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everlastingdreams · 1 year

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Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 24

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: The Ashen Legacy

Notes: Switching back and forth between proofreading this one and writing something else lol.

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 24 / 27

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What started as a sunny calm day, was overturned by the news that had reached to your ears.

By the time you had arrived in the hallway of the dining hall, Lancelot arrived there as well.

The Faun Woman who taught the children how to read was standing beside Neia and Percival.

Neia had her head tilted down, eyes never leaving the floor until she saw you and Lancelot.

She looked like she was expecting a scolding soon…

But it was Percival who drew most of the attention, he looked very ticked off.

There had been trouble during the lesson, but what sort?

The Faun Woman named ‘Amelyn’ informed Lancelot of the problem “Percival fought with another child and Neia helped him.”

What?!? You couldn’t believe your ears.

The Ash Man was only mildly surprised “May I have a moment to speak to them?”

Amelyn approved and stepped away to give them some space.

He aimed the question at both children “What happened?”

Not a word came out of them…

You sounded somewhat stern “Neia?”

The slight shift in tone was enough to make her look at you with big worried eyes “I’m sorry!”

The child looked one second away from either crying or fleeing…

Lancelot knelt down and consoled her “No one will hurt you. We only wish to know what happened. Tell me?”

The children shared a look and Percival shrugged his shoulders at her.

It prompted Neia to speak the truth “I was sitting down and listening to the story Miss Amelyn was telling us, but then a boy pulled at my hair and took one of the flowers out.”

You had thought the messy hair was from the fight.

The Ash Man looked at Percival for the rest of the information and got an eye-roll instead “Percival, you saw this happen?”

Percival had no remorse over his response “I pushed him away from her, he was the one that started it!”

You saw Lancelot look down to the floor briefly so the children would not see how proud he looked of them. And you prayed he would keep it together until the matter was discussed.

He looked at the girl “Neia?”

Neia sheepishly admitted “He was trying to hurt Percival too, so I jumped on his back to pull that boy away from him.”

So there was fight in the girl after all.

The curiosity took hold on him “Did you hurt that boy?”

Percival was quick to answer that one “Yup.” with the most proud expression he’d ever seen on a child.

Who was he to say that violence was not the right way… the boy would surely think him a jester.

But, these were still children and it should not become the norm.

You went over to Miss Amelyn “Did you know that the other boy was bothering Neia?”

Of course the woman could not have her eyes everywhere, but the boy in question was nowhere to be seen.

Miss Amelyn had clearly not been aware of this, which came as no surprise because the children had refused to break their silence until now.

“No, I did not.” She turned to Neia and asked “Neia, will you come with me to point out who was bothering you?”

The girl wished to refuse, but saw the encouraging looks aimed at her “Yes…”

Miss Amelyn took Neia by the hand and led her into the dinning hall.

This had not been an act of unprovoked violence after all.

Percival was stopped from following them by Lancelot.

The Ash Man said “I know why you have done it, I understand. I do hope this will not occur frequently?”

The boy chewed his words before answering “It won’t.” then quieter “If they leave her alone.”

For keeping the peace, he ignored that last mumbled statement coming from the boy.

With some wise words he steered the boy back towards the dinning hall and opened the door for him “We have enough battles to fight, let’s not add more.”

When Lancelot let Percival in, both of you could see a boy getting a rather fierce scolding from Miss Amelyn.

At least she cared about the truth and with a heart at peace you could leave them to their lessons again.

Lancelot shut the door again.

“Percival is taking his duty as a knight serious.” You commented.

He hummed with a slight smirk “A knight of the Fey, but one girl has most of his attention it seems.”

That was true, you couldn’t hide your own smirk “She fought alongside him.”

He jested about it “Do you think she is old enough to learn how to wield a sword too?”

It was partly a genuine question. At what age was it appropriate? He was taught at a very early age…

You blinked a few times “She just jumped on a boy’s back and you’re willing to hand her a sword?”

The laugh he tried to swallow came out anyway, he dared to joke “I handed you one.”

You pulled a face at him, then said “We should get wooden swords made. Before our children all end up losing limbs.”

He thought about it “A good idea. They can learn while playing with them?”

It would be much safer, if the swords had no sharp edges at least.

“That way, they won’t feel pressured.” You agreed.

Lancelot reminded you of what he had asked yesterday “Are you still willing to join me in the forest tonight?”

You hadn’t forgotten “Of course. Should I bring some buckets of water?”

The jest had him rolling his eyes “So little faith in me?”

You weren’t going to take it back “Just making sure.”

He stroked along the back of your arm “It will not be necessary.”

His eyes swiftly darted between yours and your mouth and it was enough to send a shiver over your skin.

~“Lancelot!”~

The cheery voice of Arthur stole away the moment between you.

With a sigh, Lancelot acknowledged it “Yes?”

Arthur beckoned for him “Gawain is asking for you.”

The Ash Man tried to keep the disappointment out of his tone “Very well.” he turned to you “I will see you tonight.”

You nodded in confirmation and watched him go over to Arthur and they both walked off together.

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Darkness began to fall over the city and Lancelot preferred to only take Goliath and you along. No one knew how Llamrai would react to seeing Fey Fire, it was safer to leave her at the stables.

Together you rode on Goliath into the forest at a snail pace.

A long silence had preceded his question “I have thought about speaking to Percival and Gawain about our plan to wed.”

There was the reason why he had been pretty quiet now “You’re asking me for approval?”

He leaned in close, head almost touching your shoulder “Yes.”

When you took a moment to think about it, you could just feel the anxiousness radiate from him.

You freed him from it by answering “That’s fine. I’m nervous.”

He felt some relief when hearing he was not alone to feel like this “So am I. You are aware that Feys wed in a different manner than Manbloods?”

The tales were known about this different kind of wedding “I am.”

Lancelot asked your opinion on the matter “Is that what you want?”

You were far from opposed to it “It always sounded lovely to hear the stories of these joinings. Where I grew up, the people were not so afraid to speak about the Fey.”

Tonight he was surprisingly open on the subject “If at any time you change your mind about us being wed, I will understand. I only ask that you will not be afraid to tell me.”

You felt his steady breaths pass by your cheek “I have no intention on changing my mind. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

A wandering hand glided over your stomach “I have been since the day you came to the monastery.”

You rolled your eyes when he could not see.

And did he really think you did not notice how he had moved your cloak aside just so he could sneak his hand under?

Prying his fingers off your stomach proved futile and the twit actually dared to tickle you.

The thin leather vest you wore did little to shield you from it.

In a last attempt to ‘escape’ you leaned forward to protect your stomach from him.

Quick as a whip, his hand moved to slowly stroke from your shoulder blades down your spine.

It was the very quiet hum, that sounded as if it had come from deep within his chest, that made your heart roll around in your chest.

It had sounded appreciative…

Slowly you sat upright again, the wit had abandoned you.

And he seemed aware of the shift in atmosphere too, his eyes were aimed at the trees ahead.

You really did try not to mention it, but… “Someone is acting a little lascivious tonight.”

His voice had dropped into a husk “I enjoyed your company last night.”

That had been quite obvious.

“And you are hoping to repeat it?” You guessed with a grin.

It was an open invitation “My door will be open, in case you are still not feeling well.”

Oh. What a very kind, and not at all ambiguous, offer.

In return, you gave him an equal answer “I will remember it is so.”

He could not help but love how disinterested you pretended to be, leaving him to speculate whether or not you would join him tonight.

Lancelot pushed aside a low branch before it could cause you or him harm. The branch obeyed and flowers began to grow from it after the contact.

This forest reacted to the Fey in the most peculiar ways.

The next branch was yours to touch and to your disappointment it gave no response.

He noticed it “What is wrong?”

It felt silly to admit “This forest doesn’t react to me. I guess the mark does not mean that there is magic present in me.”

He was more positive “Or the magic in you has yet to see the light.”

With that said, he took the arm that bore the mark and bared it, then held it out to the side and waited.

Nothing happened until his thumb began to tease the mark and lure it to the surface in it’s silver glow.

His words were like silk near your ear “My magic is in you. If the Moon Wing could sense it, this forest can too.”

The little hope and expectation faded when nothing happened.

But he was patient and that patience paid off.

A very small bird landed on your hand and it nearly gave you a fright.

Lancelot had held your hand still and therefore the bird remained where it was seated.

It looked like a hummingbird, but it’s colors were different, incredibly vibrant.

Purple feathers blended with blue ones, a deep red on the crown of it’s head.

The ends of it’s wings were luminous, like magic lived in them.

Once overcome the initial reaction, you looked at the bird in awe.

It was so tiny…

With it’s beak it pinched at your palm and then it hopped further onto your arm, the bird looked quite curious toward the glowing mark.

Lancelot whispered “You may not be Fey, but as long as I may live I will share what I can with you.”

The tiny toes of the bird were tickling your arm as it hopped around.

Under the moon and stars with your lover and chosen as the place where this beautiful bird took a moment to rest, it was enough to make anyone a little emotional.

Being introduced to his world meant the world to you.

The tiny bird spread it’s wings and fluttered away.

Slowly he let go off your arm and the mark dimmed it’s glow.

