t hear that. She looked at the Team and noted their expressions. Not as bad as she had been expecting, but she still felt terrible. She rushed over to the Team, standing behind everyone and trying to give Batman’s image on the screen her full attention.

When Batman paused to pull up a schematic of the area they were focusing on, Superboy leaned over to her. “You’re late.” He said in a quietly gruff voice.

She looked up and scowled at him. “I’m aware,” she hissed back. “Couldn’t get away.”

“Right. It’s not like we’re doing anything important here.” He sniped quietly.

“I know we are. But my personal life is important too. If I don’t keep my… outside deal happy, I don’t stay here. I get sent home and I am no longer on the Team.” He furrowed his brow in surprise. She frowned at him, feeling guilty for not being faster and looked back toward Batman. “It’s a balancing act. A balancing act I’m clearly failing at. Sorry.”

He watched her for a few more seconds before returning his attention to Batman as well. “Sorry,” he grumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Now that Chimera has arrived, I’ll review roles. Aqualad, Artemis, Kid Flash, Robin, and Superboy, you will all be on tracking duty. You will work together on the ground to track the subject.” They nodded at him.

“Chimera, you will be on distance reconnaissance, observing the team from a distance. I don’t want you interacting unless necessary. Nobody knows about you yet and I want to keep it that way. I want you calling out positions when needed and using mirage if necessary.” She nodded at him. “When you find him, report in, and I’ll recover him. DO NOT ENGAGE. If at any point you need assistance, CALL IT IN. Don’t try to prove yourselves by doing it on your own. Everyone needs help sometimes. Make sure you are reporting your movements.” His voice made clear there was no room for argument or leeway in his statement. He stared at each of them to make sure they all understood how serious he was. “You leave in 5.”

The ride to the site was shorter than Chimera expected. As soon as they landed, they tested out their coms and moved off the ship. Aqualad and Superboy led the way off the ship. Artemis and Chimera followed behind, with Kid Flash and Robin bringing up the rear. After a few seconds they heard Kid Flash over the coms “What do you think I need to do to get Aqualad to pair me up with Chimera on the next mission? I’d kill for some alone time with her.”

Everyone froze immediately. Kid Flash’s eyes went wide in embarrassment looking at each of them as they reacted. Aqualad shot him an exasperated look. Superboy stared daggers at him. Robin chuckled and moved away from him, leaving him to deal with the repercussions on his own. Chimera stared straight ahead, her eyes wide in shock. Artemis continued looking straight ahead as well, but instead of staring at nothing like Chimera, she stared at Superboy. “If he gets alone time with you, I get alone time with Superboy.” She grinned at him when he gave her a confused look.

Chimera groaned and let out a frustrated breath. "Are you guys kidding me?” She exclaimed loudly looking at them. “It’s like Felix all over again. Can we focus on the mission, please?"

Robin stopped walking and turned back to her. "Felix?"

Chimera’s eyes bugged out for a second chastising herself for giving away that clue to her identity, before her face went slack. She turned away from the group and started walking away. "How about we agree whatever personal information we find out about one another during a mission we ignore? Now let's track this guy down. I’m moving to my position." The rest of the Team looked at each other and nodded. They would table that conversation until later. Right now, they needed to focus on the mission. Once Chimera was in her position, they’d move to their own positions.

After about 5 minutes Chimera still hadn’t checked in. The Team gave each other anxious looks. They were ready to get moving and didn’t appreciate having to wait to move. “Chimera, are you in position?” Aqualad asked through the coms.

There was a full 20 second pause before her response came. “Having a bit of trouble getting into position. I’ve come across a problem.” She grunted.

“If you are lost, you should be able to follow the map on your flute. Get in position. We can’t start until you are.” Aqualad chastised her.

They heard a few noises coming from Chimera’s com but no response to Aqualad’s question. “Chimera! Stand down and get in position.”

“Your first mission and already disobeying orders?” Artemis snorted. “Damn, I’m not even that cocky.”

Chimera’s com finally crackled to life again. “To be clear, you want me to stop fighting the guy that jumped me and is currently trying to kill me?”

“There’s a guy attacking you?” Robin whipped around toward the direction he thought she was in.

“You thought I was making these noises for fun?” She huffed at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Superboy demanded starting to run towards her position.

“I’m just getting my breath back. He caught me by surprise and got in a lucky hit.” She grumbled.

“Who is it?” Aqualad asked sternly moving toward her as well, but slower than Superboy.

“I’m not sure. Hey scary looking guy trying to kill me, my teammates want to know your name… uh huh. Really? I would have thought… I mean, not to criticize,” she grunted a few times as she jumped away from him or struck him, “but isn’t that a little… You know what, I really don’t have the right to critique names as being too on the nose. He says his name is Killer Croc.” She paused for a few seconds giving a grunt before speaking again. “He says to say hi.” She said slightly strained.

“Damn it.” Robin cursed.

“We’re on our way.” Aqualad assured her and nodded to the Team to start moving.

“Here already.” Kid Flash reported. “He’s not even part of the mission! How did you find him?” He asked incredulously.

“I didn’t go looking for him! I’m just lucky apparently.” She chuckled out wryly. “Look out, Kid Flash!”

“I’m almost there.” Superboy called to her.

“Take your time. We’re just getting to know each other. He said he wants to have fun with me later.” Chimera commented with a fake casualness.

“I think your definitions of fun might not match.” Robin remarked drolly.

“Only one way to find out.” She shrugged.

“We’re super excited you’ve decided to come out from the sewers. We’re looking forward to chatting with you.” Kid Flash added coldly, running to hit him. Killer Croc turned just out of his reach and caught him with his tail instead, sending Kid Flash flying down the street.

“Kid Flash!” Chimera yelled moving toward him.

“I’ll be there in about 20 seconds.” Superboy stated.

Chimera nodded even though none of her team could see it and turned back to Killer Croc. “I’ll have him ready for you.” She whispered to her coms. “Hey evil killer guy, I heard you were difficult. You’re really embarrassing yourself here. I expected better.” She loudly taunted Killer Croc.

