#Mitch Rap x-reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maandags · 5 years

Text

love me quietly (Diego Hargreeves x reader)

i should maybe change my url yeet

-- -- --

Summary: You and Diego Hargreeves had once been together--but that feels like ages ago. And then you were forced to move away, and all contact with him was broken off. Ten years later, Reginald Hargreeves is dead, and you have old demons to face.

Word count: 12.1K

Genre: angst

Notes: CW: graphic violence, blood, injuries, mentions of abuse - masterlist - listen while you read!! - knife boiiii i loove youuuuu mlah

-- -- --

Your nose was broken, you were pretty sure.

You hit the mat with a grunt, and the crowd around you roared. Before your opponent had time to do anything more than sneer and raise his arms, making a full turn as if his victory was already settled, you were back on your feet already and you slammed a foot into his ribs. He doubled over, coughing, and you took the opportunity to plant your elbow in between his shoulder blades, ramming down hard. He went down.

You were on his back in seconds, grabbing his leg and twisting it at the knee, holding down his shoulders at the same time. You felt the strain in his knee’s tendons and grit your teeth when he didn’t tap out. Come on, idiot, you thought, putting even more pressure on his knee. Something snapped and the man below you cried out. He balled a fist, trying for a swing behind him. You dodged easily. “Tap out,” you hissed in his ear.

His reply was nothing more than a grunt. His muscles went slack, and he dropped to the floor. You released your hold on his knee, if only slightly. A mistake.

Quick as a rattlesnake he twisted out from beneath you, wincing as his injured knee hit the mat. With his good leg, he kicked you in the stomach and sent you stumbling back. Black spots swam in front of your eyes, but you shook them off almost immediately–Focus, focus, focus, Y/N, you repeated in your head. You needed to win this fight.

Your opponent was injured. Every time he had to put any weight on his right knee his face contorted in pain, so you decided to concentrate on that knee. You were going to have to break it.

But though he was injured in more places than one–his blond hair matted to his face and dark with blood, nicks and scrapes across his face and arms–he still stood his ground. He landed two more punches, dodging your moves more swiftly than you’d expected. You set your jaw, drawing the back of your hand across your upper lip. It came away wet with blood.

He limped. His knee was starting to take its toll on him. His dark eyes flicked from you to the people watching and back to you, not daring to let his attention waver for more than a split second. For a second, you only circled each other in a perfectly coordinated dance. You light on your feet, your left shoulder throbbing. You gave it a slight roll.

Then, in a last desperate attempt, he lurched for you. Your eyes widened, and you stumbled out of the way, using his momentum to throw him back onto the ground. His chin hit the floor with a sickening thunk. Your elbow dug into the back of his neck, and your feet were locked around his bad knee, slowly pushing. “Tap out!” you shouted. Spit and blood mixed in your mouth. He didn’t. Waited just a little too long.

Crack.

He howled in pain, hand shooting out and rapping on the floor. You released him, scrambling upright. Around you, the crowd screamed; a mix of cheers and boos. You didn’t pay any mind to it, You’d learnt not to over the last few months. You kept your eyes down and grabbed your bag, checking everything was still inside–mobile phone, car keys, straps, sweatshirt, sweatpants. You pushed your way to the table where everyone placed their bets: a neatly bound stack of bills was already waiting for you and you swept it up without hesitating. The man behind the table–Joel–gave you a nod. “Pleasure to have you here, as always. You did good, Y/N.” You nodded back.

What you were doing might have been immoral–and also illegal–but it made you money, you were good at it, and the people running the place weren’t absolute dicks. A win-win in your opinion.

Your phone rang and you picked up without looking at the ID. You didn’t need to. “Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I won. It was a good night.”

“I hate that you’re doing this, you know.”

You sighed, jamming your keys into the car door. “I know, Charlie. You tell me every time.”

“I’m still hoping I can change your mind about this,” muttered your brother. You slid behind the wheel, smiling into the receiver. “You’re going to get caught one day. You’re going to get arrested and I won’t be able to help because you know perfectly well what you’re doing is against the law.”

“Hey, I’m not the one running the place. If anything, Joel and Mitch and Davina should be worried about getting caught, but guess what: it’s been years and they’re still kicking.” You flipped the mirror down and fumbled for some wet wipes, dabbing at the blood on your face and neck and hands–you’d take a proper shower when you got home. A particularly deep cut on your forehead stung when you ran the wipe across it and you hissed.

“You know what, I don’t even care about that–you’re going to get yourself seriously hurt someday,” Charlie said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your head and checking in the mirror if you’d missed a spot. There was a big patch of blood in your hair, but you covered that up with a beanie. Your nose was swelling and slowly turning purple: you’d have to get that checked out soon. You gingerly touched the skin around your left eye, where a bruise was starting to form and pouted. You had work the next day. Concealer would have to do the job.

“I’m fine, Charlie,” you said curtly. You’d had this conversation before. You were getting tired of it. “I’ll see you when I get home. I’m gonna stop by the store. Do you need anything?” You shut the mirror resolutely.

Charlie sighed audibly. “We’re almost out of milk,” he said, deflated. “And shampoo. And matches.” The stuff he asked for was so random.

You smiled. “All right. See you in a bit.”

You whistled in between your teeth as you pulled up in the little store’s parking lot, unable to stop yourself from feeling giddy, despite everything.

It had been a good night. It had been a great night. You’d quickly counted how much money you’d brought up when you’d got in the car. It was more than you’d ever made in one night; clearly there had been a lot of new betters around the table, or they’d just lost faith in you after seeing your opponent. You grinned to yourself. This was enough to last you and Charlie over two months.

Though it was around one in the morning, the store was still open. You stepped inside and out of the chill, waving briefly at your co-worker Savannah who sat behind the counter. She smiled back, ignoring your slowly-blackening eye and obviously broken nose. She was pretty used to seeing you like this by now.

You only grabbed what you had come for: a carton of milk, a bottle of shampoo, a few boxes of matches, a couple of bars of chocolate (a spontaneous decision–you felt like you’d deserved some chocolate), and a six-pack of beers. Savannah barely looked up when you plopped your strange assortment of items on the counter. You paid and exited the store, swinging the paper bag from hand to hand.

Then all the lights popped, and Savannah let out a piercing scream.

You whipped around, dropping the groceries at your feet, and instinctively sprinted back into the store. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea, yelled the little Charlie in your head. Shut the fuck up, you shouted back at it.

“Sav?” you called as you reached the door. Another scream, then a glass panel at the back of the store shattered. It was still dark, and only the light from outside lampposts filtered in through the cracks. You squinted. “Savannah!”

A figure dressed in black raced through the aisles. He seemed to be running from something–or someone–but before you could do anything but yell “Hey!” they slammed into you and shove you to the side. You screamed and tumbled backwards into the condiments rack. You never knew bottles of ketchup and mustard could hurt this much.

It was pitch black. You were buried beneath ketchup and mayonnaise and barbecue sauce and completely disoriented, and the person–from their build, you went out on a limb and assumed it was a man–had hit your already injured shoulders, and there were corners and edges of bottles dug into your eyes and nose and it hurt. You shoved the bottles off of you with a grunt. “Savannah!”

She still wasn’t answering. It was driving you nuts, to not know where she was. Savannah had to be okay. She had to be. Breathing hard, you managed to scramble up and do a turn. The man in black was weaving his way through the store, knocking over shelves and boxes behind him.

It was stupid. It was a stupid thought and it was a stupid idea and yet: you’d learned to be reckless over the last years.

You ran after him, jumping over the items he’d scattered to make him harder to follow, but you liked challenges, and this was a challenge if you’d ever encountered one. Adrenaline burst through your veins, blood rushing in your ears. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Savannah hiding beneath the counter, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clasped in front of her face. She looked shaken, but fine, and relief rushed through you. Now all your focus turned on catching the man in black.

While you were quick, he was quicker, and you had the additional challenge to jump over boxes of tampons and blocks of cheese and though you were gaining on him, he was almost at the door already and you weren’t going to make it he was going to get away–

Something whizzed past your ear and slammed itself into the doorframe with a thunk, pinning the man’s arm to the wall. He screamed in pain and you recalled how the dude you’d fought earlier that evening had screamed when you’d dislocated his knee. Is a dislocated knee as painful as getting your arm pinned to a wall by a knife? You supposed you’d never know.

A shadowed and masked (you laughed at this one; masked? Seriously?) figure sprinted through the store, whizzing past you–though not as aggressively as the first man had done–and as he ran, he threw a couple of more knives to really secure the man’s spot against the wall. You squinted. It was still dark, and there wasn’t a lot you could make out in all the commotion, but something about this second guy just felt so… familiar.

Maybe it was the way he moved, running and fighting and throwing knives like he’d been trained to do it his whole life, body nothing but lean muscle. The mask also had something familiar about it, but he was moving too fast for you to make out anything more than a black mess.

Your fingers curled into a fist and unfurled by your sides indecisively. On one side, you wanted desperately to join the fight and beat the shit out of the guy who’d thrashed your store and gave Savannah the fright of her life–but on the other hand, the second guy looked like he had it under control. And you were also pretty bruised and sore over your entire body, and when you took a step a bolt of white-hot pain seared up your right leg. You hissed, grabbing onto the nearest still-attached shelf for balance. Ankle.

You’d just gotten out of an illegal fight club with nothing more than a broken nose, a few cuts here and a couple of bruises there and the first thing you do is twist your ankle.

Great. You hopped over to the counter on the other side of the store and crouched next to Savannah, who was still curled up in a corner and shaking. “Sav,” you said, reaching out cautiously to touch her knees.

She sucked in a breath, her head snapping up. Mascara streaked down her face, her eyeliner smudged. Her pink lipstick was smeared over her right cheek. Tears rimmed her eyes. A bit of the fear disappeared when she recognised you, making place for slight relief. Her hand fumbled for yours and you let her take it. “Y/N. You’re okay.” Her eyes flicked over your face. “Mostly, anyway.” She giggled nervously.

You smiled softly. “You too? He didn’t hurt you?” In the background, you could hear the masked man’s furious hisses as he started tying the other up. It was strangely comforting to know he was being taken care of, even if the parson doing it was an annoyingly familiar masked dude with a hero complex.

Savannah sniffed, wiping at the tears around her eyes. “I’m fine. Just startled me, is all.” She frowned, eyes distant. “Who’s that?”

“I don’t know,” you mused, the nagging feeling that you somehow should know him getting stronger by the minute. “Sav.” She looked up. “What happened?”

She sighed, muscles relaxing a bit. “You know, it’s actually really weird. Like, this dude came in, and he wanted to buy some really sketchy stuff. Like vodka and lighters and knives and zip-ties, and he looked young enough to be suspicious of so I asked for his ID, right? And he gave it to me, and I checked and he was fine, and he paid, and he left. through the staff door.”

Now it was your turn to frown. “Wait, what?”

Her eyes widened and she squeezed your hand as if to prove a point. “I know! So I told him he wasn’t allowed to go through there and he didn’t listen, so I started coming after him, and then the lights went out and he bolted.”

You sat back, ignoring the pain shooting up your leg, and processed Savannah’s words. “Huh.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” she muttered. “And the weirdest thing is that he didn’t just, like, run off, because he broke the back window and came back through there.”

That was weird, you had to admit. You stuck a thumb in your mouth, nibbling on the nail absent-mindedly–an old nervous habit you never really seemed to be able to get out of your system, no matter what you tried. Your brain worked at a million miles per hour. You came up with nothing.

“Y/N? You there?”

You snapped back to reality. “What?”

Savannah had stood up, and she was holding a hand out for you to grab. “They’re gone. I looked through the store–nothing. I’ve texted Aya already, but she’s probably asleep.” Aya was the store’s manager, and even though the woman was ruthless, she wasn’t completely merciless. “I’ll call her tomorrow to tell her what happened.” She hesitated. There was something else she wanted to say, and she wasn’t saying it.

You took her hand and hoisted yourself up, careful not to rest too much weight on your ankle. “What is it, Sav?”

“All the electricity cut,” she said slowly, tucking a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. “When it happened.”

You nodded cautiously. “And?”

“That means the cameras were down too.”

“Get to the point.”

“You won’t be on the security footage, Y/N.” She paused. “I’m gonna go to the police. They’re going to look at all the footage and stuff, and take my statement–you don’t have to be brought into this. They’re gonna ask questions. It’s their job to ask questions.”

You pursed your lips. You hated it, yet you had to grudgingly admit that she was right: while Savannah didn’t know exactly what you did in your free time, you’d got to work with a badly covered bruise on your face, a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans on more than one occasion. She had to have her suspicions. “So you’re just going to lie to the police?” you said weakly, a feeble and half-hearted attempt to make her reconsider–not really because you wanted to, but because it seemed like the right thing to do.

“They probably won’t catch the guy anyway, and even if they catch him, I can say he’s lying. If he decides to talk at all.” She touched your upper arm. “I’ll be fine. Go home.”

“And if they catch the other guy? The masked one?” you said, still hesitant to leave her on her own–not because she couldn’t handle herself, but because someone might come back. “He’s seen me. He could ruin everything.”

Savannah rubbed her eyes. Her mascara smudged even further. She didn’t seem to care. “But he probably hasn’t seen me. I was too busy cowering in a corner, remember? And he left without saying anything. So he probably thinks you were the only one here.”

You were still unsure, but you could feel your resistance waning by the minute. “Fine,” you ended up muttering. Your car keys were still in your pocket, and one glance outside told you your groceries were still lying where you’d dropped them. “Fine.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you updated.”

“All right. Be careful, Sav.”

She smiled one last time, gathering her hair up and twisting it into a bun. “You too.”

It was close to three A.M. when you finally pushed the door open to your apartment. You barely had time to put down the bag of groceries in the kitchen when Charlie’s voice hissed, “Y/N!”

You turned, preparing yourself for a lecture, but instead staggered backwards when your brother crashed into you, wrapping his arms around your neck. “Oh, god. I was so worried. What took you so fucking long? It’s been two hours!”

You winced–both because of Charlie’s concern and the fact that he was squeezing you very hard and you were kind of bruised all over. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t answer my texts. Didn’t pick up my calls. I was worried out of my mind. I have an eight A.M, you asshole.”

You gently untangled yourself from his embrace. “I’m okay,” you repeated. Charlie’s eyes were bloodshot behind his glasses, and you couldn’t tell if it was just from the fatigue and the unholy amount of coffee he must have consumed to still be this awake after a whole day of studying or if he had been crying. “I promise. I’m okay.”

He breathed out a small sigh of relief, squeezing you one last time before letting go. “What happened? Are you limping?” He squinted, rubbing his finger across a spot in your hair. “Is that mustard?”

You swatted his hands away. “Stop it. The store got robbed just after I left, so I went back and made sure Sav was okay and everything. Helped her go to the police, you know.” It was an embellished version of the truth, and you knew it was vague enough to raise suspicions, and Charlie was smart and immediately must have known you were lying. If he did, he didn’t show it. Only narrowed his eyes a bit. But he didn’t press further, and you were grateful for it.

“Is Sav okay?” he asked cautiously. “What did the robber take?”

“Well,” you said, grabbing a beer from out of the bag and popping the can open (Charlie scrunched his nose. He didn’t drink and thought you shouldn’t, too), “he didn’t actually grab, like, money or anything. He freaked out when Sav asked for his ID because he was buying vodka and started thrashing the place. He had a knife.”