The silence coming from you was unusual…

You turned your head just enough to press your lips ardently to his cheek, two counts passed and the whisper fell “I love you.”

If anything could melt a frozen heart, it was the look in your eyes and the declaration that came with it.

Goliath stopped at the command of his rider.

He blessed the night for hiding some of that red hue his face undoubtedly had now “Enough to watch me play with magic that could burn a forest down?”

Your eyes rolled over him “Absolutely.”

Without warning he dismounted “Well then.”

He reached up, an offer to help you dismounted as well.

It was probably just a ruse to have his hands on you some more.

“So…how does this begin?” You gestured around.

He tied the reins to a tree and pointed at a bit of an open spot in the forest “I’ll make a fire. And I hope to transform it into Fey Fire that I can control.”

Now that it was time, he caught himself reconsidering on those buckets of water…

You walked a few steps and then sat down on the grass.

So much fidgeting, the poor Ash Man was visibly tense.

Anyone could see that he was nervous to practice his magic. For one who was quite skilled with making a fire, it took him longer than usual to light the small stack of branches.

Finally a spark touched the dry grass and flames grew from it.

Relief washed over him and away again “Every time I have used this power, it was linked to what I felt in that moment. I do not know if I can transform the flames when I am calm.”

To you, he didn’t look calm, but anxious “Take your time, Lancelot. I know you can do it.”

After pacing back and forth for a moment, he brought a hand closer to the flames.

The heat was felt, the fire could not burn him no matter how hard it tried.

Those flames under his palm brought forth the desire to take hold of them. To feel them dance in his palm and witness their destructive beauty.

Seeing the fire lick his skin but not burn him had your heart in your throat. The urge to run over and drag him away from it was strong and you had to fight it off.

By taking quick deep breaths, you hoped to calm the fear that took hold on you.

Lancelot had seen the change in you, and when he looked he saw a pair of concerned eyes watching him “It does not hurt me.”

It did little to make the pout on your face vanish.

The result of your experiences with nature’s element had burdened you with the fear.

Upon seeing that you remained concerned, he withdrew his hand and walked towards you to show his unscathed palm.

Your concern faded at the sight “I cannot help but worry, I’m sorry.”

He caressed your cheek “I chose the right woman to have as my wife.”

The statement was making you smile no matter how hard you fought it “Were there other options?”

Now that earned you a tap of his hand against your shoulder, he tsked “No.”

After taking a breath, you gave in “I need to let you do what is necessary to embrace your power. So, I offer my help when you need it.”

He jested “If I light this forest on fire, act like I was never here.”

You groaned at his foolery “Let’s see you make that Fey Fire first.”

With a little shove against his arm, you send him back to the task at hand.

He approached the fire and knelt down before it, both knees touching the grass below “I can do this…”

Those weeping eyes fell shut, his breathing slowed down. It almost looked as if he was praying and maybe he was.

To the old gods of the Fey, or the one he was taught to serve, it did not matter as long as it brought him the confidence he needed

You kept very quiet and watched the flames begin to act fickle, but the colors remained the same.

Upon seeing the effort without result, you got up and walked over to him “At the church, what did you think of when your powers came forth?”

His eyes opened and looked up to yours “I thought of you. I saw the flames engulf the church and feared the worst.”

The memory of that moment was one he wished to forget.

He continued to recall what had went through him “I swore to myself that I would meet my end if I stood aside and let it happen. I felt the power burn in me, then it burned in every flame I wished it for.”

He rubbed his palms together, a soothing gesture he often did when his mind ran off with him to darker places.

Quietly, you got closer and took a seat next to him “Once I was safe, it stopped did it not?”

Lancelot nodded, it was as if a storm had passed through him and left him feeling very strange “It did. I felt it fade into me again.”

You thought for a while and gave your opinion on it “Maybe…the key to control this, is thinking of something you care about?”

It silenced him.

Every time he was able to seize control of his magic it was when he thought of you…

When he marked you, the burning church…

Was the love he had for you the key?

And to believe the Church considered this magic evil while it was born from love…

The love between Festa and Moreii.

And now the love between you and him.

It gave him new hope “I believe it to be possible.”

The Ash Man was beginning to see the pieces of the puzzle more clearly.

You placed your hand to his arm “Instead of giving yourself a headache thinking of the fire, think of something nice. Something that motivates you, that calms you and just brings you joy. I think you will find your power in your own happiness, Lancelot.”

He took hold of your hand and brought your wrist up to brush his lips against it, the bangle still sat safely in place.

Your hand was released by him again.

There was more confidence in him now and a fresh spurge of determination “It is time to return what was stolen from the Fey so long ago.”

You pointed out “It has already returned.”

At first he frowned, until realization hit him and it caused a smile.

He had to snap his attention away from you to concentrate again.

This time he didn’t close his eyes and watched the flames dance in the wind.

Quietly you reminiscent about your journey together “When you came to fetch me when I was returning late from the village…I never forgot how nice it felt to have someone care.”

He offered you one of his own fond memories “You were the first person I remember that told me they did not wish to see me hurt.”

A look was shared and the flames began to transform seconds later, it wasn’t long before there was only Fey Fire present.

The Ash Man reached out and brought his hand into the flames, the green leafed Fey markings crawled to the surface of his skin, the tears beneath his eyes turned a burning green again.

This power, he could feel it try to claw it’s way out and preventing it was almost painful.

What if he surrendered to it?

Better now than during an inconvenient time…

He rose to his feet and stopped inches from the fire, it reached for him like a child would reach for their parents…

“Stay where you are.” He made the request to you.

You stayed seated and watched him take the steps to learn to control this magic.

Slowly he reached for the fire again and moved his arm to the side, the flames followed the unspoken command and spread where he motioned to.

Even slower, he lifted his hand and watched the flames rise to meet it.

The longer he practiced to control it, the more the green beneath his eyes changed until it had turned into a red one would only seen in the deepest fire.

His powers were freed, he was one with the flames.

The fire reflected in his eyes, similar to the moon on the dark sea.

You’d never seen the marks on his face turn red before and it was a wonder to behold.

And what was even more amazing to see was how enthralled he was with what he was doing.

Like a child who was given the toy their heart had desired.

There was no fear in him now, only wonderment.

Your mouth had curved into a soft smile “Imagine if Percival saw this.”

He let some flames flutter like butterflies through the night sky “Do you think he will be frightened?”

Some of these fire born butterflies flew around you “Frightened? No. That boy would make you do it every second of the day. And so would Neia. Heaven, even I could watch it happen forever.”

He turned his head to look at you and saw the green specks of fire flutter around you.

You wished you had more eyes so you could keep looking at all of them “It’s beautiful, Lancelot.”

The Ash Man got closer and by the time he knelt next to you, the Fey Fire had created a circle just for the two of you.

You brushed a stray lock from his face and touched your thumb to the red that burned in his markings “I am so proud of you. Look how far you’ve come. You are what the Fey lost, not just your magic, but the man that you are. Having you here brings hope.”

If the rare Ash Folk could return after so long, there was hope for other things to return as well.

He leaned into the tender touch “I pray that I can help my people, I owe it to them.”

From an enemy to an ally, the Ash Man had given up the life he knew to follow what his heart believed was right.

Of course you were proud “I have faith in you. Magic or no magic, I know the Fey have gained a good man. Someone who won’t give up on them.”

The way he brought his hand to the back of your scalp to massage the place felt heavenly.

The pampering didn’t stop when he saw how much you enjoyed it “Let us return home.”

Before you could even object, the green flames were extinguished and with that the red from his marks too.

A disappointed noise slipped from your mouth.

Hearing it made him chuckle “Come on. Up.”

After being helped to your feet you looked around yourself and missed the green sparks that had flown through the air “Can you do that again when we’re together at night?”

You held your index finger up and gestured comically.

For a second he considered pretending not to understand what you were speaking off…

He asked for clarification “Just before we sleep, you mean?”

Thankfully, he understood you “Yes.”

Lancelot slowly started walking “I promise I will do so if I can do it without setting the room we are in on fire.”

You followed him towards Goliath “Preferably. Escaping one burning place was enough.”

Should he have thought the jest through more?

“Forgive me. I should not make light of-” He started.

“It’s alright. You’ve said nothing wrong.” You assured.

He was visibly relieved and offered to help you mount Goliath.

Of course you could get on without help, but then he wouldn’t have his hands on you again.

The ride back was peaceful, he was noticeably happy with the results reached tonight.

Upon return at the fortress, Lancelot was met with a very grumpy looking young Fey boy.

Percival stood with his arms crossed in the middle of the hall where your rooms were located “Where did you go?”

The question was mainly aimed at the Ash Man who had not informed the boy of this late excursion.

If he told the boy the truth, he was in for trouble…

This child would not like to hear that he was practicing magic in the forest without him, even if it was for safety measurements.

When it was clear that you weren’t in any trouble, you stepped away from them slowly and moved towards your room.

Lancelot knew right away that you were leaving him to undergo the wrath of the boy and send you a look.

You send him a cheeky look back, opened your door and successfully withdrew yourself from the confrontation.

The magic fire would have to wait for another night.

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That morning, you were awoken by the sound of Percival’s shocked voice.

You sat up in bed right away and listened for another sound.