“What are you doing?” Superboy yelled into the coms.

They could hear Killer Croc growling at Chimera before she whispered, “Mirage…” but nothing around her seemed to have changed. Slightly louder she said, “Superboy, expect him from above you in 3, Voyage…. 2, 1.”

Killer Croc lunged at her, throwing his full weight at her in an attempt to break as many bones as he could with his impact. Instead of hitting her, he found himself falling from a portal in the sky a few stories up. He braced himself to hit the ground, but it never came. Instead, he got hit from the side with the force of a building collapsing. He hit a nearby building with a sickening crack. The force of the impact crushed the bricks where he hit and caused cascading cracks radiating out from the impact site.

Killer Crock shook his head as he fell to the ground on all fours and looked over where the first hero had been. Everything looked exactly the same until suddenly she disappeared and a portal stood where she had been. She reappeared a few feet away at Kid Flash’s side. He shook his head to try to make sense of the change and looked back to the building that had hit him. He barely had time to take note of a boy in a black shirt and red ‘S’ stalking toward him, eyes glazed with rage, before the boy raised his arm and punched him again, knocking him back into the building.

Superboy hit him again and again until Killer Croc passed out from the beating. Superboy raised his arm again but stopped when Chimera laid her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said softly but firmly. “He’s down. He isn’t a threat anymore.”

He lowered his arm breathing heavily, still glaring at the villain.

“Where do we want him to go, Aqualad?” Chimera spoke quietly into her com. “I need a destination to move him.”

“We’ll do it the old fashioned way today and call the police. I’ll make sure they show you Arkham later.” Aqualad stated calmly coming around the corner to observe the scene.

“Guess you’ll never know if your definitions match up now.” Artemis commented coming up next to Chimera.

“Shame. He looked… interesting.” Artemis let out a quiet laugh.

“How’s he doing?” She asked nodding toward Kid Flash as she moved to check on him. He was now starting to push up onto his knees, though he was still swaying a bit.

“He seems okay, more dazed than anything. We’ll have to give a better checkup when we get back.” Chimera reported. “I have to recharge anyway. Should I take him back to the ship?” Chimera asked Aqualad. He nodded.

“Artemis, go with her. Robin, I want you here to deal with the police. This is your town, I’m sure you know them. I’ll call it into Batman and see what he wants to do with the original mission. Superboy, I want you to keep an eye on him until the police get here. Do not hit him again unless he wakes up.” Superboy nodded, never moving his glare from the villain’s collapsed body.

Superboy waited restlessly to check on Chimera, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists the entire time they spoke to the police. After about an hour, Superboy, Aqualad, and Robin returned to the ship. Superboy automatically sought out Chimera. She was sitting with Kid Flash and Artemis, Kid Flash talking and making wild gestures while Artemis and Chimera laughed at him. Superboy looked up to meet Chimera’s eyes and kept eye contact for a few seconds. When she smiled at him, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding since she was first attacked and relaxed his hands. Chimera walked over to him and gently laid her hand on his arm. “You okay?” Her eyes were filled with concern.

“I’m fine.” He growled. “Are you okay?” He looked her up and down, searching for any signs or injury. “How could you let him get you like that?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse and still won the fight.” She gave him a small smile. “He hits hard, but not as hard as some super teammates I’ve gone up against.” He huffed at her, his eyes still furrowed and frowning at her. “He got a lucky hit in. It happens. I recovered and I had teammates there to help. Thank you.” Her eyes were shining with gratitude and softness. Superboy’s eyes softened too and nodded at her.

She could see he was still tense. Watching a teammate get hurt had that effect on people. She certainly had that reaction when Adrien or Alya or Nino or any of her old team took a hard hit. “Can I give you a hug?” She asked tentatively. Hugging her friends after the fight had always calmed her down. She hoped it did the same for him.

He stared at her uncertain how to respond for a few seconds but finally nodded again and opened his arms to her. She smiled at him and walked into his embrace, holding him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her firmly to his chest. He rested his head on hers, holding her close for a few minutes, slowly relaxing in the knowledge she was safe and close.

<><><><><>

Superboy watched Chimera as she sketched in the common room. She sat with her back against the armrest of the couch, her legs stretched out across the couch. Luckily, she was short enough that it still left room for Superboy. She had turned on some old looking movie she was barely paying attention to.

He walked in, sat on the free cushion, and watched the movie for a few moments. “What even is this? This is terrible.”

She looked up startled like she hadn’t noticed him sit down. “Hey. This is Highlander.” He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She gave him a sheepish grin. “One of my friends is a movie guy. He thought I might like it. Good period costumes, he said. Fun sword play and light shows.”

He nodded and looked back to the movie. After a few minutes of glancing at Chimera from the corner of his eye he finally asked the thought that had been on his mind since their mission. "So… who's Felix?" He didn’t look away from the movie when he asked.

Chimera glared at him. "I thought we agreed we forget any personal information we find out during a mission."

He finally looked over at her with a dubious look. "No, you suggested that. None of us agreed to it." He leaned back and rested his elbow on the back of the couch. "So, tell me about Felix and how do I find him? I just want to talk to him."

She snorted. “You’d be the first. Most want to punch him in the face. Which is exactly what I did and I can assure you it is in fact as gratifying as you hope it would be.” She gave him a grin. He huffed out a laugh before turning his attention to the movie.

After a few more moments, she looked back up at him. “So… are you excited for school?”

He groaned. “No.”

She furrowed her brow. She really wished she could go with him to help him at school. She was nervous about making friends in her new school too, but at least she was used to school. This was going to be Superboy’s first time going to school at all. She really wanted to forget about the whole identity issue and go with him, or get them to send him to her school so she could keep a covert eye on him, but they wanted to keep him close. “Sorry,” she mumbled instead. “Do you know what you’re going to wear?”

He looked at her for a second or two as he thought about it. He motioned to his shirt and gave her a confused look. She looked back at him in horror. “You can’t wear that! Secret identity. You have to wear something different.”