Charlie sighed, short and sharp. “You’re not making sense. You know you’re not making sense. I’m going to blame this on the fact that you look like you just crawled out of a dumpster fire,” he said, rubbing his temples, “but don’t think for a moment this conversation is over. Tomorrow you’re staying home, understand? If the store is really as destroyed as you say, you won’t have to go tomorrow anyway.”

“I wasn’t planning on going.”

“Good. I’ll be home around two. Make sure you’re here and don’t go off looking for a fight.” He sounded so tired and disappointed. You hated it when he sounded disappointed. “Don’t stay up too late.” He turned on his heel and made his way to his room.

“Charlie,” you called after him, half rising from your chair. “Charlie!” He didn’t turn back.

You would be fine in the morning, you knew. Charlie and you never had managed to stay angry at one another for long–and Charlie wasn’t angry, per sé. Scared. Confused. Pissed off, sure, but not actually angry. You’d seen him angry plenty of times before, and this wasn’t that. You swirled the beer in its can. You weren’t thirsty anymore.

A quick shower to clean off all the blood and dirt and–strangely–mustard was all you could manage before collapsing into bed. Though you were too tired to really think about anything, you did hope at the back of your mind that Sav had gotten home okay, and the guilt crossed through your chest again. You wondered what she’d told the police, and if they’d figured out she was lying. It would be a restless night.

Maybe everything would turn out okay. Maybe everything would be fine. You’d have to call Aya yourself to see when and if you’d be picking up the job again… But for now, you needed to sleep and heal fast so you could be ready to fight again when you needed to.

Everyone had to fight to survive–you just took it a little more literally.

“Y/N? Y/N. Wake up. Now.” Charlie slapped a rolled-up paper thing on your chest and you groaned, and then you winced, because your nose was positively throbbing. Yeah, that was broken, for sure.

“What?” you said hoarsely, rolling to face the wall so Charlie didn’t have to see your beat-up face–you were pretty sure your eye was nice and purple by now, too, as it felt swollen and sore as well–but Charlie only yanked your covers from your body and you yelped. “Charlie!”

He held up something in front of your eyes wordlessly, and you recoiled, squinting to be able to make out the words. It was the local newspaper, and the first thing that caught your eye was a picture of Savannah. Your blood ran cold and you snatched it out of Charlie’s hands. Your eyes scanned the page quickly.

“Armed robber attacked local grocery store… destroyed half the store… damage repairable but expensive… cashier shaken but unharmed…” You sighed, throwing the paper onto your bed. For a moment, you’d been afraid something had happened to Savannah, but she was okay. Then what was Charlie so worked up about? “I know all this already, Charlie.”

“Fourth paragraph,” was all he responded.

You snatched the paper back up, glaring. Fourth paragraph. The first sentence had all the nerves in your body stand on edge. By the time you’d read the second sentence, you were shaking and had to sit down again. You flexed your fingers to keep them from trembling.

“You didn’t mention Diego Hargreeves came to your rescue yesterday night,” Charlie said quietly, voice thin and icy.

You took a shaky breath. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know it was him–and it was hardly a rescue,” you said, a little bit of your usual snark slipping back into your voice. You’d lost your composure only for a second, but slowly it was coming back to you. You took another breath. “Besides, he didn’t see me either, I think. It was dark, and everything happened so fast, and I really just wanted to know if Sav was okay.”

You pushed yourself up from the bed and slid past him, grabbing some clothes from the chair sitting next to the door and gingerly touching your nose. “I’m gonna go to the ER. I’m pretty sure my nose’s broken. See you later.”

“Have breakfast first,” Charlie called after you. You ignored him, yanking your coat from its hanger and slipping out of the door.

Diego Hargreeves. Diego Hargreeves. The man you hadn’t thought about–had forced yourself not to think about–for years and years. It was raining. You tugged your hood over your head and kept your eyes to the road, speeding up as you went.

Diego fucking Hargreeves.

The memories were still there, you knew. You didn’t think anything could possibly truly get rid of those. They were still there, but they had been safely locked away in a chest with a heavy enough padlock to hold years of memories, good and bad alike, and you had chucked the key into the deepest trench there was, and then you’d dug a grave a thousand feet beneath the earth and dropped the chest inside, and then you’d covered it up again and erased the location from your mind.

Thinking about him wasn’t an option. It just wasn’t.

Someone almost bumped into you, and you threw him a cold glare, even though you knew it was your fault because you hadn’t been paying attention to the people walking along you. You had only been thinking of Diego fucking Hargreeves. The man you knew you should absolutely not be thinking about, but were thinking about anyway. Because that’s what he did, wasn’t it? The little shit just couldn’t stay out of your goddamn head.

People started letting up their umbrellas, and you flinched every time you passed one. Ridiculous. Ridiculous and then some. But that was maybe the only thing that changed after the time you’d spent with Diego and his family: you refused to use umbrellas. Even when it was pouring and hailstones hammered down from the sky, leaving bruises all over your body. Even when you wound up with a cold the next day and a fever. No. Fucking. Umbrellas.

Your last stubborn act against Reginald Hargreeves, you thought wryly as you opened the doors to the ER and approached the desk.

“Hi. My nose is broken.”

“All right. If you could just take a seat…”

The doctor who set your nose only shook her head at the sight of you. It wasn’t the first time you’d shown up here, even though you doubted that she’d actually remember you, she tutted and told you to be more careful next time. You nodded; an empty promise.

You could scarcely believe your own stupidity. How had you not realised who the knife-thrower was the previous night? How had you not recognised that ridiculous suit of armour of his? You helped him make it, for fuck’s sake. At this point, you weren’t even mad at him–only at yourself for being as blind as you were.

“The nose should be healed in a week or two. Go see your doctor, all right? And don’t do anything to make it worse.”

You nodded again. You filled in and signed the forms they handed you. Charlie would be livid, you thought; he’d been friends with Diego too before you moved away. Before you’d made him swear not to contact him or his family in any way, shape or form ever again. He’d tried, of course–he’d been a thirteen-year-old boy, of course he would try–and you’d caught him, time and time again, playing the role of mean older sibling forbidding him from seeing his friend.

“He’s your boyfriend, Y/N!” Charlie had shouted at you from across the room.

You had clenched the phone you’d confiscated from him tighter, giving him a vicious stare. “Not anymore. Don’t mention him again, Charleston.” Full name. All three syllables.

Charlie had clamped his mouth shut, knowing it best not to argue. “But you won’t even tell me why.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Your voice had been icy. No room for discussion.

It did matter. It had thwarted your whole world. You were pretty sure Charlie had never fully forgiven you, and he had every right to. But you’d had to. You hadn’t had a choice.

You took a deep breath. Your hands were shaking, so you stuffed them in your pockets and kept walking. When you reached your door, your fingers were trembling so badly you had to take a second to steady your hands before you could insert the key in its lock. You stumbled inside your apartment and slammed the door shut, not bothering to lock it again.

Sleep. You needed to sleep. It was barely ten A.M, and you’d been out for multiple hours. Charlie had class. You had another few hours to sleep. Your brain was mush; thoughts raged in a hurricane. Nothing was making sense. Sleep.

You didn’t even undress when you crashed down onto your bed for the second time that day.

You woke up and it was half past four P.M. You jolted, flinching at the pain flashing through your arm. The curtains had been drawn closed; your shoes had been removed from your feet; the comforter had been wrapped around you and a glass of fresh water sat on your nightstand. You dropped onto the pillow again and sighed.

You only changed into a new shirt before you made your way to the living room, raking your fingers through your hair to at least make it seem like less of a bird’s nest. Charlie sat on the sofa, feet drawn up beneath him, a steaming cup of tea in his hand and a stack of papers in his lap. He barely looked up when you gingerly sat down next to him.

“Thanks,” you muttered, fingers rubbing on the sofa’s fabric.

He kept his gaze firm on the papers. “Don’t worry about it.” His eyes were bleary behind his glasses. But his voice was stiff and cold and you winced at the sound.

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” you said. “I promise you I didn’t know it was–”

“We’re both adults, Y/N,” said Charlie. “You don’t have to tell me everything.”

You pursed your lips. “I know. But if I’d known, I would have.” You sighed. “Just–just wanted you to know.”

He was silent for a moment. “Well. Thanks, I guess.”

“Right.” You nodded, standing up somewhat awkwardly. “I–uh–I think I’m gonna call Sav. See how she’s doing.”

“All right.”

“Yeah. Okay. Bye.” You snatched your phone up and slipped out the door.

Savannah turned out to be doing fine. She’d called Aya, and while their manager had been livid at the news, she’d mostly been livid at the robber for destroying her store, not at Savannah, and she’d apologised profusely. The making of a statement at the police station had gone surprisingly smoothly and she was already able to laugh about what happened–thin and shrill, but it was a laugh nevertheless–and you were beyond relieved to hear her voice.

“But you do realise we’re both jobless until the store re-opens, right?”

Savannah heaved a deep sigh. “I know. Aya said it would take two months, maybe more. A bitch has bills to pay, damn it.”

You bit your lip. While you had enough money to hold you and Charlie up those two months, Savannah would actually need to get another job. You couldn’t help but feel bad. “I’ll help you find a job,” you offered weakly.

“Oh, I’ll be fine, Y/N. I’ll find a job as, like, a waitress somewhere. I have a bit of money in a separate bank account for exactly this type of situation. I’ll manage just fine.” She actually sounded sure of herself. “You’ll be okay too, right?”

“Of course,” you mumbled. You sank down onto a bench, watching kids play in the park around you and dogs chase squirrels until they fled up in their trees. “I’ll be fine.”

You hadn’t had lunch, so you nibbled on a taco from the nearest takeout, just taking in the peacefulness of the park. The soft noises chirping from all around you. The sun shone, as opposed to earlier that morning. The bench you sat on was still wet, but covered in plastic and you managed to keep your butt dry.

It was a nice change from the evenings you ran on nothing but adrenaline and determination as you fought opponent after opponent–and winning more often than not. Or the days you spent holed up in the small and dusty grocery store with only a stuffed rat to keep you company (his name was George). Savannah usually did the night shifts, and you only worked together on Saturdays.

A little girl rushed past you, a smaller boy waggling after her and screeching in delight, stumpy arms outstretched. You followed them with your eyes, a smile creeping up to your face. The girl spun around and spotted you; her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. She skipped up to you. “What happened to your face?”

You laughed bitterly. “I broke my nose.”

The little girl’s dark eyes widened even more. “How’d you do that? Did you get in a fight?”

You could have said yes. It was true, after all. But this was a child. she couldn’t have been more than seven years old. You shook your head. “No. I got whacked in the face with a ladder.”

She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Really? Did it hurt?”

“Well, it didn’t feel great, no.”

She pouted, hands clasped in front of her. Then her little round face lit up again and she grinned widely. She was missing a tooth. “I could magic it better for you!” Out of her pocket she drew a small blue and green jar, the lid decorated with those plastic gems you find in arts and crafts stores and a sparkly blue ribbon. She ceremoniously untied the ribbon, unscrewed the lid and dipped a finger in the jar’s unknown contents. She felt around for a bit, then triumphantly held her finger up, now covered in purple glitter. “Can I put this on your nose?”

You sat there, stunned, because this tiny child was being absolutely serious and was asking you permission to slather your broken nose in purple glitter. You stared at her for a moment, and she stared back at you, and then you said, “All right.”

She grinned. “I’m Anika, by the way,” she chirped as she gently dabbed some of the glitter on your bandaged nose. “But everyone calls me Annie, so you can too.” She also sprinkled some glitter over your bruised eye, then decided it still wasn’t enough and spread some more on your cheeks and in your hair.

You bit back a grin and let her work, her little nose scrunched up and her eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Little flyaway hairs tickled your cheeks. She finally cocked her head, nodded in satisfaction and screwed the glitter back on her glitter-pot. “There. Now close your eyes and count to ten, and when you open them again you’ll be feeling much better already.”

You decided to humour her and shut your eyes. “One, two, three…” Annika started. You counted along in your head. Six, seven. “... Nine, ten!” You peeked out of one eye. Annie was looking at you expectantly, hands clasped in front of her chest. “Well?”

Nothing had happened, of course; if broken noses could heal with a sprinkle of glitter you’d break it more often. But you had grown fond of little Annie and her magic jar. “I’m feeling great. Thank you, Anika.”

“Annie.”

You chuckled. “Right. Annie. Thank you.”

“Well, you’re very welcome. I want to be a doctor when I grow up. Then I can do all sorts of cool stuff and make lots of people better!”

The sun was starting to set. You’d been in the park long enough for you to lose track of time. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a distressed-looking woman holding onto a little boy’s hand and stalking towards your bench. It took you a few seconds to realise Annie was probably her daughter and that she was looking for her, and not because she was particularly interested in you or your bench. You turned back to Annie. “You’re on the right path. I’m sure you’ll be one of the best doctors out there.”

She grinned, showing off a gap in her teeth.

“Anika!” The woman jogged the last few steps, grabbing her by the arm and crouching down to look her in the eye. “I’ve been looking for you for ages! Don’t run off like that again, okay?”

“I was helping them out!” Annie pouted, pointing at you.

The woman’s head turned, and she flushed at the sight of your glitter-covered face. She sighed, eyes drooping closed for only a moment. “I’m sorry if she was any trouble,” she started, but you cut her off with a wave.

“No, don’t worry. She’s lovely.” Over her mother’s shoulder, Annie smiled her gap-toothed grin at you and flashed you a thumbs-up. “I have a broken nose, you see,” you added, trying to keep as straight a face as possible when you knew your entire head was covered in purple glitter.

“I see,” said Annie’s mum. The sides of her mouth were twitching, her eyes glittering now that she wasn’t worried about her daughter’s safety anymore. She stood, a kid on either side of her. “Well. I hope your nose gets better soon. And thank you for looking after Anika.”

You nodded, saluting, and winked at Annie, who tried to stifle her giggles behind her hand. “No problem at all.”

You sat on the bench, looking after the little family until they were out of sight and smiling to yourself. Then you stretched out your own legs and started back to your apartment, pitching the empty taco wrapper in the nearest bin. Rain started to fall again and when you rubbed a drop out of your eye, your fingers came away covered in purple glitter. You laughed under your breath.

The kiosk near your apartment was still open, and out of habit you strolled up to it, letting your eyes roam the newspapers and magazines stalled out. The dude behind the counter looked you up and down, gave no reaction that anything was out of the ordinary and went back to scrolling through his phone. Nothing weird about someone with a broken nose, a black eye, and whose face is covered in glitter, apparently. You appreciated the neutrality.

In the news window, a huge portrait picture immediately grabbed your attention, and you flinched back out of reflex–if only because the man depicted was none other than Reginald Hargreeves. You had the urge to straighten your back and look at your feet as you used to do–and you immediately scolded yourself over it because Reginald Hargreeves wasn’t there. He didn’t have that kind of control over you anymore.

You read the headline. Then read it again. Then again. Finally you knocked on the window, gesturing that you wanted a copy. You paid, the still-unimpressed kiosk guy handed you your change, and you stuck the newspaper inside your coat with trembling fingers as to not get it wet.

Reginald Hargreeves was dead.

It was strange how shocked you were. Not even shocked in a bad way–hell, you were so glad he was gone you could have shouted it from the rooftops–but shocked in a “Holy shit what the fuck” way. Reginald Hargreeves had always just… been there, for as long as you could remember. To have him gone was so strange. He seemed like the person who’d been around when you were born and who still would be around when you died, and no one would question it.