~“WHAT?!?”~

There was a hushed voice, that undoubtedly belonged to Lancelot, answering the inquiry.

~“YOU WHAT?!?”~

Whatever he was telling the boy, it was giving him quiet an attitude in return.

Another hushed reply came and not even when you leaned against the wall could you hear what the Ash Man said to the boy.

Percival’s voice reached a higher pitch.

~“MARRY?!?”~

That was your cue to jump out of bed and start dressing before you’d be interrogated as well.

Never had you put on a pair of trousers and a shirt so fast before, you snatched the sleeveless long leather vest from where you had tossed it aside the night before.

~“What else is there ?!?”~

More incomprehensible mumbling followed…

~“KING?!?”~

Oh goodness…

This time you could hear how Lancelot was trying to calm the boy.

But Percival was having none of it, you heard only parts of what he said.

~“If you’re— marry her— queen.”~

That halted you, it was clear what the boy was speaking of.

If you married Lancelot, who was a king by birthright, it would make you his queen. You plopped down on your bed again, the fact truly settled in.

In time the Fey would recognize his devotion to protect them and if they realized what he was, there was a chance they’d name and accept him as king.

Especially with the power that resided in him, ancient and to protect them, they would not deny him.

Were you ready for when that day would come?

At this time he refused kingship, but once they would grant it to him too, would he still reject it?

Nothing would frighten the Church more than one raised by them, with their secrets, to become a king of the enemy.

Even Lancelot would consider it the perfect insult to them.

An Ashen king with a Manblood queen…would the Fey ever allowed it?

No, you couldn’t let these doubts steal away the joy you felt at the prospect of marrying him. No one knew what the future holds.

You forced yourself to stand and be more confident on the matter. It was time to announce your plans to wed, if Lancelot told it to Percival, it was only a matter of time before the others would hear of it.

A quick announcement would be better than delaying it and if Percival knew, it would become a very quick announcement…

You opened the door, stepped out and were met with a couple of widened brown eyes.

Neia had been eavesdropping at Percival’s door, she looked as if she expected a harsh scolding or worse.

The quiet gasp of the startled child was heartbreaking.

“It’s alright. I’m not upset.” You quickly assured the frightened girl.

She seemed rather ashamed of her eavesdropping.

You stepped over to her and asked “You heard them speak to each other too?”

Neia visibly relaxed once it was clear that she was not the only one who had heard Percival and Lancelot speak “Is it true?”

With a nod, you took her hand in yours and knocked on the door to Percival’s room.

It was opened by Lancelot and once he let the both of you in, all was explained to the children.

Not much later, you sat in the dining hall at the table among friends.

Often you sneaked a glance at Lancelot who seemed just as nervous as you were. On the end of the long table were Neia and Percival, two children asked to keep a secret while it was ready to spill from their mouths.

Pym was shoveling her baked eggs into her mouth with a hunger one would have after a week of starvation.

Arthur was filling his stomach with conversation, especially towards Red Spear.

Kaze was picking up a piece of meat from her plate which she looked at with suspicion and shamelessly dropped it onto Gawain’s plate, the knight looked at it oddly but said not a word.

Lancelot wasn’t eating, he was moving the food on his plate around to make it look like he was.

Gawain noticed the odd behavior of his friend “Is something the matter?”

A moment of silence passed, the Ash Man put his fork down.

He sounded more confident than he felt “I have news I wish to share.”

The knight did not look away from him “I am listening.”

Lancelot drank some water from his tankard first, then shared the news “Y/n and I will wed.”

The silence that fell over the table was so sudden and unexpected.

Had they all heard?!?

They stared at him, then at you to see your response to the claim.

Your voice was quieter than a mouse’s “It’s true.”

Arthur held his tongue for only a few seconds and ended up blurting out “I don’t believe it.”

Lancelot was visibly offended by his statement “Pardon?”

Arthur truly believed it was just a joke “Wed? You? Come on. You were a monk not long ago, Lancelot.”

Pym had stopped chewing her food and watched the scene unfold.

Hearing that made you turn to Arthur and subtly, considering there were nosy children nearby, you made the vague comment “He was. Although it is getting harder for me to tell.”

Lancelot dropped his eyes to his plate and bit back the smirk.

Gawain and Arthur’s eyes had widened by the comment.

Red Spear had little to no reaction to the news, she was more annoyed by being interrupted during her meal.

Kaze rolled her eyes and mumbled “I knew it.”

The Ash Man faced the skeptical Arthur “I cannot change who I was, but I can decide who I am now. I will wed her. You may have doubts, I do not.”

Hearing that he had no doubts to wed warmed your heart and erased any fears you previously had about it.

Arthur apologized to his friend “You’re right. I am not the person who I used to be either and neither are you. I believe in the man you have become, Lancelot. For all it’s worth… you have my blessing.”

“And mine.” Gawain chimed in, patting the Ash Man on the back amicably.

Pym muttered quietly “This is so weird…”

You smiled at her bewildered response.

Kaze shrugged her shoulders, there was not a single person there who did not expect the response, at least her weapons stayed sheathed so it was considered a good reaction.

“I didn’t know you were that close.” Pym was still in a state of processing the news.

Red Spear looked in your direction, then told Pym “Always keep your weapons closer than anyone or anything.”

Poor Arthur drank some ale from his tankard after hearing the advice from the raider’s Captain.

Gawain raised his tankard “Here’s to the joining of our former monk and nun.”

Lancelot rolled his eyes at the jest and shook his head but did raise his tankard too.

Everyone else did as well, even Kaze although she only moved hers an inch up from table and went back to eating her breakfast.

You shared a relieved look with Lancelot.

No more hiding.

And a joining to look forward too.

Life really had fallen back into place, it had been a rocky road, but the journey was worth every second of it.

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#weeping monk #theweepingmonk #weeping monk x you #weepingmonk #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot #lancelot x reader #lancelot fic #reader x lancelot #Cursed Netflix #cursed #cursed fic #netflix cursed #lancelot cursed #daniel sharman character #Daniel Sharman

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pics-and-fanfics · 2 years

Text

Family Reunion (Part 2)

Pairing: Loki x F!Reader

Warnings: fluff, mild swears, teasing (nice and not nice), people being fucking rude, mild suicidal thoughts, trauma, toxic parent.

Summary: You finally take Loki to see your family several states away, and he learns why you only visit them once every 2 or 3 years. (Mom totally not based off mine, no way…)

Part of my 25 Days of Fluff! writing. Warning! This is very long, and might require more parts!

You go up to your Dad, hugging him for a brief second before letting go, then kiss his cheek. He smiles, patting your head absently before going back to the stove. “Dad, I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend.” you say, and he turns around, narrowing his eyes at you. “Dad, this is Loki. We’ve been dating for a while, please don’t get mad.”

Loki heard the twinge of fear in your voice, and he leaned down, kissing the top of your head, making you smile a little. “Sir, it is a pleasure to meet you, Y/n is always talking about her parents.”

“They aren’t that bad.” Thor says, sitting next to you and Loki on the floor. “That’s because you don’t know them like I do. Mom’s an idiot, always doing stupid shit, and Dad always listened to her, never believing me. I was the one in the wrong, I was the one lying and causing problems, when in all actuality, it was my mom. She’s a pathological liar, and a narcissist. Just- Just take anything she says with a grain of salt.” you say, sitting in Loki’s lap.

“Besides, we- Oh hey booger butt.” you say, quickly changing the subject. Loki looks up from where he was braiding your hair to see you crawling out of his lap, towards another girl. “How’s my favorite butt-head?”

“Y/n! I’ve missed you so much, everybody around here is so boring, they don’t want to do anything fun! Come play with me, I’m so bored!” Loki hears you laugh, seeing you actually smile for the first time since you walked in the door. He watches as you dig your fingers gently into the girl’s ribs, making her giggle and dance away from you.

“Booger-brat, this is my boyfriend.” you say, trying to pull Loki up, but he smirks, going limp, pulling you down with him, making you laugh again. “Come- on- you stink head.” you growl, standing up and pulling his arm. “But the floor’s comfortable, Y/n. I don’t want to move!” he whines, and you roll your eyes, giving up.

“Well anyways, this annoying man is my boyfriend. Loki, this is Morgan, my niece. And Morgan, this is Thor, my co-worker. Thor, my niece.” you say, pointing at Thor.

You sit down on the couch, laying your head on Loki’s shoulder. You looked at the cards in your hand, smiling, as you laid down a +4, making Morgan groan as she picked up her cards.

The next day, you wake up from your sleep, Morgan jumping on your bed. “Let me sleep, dude. I had to drive for almost 2 days.” you say, pulling the covers up higher. “Nana says she wants you to get up or she’s going to come in here with a spray bottle.” Morgan says, pulling the covers back. “Oh, fun. Tell her I’ll take my chances for five more minutes of sleep.” You snuggle into Loki, making him hum.

Not even two minutes later, you get sprayed in the face with a spray bottle. “Get your lazy ass up, Y/n. We’ve been waiting on you for three hours.” You sit up, rubbing the water off your face. “Well then just open presents without me, Mother. I’ve been driving for nearly two days, I want to sleep.” More water, and you feel Loki sit up beside you. You glare at your Mom, who stalks out of the room.