He groaned and huffed at her. He thought for a second then took off his shirt, turned it inside out, and put it back on that way. Her eyes opened wide in surprise and she blushed heavily before turning back down to her sketchbook. “Yeah, um… No.” She stammered out, focusing solely on the blank page in front of her and willing her blush to go away. This is not how teammates react to other teammates. “I’ll come up with something else for you. What colors do you like? “

He furrowed his brow and looked down at his shirt. “Black… red…dark.”

She nodded, “Broody colors. Got it.” He scowled at her. She gave him a cheeky grin. “I’ll have something for you tomorrow. We’ll work on what your style is as you decide what you like. I should get your measurements though.” She looked down at her notebook and started sketching again. After a few moments of sketching, she looked over shyly. “But, so you know, maybe don’t do that at school.” She said motioning toward his shirt.

He frowned at her, “Why?”

She stared at him incredulously for a few moments, trying to decide if he was serious or not. She finally realized he was when he continued to frown at her, confused about her concern. She wasn’t sure whether his innocence was incredibly sweet or concerning. “Oh, my sweet summer child, I really wish I could be there to protect you tomorrow, but… identity, you know? So I’m going to need you to protect yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.” He grumbled, turning to the movie.

She continued to stare at him a bit longer before speaking up again. “You know you’re handsome, right?”

His head whipped toward her, his eyes wide. “You think so?”

She let out a disbelieving laugh and smiled at him. “I know so. Extremely handsome and broody. A bad boy with a good heart.” His cheeks started turning pink as she spoke. Every word turned them darker. “People are going to be falling all over themselves to get close to you. Boys, girls, thems. You’re going to get all of their attention. Some will show it like Artemis, some more subtle, some less subtle. You’re going to get a lot of attention at school, people wanting to get close to you because you’re handsome, not everyone, but some.” She paused to look at him earnestly. “Just be careful. Make friends with people who make you feel better, happier, lighter. You don’t have to make friends with anyone, but if you meet someone you like, you should. Although if it seems like something someone says is too good to be true, it probably isn’t.” She warned him with a dark look crossing her eyes quickly.

“I don’t need more friends. I have enough friends. Friends who think I’m extremely handsome.” He grinned at her.

She burst out laughing not expecting him to be that bold. She rolled her eyes. “You don’t need more friends, but more friends can make life better sometimes. If it’s the right people.” He grunted and turned back to the movie.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, Chimera sketching different outfits for Superboy, Superboy watching the movie and frowning occasionally. The silence was broken occasionally with Chimera asking him if he liked some element of a character’s costume or not. About half an hour into the movie Superboy grumbled, “This movie is depressing.”

Chimera looked up from her third sketch and took notice of the movie again. “What makes you say that? The effects aren’t that bad, not for that time anyway. I mean the sword fighting could use some work and the accents are terrible, but… I think it’s fun.”

Superboy continued to watch the movie for a while longer. “I don’t age either.” He said quietly. Chimera looked at him questioningly. He sighed and looked down. “I’ll be this age, physically at least, for the rest of my life. Part of the cloning process.”

Chimera gave him a sad look and reached out her foot, the only part of her body that was close enough to touch him, to pat his leg. “At least you’ll be hot.” She offered with a sympathetic smile. He huffed at her and returned to watching the movie, but he couldn’t help the small smile on his lips.

She watched the movie with him for a while longer watching as the main character’s wife died of old age in his arms while he was still the same age as when they met. She frowned at the screen and said quietly, “I’ll age, but much, much slower than everyone else.” Superboy looked over at her in surprise. She offered him a mirthless smile. “It’s part of the powers I have now. I’ll live for centuries if I want to.” She looked back to the movie and frowned as the main character buried his wife. “I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.”

Superboy nodded at her. “At least you’ll be hot.” He offered with a smile.

She laughed out loud at him. Once she settled down she gave him a crooked smile. “I’d take that more to heart if you had any idea what I look like.”

He gave her a small smile and watched the rest of the movie in silence. When it was over, he looked over at Chimera to find her examining him with her eyes narrowed as though sizing him up. “What?” he demanded.

“You should use the name Conner for school.”

“Like the guy in the movie?”

“Yeah. You need a name. Conner’s a good name. I think it suits you.” She nodded as she said it, like it was decided.

He fought the blush that wanted to appear again. If she liked the name, that’s what it would be. “I can live with Conner.” He nodded nonchalantly, trying not to give away how significant he thought it was.

“No, I live with Conner.” She gave him a cheeky grin and started laughing at her own bad joke. He groaned and threw a pillow at her. Thankfully, she was in her suit because he threw it with enough force to burst the pillow open when it hit her. She laughed harder as the fluff rained down on them.

“But, so you know, maybe don’t tell jokes like that at school.” He said in mock distain.

She smiled wistfully at her sketchbook. “Yeah, I think my old partner rubbed off on me. He would have loved that joke.”

“Old partner?”

“Yeah… um… I don’t think… identity secrets, you know?”

“Okay. Can you say, is he still alive?”

“Yes, he is.”

“What happened? Why isn’t he your partner anymore?” He paused for a few seconds to gauge her reaction. “If you can say.” He added quickly.

“I can’t…identity.” She gave him an apologetic look. They sat without looking at each other for a while. “He’s not a hero anymore.” She whispered after a few minutes. He looked up at her with wide eyes. “Oh, no. He didn’t become a villain.” She rushed to reassure him. “He just… he went through a lot and decided to walk away.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Um…I miss…” She thought how to word her response. She wanted to answer him honestly, but it wasn’t safe for anyone to know they were still close. “Yes.” She answered instead.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. He was my teammate, my best friend. I’m happy he did what he had to do to take care of himself. He’s happier now, or he will be eventually. And now I have a new team and more friends. We both did what we had to do.”

Conner nodded and looked around the room trying to figure out how to make the air feel less awkward. His eyes landed on the end of the credits. “He’s not the guy that recommended this movie is he? Because that is not a good friend.”

She barked out a laugh. “He’s not. But the one that recommended it is like a brother, so watch it.” She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed her pencil at him in mock threat.