As soon as you entered your apartment building you yanked the newspaper out of your coat and thumbed the pages until you found the right one. Billionaire Sir Reginald Hargreeves dead. You scanned the short article, frowning at how little information was given. They didn’t say how he died; they only stated the date, and a whole bunch of bullshit about how He will be dearly missed and His children grieve for him deeply. You scoffed, pushing your door open and rolling your eyes.

None of Reginald Hargreeve’s children would grieve for him.

They’d be thrilled he was dead. (except for Luther, maybe–but Luther was on the moon. So.) They were finally free from him, the man who’d put each of them through so much pain and suffering. You wondered if Allison would even show up at the funeral–she was a worldwide known actress now–but then you shook your head. Of course she’d show up. They’d all show up.

Charlie sat in front of the TV, eyes wide and a cup of instant noodles forgotten in his lap. He didn’t even look up when you sank onto the sofa beside him–he’d usually scold you to at least take off your filthy boots and your coat (“It’s dripping wet!”), but this time he merely said in a tight voice, “Did you hear?”

Sure enough, from the TV screen, Reginald Hargreeves’ face stared back at you. A tremor ran down your back and you avoided the picture’s eyes. He was dead, you reminded yourself. He was gone and he wasn’t coming back. You looking at his picture wasn’t going to spawn him back into the land of the living. So you forced your eyes to meet his and held them for as long as you could.

Of course, since it was a picture, he didn’t blink or move at all. He was just… there. A lifeless depiction of the person you had hated most throughout your entire life. And he was gone. With every passing second, you grew more confident and let your eyes roam over the man’s face, not so much in interest as much as to see what it would do to you. What you’d remember. You felt like someone observing a rather ugly statue, trying to figure out if it reminded them of someone they knew.

Your eyes rested on his monocle for just a beat longer than usual. That stupid monocle he wouldn’t take off no matter what. But you were slightly surprised at how well you remembered his face, considering you never had the courage to look at him directly when he spoke to you. Not until the last time you ever saw him–which was also the last time you ever saw any of the Hargreeves.

“I heard,” you finally said. Your hands were trembling still.

Charlie slowly leaned back and you studied his face, how his jaw was clenched and his eyes had grown cold and angry and stormy. “Good riddance.”

Hearing him say the words that had been cautiously forming in your own mind made you startle. Charlie folded his arms. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said quietly, not able to keep the shimmer of hope out of your voice. Maybe it wasn’t over after all, a voice you’d beaten down for years whispered softly. Maybe you could still make it right. “Good riddance indeed.”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but it was too late to turn back now. The doorbell had rung, you could hear the melody faintly from where you stood on the streets. In the rain. Once again. Only a week and a half after you’d heard about Reginald’s death.

You had wanted to come sooner, you really had, but every time you came close to the house you ended up in the coffee shop across the street, or the arts and crafts shop at the end of the block (though you hadn’t touched your pencils in years). And now you were here. After ten years.

Your breathing went shallow as you went through all the worst-case scenarios in your head. He’d slam the door in your face. He’d start shouting at you and then he’d slam the door in your face. He wouldn’t let you explain, telling you how much you’d hurt him. Telling you to never come back. And then he’d slam the door in your face.

But the door opened, and it wasn’t him.

“Hello, Y/N,” said Grace. The robotic mother. Who had been more of a mother to you than your own, actual mother. “You’re here for Diego, aren’t you?” She smiled, completely ignoring your still-healing nose, though your black eye had faded. As if nothing happened. As if you were just stopping by for tea and a chat. As if everything was fine. “I’ll go get him right away.”

“Wait!” you blurted.

She turned, her smile flickering for only a second. “Is something wrong?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “No, Grace. Nothing. But I’d rather go look for him myself.” You tried for a grin of your own, though you suspected it was watery and rather unconvincing. “As a–as a surprise.”

She stepped aside, only now seeming to realise you were still standing in the pouring rain and progressively getting soaked. “Of course, dear. Come inside, I’ll make you tea.”

And then you were inside the house you’d sworn never to step foot in again after ten. Whole. Years.

And you still remembered everything from the umbrella holder to the coat hanger in the hall to the right way to slide the slidey doors open without breaking everything, to the stairs and the living room sofa and the kitchen window and how it still creaked. Your throat closed up, both from panic and the sheer emotion of being back.

A small figure slid into the hall, right behind you. “Grace, who was–”

You turned and he abruptly quieted. You cleared your throat. “Hi, Pogo.”

He very carefully nodded, and you pretended not to notice how his shoulders tensed. “Y/N. It’s… been quite the while.”

You winced. Pogo had been the closest thing Reginald Hargreeves had ever had to a friend. You wondered how much he’d told him. “It has,” you said in a small voice. “I’m sorry for never contacting you.”

A flash of pity crossed his eyes, and that was when you were sure he knew–or knew at least the gist of it. He merely smiled. “Master Diego would be up in his room, I think. Maybe the kitchen.”

You didn’t pretend that he wasn’t the major reason you were there. Mumbling your thanks, you started up the stairs, your legs getting heavier with every step. It would have been easier had everything not been exactly as it had been when you’d left, you thought. It would have made it feel less real.

But his door was right there, and you could only drag out a two-minute walk so much. You raised your hand. Pulled it back. It’s not too late to just leave, said a voice in your head. But you’d already done that once, you frowned, and it had been the biggest mistake of your life. The rapping of your knuckles against the polished hardwood door echoed through the entire hallway.

“What?” came his irritated voice, and your breath hitched, because it was his voice. It had been ten years since you’d heard that voice.

You took a shaky breath. “Hey, Diego.”

It was silent on the other side of the door–so silent that there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he’d recognised the sound of your own voice, too. Your breathing suddenly seemed a lot louder.

And then he quietly said: “Go away,” and your heart shattered into a million pieces.

You didn’t move at first, too stunned to do anything besides sheepishly blink at the doorknob. No thoughts in your head bar a confused, What?

You opened your mouth to try again, wondering if you’d made the words up. “Diego, I–”

“Go away.” His voice was raw, as if he’d been crying too.

You clenched your jaw shut, your hands balling to fists at your sides. Tears welled up in your eyes and you willed them away again, a deep breath to steady yourself. Okay, you thought. If that’s what he wants. It’s okay. It’s cool. You spun on your heel and left the way you came, slipping out into the hall when Grace called your name.

“Y/N? Your tea’s ready. I’ve got biscuits as well.” She smiled, eyes expectant.

It took you a while to process the words. Tea. Yes. She’d said she’d make you tea. “I’m–I won’t be staying for tea, Grace,” you mumbled, a hand coming up to tug at the cord of your sweater. “Sorry.” And you ducked out of the front door. You managed to keep it together for exactly two blocks, and then the tears started falling and there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop them.

You tried not to run. To keep your head down. To stay unnoticed. But the last few streets were almost deserted anyway, and it was still raining, and the tears on your face mixed with the drops falling from the sky until you didn’t know anymore which was which. By the time you reached your front door, you were soaked once more.

“Boots,” said Charlie sharply when you entered. You ignored him, slamming the door shut behind you and stomping through your room. “Y/N!”

You were sad. Of course you were. But alongside that through your veins coursed anger. He wouldn’t even let you explain.

It wasn’t your fault. You had been offered a choice ten years ago, both options shit; you’d just chosen the less shittier one. And still it had caused you sleepless nights for years. And still your chest clenched whenever you thought back to it. And still your body instinctively went into panic mode whenever Reginald Hargreeves was even mentioned.

And he hadn’t even let you explain.

You threw your coat onto your desk chair, kicking off your boots and flinging them against the door. Mud and dirt splattered onto the wood. Those would become stains, you were sure. At the moment you didn’t care.

You flopped down onto your bed, and the moment your back hit the soft mattress and comforter all the anger swept out of your body. It left with the breath you exhaled as you stared at the ceiling, replaced by a stale emptiness. No tears ran down your face this time.

I fucked up, you mused. It’s over.

“Y/N?” Charlie’s voice came from the other side of your door. He sounded like he didn’t quite know what to do, and you couldn’t blame him. It had been years since you’d lost control over your emotions like that.

You cleared your throat. “I’m okay.” A pause. “You can come in if you want.”

The door creaked open. Charlie stood there, eyes cautious behind his glasses. You reached an arm out. “C’mere.”

“Y/N,” he said slowly, approaching like you were on your deathbed. You rolled your eyes and grabbed onto his trouser leg, yanking him onto your bed. He let out an oomph, bracing himself so he wouldn’t crush you, but then lay down next to you. You closed your eyes, feeling for his hand. You squeezed. After a moment, he squeezed back.

“I should never have gone back,” you mumbled after a while, eyes still closed, a bitter laugh rolling past your lips.

“Gone back where?” He was playing dumb. Or maybe he just wanted you to deny it–after all, you’d been the one to drag him from his bed that night, ignoring his confused questions and snarling at him to shut up and stop being difficult when he tried to wriggle his arm out of your grip.

“You know where,” you sniffed, turning and curling up and into his side. It had been a long time ago, and yet something in the bond you shared with Charlie had broken that night. Both of you pretended nothing was amiss, but it was there and you felt it, like a once-fractured bone that hadn’t set right.

Charlie slowly breathed out through his nose. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” you said, voice muffled. “I thought–I thought I could make it right. If he’d just let me explain–if he’d just–he didn’t even let me talk–he just told me to go away–” Your voice broke and you took a breath, blinking away tears of frustration that had popped up in your eyes.

Charlie wisely kept quiet, and you knew what he was thinking. You never explained to me, either.

And he was absolutely right. It was time to right that wrong–baby steps.

“He told me he’d kill you if I kept seeing him,” you muttered, and Charlie went still beside you. For a moment it was as if he wasn’t even breathing.

“What?” His voice was so quiet–had there been a single other sound in the room, you would have missed it. You could almost feel his heartbeat pick up from where your head was pressed against his shoulder.

“Reginald Hargreeves,” you stated simply, the syllables rising their familiar bitter taste like bile in your throat. “He’d been dropping hints to both me and Diego that we ‘weren’t supposed to be friends’ and stuff like that, let alone a couple. And of course we ignored him, because we were seventeen and idiots and stupid for each other.”

A dam had broke, and now that the words were spilling out of you like you were an overflowing basin you found that nothing could stop them. “So one day he pulled me aside, and he said that if I didn’t pack my shit and move to the other side of town he’d find a way to off you and make it look like an accident. I’m pretty sure he said something about making sure Diego wouldn’t even want to remember my name, but I’d already stopped listening.”

You turned away from him, pulling your hand out of his gone-limp fingers and folding your hands over your stomach. “So, there you have it. I was not to tell you or Diego anything, I was not to try and contact any of the Hargreeves, and I was not to mention their names to anyone ever again.” You cast him a glance. His eyes were wide with shock, and his lips were slightly parted. “I thought, you know, he won’t be doing much killing now that he’s dead. But I guess he managed to make Diego not even want to remember my name.”

It was the most honest you’d been in a long time, and now that the truth was out there, right in the open, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. At least he knew now, you thought. You were past hoping for his complete forgiveness–you’d known the consequences of what you were doing when you were doing it–but maybe he could try to understand.

Charlie, the law student. Charlie, whom you would move heaven and earth for. Charlie, who could have died a hundred times over had you not made the choice you had.

“I told myself every night over and over that I’d made the right choice. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” you whispered.

He was silent for a long while, and you started to think he would just get up and leave, but then he gave an awkward cough. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

You smiled when you felt his hand slip into yours again, and for a minute you were fourteen and ten years old again, little Charlie crawling beneath the covers next to you. Nightmare, he’d say, and you’d nod and pull him close, the sound of your parents fighting shaking the house’s foundations. “Yeah.”

– – –

“Huh. This place is nice.” You made a full turn, your hand loosely gripping at the strap of your black duffel and taking in the cleanliness and order of this month’s den. That’s what you called it to yourself, at least. A place where people went voluntarily to take a beating could not be called anything other than a den.

“I know,” said Joel smugly. He squeezed past you and strode to the desk already set up for him, stretching out his long legs in front of him and lacing his fingers together on the back of his head. His black hair flopped in front of his eyes. “The owner owes me a favour. He didn’t like this at all, by the way. I had to promise him fifteen per cent of the profits of every night we host in here. Fifteen per cent! Asshole.”

“None of the others want you?”

“I thought it would be cool to have, like, an actual proper ring to fight in. To at least look like we’re doing legal stuff.”

You snorted, plopping your bag down and pulling up a chair next to him. Joel had called you up about two hours ago and asked if you wanted to help him with preparations, though it hadn’t sounded like much of a question and more of a thinly-veiled threat. But on the other hand that was just who Joel was, and you’d said yes out of sheer boredom because you knew from experience it was pretty much impossible to be bored with Joel around.

It looked like your average boxing ring, in your opinion, but the walls were made out of red brick and the floors of concrete and there were actual lockers you could use to put your stuff in without the worry of some asshat taking off with them. The whole place had a vibe to it and you liked it. The air hummed with adrenaline.

You and Joel got to work, preparing everything for the night, making sure there were enough chairs for people to sit down on, stalling out bottles of water, towels, bandages, exchanging banter whilst you did it. Sure, it was an illegal fighting club, but you were still decent human beings.

It was getting pretty late–it would be getting close to 11PM now, and the first betters and fighters were starting to show up. Soon a small crowd had formed, and Joel sidled up to you, hands wringing and that wicked grin of his curling his lips. His eyes scanned the crowd hungrily, and you knew he was gauging from which man or woman he could pull the most cash.

“Are you going into the ring tonight?” he asked. You always managed to win him a fair amount of money–you were inconspicuous. Didn’t look like you could put up much of a fight. Yet the number of times you’d actually lost one could be counted on one hand.

“Maybe,” you said vaguely. “I still have a fair bit of cash left from last time.” Your left shoulder was still stiff and sore sometimes, and your nose had only just healed from the last time and was still delicate.

A brown-haired man about a foot taller than you found your gaze and grinned, showing off a chipped tooth. His nose was crooked–an old break, you reckoned–and he raised an eyebrow slightly, as if to say, Really? You narrowed your eyes, the now-familiar thump of adrenaline beginning to course through your veins. You flexed your fingers. They itched. You could almost hear the crack his jaw would make when you’d plant your heel on his chin. Maybe knock a few teeth out in the process, too.

“Actually,” you heard yourself say in the voice that only seemed to come out whenever you were about to punch the living daylights out of someone–rough, tinged with something dark and frightening, “put me on the list.”

Joel’s grin deepened, amusement flashing in his icy blue eyes. “There we go.”

He hit the mat with a grunt and coughed. Drops of red speckled across his lips and cheeks. A bruise the size of your palm was starting to blossom on his cheek, and you knew it’d swell up and hurt like hell in a matter of hours. He let his eyes flit closed and breathed out through his nose. He didn’t get back up until the bell rang and his friends came to peel him off the floor and then he hobbled off like an ashamed dog, clutching their arms for dear life.

You wiped at your nose. It had started bleeding again. It wasn’t broken, you were pretty sure, so you shrugged the pain off and wiped your hand on your shirt. One more bloodstain to wash out–it didn’t make a difference.

Bag, money. The usual calculating, impressed, and downright frightened looks. Joel shot you a wink.

And then you turned and looked right into the face of Diego Hargreeves.

He was standing at the room’s entrance, frozen, arms limp at his sides, his lips pursed in a thin line. Your heart skipped a beat. Your eyes met, and you could feel he’d recognised you. Your bloodied knuckles went white around your bag strap.