“Fucking bitch, I hate her so much.” you mutter, crawling out of the twin bed. You pull on a pair of fuzzy socks from your suitcase. “What was that about?” Loki asks, and you hear the rage in his voice. “Oh, that was my loving mother’s way of waking me up. I told you she’s a bitch.” you say, pulling on clean clothes. “I’m starting to better understand why you hate her so much. At least you could leave.” Loki says, running his fingers through your hair.

“I’m sorry I’m complaining, it’s just- she made my life a living hell. You’ve seen how she treated me.” you say, remembering the nights Loki had soothed you from your nightmares, dulling the pain from the memories. “I’m just glad you’re not crying everynight, wishing for death.” Loki says, and you let a tear run down your face.

“I don’t know how I deserve you, Lokes.” you say, pulling your hair up into a pony tail. You hear pounding at your door, and you internally scream. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Jeez loise, give me a goddamn minute.” You pull your camera out of your suitcase, putting the batteries in and quickly going through the set up again.

Loki smiled, watching you laugh at your neice’s reactions to the presents you had gotten her. He watched as you snapped pictures of everything, including the ugly expressions on Patrica’s face when she opened the presents you had picked out for her. “Why would you get me something so ugly? You know what I wanted.” your mom says, and Loki bites his tongue when you pat his knee.

“That is very rude to say, Lady Patrica. At least your daughter got you something that made her think of you. You should be grateful that she is even here, taking time off of work to be here, and you are treating her like shit.” Thor says, and Loki looks at him, slightly shocked. Even you looked shocked, your camera slipping out of your hands. Loki closes your hands around it, and you grip both the camera and his hand tightly.

“Exscuse me? Who do you think you are, coming in my house and talking to me like that?” Patrica says, getting up from where she was sitting, putting the mug down. Then Loki saw what was on the cup.

“World’s worst Mother award goes to you!” Loki couldn’t help but snicker, making Patrica whip around her head to look at him. “Honestly, you call yourself her mother, yet you don’t act like one. She would have been better off staying in New York and opening presents with me and her boyfriend.” Thor says, standing up, showing the obviuos height difference.

“Tho- Thor, I think it’d be best for you to go outside. Mom, I’m so sorry, he has no filter on his words, he should not have said that, and he’ll leave right now if he knows what’s best.” You hissed the last part, and Loki could hear the way your voice wavered. Loki heard you take a deep breath as your mother turned to you, and he stood up, ready to defend you.

“You know what, actually, no. Because Thor’s right. You’ve treated me like shit all my life, and I’m not going to put up with it anymore.” you say, pushing all the presents from your mother away. “I’m done. I’m fed up, I’m pissed off, I’m beyond traumatized. You-” Loki turns to look at you, seeing you throwing the now opened present that had just been in your lap to the floor.

The contents were showing. A knife, and a note. “You are a disgusting human being. You don’t deserve happiness, you narcissistic bitch. It’s all ‘me me me!’ You never think about anyone else. You’ve nearly gotten me killed on multiple occasions! I’m DONE! I AM TAKING MY SHIT, AND LEAVING! SAYANARA, ADIOS, FUCK YOU!” Loki chased after you when you stormed off to the room you had slept in, grabbing your things.

Five minutes later, you were driving down the road, Thor and Loki silent, in awe of your outburst. You slowed down, pulling off the road into an empty lot. You stared out the window, tears running down your face.

‘I figured since all you talked about was wanting to die, I thought why not help you?’

“Darling?” Loki says, snapping you out of your daze. “What she did was wrong, and I’m very sorry. If you’d like, we don’t have to go back.” You feel Loki kiss your hand, and you sniff, leaning over after turning the car off. “Lady Y/n, I agree with my brother. What your mother did was evil, and I’m surprised that she raised an amazing woman, kind, caring, and so different from her.” Thor says from the backseat, and you smile.

“I’m just glad it’s over.” you say quietly, closing your eyes. “I’m very proud of you for standing up to her, Y/n.” You smile at Loki’s words, feeling a little better.

🎄

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this, as I wrote this instead of doing my project. I did finish it tho. Fingers crossed for a decent grade! 🤞 Let me know if you want to be tagged in any future posts, seeing as I'd rather type 50+ sentences for shitty fics instead of <4 per page for a test grade.

@vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss

#Loki #fluff #fanfic #loki fan fic #loki x you #loki supportive boyfreind

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wicked-mind · 3 years

Text

Remember Me: Chapter Eight

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones? Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Swearing (I like swearing. Adds character and sounds pretty to me lol), car crash mentioned, miscarriage mentioned, angst?

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

Note: Song is Remember When by Avril Lavigne.

As always any likes, reblog, or comments are appreciated (: I love that shit.

*gifs not mine

Previously

Bucky’s frown deepened at her words as scenarios ran through his mind of what Y/N could be talking about, studying her features intently, “No we won’t. I told you that you are the love of my life, Y/N. Nothing is going to change that.” He told her, moving his position to take her face in his hand and forcing her to look at him, “Now talk to me.”

Y/N stared at Bucky for what felt like forever, studying his face. She wondered what would reflect back to her in his eyes when she told him. Right now his eyes were pooled with concern for her but once she would tell him, they knew that concern would leave, “The night we fought… May seventh right?” She watched him nod, “On May fourteenth I was driving and I was hit by a drunk driver. I was taken to a hospital in Queens where I was treated.” She watched the concern grow in his eyes at her words, “I didn’t know I was six weeks pregnant and I lost the baby… Our baby… I would’ve came back if I knew, never left… But after I couldn’t come back to you.”

Bucky’s mouth parted slightly at the words, his eyes moving across the features of her face watching the tears leak down her face. He hadn’t even noticed his own tears starting to fall at the news. Guilt raked through his body at the words he had said that made her leave, put her in that position to get hurt. It would have never happened if he would’ve swallowed his own fear and anger at her deployment. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, “I’m so sorry, doll.” He said through his own shaky breathes, trying to control his breathing as he cried, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I did this, it’s my fault… I’m so sorry.”

Chapter eight - Runner

The song played on the radio, tears streaming down her cheeks as she drove through the darkness. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so hard until they were turning white and numb.

♫Remember when I cried

To you a thousand times?

I told you everything

You know my feelings

It never crossed my mind

That there would be a time

For us to say goodbye

What a big surprise

But I’m not lost

I’m not gone

I haven’t for-♫

With a sudden gasp leaving her mouth as the headlights now blinded her eyes, the radio died and the sounds of metal creaking and shredding filled her ears before her chest and face felt the impact of the airbag. Slowly the world started to come back to her as she opened her eyes, blinking until the blurred world focused. The ringing in her ears slowly stopped as she heard a man’s voice crying for help in a slurred fashion. She pushes the airbags away from her face and took her seatbelt off, stumbling out of the car after opening the door. She processed the scene around her. Her car’s front end was smashed to the point you wouldn’t have been able to tell what type of car it was. The other car was the same… but there was a figure halfway through the windshield crying in pain for help. She slowly stumbles over, “What’s your name?” She asks, focusing on helping the man.

“M-Mike…Help me…” He slurred out.

She could smell the alcohol on his breath but focused her best on his injuries. He was impaled through the windshield, must’ve not been wearing a seatbelt, “Hold on.” She mutters out softly before going back to her car and managed to pry the trunk open and grabbed her medical kit. As she made her way back over to Mike, she placed her hand on her stomach with a loud groan. Something was definitely wrong… She shook her head and made her way back over to Mike, “My name is Y/N, I'm a surgeon… It’s going to be okay…” She told him as she started to place gauze around any places she noticed bleeding. She couldn’t move him, there were risks of spinal injuries so she just did her best to pack his wounds before placing her hands on both sides of his neck, “I’m stabilizing your neck, Mike… Stay as still as you can…”

She stood there for what felt like hours though it couldn’t have been very long. The pain in her stomach was growing and slowly her own blood dripped down onto Mike from her own face and arms. She looks up as she saw headlights approaching, waiting until the person was out of the car, “Call 911… Put it on speaker and get over here…” She ordered and watched as the man did as she said. She leans closer to the phone and told them there had been a wreck and where before looking at the man, “I need you to hold Mike’s neck. Keep it stabilized just like I’m doing.” She breathed out.

The man places his hands where her’s were then looks at her, “What are you going to do?”

She looks at him before slowly slumping against the car, sliding down until she sat against it, “I’m going to pass out… Tell the paramedics I may have internal bleeding… Don’t call emergency contacts… Keep Mike’s neck stabi…” She trailed off as the world went dark around her.

“Baby, come back to me…” Bucky says as he held Y/N’s face in his hands, staring into her eyes. This had been a daily thing since they had brought her home from the hospital. He would find Y/N just sitting and staring, often after reading those damned journals. This time it had happened in the middle of the night. He woke up to find her sitting up on the edge of the bed and had moved around to kneel on the ground in front of her, trying to pull her back to reality. He smiled slightly as she blinked at him and looked into his eyes sadly, “Hey, there you are, pretty girl.” He whispers to her, moving his thumbs along her cheeks softly, “You okay?”