“Maybe I’ll get to meet him someday then.” He kept his voice light but gave her an uncertain look.

She gave him a brilliant smile and nodded. “I hope so.” He smiled back at her and helped pick up the pillow fluff that surrounded them.

Tags:

@mickylikesstuff @mystery-5-5 @roguishredaxion

#maribat #marikon #connerette #connette #konmari #conner x marinette #capturing a dream

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wanderinginksplot · 4 years ago

Note

Platonic fluff, I and anyone from the bad batch?

Thank you so much for making this request! This is the ask that made me realize that I haven’t really written for anyone except Tech and Wrecker. I took the chance to throw some Hunter in here. It is platonic, but it fought to turn into something romantic-leaning, so a few parts might read a little oddly. I hope you enjoy, and thanks again!

Hunter + Platonic Fluff

The door to the Havoc Marauder slammed closed behind you, leaving you and the rest of the Bad Batch sitting in the darkness for a stunned half-second before the chaos started again.

"Tech, get us out of here," Hunter ordered sharply. "Cross and Echo, get to the guns. Wrecker, you and I are going to patch that hole in your arm."

"Aww, Sarge…" Wrecker complained loudly.

Hunter turned back toward you as though he had forgotten about you for a moment. He probably had, honestly. This was the first mission you had ever been on with Clone Force 99 and, so far, you had just felt like you were in the way.

"And you can go see if Tech needs any help piloting," Hunter told you.

You saluted quickly and made your way up to the front of the ship. You were feeling a little unsteady, and not just because of Tech's wild flying.

When you stepped into the cockpit, Tech whipped around. "What is it? Has something else happened?"

"No, everything is fine," you assured, grimacing as a near-miss explosion rocked the gunship. "As fine as ever, anyway. Hunter just told me to see if you needed any help."

"I am fine," Tech said, swiveling back around to watch where he was piloting the ship.

Well. You sat down in the copilot's seat anyway, faced with a lack of other things to do. You stared out through the transparisteel pane that separated you and Tech from the explosions you were trying to avoid.

"I don't need help here," Tech repeated. "You can help out other places."

"O-okay," you stammered, not really sure where to go. You were still flustered from the stress of combat, and embarrassed about it considering how well everyone else seemed to be handling the aftermath.

You left the cockpit anyway, passing the bunks where Wrecker and Hunter were treating Wrecker's injured arm. You walked past the gun turrets that roared with firing blasters, interspersed with the sound of jokes, bets, and insults called back and forth between Echo and Crosshair.

You kept going further and further back in the Marauder, your heart pounding way too hard considering that the ship-rocking explosions were fading away rapidly. Eventually, you found a promising spot and sat down to concentrate on settling your scattered thoughts.

“You’re fine,” you reminded yourself, speaking aloud to help soothe your frazzled nerves. “You’re absolutely fine. Not a scratch. Nothing to worry about, no need to be worried. Just breathe.”

Thinking about breathing made you think about the Jedi and their meditation. Maybe that would help a little? You were safe, stowed in a remote corner of the Havoc Marauder. Taking a moment to close your eyes, think about nothing, and breathe sounded fantastic.

Obligingly, you let your eyes close and took a shaking breath, but it turned to a gasp as scenes from the battlefield flashed behind your closed eyelids. You opened your eyes again and buried your face in your hands, trying to feel soothed by the sound of the engines working beneath the floor where you sat.

“Everything okay back here?” a familiar voice called.

“Yea-” your traitorous voice cracked badly as you responded, and you took a moment to clear your throat before trying again. “Yeah, everything is fine.”

Obviously, Hunter hadn’t believed you, and he rounded the corner a moment later.

“Why are you sitting there?” he asked, struggling toward you with his broad shoulders brushing both sides of the narrow hallway.

Technically speaking, you were in a maintenance duct. Or, at least, very close to one. The narrow hallway was meant to be used by a specialized droid, and the small hatch under your butt would lift so that the droid could access the engines while the ship was actively in flight. Humans were meant to reach the engines by going under the ship when it was stationary, and the duct hadn’t really been built to hold a living being - especially one Hunter’s size.

You weren’t really sure why you had chosen to sit there, other than that it was warm and a little dim and nothing could come up from behind you. It had seemed like a good spot at the time, but now you felt guilty as you watched Hunter try to get down the hallway.

Realizing he was still expecting an answer, you forced a careless shrug. “Tech didn’t need any help flying, so I came back here and decided to explore. Just wanted to sit for a second.”

Hunter looked skeptical, and you almost laughed at how well the expression came through even on the tattooed half of his face. He came to a stop in the hallway, tried to cross his arms, and caught them on the walls.

You took pity on him. “It opens up a little further down here. You’ll at least have some room to move around.”

After he made it to the small round room you were sitting in, Hunter sat gingerly on the floor beside you. Your eyebrows raised in surprise. The sergeant was a busy man, and being the commanding officer of the Bad Batch meant he didn’t have time for things like looking for a missing member of the crew, much less spending time with them in an awkward maintenance duct. Plus, post-combat was prime time to file reports.

There were a hundred things he should have been doing, and he was ignoring them to check on you. Even after you had technically disobeyed a direct order. Your stomach sank even further as you realized you had indeed disobeyed an order from the commanding officer of your new team. Was he here to berate you?

He had barely sat down when you shot nervously to your feet. “Well, we should probably get back to the others. I should have cleared it with you before I left Tech. I’m sorry.”

Hunter stared up at you. “Tech? He was fine flying. He didn’t need any help and I wouldn’t expect you to stay there if you weren’t needed.”

“So you aren’t mad at me?” You grimaced and cleared your throat, instantly regretting the childish tone of your question. “I mean, I’m not in trouble for disobeying an order?”

“I asked you to help Tech,” Hunter said slowly. “That wasn’t really an order. You followed all my orders in the field, and that’s where it counts. You’re not in any trouble. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“Oh,” you said stupidly. That was anticlimactic. Still, your heart was pounding so hard that it was starting to hurt and, if you were going to fall to pieces, you wanted to do it away from the sergeant. “Well, I’ve explored this place enough. Am I dismissed?”