“Y/N? You okay?” Joel frowned, then reached out and grabbed your wrist when you took a step towards the door. “Hey. It’s still early. You could go for another round.”

You shook your head, pulling your arm free. “No. I’ve–I have to go.” By the time you reached the door you broke into a run, and you had just enough time to see him round a corner. You followed, ignoring the pain shooting through your right leg whenever you put weight on it.

He picked up his pace and rushed through a door, slamming it shut behind him. You skidded to a halt, trying to catch your breath.

For a moment, you didn’t say anything, just listened to the rustling on the other side of the door. When you closed your eyes you were back at the Umbrella Academy, tears pouring down your cheeks when Diego hadn’t even wanted to talk to you. You took a deep breath and knocked, wincing at the streaks of red appearing on the polished wood. A sharp sigh sounded from inside.

You decided to take a risk. “Diego, you can’t keep avoiding me.”

“I can and I will. You can spend the night in front of my fucking door for all I care. I could leave through the window right now.”

Despite the harshness of his voice, you smiled, because this was the Diego you knew. This was the Diego you could handle. “You won’t, though.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because I know you, Diego.” Your heart was thumping in your chest, the pain you’d felt moments before dulled to an echo of what it was. He went silent. You imagined the scowl he would be wearing without a doubt by now. “Open the door.” You picked at your lip, wincing when that hurt, too. “Please.”

And he didn’t answer. You waited, and waited, and just as you were starting to think that maybe he had taken the window route the bolt clicked and the door opened. Your breath hitched.

He looked the same as he had the last time you’d seen him. Older, obviously, and sadder–bitterness etched in harsh lines across his features, bags under his eyes, a new scar on the side of his head you hadn’t seen before, but beneath all that you still saw the boy you’d spent so many hours with, curled up together in every dark corner you could find and whispering to each other into the early hours of the morning.

“You look like shit,” were the first words out of your mouth.

Diego’s eyes narrowed to slits and he looked like he was about ready to slam the door in your face, and your hands flew up to your mouth. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean that–fuck. I’m just–I’m nervous. Sorry.”

He still looked suspicious but released his hold on the doorknob. You tucked your hands in your pockets. They were trembling.

“Well?” he said harshly, avoiding your eyes. “You wanted to talk. Then talk.”

You nodded, chewing on the inside of your cheeks, racking your brain for the best way to say Your dad threatened to kill my baby brother unless I broke up with you. Surprisingly, you came up with nothing.

“What did he say to you?” you blurted.

Confusion painted itself across his face.

“You know,” you grumbled, “when I left. Did he say anything to you?”

Diego sucked in a breath. “He said you’d moved away. That you hadn’t given a reason.” He paused, and an old but strong hurt flashed in his eyes. “That you didn’t want me to contact you in any way.”

You clenched your jaw, anger coursing through you. Of course he would have said that, you thought. Of course he would have put everything on you. Reginald Hargreeves had been a manipulative son of a bitch, and you and Diego both fell victim to his scheming. “Right. I suppose that’s all he mentioned of me ever again?”

“Actually, no.” He kept his gaze on something behind you, still refusing to meet your eyes. “He’d ask about you for weeks after you left. Encouraging me to write letters. Saying you’d come around eventually.” He laughed, a bitter sound that made you recoil slightly.

“I never received any letters,” you said weakly.

Diego looked into your eyes now, and he was fire. “Well, I didn’t know your new address, did I?”

“Diego–”

“I thought about you every single day after you left. I had no idea what I’d done to make you go that abruptly. I’d toss and turn at night, trying to figure out how to get you back.” His voice was steely, his fists clenched. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

You were shaking your head as if in a daze, trying to find your voice, but it seemed to have given up on you and you could do nothing but listen as every word hit you like a punch to the gut. No, you thought, you’d gotten punched in the gut plenty of times. This was worse.

“I was doing fine, Y/N. I could go weeks without thinking of you. Why did you show up now? Ten years later?” Punch. Punch. Punch.

“He threatened to kill Charlie,” you choked out.

Diego faltered. “What?”

“Your dad said he’d kill Charlie if I didn’t leave. He said I was a distraction to you that he couldn’t afford. No contact whatsoever. Diego, I never had a choice.” You were pleading with him by now, your eyes wide and your hands balled to fists at your sides. “He said he’d hurt you, too, if I ever did try to contact you. He said–he said he’d make you want to forget my very existence.”

He looked like he just got hit by a truck, expression a mix of confusion and shock and anger and sadness.

“I couldn’t tell you, Diego. I couldn’t. He said–” Your words were cut short when Diego slowly reached out and touched your forehead, frowning when his fingers came away wet with blood.

“You’re bleeding.”

You exhaled, shrugging. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”

His eyes flicked back on yours. The hurt and confusion weren’t quite gone, but it had dulled down. He looked more tired now than anything else. He sighed, letting his head drop, then he pulled the door open and gestured for you to come inside. “Get in.” He rolled his eyes when you shot him a suspicious look. “I’m not going to abduct you. Get in, I have bandages.”

Diego carefully dabbed at your forehead and nose and arms with a wet towel, brows furrowed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Sat on his sofa in his apartment, you couldn’t keep your eyes from raking across his face, letting them drink in every detail you might have forgotten over the last ten years.

You remembered one time when you’d woken up one day and just for a second, you couldn’t recall what he looked like, and white-hot panic had burst in your chest and you’d had to squeeze your eyes shut to carefully reconstruct his face in your mind. Only then your breathing had eased. Now you were in front of him again–and the reality of things crashed into you like a tank.

You didn’t even feel the sting of the towel on your wounds. Like you’d said before, you’d had worse, and your attention was focused on one thing and one thing only.

You touched his cheek; the barest brush of your fingers on his skin. He tensed beneath your touch, eyes flicking up briefly to meet yours, but didn’t pull away. “Ten years,” you said quietly, letting your hand fall away. “Ten lost years.”

His jaw set. “I thought it was my fault. I blamed myself for ten years.” He paused. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it.” He dropped the bloody towel, turning it over in his hands. “Maybe I just didn’t want to see it.”

You hated the way he talked like that, the hurt and strain to his voice as if every word he spoke was pure pain. You shook your head. “It’s okay. He’s gone now. We can…”

Your voice trailed off, words you were still unsure about dying in your throat. We can what? It was stupid. You both had lives now–your paths would have crossed eventually if they were meant to, right? But then you realised with a start that they already had. You were sitting in his living room. You didn’t know how much you believed in fate, but maybe this was the universe’s way of giving you a nudge in the right direction.

He gently picked up your hand, picking up the towel again and carefully wiping off the dried blood on your knuckles. His expression was pained. You nudged his shin with your foot. “What?”

“Why would you do this to yourself?” He pursed his lips in a tight line. “How often do you go to these fight nights?”

You shrugged awkwardly. “A few times a month, usually.” He looked up in horror, and you scoffed. “The worst I’ve gotten from it is a few bruised ribs, Diego, and I make more in one night there than I do in a month’s work.” He went back to your knuckles, pointedly avoiding your eyes. “Besides,” you muttered, “you’re one to talk. You’re a fucking vigilante, running around in your superhero costume and chucking those knives of yours all round the city.”

He scowled. “But I–”

“–Have superpowers? Got trained at the Umbrella Academy? I know. These fights? They’re what those who aren’t special do to feel powerful. To feel good. It’s an adrenaline rush, it’s a test of limits. Some regret it later. Some don’t. And when you leave with nothing but a black eye, a few shallow cuts and a bruise here and there but with your pockets full of cash?” You sighed. “You feel invincible.”

He was silent for a couple of minutes, thoughtful. Then, “You are special.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve always thought you were special, Y/N,” he said, switching to your other hand, rubbing the knuckles almost tenderly. You reached up, blood-stained fingers coming to rest on his cheek. He let you cup his jaw, your thumb ghosting over his lips. His eyes flitted closed. You wanted to kiss him. It was a knife to the heart; a burning feeling in the pit of your stomach. A heat you hadn’t felt in ten years.

But you’d only just made peace, you reminded yourself, and an awkward peace at that. There was still so much to sort through. So much to talk about. Reluctantly, you let your hand drop. Diego caught it before it could hit the table, entwining your fingers with his and pressing your knuckles to his lips, one by one. You let out a shaky breath. “Diego…”

He met your eyes, and before you knew it you were rushing forward and crashing your lips on his.

He responded just as eagerly, wrapping his arm around your waist and pushing your hair away from your face with his free hand. Your fingers came to wind themselves in his hair, and he sighed against your mouth, the tension in his limbs melting away beneath your touch. It was only when you tasted your own tears that you realised you were crying.

You pulled away, bunching your fingers in the back of his shirt. “I’m sorry,” you whispered through sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

Diego pressed his forehead against yours, pulling you closer to him and pressing a quick peck to your cheek. “Don’t be. Don’t. We’re okay, see? We’re fine.”

You nodded, burying your face in his shoulder. He’d been working out, you noticed, thoughts still jumbled. Nice shoulder. You giggled to yourself.

“Come on,” Diego muttered, not able to keep the grin out of his own voice. “We have ten years of catching up to do.”

#diego hargreeves fic #diego hargreeves x reader #diego x reader #diego hargreeves fanfic #tua #the umbrella academy #tua fic #the umbrella academy fic #the umbrella academy fanfic #diego tua #diego the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves tua #diego hargreeves tua x reader #diego hargreeves the umbrella academy x reader

128 notes · View notes

perlocutionary · 6 years

Text

Ruin Me - Mitch Rapp

Description: Another mission hasn’t gone exactly to plan due to Mitch’s temper. He always finds his ways to diminish your anger though - or so he thinks. Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader - AMERICAN ASSASSIN

Word count: 3393

A/N: This contains smut. Because it’s Mitch. I can’t do anything else considering Mitch. Also, mentions of blood, death, you know, the whole lot when you think of an assassin.

Also, a big big big thank you to my Goddess @itsbilescallmebiles for proofreading this for me and giving me her honest opinion as always. You are amazing.