Y/N looked at him, tears slowly peaking at the brim of her eyes again, “No… Yeah… I don’t know.” She whispers back out, moving her hands to rest on his wrists, gently pulling his hands away from her face and looking down at the floor, “Sorry for waking you up again.” She let out a deep sigh, running her hand through her hair slowly, “Maybe you should go home and sleep… At least you’d be able to get more than a few hours.” She said as she stood up, walking over to the dresser and taking a drink from her water bottle.

Bucky frowned, standing and watching her move away from him. She had kept her distance from him lately, all but kicking him out of bed with her. She wouldn’t keep eye contact with him very long and she constantly had this sad, almost ashamed, look on her face. He walked over to her, looking down at her, “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.” He told her as he took one of her hand in his and using his other hand to put her water bottle back down. He pulled her over to the bed until he sat down on the edge and pulled her into his lap, “You’re everything to me, doll. I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N looked at him, slowly wrapping her arms around him with a small nod at his words. She stayed in his arms as he slowly scooted back on the bed until they were laying down again, listening as he whispered soothing things into her ear and rubbed her back. She felt broken. She didn’t have many memories but now all she could remember was from the night she left Bucky up to when she left the hospital. The events were on repeat constantly in her head and she couldn’t make them stop. Y/N could remember how she felt when Bucky said those words to her before she left, how heartbroken she was. She could remember how her heart broke impossibly more when she was told she miscarried from a pregnancy she didn’t even know about. She felt ashamed, like she didn’t deserve Bucky in her life but couldn’t let him go. Y/N didn’t know how Bucky was staying so loving towards her, so patient through what she was dealing with. If she was in his position, she was certain she wouldn’t be able to do the same. She was the one that left and put herself and unborn child in danger which ended in a catastrophe.

The next morning, Bucky woke up early and shimmied out of bed as to not disturb Y/N who seemed to sleeping as soundly as she had since they brought her home from the hospital. He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead before walking out of her room and shutting the door quietly behind him. He walked into the kitchen where he already found Peggy and Steve awake with fresh coffee, “Mornin.” He mumbled out with a small yawn before filling up a mug of coffee for himself.

Steve and Peggy had watched how Y/N had been doing but she mostly stayed in the comfort of her own room. The first few days she was home, Peggy would help her shower as it seemed like Y/N was in a state of shock to really focus for more than a few minutes. It had been tough of them feeling the loss of a niece or nephew as well as watching Y/N and Bucky go through this. Steve offered a small smile towards Bucky, “Morning.” He said softly, “How’s she doing?”

Bucky sighs, plopping down in one of the chairs at the dining table and running his hand over his face, “I don’t know…” He admitted with a deep sigh, “Everyday it’s a constant battle of her trying to push me away. Looking at me like she thinks I hate her no matter how many times I tell her that ain’t true.” He took a gulp of his coffee before looking at Steve, “She has that running look in her eyes. I’m worried she’s just gonna take off again. I have to go into work today but I’ll come back around lunch.”

Peggy, who sat at the dining table across from Bucky beside Steve, reached her hand across the table to give Bucky’s a soft squeeze, “I’m sorry, James. I know this must be hard for you as well. I’ll stick around with her today, all I have to do is go to the grocery store and the bank but I’ll wait until you’re headed home.”

Steve nodded at the plan before looking towards Bucky, “And how are you doing? Are you okay?” He asks curiously.

Bucky shook his head, staring into his coffee, “No. I’m not okay.” He said, not even having to think about the question. He felt like his heart was shattered due to the aftermath of what happened after Y/N left after what he had said to her. He looks over at Steve with a stern look, “But Y/N comes first.”

After giving Y/N a kiss goodbye, Bucky left for work letting her know he would be back for lunch and that Peggy would be around if she needed anything. Y/N eventually made her way to the shower before heading back to her bedroom and laying down, pulling out one of the journals and flipping through the pages until she found one she hadn’t read.

June 14, 2019

I always believed on facing problems head on- not running away from them. But here I am halfway across the world running from my problems. There’s something about being able to not having to focus on what happened and having bigger problems. I rather think about what is going to happen today, what type of traumas I’m going to be faced with than deal with my own trauma.

I’m pretty sure everybody here thinks I’m a raging bitch. I’ve heard their hushed tones saying I’m a robot or that it seems like I don’t have any emotions, feelings. If only they knew about the constant pain I carry around inside of me. Truth is, I don’t want to feel anymore. I wish what they say was true- that I couldn’t feel anything. It would make things so much easier.

Running is easier than dealing with this. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. Like I don’t have anywhere to run towards so I run away instead. I’m running away from Steve. From Peggy. From Bucky. I fear that if I tell them, face them, then they’ll see me the way I see myself. I feel guilty and I couldn’t stand the pity in their eyes when they look at me. And Bucky… I couldn’t stand to see the devastation in his eyes. He would blame himself for every bit of what happened and I can’t do that to him. It’s not his fault. They say running away makes you run further from the solution. But what if there is no solution to go towards?

Y/N took a deep breath and closed the journal. Her mind was in a mess. She already felt like running but the words in journal just made that feeling increase. She couldn’t stay in this house with the sad looks from her brother and his wife. And Bucky…. Oh, god, Bucky. She knew what she was doing to him. Keeping him up at night with her crying and then giving her that half smile with those sad, guilty eyes. It hurt her. She felt like he had nothing to feel guilty for. She was the one that ran away, put herself in the situation. And even if what running was what got her here in the first place, all she could think about was running again. Her head snapped up towards the door as a gentle knock came before she saw Peggy’s face in the doorway.

“I’m going to the bank then to get groceries. Is there anything you need from the store, honey?” Peggy asks with a small smile.

Y/N shook her head, “No, thank you though.” She replied softly, dropping her gaze to the closed journal in her lap.

Peggy nods, “Alright, James should be back any minute to have some lunch with you.” She informed before shutting the door.

Y/N listened for Peggy to walk out the front door and listened for the car to come to life and drive down the road. She stood up, tears streaming down her cheeks as she grabbed out her suitcase and started shoving changes of clothes inside and essentials inside of it.

Bucky passed Peggy down the street, waving slightly from his motorcycle before pulling up in the driveway. He killed his bike before making his way up the steps and into the house, “Y/N? Sweetheart, what you feeling like for lunch?” He asks, sliding his leather jacket off and placing it on one of the kitchen chairs. When he didn’t get a response for Y/N, he went and opened the door to her bedroom to find her frantically throwing clothes in a suitcase. His eyes widened slightly and his jaw dropped. Bucky quickly crosses the room, grabbing onto both her wrists with his hands to stop her, “Hey, what are you doing?”

Y/N hadn’t heard Bucky come in, lost in her head with what she needed to pack before she got out of here. When he grabbed her wrists, she froze and looked at him, “Nothing… I’m just-“

“You’re trying to leave again.” Bucky said, finishing her sentence with a deep frown, “You’re not running away. Not this time.” He said, watching as she pulled herself out of his grasp and walk around to throw more items from her dresser into the bag. Bucky quickly moved to pull her into his chest, his grip tightening as she tried to push him away and telling him to let her go between sobs, “No, Y/N! I’m not letting you go again!”

Y/N managed to push herself out of his grasp eventually, breathing deeply as tears ran down her face, “You think I don’t see how hurt you are?! How the three of you look at me with all that pity?!” She yells at him, “I remember very little but the one thing I do remember very well is haunting me! I remember the day you told me to leave and not come back! I remember driving back to the hotel listening to sad songs when I was in the accident! I remember sitting there in the hospital bed, feeling so guilty knowing that it was all my fault I lost our child… I remember how devastated it would make you when you found out…” Her yelling had slowly turned into soft sobs, “And it’s breaking me. I don’t know what else to do than run from this. To leave for you.”

Bucky shook his head at her words, pointing his finger at her, “That is such bullshit Y/N! And I know you know it!” He replied, “You’re not going to leave for me. You’re going to leave for you because you’re a runner! It’s what you do and it doesn’t solve anything! It doesn’t make anything better for you or me!” He yelled back at her before flinching at the sound of his own voice. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, calming himself down.

Y/N watched him for a moment before looking down at the floor and shaking her head, “I’m sorry, Bucky.” She said softly, moving to grab the journals and tucking them into the suitcase, “But I have to go. I can’t sit here remembering the worst things and seeing the pain on everyone’s face anymore. It just makes me feel even more guilty for what I did.” She told him without looking at him, zipping up the suitcase and pulling it off her bed, starting to head for the door.