Hunter frowned harder, looking past the hand you had extended to help him to his feet. “No, you are not, and you should sit down.”

Nervously, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “I think I should get back to work. Lots of stuff to get done, you know?”

Hunter captured your wrist, movements slow and gentle. He bent your arm at the elbow so you could see your fingers violently trembling. “Why don’t you sit back down before you fall down?” he asked, voice kind.

Staring at your own hands, you lowered yourself back to the floor where you had started.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” Hunter didn’t look at you when he spoke, staring peacefully down the hallway instead.

“Nothing,” you hedged. “Now that I know I’m not in trouble.”

He smiled a bit at that, still not looking your way, and tapped his ear. “I can hear your heart. It’s thundering through the Marauder. I knew something was wrong from the bunks. If it was about the order you disobeyed, it would have slowed by now. You can talk if you want, but you don’t have to. I’ll be here with you either way.”

You swallowed back the reflexive tears that came up at that. Though, realistically, if Hunter could hear your heartbeat from the other side of the ship, he almost definitely heard the way your breath hitched at the sudden surge of emotion.

With a little laugh you hoped would cover the tight rasp of your voice, you offered, “I really am fine. I’m just… that was… it was a lot, back there. I know you guys are used to situations like that, but I…” You couldn’t think of any way to finish that sentence, so you just shook your head and let the silence hang.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice Hunter had turned his head to consider you carefully.

“Is this the first time you’ve ever been shot at?” Hunter asked eventually.

“Yeah,” you admitted. You hadn't even needed to think about it. Your last job, attached to a unit guarding a small planet with a good tactical position, hadn't seen any action for the four months you were stationed with them. "Does that happen to you guys often?"

Hunter sighed, adjusting the red bandana he used to keep his dark hair back from his face. "I won't lie, it happens so often we don't even think about it anymore."

You grimaced. How could they be so nonchalant about combat when any one of those beams could have been the end?

"Can you do this?" Hunter asked bluntly. "Work with us, knowing that what happened today wasn't a fluke? That it was considered a pretty minor skirmish by our standards?"

You couldn't detect any judgment in his tone. Hunter was a good leader, a good man. He wasn't asking as a reflection on you, but a question about what he should do next.

If you said you couldn't handle it, that would be that. He wouldn't judge, but you would be moved to a different unit. No more swapping jokes with Wrecker. No more convoluted trivia with Tech. No more sarcastic barbs traded with Crosshair. No more deep conversations with Echo. And no more awkward but heartwarming encounters with Hunter. All of it would end. You would be reassigned to another unit, probably one that rarely saw combat, and the Bad Batch would get a new officer attachment.

"I can do it," you told him with determination you didn't feel. You laughed humorlessly then, staring down at your hands. "As soon as I stop shaking, anyway."

"Adrenaline," Hunter supplied. "It'll pass."

You pressed your face into your hands again, more as an excuse to hide from Hunter's terribly understanding expression than anything more serious.

"Are you… good?" Hunter asked carefully. "Sometimes, physical contact can help the effects fade."

You peered out at him skeptically. For obvious reasons, Hunter didn't care for physical contact. "Are you offering to give me a hug?"

"Only if you want," Hunter clarified. "Like I said, the shaking will pass on its own in time."

"Actually, that sounds nice," you admitted. Stars, when was the last time you did something as simple as hug someone?

Hunter was hesitant in moving toward you, slowly opening his arms and resting one behind your shoulder blades. He was being incredibly delicate considering that you had seen him snap the head off of a droid that day. Still, you knew how much this simple contact meant coming from Hunter with his enhanced senses. He was agreeing, among other things, to smell like you for the next few hours.

You wrapped an arm around his back in return, relaxing into the hug like it was a warm bath on a cold day. Hunter held you in silence, occasionally rubbing his hand up and down your back as you stared down the narrow hallway.

With your head resting on his shoulder, you told him, "Thank you for being so nice to me."

He moved a little, pulling back just enough to frown down at you. "Of course. You're one of us. We take care of each other."

You couldn't think too hard about having been adopted by the group or you would start crying, so you returned to your previous position as the shaking finally began to fade.

“Besides,” Hunter added unexpectedly. “You’ll have to return the favor in a minute. I don’t much like tight spaces and getting out of here will be… unpleasant.”

It was your turn to move so that you could look at him. “You’re claustrophobic? I wouldn’t have expected that. I read your case files and you’ve never shown any reluctance about small spaces.”

“Commando training,” he said distinctly, like it was enough of an explanation on its own. Maybe it was, but he went on. “It makes you uncomfortable about a lot of things you never thought would bother you.”

“Then why walk down a tiny hallway?”

He shrugged, the motion jostling you slightly. “You’re part of my team and you needed help. I couldn’t just leave you here alone.”

You teared up a bit at that, but stood up anyway. “Thanks. Now, let’s get out of here.”

This time, he accepted the hand you stuck out and let you help him to his feet. You ignored his indulgent smile and he ignored the way you sniffled a few times while you both made your way back into the main hold of the Havoc Marauder.

---

A/N - thanks for reading! You can find more works on my masterlist, or feel free to make a request for something of your own!

#star wars #star wars the bad batch #star wars the clone wars #sw tcw #tcw #tcw fanfic #star wars fic #request #bad batch hunter #hunter #platonic

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tpwkjerii · 4 years ago

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as you wish | 3

your one true love was lost in a pirate accident five years ago, and now you’re engaged to a cruel prince. with all your misfortune, you didn’t expect three unconventional thugs and a painfully familiar pirate to save you from a dreadful future. (inspired by The Princess Bride)

pairing: pirate!seokjin x princess!reader

warnings: fluff and angst (!!), reader is forced into engagement and becoming a princess, mentions of death, kidnapping, murder threats, mentions of monsters and fire, kissing, attempted murder, cursing

genre: fairy tale/pirate au, semi established relationship au

word count: 3.7k+

a/n: two more parts left eek (this is also kinda unedited; my apologies for any grammar mistakes :[ )

prev | next | m.list

“Looks like your darling Prince has caught up to us,” the masked man stated dryly, his arms crossed in obvious displeasure.