Ding. As soon as the elevator doors slide open, I’m off without a second glance to my partner. My manicured hands slide along my face, which contorts into pure disgust when I feel the warm wetness against my fingertips. My heels loudly rap against the tile of the hotel hallway, hearing my partner’s dress shoes click in the same manner, although more leisurely, behind me. I am beyond aggravated with him. His short temper was undoubtedly the one thing that would one day cause my inevitable doom – and I would end up in the cheapest casket Orion could find. An anonymous funeral, all I ever dreamt about. “Y/N,” he sighs, stopping right behind me as I angrily dig through my purse in search for the hotel room key. I feel his hot breath tickle against my exposed neck, shivers erupting on my flesh from the small gesture. Without acknowledging him, I push the card into the slot and impatiently tap my heel, waiting for the small indicator light to flash its green colour. The door squeaks in its hinges when it flies open before slamming against the wall on impact. I stomp further into the room, disappearing into the bathroom for a cloth as I hear the door softly click shut. It seems as if that set a bomb off, igniting all resentment and anger I felt toward the young male. “You – you are incredulous!” I spit, wiping the pristine white wash cloth against my cheek, appearing back into the bedroom. Mitch is undoing his tie, movements stilling when he hears my voice. “Don’t be so uptight. We’re fine.” He shrugs. I wish I could wipe that smirk straight off his face. “Fine? We’re fine?” I growl, remaining stoic in the door opening leading into the bathroom. “We were ordered to observe, Mitch. Not start a murder spree at the banquet of the biggest drug cartel of Mexico!” I take a daring step closer, continuing to run the damp washcloth over my skin. I growl in particular when I wipe along my forehead and see the bright red stain it left. I thread closer, Mitch now working the buttons off his dress shirt, eyes glued to me. Pushing the wash cloth in his general direction, I wave it around so he’d see the pink hue that had overtaken the original colour. “That’s fucking blood, Mitch. On my fucking face.” Mitch discards his dress shirt carelessly, the pristine white also stained with droplets of blood – probably his own. “Don’t worry, it’ll come off after a shower.” He speaks nonchalantly, hands already fumbling with his belt buckle. Mitch didn’t care about anything – as long as he and I stayed alive during every mission. “And, oh god, the dress.” I gasp as my fingertips brush along the bright red silk snuggly hugging my tender frame. Dark droplets of blood scattered across my chest, abdomen and hips. “Do you know how hard it will be to get the blood out of this dress? It’s one of a kind, Mitch. I could never afford this.” Mitch chuckles, leaving his belt unbuckled as he threads closer, taking the wash cloth from my hands. He runs it against my sternum, following the low cut of the expensive red dress until below my breasts. I sigh at his gentleness, my eyes slowly drifting closed. “The dress is red. You won’t even see the blood.” My eyes immediately snap open, a frown edging onto my equally as red lips as I take a step back. “What?! Look at me.” I point out each and every speck clearly visible among the silk material. Mitch does nothing to hide his eye roll, lips pursing before a smirk crawls its way to the surface. “You look beautiful.” Mitch never gave compliments – whether it be my appearance or my skills in the field. But after missions like the one we just failed miserably at, always. I would be bloodied, bruised, and occasionally, covered in the finest materials from around the world – when higher up deemed it necessary. “Do you have a kink for women drenched in blood or what, Rapp?” “No. I just lust seeing you flustered.” He slowly drags his tongue along his bottom lip, retracting as I visibly swallow. It was no secret that I was very attracted to Mitch’s physique, but he wasn’t great at keeping secrets either. His protective manner, stolen glances and touches gave him away. “Stop trying to distract me, you sly fox.” I huff, but the blush is nonetheless very prominent on my cheeks. Mitch’s grin is full of self-fulfilment, his dress shoes kicked off to the side as he turns away and drops his slacks to the floor in a hollow thud. God, his ass looked divine. I couldn’t help appreciate Mitch’s muscular legs when he was sporting his favourite worn out jeans, but the way his ass looked in slacks or in his boxers could get me going. Whenever he paraded naked through our hotel room when preparing for a mission, it felt like I was set aflame. “I’m not distracting you. I’m changing the topic of conversation because I feel like the subject we’re coming to is unnecessary and quite frankly, pointless.” Another wave of anger flashes through me at his words. If I worried, or pointed out the flaws in all Mitch’s game plans, we would end up like this. He would always say the conversation is pointless and force me to drop it. “I’m sick of putting my ass on the line for you when you take zero responsibility, Mitch. I’m your partner and I’m meant to keep you alive, but damn man are you making this hard on me.” Instead of lingering, hoping to get a sliver of attention, I turn on my heel and unzip my dress. It gracefully tumbles to the floor, pooling around my ankles as I step out of it. My fingers fumble with the bobby pins keeping my hair up, loose waves falling over my back like a curtain. As I thread slowly to the bathroom, he clears his throat. “I thought you loved a challenge, Y/N. And,” I begrudgingly turn my head, glancing at my infuriating partner as I cover my bare chest from him with my arms. “Your ass isn’t on the line. It’s on display.” His eyes are glued to the curvature of my ass, teeth digging painfully into his lip. Our gazes meet as he grins bashfully, my head shaking as I suppress my smile. “ Since when do you wear thongs?” “I didn’t sign up to babysit a full grown man though, baby.” My pointer fingers hook into the frail material, slowly inching it down my legs. “And, since the amazing dress you ruined showed any hemline.” The red lingerie falls to the floor, only my heels still strapped around my ankles as I disappear into the bathroom. As I turn on the shower full blast, I hear Mirch’s voice loud and clear. “I’m not complaining. At all.” An involuntary chuckle slips my lips as I kick off my heels, dipping my wrist underneath the water beam to gauge the temperature. I raise my voice the slightest bit, hoping he could still hear me. “Of course you aren’t.” As I deemed the water sufficiently scorching enough to remove any remnants of blood, I step underneath the ample spray. A sigh escapes me as my eyelids flutter shut, my hands running over my wet hair to slick it back. “Hey, I can appreciate a good ass when I see one. I’ll be out in a minute, I need to piss.” He groans as I hear the clank of the toilet seat being lifted, one eye opening to glance sideways. He is slightly turned toward me, his boxer-covered ass in my direction as I hear him start. “You know, I’m glad you feel so comfortable around me, but I’d appreciate five minutes of breathing space every now and then, Mitch.” Laughter bubbles from his throat as he leans over the toilet to flush, tucking his junk back in before turning toward me. “You didn’t require any breathing space last time while you were choking on my cock.”I can see the cocky smirk he is sporting through the fogged up shower glass, his eyebrow wiggling suggestively before he lets his gaze wander over my naked form. “For the love of good, Mitch!” I roll my eyes aggravatedly, shaking my head and sending water droplets flying. I run my hands along my skin, rubbing away dried blood, staining the water pink. “As if you don’t enjoy it.” He steps closer, slowly opening the glass shower door. Steam escapes my small confine and I shudder as the cold seeps in. Mitch discards his boxers, leaving him as bare as I, before stepping into the shower with me. I glance down, grinning foolishly as I look at the taller man through my lashes. “Not as much as you do, apparently.” He steps underneath the water, his hands ghosting over my waist. He doesn’t touch, but the promise that he will sends a shudder along my spine. His fingertips brush along my biceps, guiding my hand to his broad chest. My fingertips toy with the patch of hair covering his chest, trailing over every single scar on his soft skin. “Seeing Elizalde’s hands run over your body, lingering on your ass, I wanted to slice his throat.” Mitch confesses, his nose brushing along my collarbone as his hands rest on my hips, slowly pulling me closer toward him. A chuckle slips me, fingers brushing the stray hairs away from Mitch’s face. “Are we becoming possessive, Mitch?” A low, almost animalistic growl slips him as I tug on the strands of his hair, his head tilting back. His teeth graze along my jaw, his words a practiced vow to himself that he kept repeating time after time. “You’re my partner, Y/N. I’m supposed to protect you.” His fingertips ghost along the sides of my breasts, nails scratching the tender flesh as he passes. I push him back, against the tile wall, as I lower myself onto my knees in front of him. “Keep telling yourself that, baby.”I wink at Mitch through my eyelashes, my hand curling around his erected shaft, drawing a hiss from his parted lips. “If it gets you on your knees… I will.” With a few flicks of my wrist, I start to pump him agonisingly slow, licking my bottom lip in anticipation as a droplet of precum appears. I slowly drag my tongue across his slit, erupting a deep, rumbling moan from Mitch’s throat. I hum satisfactory, licking my bottom lip again for good measure before leaning back on my knees again. My wrist flicks again, although too slow to be pleasing. “I should just leave you like this, every time. Throbbing, pulsing, desperately twitching for my touch.” Another flick of my wrist as I squeeze his shaft, dragging a ragged-out moan from his lips. He opens his eyes, glaring down at me – trying to sound threatening. “You wouldn’t dare.” I lean in again, the very tip of my tongue licking its way up to the tip of his cock along his vein. His hips shake, hand disappearing into my wet hair as he gets caught in the tangles. With another bold stripe licked along his slit, I whisper my words. He aligns himself with my lips, which remain tightly shut. “Wouldn’t I? Don’t tempt me, Mitch.” A desperate groan slips him as his head roughly collides against the tile. He pushes my head closer again, tip dragging along my closed lips. “Suck.” When I make no intention of moving whatsoever, a whimper slips Mitch’s lips, almost inaudible. “Please.” Without hesitation, I take control over the situation as the tip slips past my lips, hand slowly aiding my movements by pumping up and down. Mitch’s head connects roughly with the wall behind him, lips parted slightly, his pants filling the small space. “I still regret not doing this sooner.” I pop him from my mouth, keeping the pace of my hand stroking going, picking up, as I glance up. “If you hadn’t been a walking asshole we would’ve.” Scratchy laughter slips him as he pushes my hair out of my face, curling it around his fist. “As if,” he tugs my head back, wiping his thumb across my bottom lip, “as if that didn’t draw you in.” A slight pull guides me back toward his cock and when he’s fully seated in my mouth, I hum in acknowledgement. My tongue brushes along his prominent vein while my teeth gently grazes his shaft, my fingertips digging into his hips to keep the broad man from jerking his hips. I flick the tip of my tongue over his slit before sliding my lips past him again, bobbing my head in an ungodly rhythm that has Mitch a panting mess above me. His hands roam over my face and shoulders before residing in my hair, tugging the strands in the hopes of making me go faster, deeper. I can tell be is near from the way his hips involuntarily stutter and his breathing grows shallow, ushering me to pick up speed and stimulate the remnants of his cock with my hand. As soon as my other, unoccupied hand starts to fondle his balls, Mitch tumbles over the edge, groaning bashfully as I swallow around him. I pop him from my mouth, grinning up at my partner as he aids me back onto my feet. A sloppy kiss follows, teeth clashing and tongues battling leisurely as he pushes me back under the beam. The scorching heat calms my achy nerves and I slip my eyes closed with a groan, throwing my head back to let water run down my face. I flinch away when something unexpected touches my side and my eyes snap open. My glare is directed at Mitch, running a washcloth over my side. “There was some blood left.” He smiles down at me, running his wash cloth-covered hand along my breasts and chest, his intimate behavior out of character. “Thanks, am I good now?” I turn around for him, showing my body off to his piercing gaze. A hum leaves his lips as he taps my ass playfully, my hand smacking him across the chest – with no intention to hurt him. “Me?” “You have some, uh –“ I point toward his face before reaching up and swiping my thumb across his brow. My hardened nipples barely brush against Mitch’s chest, his half-flaccid cock twitching back to life at the action. “Seriously?” I laugh, running the fingernail of my pointer finger along his shaft as it bounces happily at contact. He smirks down at me, running his fingers through my hair before yanking roughly, exposing my neck to him. “What can I say, I’m insatiable.” “That, my friend, isn’t even a lie.” I wink before disappearing out of the shower, throwing a towel around my frame before paddling over to the bedroom. I hear the shower being turned off and Mitch’s heavy footsteps right behind me. How that man ever pulled off a stealth kill was still a mystery to me until this day. “At what time are we meeting Irene and the rest tomorrow?” Mitch questions, drying his hair with a towel. I can’t help but stare at his bare ass, firm but so squeezable, as he passes me. “Nine AM. They’re sending a car for us.” As I take a glance at him, he has shifted onto the bed, lying carelessly sprawled out on top of the sheets, still completely bare. “Enough time to figure something out, then.” He shrugs his shoulder so nonchalantly I am instantly reminded why I was angered with him in the first place. I walk over to our shared duffel bag, redressing myself in a pair of underwear and a shirt before dropping beside Mitch on the bed. “Seriously though, Mitch. We’re taking this too far. What are we going to say in the meeting tomorrow?” I lol my head to the side, glancing over at him as I try to get comfortable. He turns on his side, fingernails scratching along my thigh. “That it was my wrongdoing.” I roll my eyes exasperatedly, sighing deeply as I bite my tongue. “You shouldn’t take the blame. We’re a team after all.” Even though Mitch was outrageous sometimes, I know he wouldn’t jeopardise the mission if it meant that I would be in grave danger. Everything he did was calculated by himself, even if I wasn’t in on the loop. Mitch lips connect with my neck, grazing his teeth against the slender flesh as his hand disappears between my legs, rubbing his slender fingers over my folds through my underwear. I hum as my skin feels like it’s set ablaze by Mitch’s touch. “Stop trying to distract me with sex.” Both of us laugh, the vibrations sending another chill down my spine. Mitch’s tone is playful as he nips at my neck. “Who said you were getting laid tonight?” My fingertips ghost over his jaw, tickling along his stubble as he continues to kiss his way along my neck and jaw. “This,” I start off, followed by rolling my hips into his hand, thumb roughly pressing against my clit and a growl slips my lips.“this,” and lastly, I wind my fingers around his erect cock, slowly tugging it “and this.”. I keep my grasp on his as I use it to lead his between my legs, already positioning him in front of my entrance. “Ah, no, Y/N, turn over baby.” He pushes against my hips, flinging me onto my back and I raise on my knees immediately, pressing my ass against his pelvis. “Always so eager.” “Just get to it before I –“ I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence as a whimper slips my lips, hands fisting the sheets as he roughly pushes in and bottoms out. A low growl slips him and he wastes no time as he starts thrusting wildly, the only sound resonating through the hotel room the slapping of our skin meeting. Mitch’s hand skims over my spine as I moan loudly, stopping at my hair. He wraps it around his fist, pulling, making me raise my head from its position, jammed into the pillow. “Every mission should end in celebratory sex.” Mitch grunts, picking up already ungodly speed. I try to laugh at his words but instead another whimper slips. “We should only have sex when you stick to the protocol.” His movements falter as my words echo through the room and I can just imagine his incredulous look thrown toward me. I glance over my shoulder to just see that. “Maybe then I would stick to protocol. Not a bad idea.” Mitch laughs as he winks, grasping my hips firmer, his indentations sure to leave marks the day after. He starts thrusting wildly again, even rougher than before and I moan so loud my voice scratches through the room, my face planted in the mattress. I’m close already, pushing my hips backward in time with his thrusts to gain more friction. Mitch seems to understand and he shifts his hips, pressing against my G spot over and over again as I tumble into the abyss of my orgasm. Mitch continues his relentless pace until he himself spurs over the edge, stilling against my hips as a loud, almost pornographic moans escapes him. He pulls out, dropping down beside me, panting, as I roll over onto my back. My freshly washed body is again covered in a sheen layer of sweat, and Mitch is no different. Our heavy breathing fills the room, both of us coming down from our blissful highs stress free. It takes us a few moments before Mitch speaks. “So, did I distract you properly?” Loud laughter slips me as I turn over onto my stomach, grinning at Mitch as I prop myself on my elbows, tucking the duvet over us first. “You ruined me more than our mission did,” I chuckle, “Perhaps if you didn’t just ask that. You’re unbelievable.” Mitch sighs as he gets comfortable, slipping underneath the sheets. “Hey, at least you make me feel alive again.” Mitch mumbles, slipping into unconsciousness as my body freezes at his half-asleep confession.

Taglist:

Forever:@ssweet-empowerment @fuckwhateverfuck @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname @behind-my-hazeleyes27 @itsbilescallmebiles @7e6205

982 notes · View notes

teenwolfmarvel-obsessor · 4 years

Photo

Intrusion

Masterlist

Mitch Rap x-reader

My dad held the punching as I hit it as hard as I could, I stepped back catching my breath. “Why’d you stop?” He asked.

“Because I needed to,” I took a sip of the water bottle I set aside. I sat down on the bench and held my shaking hands.

“I can’t do this,” I said. He knelt in front of me, “Why?”

“I can’t be a innocent person at home and then an assassin on the field,” I said, “I understand that you want me to be strong, but I’m not like your other recruits.” I stood up and paced around the room. He crossed his arms, “You’re right.”

I looked up at him, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “You deserve a break!”

“Wait, seriously?” I laughed with excitement. “No!” he yelled, “You need to learn to control your anger. Think about something that really..” He’s interrupted by a knock at the door.

I breathed in and out through my nose, I stood up from the bench and walked over to the targets. I grabbed the container that held my practice knives. I held them and threw them at the target. The first one hit the rim, the second one hit the fifth rim around the bulls-eye. I grabbed two more and threw them again. “And here’s the training room,” Dad said. A tall boy stood next to him. He had brown eyes and brown hair. The boy looked at me with a confused look (GIF above)

“Whose this?” the recruit asked.

“I’m his...”

“Other recruit,” my dad interrupted, “You’ll be working with her. We have a lead on something, we’ll be leaving tomorrow.” Dad slapped the boy on the shoulder and walked away. “So...” he trailed, “How long have you been a recruit for Hurley?”

“Oh um,” I quickly thought of a lie, “Two months”

“Why’d you hesitate?” he stepped closer. “I’m not good with math.” I smiled nervously. I stepped towards the door frame, “Listen,” I gulped, “I’m going to go take a shower, um, I’ll see you later.”

I ran up the stairs and quickly shut the bedroom door. I sat at the edge of my bed and attempted to calm my nerves. I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in my white robe. I put my hair in a ponytail then walked to my room. As I was about to shut my door I heard a noise coming from the far window. I slowly knelt down next to my dresser and reached for the knife taped to the bottom. As soon as I turned my back, I was thrown to the ground with a knife pointed at my throat. The boy from earlier hovered over me. “What the hell!” I yelled. I kicked him in the stomach and pointed the knife at him.

“Why are you here!” He yelled with his knife pointed at me. “I live here!” He dropped his knife and slipped it into his pocket. I slowly rested mine on the top of my bedside table.

“What do you mean you ‘Live here?’”

“I mean, ‘I live here’. It seems pretty clear to me.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “I’m Mitch, Mitch Rapp”

He extended his hand and slightly smiled. I introduced myself, “Y/N, Y/N Hurley.”

#American Assassin #Mitch Rap x-reader #dylan o'brien #x-reader #imagines

50 notes · View notes

teenwolfmarvel-obsessor · 4 years

Photo

Unwanted Fears

Masterlist

Mitch Rapp x-reader

“Hey,” I sighed. I was on a call with my sister who lives all the way in Florida. “Everything okay?” she asked. “Yeah, um...” I trailed. I sat on the couch, “I haven’t heard from Mitch in awhile.”

“I’m sure he’s okay,” she said, “What does he do again?” My best friend and I keep his job as a secret. Mitch is an assassin. “F.B.I agent.” I replied. “How long?”

“2 years actually,” I laughed and took a pause, “Allison, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Why do you mean?” she asked. “I can’t keep telling myself that he’s going to show up. Everyday I wait in excitement to see his handsome face....”

“Y/n,” she interrupted. “What?” I questioned. “I think you love him.” she said. “No I don’t,” I denied, “I can’t love my best friend.” I sat at the kitchen counter grabbing a mug to pour some coffee, “I just don’t want to see him hurt on the field.”

“I understand that Y/n,” she sighed, “You have to prepare your self that he might come home hurt. I know that’s hard to think about, but you need to be prepared.”

“I know,” I sniffled. “Listen, I got to go. Little Ryan’s crying again. I love you and I’ll talk to you soon!” She hung up. I got a glass of water for Mitch and kept it on the counter. I swallowed the lump in my throat and carefully sipped my coffee. I looked at the clock which read: 11:00 pm. I groaned and plopped on the couch. I held my sweaty palms as I looked at the clock then my hands over and over again. The clock struck 11:30 pm, that’s when the anxiety really kicked in. I ran my hands through my hair. I leaned against the couch and rubbed my hands. I then heard a knock at the door, I ran over to the door. Mitch leaned against the door frame, his hand held his side. Two bruises had occurred on his face, a cut laid on the edge of his eyebrow. “Oh my god,” I covered my mouth and helped him into my apartment. Mitch put his weight on me which caused me to struggle. I leaned him against the counter.