Bucky watched her, grabbing her arm as she tried to pass him headed to the door and pushed her up against the wall gently to pin her in place. He stared down at her, “I’m not losing you again, sweetheart.” He said, staring down into her eyes, “It wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of the drunk who decided to drive. If it hadn’t happened to you, it would’ve happened to someone else. I would never blame you for what happened because it wasn’t your fault.” He told her, tears starting to welt up in his eyes at the thought of Y/N leaving him again, “I can’t lose you. You think I’m in pain now? When you left, I tried calling you everyday to apologize. When you were deployed, I begged Steve everyday to give me your number so I could call you. Or at least an address that I could write you. I was shattered beyond repair! I drank myself into oblivion. I was reckless, tortured without you with me.” He paused, releasing her arms and bringing his hands up to rest on the cheeks of her face, staring deeply into her eyes as she remained with her back against the wall, “Let me be here for you. Stop pushing me away. I need you, sweetheart. You’re my sun and without you I’m lost in the dark. So let me help you- give me chance. I’ll do anything to help you remember the good things, okay? Things that’ll make you want to stay here with me.” He gently kissed her nose before leaning his forehead against her’s, “And if it doesn’t… I’ll run with you. We can forget this place and create all new memories. I’ll follow you anywhere, babydoll. You’re my girl.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as he pushed her against the wall, memories of the night she remembered the rose from his shoebox and he pushed her against the wall and kissed her. She stared into his eyes, listening to ever word he said. The words rolled off of his tongue like velvet with every ounce of honesty behind them. All she could do was nod slowly at him, “Okay.” She finally breathed out to him after a moment of silence. Y/N would try for him. He made her feel everything even in this dark moment. She could feel the honesty in his voice. The love he felt for her.

Bucky left out a sigh of relief, releasing his hands from her face and stepping back from her slowly, “Thank you.” He told her, “Now get some shoes on. We can grab some lunch on the way.”

Y/N looked at him curiously but did as he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her black converse on, “Where are we going?” She asks softly, watching him as he leaned against her dresser.

“You’re coming to work with me.” Bucky said, folding his arms, “You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna let you out of my sight now. Besides, everybody there has been excited to see you back there. You used to come visit me all the time.”

Y/N nods, standing once her shoes were tied securely to her feet, “Okay.” She said, walking towards him and taking his hand in her’s gently, “I am sorry, Bucky.” She murmurs out towards him, looking down at their intertwined fingers, “For putting you through this. I know you love me and I know it hurts to know what happened to keep me away from you. I just… didn’t want to tell you otherwise it’d be real. It felt like if I could just keep this secret from you then eventually it’d just fade away.”

Bucky watches her as she apologized, wishing that she would meet his gaze to see how much he had already forgiven her and to see that he didn’t blame her in the slightest. When she didn’t look up to him, he placed his index finger from his free hand under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him, “I’m here for you, sweetheart. You and I are in this together as we have always been and we will help each other get through it, okay? I love you.” He told her before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

_____________________________________________________________

Taglist: @vicmc624 @buckypops @shawnie--jo @ahahafudge @intothesoul @austynparksandpizza @simp-for-bucky @bibliophilewednesday @stcrryslibrary

If I missed anybody on the taglist or you would like to be added, send me a quick message, comment, or ask. Thank you for the support (:

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfic series #bucky barnes fanfiction series #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes

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stubbychaos · 4 years

Text

A Guilty Conscience

Chapter 10 of Saviin’ika

Masterlist

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: While you get used to your new role in the tribe, you make it your mission to meet the ones who are to be your family. While befriending some unlikely members of the tribe, Paz later surprises you with something that he thinks will make you happy, though it ends up having the opposite effect.

Rating: T

Word Count: 14,000 *Y’all idk how this happened, I’m so sorry lol*

Warnings: Some unresolved sexual tension, minor injuries and reader still dealing with a bunch of past trauma. Other than that, this chapter is pretty harmless!

Just a quick mention: Thank you as always to @datmando for inspiring me and giving me so many amazing ideas for this story!! You’ve helped me so much with this story and getting through writer’s block and I freaking love you <3 Thank you as well to @aerynwrites @hdlynnslibrary and @maybege for all being wonderful and I love you all for motivating me to write more Paz!!

Also thank you to @coredrive for the beautiful gifs you made!! If anyone wants quality gifs for their stories, masterlists, etc... please go to Kat because she was so freaking lovely and sweet!!

“Would you like one of my shirts, ner cyare?”

You turn around, coming face to face with an unarmored Paz who is sitting on the foot of the bed, his forearms lazily resting on top of his thighs as he observes the way you hopelessly shift the torn, silky fabric in your hands. You turn to face the culprit who is currently curled up in a white rocky ball close to the furnace in the main area of Paz’s private quarters, seeming completely unbothered and not regretful that she had used your only sleep attire as a chewing toy while you were in the shower and Paz was talking to the armorer.

“That would be nice, thank you,” You murmur softly, watching with a smile as he promptly stands and makes his way over to the dresser near his bed while you discard the torn, silky fabric.

Though a few days have passed since the fight without incident--much to your appreciation--you notice Paz acting differently around you and while it’s not in a bad way by any means, it still has your curiosity growing. You notice how he almost seems worried about letting you stray too far from him, though you’re certain it’s not because he’s concerned one of his own will hurt you again, but perhaps he has the same fears you hold in your very own heart. While you’ve only been with the tribe for three days, you find yourself getting less sleep with every passing day, afraid that when you wake up, you’ll be right back at the village infirmary with your estranged father.

Perhaps he’s anxious that if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll randomly decide to leave without a word or trace.

The thought amuses you and also fills your heart with grief, wondering how the Mandalorian could possibly conjure the thought of you even thinking about leaving the place that had quickly become your safe haven.

“I’m going to shower, if you want to change,” Paz gruffly voices as he approaches you with a thick, black garment and you perk up a little upon feeling how warm it is--how warm it will keep you.

Once the Mandalorian is in the refresher, you’re quick to strip your clothes, smiling softly as you neatly fold the emerald, long-sleeved dress that Ima had found for you in a designated stack of clothes that wasn’t being worn by anyone in the tribe. Once you are only in your shorts, you grab Paz’s black shirt that he must wear over all his padding and sheepishly tug it over your head, instantly relishing in how it smells just like him--all woodsy and spicy and just like the soap he uses. The material is incredibly thick, though it’s not stiff and doesn’t make it feel like you’re suffocating; it feels soft and comforting against your bare skin, engulfing you so warmly just like one of his embraces, though you still long for the intense pressure of his arms around you. The sleeves that usually come to an end just above his elbows now fall just a few inches above your wrists and the hem skims the middle of your thighs.

As you sit on the edge of the bed and get to work on tending to your braids and all the tangles from the hair you had chosen to leave down, you think of how surreal everything still feels and how all the horrors you had ever dreamed about running away from are currently above you in the village. You try your hardest not to think about it, and instead, your mind wanders to the tribe and its intimidating, rambunctious warriors that you’ve been interacting with in the covert for the past few days.

It’s been… an interesting experience, to say the least.

For people who you used to be terrified of until recently, you think it’s somewhat surprising as well as amusing that Paz had been correct when he mentioned them being quite mischievous when it came to you, though you’re certain most of it comes from you being an outsider and not understanding their language. It had already happened a couple times where you would be exploring the enclave, trying to memorize the tunnels and where different ones led, and you would run into a small group of Mandos speaking in their native tongue as you shyly approached them to introduce yourself.

Most of the time they would simply peer down at you while informing you that they already knew who you were--that they had seen you standing your ground against Paz, which apparently nobody in the tribe had ever really done before. It was quite interesting seeing everyone’s perspective towards their heavy-infantry warrior, how they knew him to be one of the strongest in the tribe and how they respected him for it. However, it was also slightly amusing that they seemed to have no problem making jokes at his expense--talking about how they were glad you were at the covert so he would stop being grouchy and angry all the time.

Ima, you found, was the exact same way, although she had no qualms about berating the man she called her uncle to his face.

Seeing the way the teenager and your blue warrior interacted with one another felt like some sort of special phenomenon that you had never really witnessed before--a relationship stronger than that between a sister and a brother, but not quite as profound as one between a daughter and father. You thought uncle and niece was a good way to describe it and though you’re curious as to why Ima doesn’t call anyone else in the tribe ‘brother’ or ‘sister’, you decide it’s better not to ask for the sake of accidentally bringing up a sad memory.

You’re too deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice a hulking figure emerge from the refresher minutes later, a few water droplets dripping down his shoulders and back as he mindlessly observes you combing through your hair with your fingers.

A small cough startles you and you turn your head to gaze at Paz, his helmet slightly tilted to the side as he stares at you through the guise of that unforgiving visor. Your fingers are still threaded in your damp hair, your bare legs dangling off the side of his bed with your sock-clad toes barely skimming the stone floor as you blink owlishly at him, still not used to seeing him expose so much of his skin.

He’s not saying anything and it has you slightly worried--have you done something wrong?

“Paz, are you okay?”

His bare, broad shoulders tense upwards when you shift on the bed, finally working through a stubborn tangle as you tilt your head at him; you find yourself doing that a lot more lately and you think being surrounded by so many Mandalorians has their little mannerisms rubbing off on you.

You move to get up when he doesn't say anything, now worried that you really have done something wrong, but Paz shakes his head and squashes your worries immediately.

"No--I mean, yes," He huffs and shakes his helmet a little harder when you stand up next to the bed to pull the thick fur away from the pillows it's tucked under while he moves to turn off the lights, "I'm fine, just a little tired, cyare."

You nod your understanding, feeling your own exhaustion creeping up on you, though today had been a relatively easy day in regards to treating scrapes and bruises. You’ve come to find that some of the younger, less trained Mandalorians aren’t exactly the most graceful on their feet, some tripping over their own capes while descending staircases, while others who are less skilled with blades or blasters manage to slip up and injure themselves. It’s definitely not the kind of injuries you’re used to tending--minor ones--but you find it much more pleasant and rewarding than your job in the village, especially when everyone here has treated you politely, for the most part.