You furrowed your brows. “You’re not working for him?” you asked quickly.

He scoffed in response. “Why would I work for him,” he spat.

You rolled your eyes at his attitude, concern growing in your mind. You still had no idea who this man was, so going with him was a 50/50 chance of life or death, and you definitely knew that Prince Donghae would not be pleased if he got to you. The last thing you wanted was a repeat of your first night at the castle — it wasn’t unlikely that he would go further either.

However, you didn’t have much time to decide on or say something as the masked man harshly grabbed your arms and pulled you away. You sputtered as he practically dragged your body down the hill.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, your voice and body tired. “If it’s ransom, I promise that you can get it, no matter the amount.”

The man in black scoffed again. “And how much do you think you’re worth, your Highness? What are your words worth, the mere promise of a Princess?”

You sighed, your irritation growing with his stubbornness. “I was giving you a chance… It doesn’t matter where you take me, Prince Donghae is the greatest hunter in this kingdom. He will find you, and I can’t guarantee your fate for when he does.”

He laughed scornfully. “You think your dearest love, the Prince, will save you?” he questioned.

Your face screwed at his suggestion. “I never said that he was my dearest love and yes, he will save me, that I know.”

“You admit to me that you do not love your fiance?” the man asked you, shock evident in his tone.

“He knows I don’t love him,” you responded simply.

“Are not capable of love is what you mean,” he remarked snarkily.

His words stung and, outraged, you planted your feet on the ground above you and ripped yourself out of his grip. You looked at the masked man directly in the eyes, pain in your voice as you told him, “I have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream.”

This man may have several physical similarities to Seokjin, but his words and attitude clearly showed otherwise. Perhaps your first impression based on his revealing attire was correct after all.

He was silent as you continued. “I know exactly who you are. Your cruelty revealed it all.” He remained silent as he simply looked at you.

“You’re the dread Pirate Joohyun; admit it!” you exclaimed, anger towards the man who killed the only man you ever truly loved overtaking you.

A mischievous smirk spread across the man’s face. “With pride,” he responded, causing you to breathe out in anger. “What can I do for you?” he asked teasingly.

“You can die slowly — burn and be fed to the sharks for all I care!” you answered, angry tears spilling down your face from his words.

He winced in faux pain. “Those words hurt, your Highness. What have I done to deserve such a cruel fate?”

You stepped closer to him, now staring him dead in the eyes. “You killed my love,” you said, your voice threateningly low.

The man faltered, and for a brief second you almost thought that he had remorse for you. “That’s possible. I’ve killed a lot of people,” he replied bluntly before immediately grabbing you again.

You scoffed, struggling against his strong arms as he dragged you further away.

“Who was this love of yours? Another prince? Was he ugly and rich like this one?” he remarked, contempt clear in his voice. You briefly wondered what exactly this man had against you and your fiance (who you don’t even like) before you responded.

“No,” you started, keeping your voice as level as possible as you reminisced about Seokjin. “A poor farm boy. Poor but perfect, with eyes like chocolate and the kindest soul I’ve ever met.” You stepped closer to the masked man, tears now slowly rolling down your face. “Your ship attacked, and we all know that you, dread Pirate Joohyun, don’t take any prisoners.”

He was slow to reply. “I can’t afford to make any exceptions. Once word goes out that a pirate’s gone soft, people start to take risks and disobey you. Then it’s nothing but work and fighting from there,” he explained like a teacher would.

You breathed out in disbelief at his outward lack of contrition. “You mock my pain,” you spat.

“Life is pain, your Highness.” His grip on your arm tightened and his pace quickened. “Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before he continued, “I think I remember your farm boy. That would have been what, two years ago?”

You remained silent, the past two days and sudden onslaught of this man’s harsh words and memories of Seokjin bringing tears to your eyes.

“Does that bother you to hear? To think about once again?” he persisted.

You ripped yourself out of his grip again and pushed his chest, sending him a few feet back. “Nothing you say now can upset me any more than you already have. My heart is used to harshness and disinterest.”

The masked man ignored your words and continued sharply, “He died well, that should please you. No bribe attempts or useless blubbering. He only said ‘Please. Please, I need to live.’ That’s what caught my memory. I asked him what was so important on this earth that he deserved to live for, and he said true love.” He paused to laugh bitterly. “Then he spoke of a girl of surpassing beauty and faithfulness. I can only assume he meant you. You should thank me for killing him before he found out who you truly are.”

“And who am I?” you countered, stepping closer to him in anger.

“Faithfulness, my lady. He mentioned your unwavering faithfulness,” he responded bitterly. “Now tell me, when you found out he died, did you get engaged to your prince that hour, or did you at least wait a week, out of respect for the dead?”

Your hands balled up by your sides. “Don’t mock me anymore! I died that day! You speak as if it was my choice!”

“Was it no-”

The masked man paused, and both of your heads turned towards the fields which he rushed you away from. There, Prince Donghae and his small army were making their way in your current direction.

Your eyes moved from the royal soldiers towards Seokjin towards the ravine that was lying below the hills on your right side; and with only a moment of thought, your hands moved up towards Seokjin’s chest.

“You too can die for all I care,” you said darkly before you pushed him down the hill.

You watched as he tumbled down the grassy hill, no emotions running through your tired body. It wasn’t until three words, three words which used to bring you great comfort and happiness, rang out, the voice behind them growing further and further away by the second.

“...As…you…wish…”

Your hand instantly flew to your mouth in horror. You were wrong - extremely wrong. “Oh my god, what have I done? My sweet Seokjin,” you whispered, your mind reeling at the sudden turn of events.

Without a second thought or consideration of the dangers ahead of you, you ran down the steep hill into the ravine. You barely made it a few meters before your foot got caught on a rock, sending you tumbling down the hill and into the ravine behind Seokjin.

You winced as you landed on the dirt, your body sore from the heavy impact.

“Can you move at all?” you heard Seokjin groan from a few feet away.