I grabbed a cloth and ran it underneath cool water. We didn’t speak since we stumbled into my apartment. He sat on the edge of the counter still covering his side. I lightly dabbed the cut on his eyebrow, he hissed.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I wiped a stray tear that ran down my face. I put a small band-aid on top of the cut and handed him an ice pack for him to rest on bruise. I looked down at his hand that covered his wound. “I can’t treat your wound if your shirt is on.” I said. Our cheeks turned a light pink color. I helped him slip his shirt off, he immediately went to put his hand on the cut. I held it before it got there, “I can’t help you if its covered.” He looked at me then the cloth (GIF Above). He nodded slightly, I lightly dabbed the cut. His hand went straight to my forearm.

“Mitch,” I whispered. He let go swiftly, “Sorry.” he mumbled. I bandaged up the wound. I went to walk away, but Mitch grabbed my wrist. His hands held my face, he noticed the dark circles underneath my eyes. “Have you been sleeping?” He asked. I never replied. “Y/n,” he said, “Have you been sleeping?”

“I’m scared,” I croaked. He wiped my tear away. “I...I think I love you.” I said. He looked at me, he brought my face to himself and kissed me. We pulled away, “I think I love you to.” he said. He pulled me to himself again, I wrapped my hands around his neck as he put his around my waist.

#American Assassin #dylan o'brien #imagines #x reader #Mitch Rap x-reader

39 notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

rapp-ed around your heart (05)

word count; 10,584

summary; mitch finally gives you the last parts of him, deciding that he definitely has nothing left to lose, or hide, when it comes to being honest and true with you.

notes; in this part, we deal with a tiny little issue that comes up, as well as some cute moments with them getting closer and dealing with some stuff.

warnings; hints as smut, and there’s the tiniest bit of angst.

The Midwest

Surprisingly, it was in a little ice cream shop at Mount Rushmore that Mitch truly opened up to you. The two of you spent the day wandering around the trails and looking at the carvings in the mountains, taking a lot of photos and simply soaking up the warmth of the sun, before settling to try the ‘historic’ ice cream.

You were sharing a picnic bench, the fingers of one hand being played with by his own as it sat on the table, and you lapped at melting droplets of mint ice cream as he nursed his own cone of rocky-road. The cold and sweet treat was not something new to the two of you, you’d shared ice cream before too, but then he’d opened up about it. Something switched within him, and he spilt to you about how his mother used to give him a bowlful of the frosty treat as a reward every time he completed all of his homework when he was finished, and so it had become like a reward. Before this trip, he hadn't eaten ice cream in years, trying to stick to his healthy diet and workout routine, feeling guilty when he broke away from it, and feeling like he didn’t deserve such luxuries.

That same confession had led to more, a heartfelt confession following you for the rest of the day as he told you everything he could think of, finally letting you not only past his walls but right into his heart and soul. The ‘Carver’s Marketplace’ had been where you stopped for dinner, the situation lightening up as you moved on to easier topics, chatting and joking around. A nap in the leftover heat of the day had been more than enough to see you through the drive to Minnesota, the dark hours carrying you through until you were arriving with the nighttime stars, hanging overhead in the low lights and twinkling enthusiastically overhead.

It had been a joint call to splurge on another hotel, giggling kisses and hidden yawns as you waited in the elevator to get upstairs. He’d been ready before you had, and was half-asleep on the bed, spread out like a starfish under the covers as he waited for you on the queen-sized frame, and you’d crawled underneath to join him. In his haze, he had wrapped you up tightly in his arms, pulling you into his chest and tucking his chin atop your head, before letting out a soft sigh.

That was exactly how you’d found yourself now, warm light filtering into the room to wake you up. Arms were still tightly wrapped around you, a bare chest under your cheek as you nuzzled further into him, a deep and raspy laugh rumbling from his chest as he realised you were awake too, and he squeezed you a little tighter. It was surreal, golden light flecks dancing throughout the room and off of the covers illuminating you both in a cloud of delicate light that left gentle shadows across the sheets when you lifted your hand to block the rays from your eyes when you cracked them open.

“Good morning.” You huffed, the words contradicting the tone of your voice as you grumbled at the sun in your eyes, twisting your head to face the opposite way, using that hand to rub at your eyes. It was no use, you weren’t going to be able to go back to sleep now, and as you became a little more aware of your surroundings, the urge to move became overwhelming. That comfortable warmth was now stifling, and as much as you loved being wrapped up this mans arm’s you needed your freedom, and so you rolled to the side, stretching your arms up and over your head, letting out a happy sound when your muscles eased of their tension and your joints cracked as they loosened up. “Where are we again?”

“Uh, a hotel. I think.”

You scoffed rolling onto your side to face the man, lips pulling up a little in a smile as he lay there, on his side facing you but with his eyes closed, snoozing lightly as light puffs of air left his lips. “I meant where in the country.” You sat up some more, shaking your head clear as you folded your legs to sit crossed on the mattress, and he shuffled, lifting his pillow to rest in your lap as he moved, body curling so that he could adjust, and you chuckled, dropping a hand down to run through his hair.

“Near a lake. Big one.”

“It’s Minnesota, right? God, I’m losing track of where we even are at this point.” You let out yet another yawn, before slowing your movements through the man’s hair, and he let out a whine of protest when you did, legs shuffling a little under the covers. “We should go out on the lake. It’s a nice day.”

“Or we could stay in bed all day.” He offered, reaching one hand up to pull your own back down to his hair, and you took the hint, deciding to give in and play with the strands a little longer.

“We’re on a road trip, we can stay in bed all day any other time, we have to make the most of it.”

He did look up now, a cheeky grin on his face as he moved to sit up, enough to that he was kneeling before you on the mattress, and he was taking both of your cheeks into his hands as he squinted into the morning light. One side of his face was little red, a crumple left in his skin from a fold in the pillowcase, imprinted under his eye, and messy hair from the way that it had fallen, but he still looked absolutely perfect to you. “So, what you’re saying is that there will be more mornings like this in the future?”

You shrugged, feeling him nod his head encouragingly as he leaned in, stealing a quick kiss from your lips, before pulling away, letting out a contented little sigh as he seemed to wake up a bit more. “

“Fine, lake it is, I’m cool with that.” His nose dragged over yours, before he was standing up from the bed, wobbling a little on unprepared and tired legs, before shaking himself down and stretching out. “Let me shower first. I’ll be ready in thirty minutes, tops.”

You simply waved him off with a smile and a roll of your eyes, not missing the cheeky wink that he awarded you as he closed the bathroom door.

You lay there for a few more minutes, enjoying the leftover warmth of your bodies from under the covers a little longer, before you forced yourself to up and roll from the bed. You straightened out the sheets, because despite knowing that you wouldn't be getting back into them tonight, you still thought it polite to straighten them up for the housekeeping team that would be in to strip and redress the bed for whoever was next. You did some scrolling on your phone and made some bookings for a boat tour in the later afternoon, and picked out your outfit. Simple was your theme today, laziness taking over as more eagerness to simply get out and on with the day took over, and you found yourself staring up at the clock as it ticked over into thirty minutes, a groan falling from your lips.

It was a second later when it opened up, and you perked up from where you were crumpling the freshly straightened sheets, head peeking up from where it had been dangling over the mattress as he emerged from the steam, brows furrowing but a smirk finding his lips as he looked at you hanging upside down.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, just hanging out.” You mumbled, letting out a dramatic sound as you heaved yourself up into a sitting position, and soon made your way into the bathroom to be able to wash your face and clean your teeth.

He joined you at the sink, nudging you to the side as he found his own toothbrush, a cheeky look in his eyes as they found yours in the reflection of the mirror, a spot you’d cleared from the fog on the glass, and you rolled your eyes despite your smile, letting your eyes scan over him instead. Black skinny jeans that did more for his thighs than you’d care to admit to him and heighten his ego further, and a forest green t-shirt on his arms, stretched a little across his shoulders, and you tore your gaze from him to spit into the sink, ignoring the muffled chuckle that rang out as he clearly caught you staring.

Washing off the brush, you tapped the loose water from it, before tucking it back into your cosmetics bag, and the fingers of one hand found your cheek. Guiding your mouth up to his, he tugged the brush from between his lips just before his mouth met your own, a soft and chaste kiss, but you smiled nonetheless, licking the taste of mint from your lips as his thumb moved underneath them to clear away excess foam, before he was letting you go.

The previous late-night had led to sleeping in, skipping breakfast entirely and deciding to wander and sightsee until you found somewhere that you liked the look of to stop for your lunch. You walked hand in hand along the Duluth lakefront water walk, watching as boats raced around the water, knowing that it wasn’t long until that would be you.

It was sweet, chatting about everything that came to mind, and yet when he passed a simple comment about how far around the country the two of you had come, you couldn't help but get stuck back on it. You were so close to making a full-circle loop, but with every destination that you passed, it was another place closer to bringing you home. Mitch on the road - now that you’d managed to muscle past his tall defences - was a completely different person to the one who’d climbed into your car on that first day. The working version of the man you’d come to know was completely different, he was stressed and angry and had a lot going on that made him fearful and locked away, and you weren’t sure if that version of him would still want you around.

You also couldn't shake the feeling that as you closed in on the beginning of your trip once again, that he was finished, having been on the road for almost a month and a half now, and you would understand if he wanted to go home, and miss the last stops you had planned for yourself, but deep down, you were selfish enough to admit that you didn’t want him to.

Your spiral of doubts was cut short when he’d presented you with a little restaurant with outside tables, not too far of a walk away from where you needed to be for your lake tour, and it was perfect for grabbing some lunch, so you forced back your thoughts to haunt you at another time, in favour for making space to acknowledge your hunger.

After filling yourselves at the little street joint, you barely made it back in time for your boat, wobbling in your steps as you tried to board it, but you had made it eventually, and you were curled up in your seat as the two of you were taken around the edges of the lake, seeing everything from the East Channel lighthouse to the Grand Island caves, rock structures and picturesque settings atop clear blue water being perfect to take photos and make memories you’d never forget, your reflection offered back to you with perfect clearness among the ripples when you snook a look over the edge and into the water. The Spray waterfalls were serene and pretty, as were each of the little beaches and shores that you passed by, even stopping at one for long enough to slip off your shoes and dig your toes into soft sand and feel the water lapping at your feet, before you’d been back on your way.

It was a kind of sightseeing that allowed you to get a beautiful experience without having to drive or walk yourselves, a welcome change, and you took it all in by cuddling up close to Mitch, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder and the other with your hands linked and sitting in his lap, the occasional small kiss or drag of his nose over your temple to reassure you that he was still there, and loving it all just as much as you were.

Once the cool of the evening rocked around, you spent the night driving up to Minneapolis, the real location in which you were passing through Minnesota for. That night, you were curled up in the back of the car again, the place that had so rapidly become your home, and you were beginning to feel that you’d miss the cramped but cosy little space once you got home, your bedroom would feel like that of a palace as you gained all of the space back, and you just hoped not too many spiders had moved in with your absence.

“‘m fuckin’ sleeping.” He muttered, and you giggled into his skin, pausing from where you’d been trailing kisses up and along his jaw, waking him up once the light of the morning had begun to seep into the car and disturb you from your slumber. You hummed in agreement, muttering out a cheery ‘okay’, before pulling back, and he groaned once again, tipping his face towards you and scowling without even opening his eyes. “I didn’t say stop.”

“I already have now, it’s too late.” He huffed out at that, his entire face becoming even more dismal, and you ignored his whines, busying yourself with sitting up properly, and searching around for your phone, tracing the charging wire to find the device down the back of a chair, and he gave in, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes to clear away any traces of sleep, before he was sitting up a little more himself head and shoulders propped up by freshly fluffed pillows.

“Fine. I’m awake. What do you want?”

Well, well, someone is moody this morning.” You mumbled, looking down at your phone, and he reached a hand out, squeezing the bare skin of your thigh, fingertips digging into your muscle, before his head was leaning on your shoulder, a loud yawning sounding out.

“Can’t blame me. You tease me with kisses and then refuse to give me anymore.”

“You didn’t ask for more, did you?”

He twisted his head, pressing his lips to your cheek before stretching out, the sound of joints popping filling the small space as he awakened a little more. “That’s all it takes, then?”

“Ask, and ye shall receive.” You were a little distracted now, scrolling through your notifications, and two fingers redirected your face towards him, his lips already a little puckered as his own eyes were staring at yours as you nibbled on your lower lip. Leaning in, you dropped down your phone, hands finding his cheeks and you held onto him carefully, and you felt the soft sigh he let out in return as your lips worked together slowly. “See? Just like that.”

“You’re cute.” His lips brushed yours as he spoke the words, before he was pulling away, eyes travelling shamelessly along your body, and he grinned lopsidedly at the sight of you in one of the shirts you’d stolen from him, bringing up a finger to tug at the neckline. “Wearing my clothes already, huh? Awfully domestic of you.”

“I'm surprised you even know the word domestic.” You scoffed, and he flicked at your nose as retaliation, chuckling at the sound you let out in protest, but he then picked up the phone, holding it back out for you, and raising a brow.

“So, do we have a plan, or are we winging it today?”

“Not so much a plan, just a few ideas.” He prompted you on with a single look, and you pulled up your notes, going over some of the things you’d brainstormed to do, choosing the ones that you were most in the mood for. “We could go to Minnehaha park, and the falls, an-”

“Say that again?”

“Minnehaha?” You questioned, watching as he snickered at the word, and you rolled your eyes as realisation found you. “Oh, you are such a child.” Despite chastising him, you couldn't help but laugh a little yourself, the two of you giggling at the word, finding more entertainment than it actually provided.

“Sounds fun, you wanna’ find us somewhere to go wash up and get some breakfast?” He tapped at the screen, and you hummed, switching to google maps and finding your next stop as he climbed up and into the driver's seat, the car rumbling to life underneath you.

Upon finding one, you hooked up the device to the car, directions reading out clearly over the speakers, and seated yourself in the passenger seat. After a quick clean up and more than enough jam and toast for one lifetime, you were on your way, the final chunk of the journey before reaching the capital city, and your day was truly beginning. Warmth washed over you both, the park welcoming you as the day hit noon, and you couldn't decide which direction you wanted to walk in first.

It was large, you wanted to see the falls, as well as the bridges and the little wooden gazebos, and so you were left with hours to simply walk the pathways and take your time in admiring everything. You had settled on starting out with one of the less crowded routes, not wanting to fight through the crowds to get to attractions and so you were more than happy to take the scenic routes.

“Have you ever danced under one of those?”

“A gazebo?” He snorted, letting you hook your arm through his as the two of you wandered away across the gardens, following the paths under the shading of trees, the sunlight filtering through between the leaves and catching the golden specs in his eyes as you looked up at him. You only nodded though, and he let his gaze flick over to one of the structures, taking it in carefully, and his smile faded away, becoming more nostalgic than cheerful, and he swallowed thickly. “No, but I know Kat wanted to at her wedding. I was her date to a family party once, it was in a park, and the band was playing on one. She told me she wanted to dance on one at her wedding.”

“I’m sorry, Mitch..”

Your words came out like a whisper, a disapproving sound in the back of his throat sounding, and he pulled his arm from yours, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders, curling you into his body, warm hand running up and down your arm. “What could you possibly have to be sorry for?”

“I don’t know. For making you talk about it? It just seemed like one of those times a person would apologise.”