You know that even while you had been accepted into the tribe, it doesn’t quite make you part of the family to some, especially to those who still felt as though you should swear the creed to be fully accepted. It was a big detail you had worried about quite a bit, whether or not you would have to swear the creed and wear a helmet just as the rest of them, but you think that perhaps it is a topic you should speak to the armorer about.

You slide underneath the heavy fur and exhale a content sigh, reminding yourself that such worries could wait until morning.

A yawn leaves you just as you hear the quiet hiss of Paz’s helmet being removed before he places it on his nightstand and a tired smile stretches your lips when you feel the mattress dip underneath the weight of the warrior’s body.

Before you can even turn to face him, his huge arm is wrapped around your waist and he’s carefully moving you closer to him; an intense warmth spreads throughout your cheeks when he holds you close, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he wastes no time in placing a kiss to the top of your damp hair. You can feel the heat from his bare chest already spreading throughout your entire body and you curl your legs back to press your feet against his bare ankles.

He lets out a small huff as he curls his fingers into the soft material of his shirt covering your abdomen and leans down to press a tender kiss to your cheek, “You are lucky I love you, or else I would not let you wear socks in our bed.”

The ‘our bed’ comment definitely doesn’t go over your head and you hold back a giggle when he sighs against your warm skin, his thumb stroking firm circles near your belly button, “I cannot help it that my feet are always cold.”

His chest rumbles with a soft laugh as he settles behind you, his hand moving a little lower to your hip, just underneath where your cauterized wound is still healing, and he gives you a gentle squeeze, “I told you that you’d do nothing to warm our bed up, mesh’la, I knew I was right. You’re always freezing.”

“If I recall correctly, you told me that you would not mind keeping me warm,” You remind him of what he had said the night he had told you his name, your cheeks growing hot when you feel his lips against the outer shell of your ear, “And you are doing no such thing, ori kebiin.”

“You are a funny woman,” Paz is still trying not to laugh as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, long fingers splayed widely against your burning cheeks, “You feel plenty warm to me, sweetheart.”

Realizing that there’s no way of beating the Mandalorian at his own game, you give up and simply shuffle your curled toes between his calves, making him grunt a little when he feels the blocks of ice that are your sock-clad feet through the material of his sleep pants. He cups your jaw and urges your head to the side a little, using his thumb that’s pressed to the corner of your lips to seek them out with his own.

This close intimacy is certainly another thing you’ve noticed since you forgave him after the fight--him wanting to kiss and touch you whenever it’s just the two of you. It’s definitely something you don’t mind, you realize as his tongue firmly swipes across your bottom lip, and you find yourself growing more comfortable and relaxed when it comes to accepting little touches from him. You can tell that it’s something he’s nervous about when you two are just laying in his bed, wide awake when sleep refuses to wrap itself around the two of you--that he’s worried something he does will set you off.

He always tries to keep his touches to your thighs and hips feather-light after politely asking if it’s okay for him to touch you there and a part of you wonders if he’s already concluded that you’re simply not used to people asking you for consent when it comes to certain things.

Even if it’s not the reason why, you’re still grateful he always asks and his consideration fills your heart with warmth whenever he seems so hellbent on making sure you’re comfortable when you two find yourself in these sort of intimate settings. It doesn’t necessarily feel like it’s him testing your boundaries, but more so him seeing what you like and what gets certain noises out of you, though you find your skin quite sensitive to every nip and lick he inflicts on you.

A part of you is grateful that he usually lies on his back when the two of you are holding one another, as the thought of being pinned underneath anyone again, even your blue warrior, lingers like a storm cloud in the back of your mind.

Currently, however, you focus on the way his fingers tentatively curl around your thigh, just below the hem of the shirt he had given you and your lashes flutter as he guides your head back a little so he has more access to your throat. He seems a little more eager tonight, you think, and as his fingers curl into the thick fabric at your thighs while he dutifully presses tender kisses to your sensitive skin, you start to slowly put the pieces together.

“Paz?” His name comes out in the form of a breathy whisper as he settles back to press a kiss into your damp hair.

He still seems slightly dazed as he brings his arm back to curl tightly around your waist, “Hm?”

“Earlier, when you were staring at me when you came out of the shower,” You grin a little when you feel the way his arms tense around your middle, “Was it… is it because I’m wearing your shirt?”

Paz huffs an amused noise and you’re certain you’ve left him flustered for once as he slowly shifts his body until he’s able to rest his chin against the slope of your neck, “I like the way you look in anything, cyare, but something about seeing you wearing my clothes--it does things to me. I can’t say that I am upset that your vulptex tore up your nightgown, not with how beautiful you look right now.”

“You can’t even see me right now, silly man.”

“I don’t need to,” He mumbles, his beard scratching your sensitive skin as he lazily tends to all the little marks he left behind with his lips and teeth the previous night, “I remember everything about you, ner cyare, like how your eyes always get big whenever you see me taking off my armor and my clothes. Perhaps my sweet little nurse isn’t as innocent as I thought.”

You nearly let out with a whimper when you feel his tongue on your skin, your cheeks burning furiously as his hand cautiously grazes up your thigh, “Is this okay?”

His tepid breath fanning along the column of your throat makes you shiver a little and your voice cracks a little when you speak, “Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He repeats with a soft sigh, his hand moving past the little shorts you typically wear to bed and up to your bare hip, just underneath where your blaster wound is still tender, though not nearly causing you as much pain, “Stars, your skin is so damn soft and your hair smells good--just like those flowers you’re always wearing.”

You let your eyes close as he continues to explore your stomach with feather-like strokes, seeming content to simply warm you with his large hand and you feel your thighs clench together firmly when he rubs a sensitive spot just underneath your belly button. His hands are leaving a scorching blaze in their wake and you feel a deep shudder wrack your body upon feeling the wet, open-mouthed kisses he’s leaving just underneath your earlobe.

Despite the ache between your thighs, you jump when his fingertips barely graze just above the hem of your shorts and he immediately freezes upon feeling the tension in your body.

“I’m sorry,” Your ears grow hot with shame and you think he must be frustrated with you for not feeling ready to be intimate on this kind of level yet, “I just--”

“Hey, don’t you dare ever apologize for knowing when you’re not ready,” He whispers, moving his lips away from your jaw and removing his hand from underneath the shirt he let you borrow, “I shouldn’t have done that--I should have asked first.”

“It’s okay,” You weakly reassure him, smiling softly when he politely fixes your shirt, dragging the hem back down your thighs, “I... I want to be with you like that and I thought I was ready but I... I don’t know.”

“You do not owe me an explanation. I would never pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do,” Paz promises in a rushed tone as he moves to unlatch his arm from around you, though you are quick to stop him, “I am sorry if I was too forward, cyare. I want you to only ever feel comfortable around me and if I ever do or say anything that you don’t like, please tell me, okay? I’ll never be mad at you.”

“I love you, Paz.”

He relaxes against you and presses another tender kiss into the hair above the tip of your ear, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner cyare.”

You smile into the darkness at the warmth his words bring you, though you can’t help but to feel doubt towards yourself and you turn your head a little over your shoulder until his warm breath fans across the plane of your cheek. Even though you can’t see him in the slightest, you like to imagine his eyes scanning your face thoughtfully--curiously--and you hear him let out an inquisitive hum when you murmur his name.

“I haven’t been able to sleep the last couple of days,” You admit softly, placing your hand on top of the much larger one that’s resting just under your sternum, “I’m scared that every night here is going to be my last one--that someone isn’t going to want me here because I haven’t sworn to the creed and that I don’t wear a helmet or armor.”

Paz exhales softly and you close your eyes when his minty breath tickles your nostrils, “Our alor already knows that you were to be brought to the tribe to be our nurse, not a fighter. I made it clear to everyone that you would not have to wear our armor and if anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me or the armorer. You’re not going anywhere… not if you don’t want to.”

You detect the way his voice lowers into a much more sheepish, subdued tone upon whispering the last part and your suspicions from earlier are proved correct.

He’s afraid that you’re going to change your mind about staying with the tribe.

In an attempt to squash his own fears and insecurities, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and urge his arm up past your chest until you are able to lean your head down a little and kiss his calloused knuckles tenderly. He lets out a content sigh as you let him splay his fingers out widely against the swell of your breast, your heart pounding frantically against his palm while his thumb studies your firm pulse at the base of your neck.

“I just want to be wherever you are, Paz,” You murmur, your lips stretching into a smile when he tenderly kisses your cheek again.

“I feel the same way about you,” He sighs, finally relaxing completely as you keep his hand cradled to your chest, “Anything else you’re losing sleep over, cyare?”

For a moment it sounds like he’s teasing you, but something about the rawness and sincerity of his voice makes you think differently and you swallow the lump in your throat as you think of the little boy from the nursery--the one that had clung onto your leg and hugged you. Though a part of you wants to ask Paz more about how he was found and what happened to his parents, you think it best not to ask and shake your head a little bit.

It is none of your business.

“Try to get some rest,” Paz murmurs against your cheek, his beard scratching your sensitive skin, “I’ll make sure to wake you up if you have any nightmares.”