“Can I move?” you started, lifting your head up to look at him. His mask was off his face now, allowing you to perfectly see his beautiful face and know that it really was him. “Seokjin, you’re alive. I could fly if you asked me too.”

“Fly then.”

“You know I meant that figuratively, Jinnie,” you said with a sigh, a wave of relief crashing through you as you realized his sense of humor never changed even after all this time. “Oh, Seokjin,” you murmured, closing your eyes and laying your head down on the ground again.

The leaves and stones crunched beneath him as he stood up and walked towards you. “I told you that I would always come back to you,” he said, leaning down to gently caress your face before lifting you to your feet. You opened your eyes and looked up to meet his eyes, your hand instinctively reaching for his. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” he asked softly.

You felt a knot in your chest as you answered. “You were dead. And I had no choice in following Prince Donghae’s orders of becoming his Princess if I wanted to live.”

He let go of your hand, much to your initial dismay, and moved it up to gently cup your cheek. “You should have had more faith in me. Death can’t stop true love, it can delay it at most,” he spoke earnestly.

You nodded, eyes glazing over as you said, “I’ll never doubt again.”

“You will never need to doubt,” Seokjin replied before he leaned down and closed the distance between your lips. His plump lips were slightly chapped yet still maintained their soft quality. You melted in the familiarity of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip and the way he pulled away only for a few seconds just to kiss you again. His large hands rested gently on your face before moving to your lower back and the back of your head as he pulled you deeper into the kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally pulled away. Breathless, you both took a few seconds to catch your breath.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for the past two years,” Seokjin admitted with a laugh as he massaged your hands lovingly.

“If you’d taken that mask off earlier we could’ve done that at least 20 hours ago.” You laughed.

Seokjin opened his mouth, ready to reply before an echo of a horse’s whine rang through the gorge. You and Seokjin looked up and saw the man whose appearance you’d been dreading this past journey. Prince Donghae had dismounted from his horse and was looking down into the gorge, an unrecognizable expression on his face.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Do you think… he can see us?” you whispered to Seokjin.

He shook his head. “Unlikely. Even if he does, he’s too late. There’s no way they can get around this gorge in less than at least three days.”

Seokjin’s confidence reassured you, although a small feeling of reassurance still gnawed at your stomach. “Are you sure?”

He nodded and gave you a kind smile. “I’m positive, my love. Even if he did, I would not let him take you from me again — I would rather die than let that happen.”

You sighed and shook your head. “Still dramatic, aren’t you?” you asked with a teasing smile.

He scoffed in offense. “It’s true! I really would!”

“I’ll take your word for it, Jin,” you said lightly.

He grinned and leaned down to press a soft kiss on your cheek. A blush spread across your face as he grabbed your hand and gently tugged you forward. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“How do you know where to go?” you asked curiously, examining the dense forest ahead of you.

“Do you think I’ve just been lazing around the past two years?” He reached his arm towards his back and unsheathed his sword, the silver barely shining in the low light that barely peeked into the gorge. “I’m not the same farm boy that I once was.”

“And what happened these past two years, Seokjin?” you asked as you followed him while he skillfully led you through the thick trees.

He sliced through a natural wall of tiny branches, a sharp slicing noise filling your ears. “Would you like the short story or the long story?”

You took his hand as you hopped over the pile of dead branches and leaves. “Well, I’m assuming that we have at least two or three to go through whatever this place is, so I suppose that you have time to tell the long story?”

“You’re absolutely correct,” he said cheekily, using his sword to cut through a wall of vines that hung from the trees. “Before I start, I would like to hear about you.”

You jumped as you heard a loud chirp from within the forest, instinctively moving closer to Seokjin, who moved his hand so he could wrap his arm securely around you. “What about me?” you asked, your voice still shaky in mild fear from the unexpected noise.

“You know what I mean, Y/N.” He took a deep breath as you sliced through another wall of built up branches. “How did you end up as Princess, engaged and to be married to Prince Donghae? What happened?”

“Not too long after you left us, father died—”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted you, a sorrowful look on his face.

“It’s ok, I’ve already made my peace with his death.” You smiled at him gently before you continued. “Not too long after, news spread of the King’s deteriorating health and the subsequent search for a Princess since Prince Donghae was yet to court anyone. Prince Donghae began searching throughout the Kingdom for any princess he deemed suitable, and honestly I expected the search to end in the inner Kingdom with a wealthy daughter of the court.

But I guess none of them satisfied him, and one day he was in our village. All potential ladies were gathered together in the Church - trust me I wouldn’t have been there if I wasn’t forced - and subject to his scruitany. Prince Donghae examined each lady, sparing some only a quick glance and other a brief exchange in words,” you paused to laugh bitterly, old feelings of resentment awakening. “I suppose that’s how I sealed my poor fate.”

“Something about me must have caught his attention, and he tried to start a conversation with me. Like a fool, I thought I could get away with ignoring him.” You paused to breathe in deeply, the memory of that day bringing in a familiar feeling of deep regret. “And showing him I wasn’t interested. Evidently, my silence spurned his curiosity, and as of that evening, the search for the to-be Princess ended.”

“I’m sorry for assuming you left me on your own will,” Seokjin apologized with a pitiful expression. By now your walking pace had decreased to a leisurely stroll as he guided you through the dense trees. “I hope that life as a Princess has at least treated you well.”

“Treated me well?” You laughed indignantly. “While I may have not had to worry about finances and a sudan surplus of materialistic items, life in the palace has been everything but welcoming,” you began to rant. Seokjin, while trying to contain his anger, listened thoughtfully as you continued. “I don’t belong. They never fail to remind me of that very fact every single day.”

“Who’s they?”

“The royal court, the administrators — hell even Prince Donghae sometimes! I hear the whispers whenever I enter a room: the mutters of ‘why is the poor village girl still here?’ and ‘how could such a lowly maiden be the Princess?’ and more. It takes all my willpower to not scream at them and tell them that I didn’t want to be there in the first place. Prince Donghae chose me but I never chose him or this life.