“It doesn’t hurt to talk about anymore, and it’s okay.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, before clearing his throat a little, and you watched as heat crawled up his cheeks, tinting them a shade of pink that made him look positively adorable, your heart flipping in your chest as the two of you continued to meander along the trails. “She’ll always be special to me, y’know? It’s nice to be able to talk about her now, she was important to me. It’s nice to have a girlfriend who doesn’t mind me talking about my past, and someone I don’t have to hide things from. It’s really nice, actually.”

It was the first time either of you had put a label on anything, and well he had said it so casually you’d think it was the thousandth time he'd spoken the word. The blush on his cheeks and the way he was suddenly fascinated by the pebble he was kicking along and scuffing the toes of his sneakers with was a different story, though, and it made you want to snicker at the different sides of him. He would have the world believe he was locked off and cold, but in reality, he was nothing but a softie at heart, made up entirely of mush and warmth and insecurities, and you loved knowing the real side of him.

You pulled him to a stop, catching his lips with your own before he’d even had a chance to ask what was wrong, and he let out a high-pitched sound of content surprise into your mouth, before he was pushing back into you with just as much enthusiasm, his hands coming to settle on your waist. Tugging you infinitely closer, there was no space left between your bodies, your arms looping around his neck to hold him close as palms smoothed over your bag, fingers dancing along your spine.

It was deep and passionate, nothing sexual and nothing more needed, just enough to conform between you both that he’d said the words and you’d accepted them, and agreement on where the two of you stood without stuttering words and heated cheeks needing to flame up, but simply a confession without words. Soft lips teased over your own, dragging in delicate motions before he was diving in, taking it as far as to tease you with drags of teeth over soft skin, before he was returning to barely brushing his mouth over your own at all.

Your heart was racing and your head was spinning, and you were broken apart only when your body was shoved a little by a dog that was racing past at high speeds, bumping your leg with enough force to send you stumbling a little, and two young children raced past after it, a huffing and puffing father following too.

You weren’t sure what to expect really, that was exactly what happened when you stopped in the middle of a park pathway to kiss your boyfriend, but you wouldn't change it for the world. His nose was bumping against yours, a soft chuckle leaving him, before you were taking your place by his side once again, slipping your hand into his and weaving your fingers together.

You were more than happy to just trail around the park with him, letting him guide you, and it seemed he didn’t know where the two of you were going either, but you were soaking up the days with him, making the most of your trip. You were more than halfway through, almost at the end of it all, and yet you still didn’t know whether to or not you were ready for it to end. You’d planned this trip around finding yourself, around discovering who you really were. It wasn’t that you had no idea who that was, but busy lives and societal stress had a way of trying to mould you and force you into being someone else, and along the way, you’d not only remembered who you were, but you’d also managed to wrangle Mitch back into being himself, you’d helped crack him out of the cement that was sealing him down, and you just hoped that at the end, he didn’t retreat back into the stone.

After your walk through the park, you got dinner, sharing a bowl of pasta and a pizza over the table, before heading back to the car. You took the long route, though, wandering for a while through the streets, and watching as the sun set over the skyline of Minnesota, pastel colours painting the skies. Blues and oranges that made the clouds look purple and grey, a surreal kind of painting that silhouette everything before it as not to be outshone. Beauty created by nature that you oh-so-loved to see, never getting tired of watching the sun dip below the horizon, signalling the end of another day, only to promise to return to you hours later, and bring a whole new realm of possibilities when it rises again.

He chose to drive, as long as you sorted through the music, his boldness shining through more and more over the last few weeks, and he was judging your taste in music as the last few songs made him cringe, so if he was driving, you had to properly DJ for the pair of you, and keep his mood up with better songs.

Night crawled in over the sky as pastels faded into something deeper and darker, and you were left to simply admire the way the night moved on instead. A few snacks and a lot of singing later, your throat was a little sore and your voice slightly raspy, as was his own, sleep threatening to come and claim the both of you, the highway fading away into the distance as you pulled off onto the side roads.

“You know, we’ve done all the long drives now. We only have all the little ones, they’re all five hours or less.” You offered, pulling out the large paper map and spreading it out across your lap as Mitch drove, the fabric rustling as his hands shifted out from your thigh to allow you to smooth it down.

“I would still consider five hours a long drive.”

“Yeah, well, you only have to do half of them, don’t you? We’ll swap halfway.” You dragged your finger over all the spots you’d passed, overdue on crossing off each of your places, before shuffling around through every place you could think of to find your marker. You checked the glovebox, the dashboard, and the cupholder, before finally finding it buried in the side-compartments of the door.

“Hey, I’ll happily do the drives, I just think we have different definitions of what is a long drive.” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes, uncapping the marker with your teeth and crossing off all of the locations up to where you were, ‘Wisconsin’ being the next place up on your tour of the country. Folding your map away, you tucked it back into place, waiting patiently for Mitch to give you his attention again, and when he didn’t, you reached across the console to take his hand in your own, pulling it back to smooth over your thigh, and he chuckled, letting you unfurl his fingers until he could squeeze at your thigh reassuringly.

“Okay, we have quite a few options for things to do in Wisconsin, you ready to hear ‘em?”

“Shoot!” He cheered, and you jumped a little at the exaggerated enthusiasm he gave to you, before you were giggling along at the way he smirked pridefully at having scared you. “Sorry, baby, go ahead.”

“Okay, well, we have a lot. We have general touristy attractions, as well as some better things, and some options on places to eat, too.”

“Start with activities.”

You nodded your head at his command, scrolling down through the notes on your phone, thumb flicking quickly, before finding where you needed to be. He was following the occasional commends from the device you held as it guided you both in towards a truck stop that you could pull over onto for the night, taking a break from the long day you’d had and all the driving you’d done, the bed beginning to call for you both, but you wanted somewhere safe to stop, first. “Okay, so we could go to a waterpark? I don’t know if that’s your thing, but it’s an option.”

“Pass. I like waterparks, but the ones where it’s hot. Wisconsin feels a bit cold for that.”

“Fair point. A ‘no’ on the waterpark, then.” You crossed it off of the list, before finding the next one, and grinning at the suggestions came up. “We also have an amusement park, Olbrich botanical gardens, the cave of mounds, Milwaukee river wal-”

“Wait, wait, wait. Go back by one?”

“The cave of mounds?” A bashful smile broke out on his face, and as he made yet another turn down some of the dimly lit roads, his head twisted towards you to give you a disbelieving look. “What?”

“You don’t find the humour in that?” You thought about it for a second, before letting out a groan with your breath.

“You’re such a child!” You slapped at his arm, ignoring the sound that he let out in protest, and fighting back with the hand he freed from the steering wheel to fight back, the car jerking roughly with every slide the two of you made, swerving on the empty roads, before you called it a draw, weaving into the parking lot, spotted with other vehicles around the place.

“C’mon, don’t tell me you don’t find it entertaining! The cave of mounds.” His hand on your thigh again slipped a little lower, pushing between your legs and you gasped, before smacking him away and he smirked to himself, before using both hands to find somewhere to park, away from everyone else. “I know a mound with a cave that I’d very definitely like to explore.”

As the car died, he turned towards you, and you felt the heat wash over your features quickly, gaping at him a little. “You are awful. That was awful.”

He leaned over the centre, brushing a stubbled cheek against your own, before pulling your lower lip away a little in a loose bite, letting it go when you whimpered for him. “C’mon, you telling me you don’t want me to explore your cave?” You wanted to gag at the way he phrased it, but the pun entertained you both, and you whined as he climbed between the seats and into the back, kicking off the shoes and throwing them forwards, one of them bouncing from the wheel and dropping into the driver’s seat. “Gonna’ come back here and join me?”

“I haven’t even read you the place to eat yet!” You scoffed, but toed off your shoes anyway, unclipping yourself from your seat, and he grinned as you crawled between the seats. He took the phone from your hands, clicking it off and leaving it on the cushion you’d just abandoned, before his body was pressing your own back onto the mattress, hands supporting his weight on either side of you as his lips brushed teasing over your own.

“I already know what I want to eat.”

His tongue flicked out over your upper lip as you gasped, a hand lacing into his hair as you grinned, giving into his wicked ways, before letting his mouth clash with your own.

Following Wisconsin was Chicago, and you arrived in the early evening, pulling up into a truck-stop not too far outside of the city. It was one of the nicer ones that you’d been too, that was for sure, it was well lit without the lights being dingy and flickering yellow, and it wasn’t as dirty and grubby as the others. The usual diner that you expected was more of a restaurant and bar, it seemed far too elegant to be classed as a ‘diner’, even if it did still have that kind of oldies vibe, with plush leather seats and songs that were older than Stan playing over the speakers.

You were then happy to use the bathrooms within which to change, you were certain that the patrons and staff here had seen more unusual and concerning things than you wandering around in a set of Bambi themed pyjamas, drinking hot cups of tea in the corner with a man in sweatpants and a hoodie. After all, no matter how classy it was, it was still a truck-stop.

Your first real day in the Windy City was quickly decided to be spent sightseeing, a decision the two of you had settled on over hot coffees and toast, before preparing yourselves for the day.

Today, you would be all-out tourists, even if just for twenty-four hours.

You were all but buzzing in the car as you walked along towards Millennium Park, your hand woven with the one belonging to the man beside you, your side pressed up to Mitch’s, cuddled in close to him, as a scarf sat wrapped around your shoulders to keep you warm and help fight the slight chill being carried on the breeze.

“I want to see the big, shiny bean.”

“The what?” You could hear the incredulity on his voice, humour laced with it, and you grinned, hiding the expressing in the edge of the wool sitting up near your face.

“You know, that big thing that’s shiny and shaped like a bean.”

“Do you mean the ‘Cloud Gate’ sculpture?” You let out a hum, and he scoffed under his breath, squeezing your hand in his a little tighter. “That is one of the most famous pieces of artwork in the world, I can’t believe you just called it ‘that big, shiny, bean thing’.” You turned to face him a little more, narrowed brown eyes with a honey-coloured tint already peering at you, his lips twisted down in a frown, but the little ticks along his muscles told you he was still deeply amused by it all. “You’re the worst. I can’t believe you don’t even know the names of these things.”

“Oh, hush. Stop being such a sourpuss.”

He grinned at you then, a smile like the Cheshire cat at what he was clearly taking to be a compliment, in his own twisted and unusual ways, but he didn’t have a chance to respond, as the two of you made it into the square, and you were letting out an excited squeal as the sight you were waiting for came into view. It was glimmering, clean and sparkling with the lights of the sun and the office buildings standing tall around it, reflecting from its perfectly untarnished surface, and your pace picked up a little.

There were many other people crowded around, groups of tourists and other couples, as well as people who were slightly less fazed by the beautiful sighs, clearly locals who were accustomed to seeing it every day. Business workers rushed around in smart suits and blazers, briefcases in hand and glasses sitting on the tips of your nose as they barked orders into their phones, uncaring of who’s shoulders they bumped as they passed by, and even if being in the lesser-known world that your boyfriend and uncle worked in, you’d never trade or for a boring nine to five any day, you secretly liked a little thrill. Basic was never something you could roll with.

Placing your hand flat to the cool metal, Mitch did the same, both of you watching in awe as the slight fog that had built up in place fade away quickly, as though you’d never touched it at all.

“It’s so clean.”

“I was just thinking that.” He mumbled, licking the tip of his finger and smearing it over the surface, before watching as that seemed to dry and disappear too, leaving no trace of his disgusting act. You were staring at him, jaw dropped a little, and he turned to face you, raising his brows as you did, and you didn’t give up on the stare. “What?”

“You did not just lick the shiny bean thing.”

“I didn’t!” his face screwed up a little at the thought, nose wrinkling as he scowled at the idea, and your brows only shot up further. “I didn’t! I licked my finger, and then wiped it on the metal. I wanted to see how it stayed so clean, it’s weird!”

“It’s gross!”

“I didn’t put the finger back in my mouth afterwards!” He was smiling now, a few people glancing over at your raised voices as you argued playfully, and he made an attempt to tug you in closer, but you resisted, fighting off his attempts at affections as you held your end of the argument. “So, my spit is gross now?”

“Yes!”

“You don’t seem to have that opinion when you’re swapping spit with me late at night.” He teased, nipping a little at your ear as he managed to wrangle you until your back was pressed to his chest, and you gave in, letting him wrap his arms around you full, and press an overly wet kiss to your cheek, that made you groan out at him. “Say it! Admit that you like it!”

“It’s different!” You laughed, letting him walk you away from the crowds some more, and he shook his head, spinning you around to face him once again, a question silent on his tongue but dancing in his eyes as he watched you. “You know it's different.”

He grinned, lips brushing yours in a teasing kiss, before he shrugged giving in. “Fine, it’s different. Whatever.”

He let out a heavy sigh, and you cheered under your breath as he caved, quietly acknowledging your victory. “So, what do you want to do, Mr Rapp?”

“I like when you say that.” He grinned, bumping the tip of his nose over your own, before taking your hand, guiding you along and away from the busy spots, leading you in slow steps as he considered it all. “Let’s do that tall tower thing, you know? The one with the glass deck you can stand on. We could take some pretty awesome pictures.”

“That ‘tower thing’? With the glass?” You rolled your eyes, and he shot you a dirty look, already seeming to guess where this was going, lips pursed as he watched your face grow in extreme mischief, biting on the inside of his cheek to contain his sounds of distaste. “Do you mean the Willis Tower sky deck?”

“Yes.” The words were spoken through gritted teeth, his body going a little rigid in his steps and he fixed his gaze ahead, ignoring everything you said at this point, but that didn’t stop you from carrying on.

Your voice dropped down to mimic his own as you spoke a variation on his own words back to him; “I can’t believe you don’t even know that names of these things.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Yes, you do!” You sang the words, giggling when he growled under his breath in warning, but only a second later, he was pulling you in close, cutting off your taunting and teasing as his mouth sealed over yours, a squeak leaving you when his tongue swept over your lower lip.

You weighed the argument in your mind, knowing that you were in public, and that hew as trying to distract you from mocking him some more, but you couldn't think straight with the way his fingers inched under the edge of your jacket, warm palms barely blocked from your skin by a thin layer of material, before he was pulling you in closer. Your front was pressed up to his, heart beating wildly in your chest, and he let out a disappointed sound on the back of his throat as you resisted him.

Instead, he swapped tactics, sucking the plump piece between his own, grazing over it with his teeth, and letting out a breathy sigh as you gasped at the sensation, before giving in, your mouth parting further until his tongue tangled with your own, your arms looping around his neck to hold yourself closer to him. You could feel his smile now, pressed to your mouth as you gave into his touch, caving into him, and he was more than happy to take from you anything that you’d give him.

When the burn for oxygen became too much, you broke away, the heat of embarrassment on your cheeks being enough to chase out the cold, and he was painting a little too, the red on his pale flesh showing that he felt the same as you, but it didn’t stop him from stealing a few more pecks form you each time you tried to speak or catch your breath.

“What was that about?”

“Had to shut you up somehow.” He grinned, wrapping his arm over your shoulder to hold you to his body, without ever letting go of your hand. “Swapping my gross spit with you seemed like a good way to go about it.”

“Are you going to let that go?”

“No. Probably not.” He teased, pulling his phone from his other pocket and beginning to search for directions to the Sky-deck, before a sudden chuckle left him. “We both know I’m really good at holding grudges.”

Your breath hitched in your throat for a second as you weighed out the dark joke, replaying his words in your mind to be sure you’d heard them correctly, and they still felt surreal, before you were letting out a laugh yourself at his statement. “I cannot believe you just made that joke.”

“It’s my trauma and I’ll joke about it if I want to.”

You chuckled with a shake of your head, following the directions being read out from the device in his hand as the voice guided you toward your next attraction a shake of your head carrying you through. It was a short and brisk walk, followed by further bickering, lighthearted and instantly forgotten as you wandered along, and much to your joy, there was only a short queue to get to the little glass platform, but once you reached it, you couldn't deny just how exceptional the view was.

It was so high up that the view granting you the ability to look all the way out to the horizon, the greys and dull browns of the city fading away into shades of green towards the edges, countryside and trees taking over from cityscapes and concrete, and it was breathtaking. Pressing both of your hands up to the glass, you took it all in, observing the beautiful sights, and memorising it all, before looking down, fear striking through you as you took in the clear glass below you that slipped away into nothing, one hundred and three stories up into the air, and supported by nothing but a sheet of clear glass, the people buzzing around below your sets of feet was terrifying, and yet adrenaline searched through you just at the idea.

“It’s scary, right?”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything, big shot assassin and all?” He grinned, shaking his head, hair flopping into his eyes and before he could push it away himself, you raised your hands up, cold fingertips smoothing over his cheeks before pushing the silky hair away from his face, his eyes fixed on your own the entire time. His head twisted to the side, lips brushing over your palm in a sweet gesture, before he was wiggling his phone at you once again.

“Want to take a picture? I need a new lock screen.”

“Sure!” He unlocked the phone, letting you guide him into a position you liked as you took in the landscape, before you were cuddling into his side, offering a sweet smile to the camera as he matched it, and he pressed his thumb down on the button, both of you pulling it back to look at it. As selfies went, it wasn’t horrendous, but it certainly wasn’t the best picture ever, and you frowned at the light that was covering your faces in an odd glow as the light came through the glass. “Huh. Not our best picture.”

“Yeah. I can agree with that. You still look cute, though.”

“I kinda’ look like a frog, if you squint.” He did as you said, before laughing at it, turning to look at you and squinting, and you shoved your hand in his face as he held the phone up in comparison. “Don’t get it stuck in your head.”

“You’re a cute frog, at least!” He grinned at you, letting you snatch the phone from his hand. You wandered away, passing it to a mother who was tiredly staring at here three kids as they blew hot air onto the windows and drew faces and wrote rude words, and she seemed more than happy for the distraction, even if it was just taking pictures for someone else. Making your way back over to him, he already had his arms held out for you, and you turned to face the woman as she gave you both a countdown. You felt lips brush your ear as she reached two, warm breath washing over your skin, making you shover a little as he whispered into your ear; “Ribbit.”

You couldn't help it, the normal smile you had held morphing into a whole-body grin, his arms around your waist being all that held you upright as you tried to curl in with your amusement, and she walked back over, giving the device back to you quickly, before dashing off to wrangle her kids back up. You took it, looking down at the image, and despite his sudden mumblings into your ear, it was still one of the best photos the two of you had ever taken.

You were silhouetted against the backdrop, his nose brushing your cheek as your eyes closed, a wide grin on your face, holding tightly onto one another as sunlight poured in from behind, and the glass was barely noticeable, almost making the two of you look as though you were floating on the light above the city.

“Okay, that’s a good one, admittedly.”

The two of you stepped away from the spot as he hummed, letting the next people have their turn, and instead you watched as he set the new picture onto his phone as the wallpaper, and you leaned in, kissing a stubbly cheek quickly as your chest bubbled over with warmth from the inside out. Sticking your hands into your pockets, you wiggled numbing fingers a little, wishing you’d brought gloves, but you were more than happy to deal with the cold if it meant getting to cuddle into his side like you did every time he wrapped his arm around you, like he was doing right now.

Fingertips tucked under the edge of your shirt, nails brushing over bare skin as he traced unrecognisable patterns, phone back into his jacket pocket securely. “So, what now?”

“Well, I heard there was a drive-in movie place near here. Wha’d’ya say we get some takeout food, and go and check it out. If we park the car backwards, we don’t even have to get out, we can just cuddle in the bed and watch.” He shrugged a little, letting you go so that you could begin to climb down the stairs on your way back towards the streets, and you thought it all over.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

You had a surprise for Mitch on your second day in Chicago, and you were bursting to tell him about it, but had saved the thought until after you’d had your breakfast. Instead of the usual diner, you’d waited long enough to find a little outdoor café, sipping on mimosas and you giggled about the fancy life you could have had if you’d taken different paths at different stages of your lives, but you still reminisced about everything that led you to being right here, with one another.

You walked along the rover, burning off the champagne in your drinks before stopping for a quick bite at lunch, and then, you were leading him along towards the next attraction you had in store, under the guise of a simple walk to explore. He began to catch on part of the way around, the posters and signs starting to give it away, and while you didn’t confirm it until you were getting into the museum, he spent a good ten minutes almost bouncing in his steps as you walked.

It was adorable, the way he let loose and actually allowed himself to feel the excitement he had as you walked along, a tour of a world war two submarine, because you weren’t blind to the way he’d been excited about the other kinds of attractions you’d visited during your time on the road. He was grinning madly when he looked at the sight, being guided down underground to where it lay, and you heard him gasp audibly when it came into sight.

It truly was incredible, so big you had to tilt your head just to see the entirety of it. The length of a city block, massive and supported on stilts, and you had no idea how much it must weigh, but it was an incredible feat, and even you were excited to learn about it. The dock along the side of it was decorated with interactive pieces from within, as well as pedestals with information on them, and scripts to be read, explaining and giving insight on what you were seeing, plenty for the two of you to learn about.

It took all afternoon and into the late evening, only leaving when you were eventually beginning to be ushered out by the workers, and you were pretty sure he’d memorised every piece of information, and he was all but walking on clouds as you made your way back to the car, intending to get a good night’s sleep before your journey tomorrow as you drove up to Michigan would begin. His arms were wrapped around you, and it seemed that you had inadvertently bought yourself some extra affections, because he was peppering kisses to your skin and nuzzling his nose into your temple the entire way home, snuggling you close into his body and holding on tightly.

“I take it that you had fun, then?” You teased, slipping off your shoes to try and wiggle into your pyjamas, and you let out a distant sound of protest when he snatched your clothes from your hands, before his fingers were smoothing over your cheeks, pulling you down to his mouth as he rolled your body on top of his.

“I had the best time. It was amazing.” He whispered the words into your mouth, syrupy sweet kisses given to you between words, and you were left breathless as he incessantly kissed the air form your lungs, but you didn’t care, because the burning inside only made everything feel more heightened, your head spinning and hazy. “I’m not used to people doing such nice things for me anymore, so thank you.”

“It was just some tickets to see a submarine, I feel like you’re giving me more in return than I gave you.” You teased, and he gassed, nipping on your lower lip, and using the tip of his nose to move your head to the side, dragging his mouth along your jaw and further down. You could barely think straight as he sucked at the tender skin along your collarbones, pushing your shirt up a little so that he could rest his hands on your waist, and you took his face in your hands, bringing his gaze back to yours, and he peered up at you through dark eyes, vulnerability flashing over his features.

“It was nothing, Mitch, I just wanted to make you happy. Clearly, I got that right.”

He stared up at you, swallowing thickly before nodding his head, and he pulled you down into his arms, your foreheads pressed together as your breaths were shared, intimate and loving and you held one another. “Thank you.”

His voice cracked as he spoke, and you dragged your lips over his in a final kiss, before curling down into his body. “You’re welcome.” You pressed a hand over his heart, feeling it thud steadily and quickly under your palm, before your nails were scratching a little at his skin through the henley on his chest, scrunching it up in your hands as you clung to him. “So, you wanna’ tell me about your favourite part of the submarine?”

“Fuck, yeah, I do.”

Michigan featured a trip out to Mackinac Island, arriving in the late morning after breakfast on the road, Mitch having kept you up late into the night to talk, everything from the submarine, to other random facts he knew about war vehicles - seemingly a passion of his that you’d unlocked, and you made a mental note to make more historical-feature related trips with him in the future - and it had devolved into meaningless chatter.

Soaking up the sun with pretty sights and beautiful settings, you wandered the whole expanse, pretty white buildings and greenery, with streets of cobblestones, bicycles riding up and down in place of tyre tracks and pollution, and it was a little snap out of reality. There were horses pulling carts along the streets and lampposts with hanging flowers, old-fashioned and beautiful with bulbs that would light up when darkness came around, and you could only imagine how ethereal the beautiful streets would look when glowing with the golden light that would spill from them.

A break away from reality, something that seemed like you’d stepped into a painting, like another world in a movie or the kind of setting you could only picture in your mind or found described in a good book and a grizzly and grey day, filled with rain on lashing windows. You would’ve loved it in the rain or the snow, but you were fortunate enough to enjoy it with golden hues from the sun cast down over you both, sunglasses perched on your nose and his as you took in everything the little island had to give.

The pair of you were unwilling to leave until the sun was setting and it was getting too cold to remain outside any longer, and yet you still lingered for as long as you possibly could. It was surreal, memories you’d never forget, and you were too tired on the way back to the car to even think about the words Mitch was saying, to properly process them as you leant onto his shoulder and let him prop you up as you walked along, your cheek pressed to the curve of his arm as your eyes fluttered, closed longer than they were open, and you moved through your bedtime routine on autopilot.

He was whispering quiet words to you about how you’d almost come full-circle, chatting about everything the two of you had done so far around the trip, and while you could only hum along and nod with a sleepy smile now as he curled you into his arms, those same thoughts would come back to haunt you with troubles and worries in the morning.

You were squirming a little in your seat, keeping your eyes locked on the road ahead, fingers picking at the material of your leggings on the leg closest to him, a bid to keep his hand off of you, even though he occasionally managed to sneak his hand onto the spot for a little while when your guard fell.

You were trying your best, but you weren’t excellent at hiding how you felt. You may have been trained by the best in the business at the physical aspects, but you were never good at the rest that came with that job field. You were an open book, you didn’t possess the same ability to lock everything up tight like Mitch did, or create a façade of anger and arrogance like your uncle did. The atmosphere around you was stagnant and bored, the conversation having fizzled out long ago, the music being all there was to keep you company as the two of you hummed along in quiet, and you knew that Mitch could tell something was up, but he wasn’t pressing on it, and you were thankful for that.

When you passed the sign welcoming you into Dayton, Ohio, you were met with a soft sigh from him, and he flicked on the indicators, pulling onto the side of the road. You watched in confusion, a strangled noise leaving him as he cut across the lanes, ignoring the honking and swerving of other cars, before the vehicle was shuddering a little bit and rolling to a stop along the mud and gravel, and he turned to face you, making a point of switching off the car, keys jingling.

With a forearm resting over the steering wheel, his entire body twisted, and you swallowed thickly, avoiding his gaze and choosing to stare out at the road, tracking the other cars with your eyes to keep you busy as his stare burned into the side of your face.

“Alright, spill. Did I do something? Because, kitten, if I did, I’m sorry. Just tell me what’s up so I can fix it, because I don’t like this dead air between us. Now I get how you felt for that first week or so, and it fucking sucks, alright?” He huffed, and you gave in, guilt eating away at you as you turned to face him, and he leaned in over the console a little bit, but it didn’t give him much access to you. He shook his head instead, growling a little under his breath at not being able to reach you, and you gave him the most reassuring smile that you could muster.

“You didn’t do anything. I was just thinking about what we should do today. We have two options, but they’re at other ends of the state, and I was just weighing the pros and c-”

“Bullshit. Why are you lying to me?” He fixed you with a pointed look, your jaw snapping shut, a tick in the muscle from the force at which the muscles clenched. “Please.”

His voice cracked a little as the beg came out, wide brown eyes shining as he stared at you, vulnerable and lost and a little bit upset, and you caved in, your hands clenching up as you pulled them closer to your chest to try and cave in on yourself, but he was watching you carefully as you sat there, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He moved when you looked up, your eyes wider than his own and he knew it wasn’t something he had done, and his hands fumbled to unclip himself from the car. Only a second later, his door was opening, and you were watching with a hanging jaw as he rounded the vehicle in a jog, before opening your side too.

He reached over your body, undoing your buckle too, and manhandling you in the leather seat until he had you twisted around, parting your legs to be able to stand between them as he rose a hand to tuck stray hair away from your face, palm settling over your jaw and fingers digging into your neck a little, thumb tracing soothing patterns from where it lay. “Just tell me, what’s wrong?”

“You know this could be our last day, right?” His brows furrowed, a wrinkle forming between them, and you raised your finger to smooth it away, feeling him chuckle a little at the action, but continue to wait for your explanation. “We’re close to Virginia now, and we’ve been on the road for, like, two months. If you were sick of it now and wanted to go home, I’d get it.”

“Sick of it?”

You shrugged, knowing that he’d picked up the hidden meaning in your words, and his hands dropped down, large palms massaging at your thighs on either side of his waist in a comforting act, before he was leaning in, and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, one that had your stomach swooping with butterflies, like the feeling of dropping on a rollercoaster, before he was pulling away, lips brushing over your forehead. He let out a little sigh, before making sure you were looking at him as he grinned, raising his brows a little as he tried to ease your nerves.

“What’s your plan, kitten? What are you planning to do?”

“Well, I want to go right up around New York and such too, full circle, y’know?” You made a circle motion with your hands, both of you laughing quietly. “It’s another week and a half’s worth of stops, maybe? Not too long, but if you wanted to go home, I would understand.”

“What I want is to get the full road trip experience with you, and I want to go.”

You perked up, looking up at him with wide eyes, finally bringing your own hands up to smoothing along his arms and to his shoulders, shuffling forward to the edge of your seat and pressing your forehead to his own. “Really?”

“This is what you’ve been panicking about this whole time? Why you’ve been giving me the silent treatment for two and a half hours?”

He shook his head, a breathy sound leaving him, the exhale washing over your face, and he grinned cheesily, bringing your mouth back to his. It was a reassuring kiss, comforting and caring, and making your heart slow from the irregular and erratic pumping it had been doing with your nerves racing, leaving you instead to lace your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as your head tipped to the side. Like velvet and silk, your mouths slid together, harmony in their movements, and you drowned into his touch, just for a little while.

“Please can we go back to normal now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry. I got all wrapped up in my thoughts, and I-” You choked on your words, letting out a ragged sigh, and he stepped back long enough to let you see his entire face.

“This road trip changed my life, and I want to finish it.”

You just nodded your head, receiving a final kiss from him, before he was untangling his body from your own and circling back to his own seat, as you slammed shut the door and fastened yourself into your seat once again. Once the car had started up and you were back on the road, he held his hand out to you, which you now had no qualms in accepting, slipping your palm up to his, and letting him lift your hand to his mouth, lips pressing to your knuckles sweetly.

“How about you choose what we do for the day? For real, this time. Tell me what would cheer you up.”

“Why don’t we go to the airbase, it’s near here. Then we can get some food that looks so damn good, it’s Instagram worthy.” He let out a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders.

“You want to go to the air force base? Really?”

“Well, I’m pretty evenly split on both the possible activities, but I know that you really want to go to the air force base, and so I am more than happy to do that with you.” He let out a teasing ‘awe’ at your words, and your cheeks heated up with a flush of embarrassment.

“Okay, air force base it is.” He whispered, settling your joint hands over the gear stick to switch as needed, but never letting you go, holding on tightly as he began to follow the signs flashing up along the side of the road to guide you on your way.

133 notes · View notes