Every moment of the day I’m surrounded by people and guards who monitor my every action. They wait by my chamber rooms, by the drawing room, by the garden, and by every single room I could ever be in. Anything suspicious or out-of-line is reported to the Queen, who hates that I wasn’t born into wealth or royalty. But out of everyone, Prince Donghae is the worst,” you muttered darkly, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you averted your gaze to the dirt floor.

“Why? What has he done to you?” Seokjin rushed, red hot anger spreading across his body.

You laughed bitterly. “All the sentiments that everyone in the Palace shares about me, he hears and feels them. He knows how I’m constantly ridiculed by the court and his own mother, yet he says nothing to them or of them. He uses me like a toy; he forces jewels and fine dresses onto me as his partner at formal events but throws me to the side when I’m not needed. There is not an ounce of love or affection between us. And heaven forbid I ever talk back or defend myself, because if I do… I’ll regret it.” Your hand unconsciously reached up to your neck, fingers touching the same spots Donghae’s were.

Seokjin seemed to understand what your sudden change in hand placement meant and his grip on his sword tightened. “That bastard touched you? He hurt you?”

You nodded. “But all physical injuries pale in comparison to the emotional blows I’ve faced. Like all things, though, I’ve grown uncaring. Their words won’t stop, that much I know, and for a long time I felt hopeless and knew that there was little - or nothing at all - I could do to change my fate. For many months, I just relished in the fact that I wasn’t dead.”

“If I had known that he was hurting you, I would’ve done everything I could to come back sooner.”

You looked up at him, and Seokjin’s heart ached at the vulnerability of your body language. You kept your voice soft as you asked, “What were you doing the past two years, Seokjin? How did you survive the attack?”

He sighed and slightly increased your walking pace as you entered a clearer path. “I first ought to explain that the dread Pirate Joohyun isn’t really Joohyun,” he paused to chuckle at your bewildered expression before continuing. “The real Pirate Joohyun has been retired twenty years now after securing enough gold and jewels to last his family three lifetimes. The rest of us have been under the mere illusion of a name… When my ship was attacked that night, I pleaded just like I told you did. The then-Joohyun, named Sihyuk, pitied me and welcomed me onto his ship.

I was a simple crewmate for a few weeks. It wasn’t seamless, of course. Every night, Sihyuk would tell me that he might kill me the next morning, but he never did. Before I realized it, he started training me in all skills a pirate should have: sword fighting, strength, balance, combat, everything. After a short few months, he told me everything about his true identity and the others before him and his plans to hand the title of ‘Pirate Joohyun’ to me.

I accepted, obviously, and the next day, we stopped at a port in Europe and got a new crew. When we set sail again, I was the Captain and Sihyuk called me ‘Joohyun’ until everyone believed that I was truly Joohyun. Then Sihyuk retired from pirating forever, and during the months between then and now, I fulfilled my duties as the Pirate Joohyun.”

You nodded, absorbing his story. It seemed like both of you had a rather unconventional past two years. “Did you ever go back? Back to our village?” you wondered aloud.

He nodded sadly. “I did once a few months ago. I left disappointed when the bakery lady told me that you had moved to the castle as the new Princess.”

“I’m so -”

“No.” Seokjin shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he stated firmly. “You did not deserve what you’ve been through, and my words were unwarranted. I did not know your side of the story and I thought harshly of you because of that.”

“It’s ok, Seokjin. I understand the pain you must have felt,” you whispered, your heart twinging at the thought of Seokjin leaving your tiny village, undoubtedly heartbroken and furious, under the impression that you no longer loved him and moved on with a rich Prince.

He paused in his steps and turned so you were directly facing him. His arms wrapped around you gently and you followed his movements. “I promise you, Y/N. You will never have to see Donghae or step foot into that castle again,” he whispered as he clutched you to his chest. You breathed in his familiar scent and tightened your arms around him. Seokjin’s hugs were just as comforting as before - if not more - and you basked in the way one of his hands rubbed circles in your lower back while the other slowly inched its way up to the back of your head.

You lifted your head up and met his eyes before you leaned in to press your lips against his. Your lips molded together perfectly, and you both rejoiced in the perfect feeling of electricity coursing through your veins and heat spreading across your chest as your mouths moved, magnificently in sync.

After your kiss, you and Seokjin continued through the forest. Seokjin, just as he mentioned, led you through expertly. You watched in amazement as he weaved you through every trap and navigated the unclear forest paths. Even when faced with unexpected monsters, Seokjin maintained his cool and swiftly killed them as if it was second nature.

(Although, he did complain about getting blood on his brand new top and singing the bottom of his pants when he nearly missed a fire trap).

The next few hours passed wonderfully with Seokjin and his comedic commentary, and you imagine that the journey would have been miserable with anyone else. When he announced that you were almost at the end of the gorge’s forest, you felt a ray of hope shine within you. Perhaps this would be the moment you’d dreamt of for the past two years. Maybe this was your second chance at life with Jin. Your excitement grew as you walked towards the visible clearing ahead, eager to leave the gorge with Jin at your side.

But of course, the prospect of being able to flee with Seokjin was too good to be true. You were right in your words before after all — Prince Donghae had found you.

#kim seokjin #seokjin #bts seokjin #seokjin imagine #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #seokjin smut #bts smut

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

rapp-ed around your heart (01)

word count; 19,578

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

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

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

The South East

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

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

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

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

“Your point?”

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

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

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So where exactly are we going first?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?”

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

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

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

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

“Good afternoon.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you going to do?”

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

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

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

“Can I pick the film?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you satisfied now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re stylish!”

“They’re hideous is what they are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you really doing this?”

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

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

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

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

“Did you just buy those?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep well?”

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

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

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

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

“Cold?”

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

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

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

“So, can I ask a question?”

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

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

“So, what was your question?”

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

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

“Sounds fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pastries?”

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

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

“Deal!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I have a plan, Mitch!”

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

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

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

“Do you want to sleep longer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.”

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

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

“You don’t have to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fifteen minutes.”

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

“We’re taking a tour of a cemetery?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“So, when are we booked in?”

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

“Want to take a picture with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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