You murmur a tired ‘thank you’ and let your eyes slip shut, feeling reassured by his words and the feathery press of his lips against the tail of your brow, along with the way his thumb continues to rest atop your pulse point at the bottom of your neck.

For once, you sleep restfully--not necessarily dreaming of much, but not really having any nightmares either. You’re stuck in a strange limbo for the rest of the night and at one point, you feel Paz stroking your brow in an effort to calm you down upon feeling your body jolt when you wake from a strange dream that has you crying out.

As you fall back asleep underneath the comforting guidance of his hands and sweet whispers against the shell of your ear, you briefly wonder if the heavy-infantry warrior ever sleeps.

The next morning when you wake up and tiredly crack your eyes open, Paz is already fumbling around the little kitchenette, his helmet and underclothes now on and you prop yourself up on an elbow as you watch him set a wooden bowl down in front of your excited vulptex. The dish is filled with colorful fruit and chunks of meat and you think it must be the best meal she’s had since she was born, what with her dramatic reaction. She lets out long, happy little squeaks between bites and you think you hear something reminiscent of a laugh or a chuckle from Paz’s vocoder when he reaches out to graze a bare hand along her rocky spine.

“And here I thought you hated her,” You murmur with a yawn, stretching your arms above your head before gracelessly rolling out of bed, the room dimly lit as you make your way over to your beloved companions, “You and everyone else are always calling her a runt.”

Paz snorts and shakes his head a little, tilting his head a little as he hands you a bowl of fruit that has some yogurt underneath, “She is a runt, saviin--doesn’t mean I hate her for it. Besides, she tried to bite Djarin in the leg yesterday, so I guess she’s starting to grow on me.”

You huff a little at that as you savor the fresh berries, your taste buds still not used to such sweet food, and you shake your head at your Mandalorian, “You better not be training my sweet vulptex to attack others, Paz.”

“I would do no such thing,” Paz still sounds a little smug as he begins to put on all of his thick padding and heavy armor, “I’d only train her how to attack the bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes and watch as he puts his armor on piece by piece, the same way he’s done it every morning for the last couple of days he’s been here. It must be a routine for him, you think as you watch him clip his pauldrons in place and work his way down his body; you find the whole process to be mesmerizing and you wonder if he’s been doing this every single day for nearly his entire life.

“I can feel you staring at me, cyare.”

You feel your cheeks warm up when you promptly turn your attention to the breakfast that Paz had kindly made for you, though you had insisted the previous mornings that you didn’t expect him to do this for you. Your heart warms when you remember how he had admitted that it made him happy to see you enjoy little basic necessities that you had been robbed of nearly your entire life and you stopped arguing after that.

Though it was only yogurt and fruit, you still felt like the most spoiled woman in the galaxy.

After completing your usual morning routine, along with braiding the top half of your hair around the crown of your head, you pick out your clothes for the day and scoop your needy little vulptex into the crook of your elbow, her favorite resting place, it seems.

“What am I going to do when she gets too big and I can’t carry her like this?”

Paz snorts as you wait for him to snap his gauntlets into place around his black, leather gloves, “If you didn’t spoil her so much and carry her around all the time, this wouldn’t be a problem, cyare.”

You pout a little at that, struggling not to smile when he gives your earlobe a playful tug once he’s finished with his big gauntlets, “Her leg is still sore--would you really be so heartless to make her walk around the covert?”

“She seemed to have no problem limping around until you showed up and started carrying her all over the place.”

Not having a solid rebuttal to the playful words, you simply shake your head and watch as he checks all the big pouches attached to his utility belt. Your eyes immediately land on the vibroblade sheathed at his hip and you let out a shaky sigh when you remember the Trandoshan, though Paz seems to notice the change in your attitude and shields that side of his body from you.

“C’mon cyare, we have a long day.”

Following close behind Paz, the two of you make your way out of his private quarters and down the tunnels where others are starting to trickle out of their rooms as well. You’ve come to find that with the exception of a few Mandos, the tribe tends to stick to a pretty strict routine of going to bed at a certain time and waking up earlier, though you find this to work out quite nicely for you. Whereas once you were getting two or three hours of sleep a night, along with maybe a thirty minute nap on your break, you now have the entire night to rest, even if you don’t always get the best sleep.

Perhaps he’s worried that you’ll get lost, even though you memorized the directions to your little office on the second day of being at the covert, but you allow Paz to guide you there anyways, grateful for his company when you know you won’t see him until tonight. Though you feel slightly sad upon making it to your destination, you’re somewhat anxious and eager to see what today brings you and who you might meet.

With a gentle kiss of his Beskar forehead against yours, you and the heavy-infantry warrior part ways for the day and you contentedly enter the little office that you had managed to clean up pretty well since your arrival. As you enter the little alcove, something feels off and you quickly detect the sounds of soft hums and discontented grunts.

You freeze upon finding out that you are not the only one occupying the room and your brows shoot up at the strange spectacle taking place in front of you.

In front of your desk, where you had placed a small pot of violets that you’d taken from the room Paz and Ima had decorated for you, is an unarmored Mandalorian who’s currently inspecting something you wrote down on a little notepad the previous day. Though the Mando is wearing a light grey helmet with chipped away emeral trimmings around the visor and cheeks, you think they must be one of the elders in the tribe, what with their hunched over form, wavering hands, and the long staff they wield.

You don’t miss the sharp, pointed tip of the walking stick that is made from what you’re certain is Beskar and you make sure to approach slowly, not wanting to frighten the Mandalorian, though the thought of you startling a warrior is slightly amusing to you.

They’re humming something that you can barely make out through their modulator and your lips instantly stretch into a faint grin when you realize they’re reading the little list you had started of all the Mandalorians you had met in the tribe so far, along with the colors of their armor and their names to help you memorize the people who are supposed to be your new family. You watch with curiosity as the unarmored Mandalorian grabs one of your pens from the little cup next to your notepad, leaning down to try to scribble something down, though they seem to grow frustrated with how shaky their hands are.

You decide to step in when you hear a disgruntled voice uttering curse words under their breath that you’ve never even heard Paz say before and your cheeks grow warm.

“Hello, may I help you?”

Immediately, the Mandalorian whips around with a small gasp, making you jump as well and you hastily take a few steps backwards when they turn around to face you, their hand pressed tight to where their heart must be frantically pounding, just like yours currently is. Your eyes are wide, hands nervously clutched together as the Mandalorian tilts their faded, scuffed up helmet to the side while observing you closely. Though you think they must be elderly, they stand about only one or two inches taller than you and you’re finally grateful to meet someone who isn’t terrifyingly large or as tiny as one of the younglings.

“You cannot sneak up on me like that!” He lightly admonishes in a deep, gruff voice, still holding his bare, wrinkled hand over his heart, “I am not nearly as alert as I used to be, but it doesn’t mean I can’t deal out some damage still.”

He lifts the staff to show you the pointed, steel bottom of it and you immediately nod your understanding, bowing your head a little, “Of course, I am so sorry! I wasn’t sure if you were hurt or not and I just thought…”

You bite your bottom lip nervously--what were you even thinking?

“Ah, I see,” He seems to relax then, pulling out the chair in front of your desk and sinking down into it with a pained grunt while you continue to wring your fingers together in an anxious manner, “So you must be my replacement--the nurse Paz insisted on bringing to the tribe.”

Maker, did your Mandalorian actually tell the entire damn tribe about you?

Your leg bounces as soon as you take a seat at the end of the medical cot and you brush a few unruly hairs from your forehead before speaking to the elderly man, “I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a replacement, sir. I’m sure I could never be as good of a medic as you are for your people. I’m just here to help out as much as I can.”

He chuckles and shakes his helmet at your humbled statement, propping his steel cane against his thigh and you feel a twinge of sadness deep within your soul as he stares down at his trembling hands. You notice his right hand is trembling more than the left and you think that must be his dominant hand--the one he would typically use for certain medical procedures--and you remember what Paz had mentioned about the tribe’s medic growing too ill and shaky to actually help others.

‘No wonder why the office was so dusty and everything was unused,’ you think to yourself sorrowfully, your eyes taking in all the big dents and scuff marks on his gray and crimson helmet.

“Hey, don’t give me those sad eyes, little one,” He admonishes you again and though you don’t remember having any kind of grandparent in your life, you think being scolded by this man must be what it feels like to have one, “I was told by Paz that you are a tough one--a warrior, just like us.”

You offer him a wry smile, “I suppose he didn’t tell you that I tend to cry quite a bit as well?”

“Oh, he definitely mentioned that,” The Mandalorian chortles and you can’t help but to grin at that, immediately feeling better at how playful he sounds, “I was hoping he was messing around with me--our people aren’t exactly the best with tears and emotions, but I suppose it is not a bad thing. During times like these, the tribe could use a little more happiness and vulnerability.”

You contemplate his words deeply, thinking of the few times Paz had informed you that because of the Empire, his people were nearly extinct and you wonder how this stranger could so easily accept you into the tribe without really knowing you. Seeing how worn out and damaged his dented helmet is, you can’t help but to wonder what he’s been through and though he seems to be more of an eccentric member of the tribe, you’re certain he’s been through hell and back.

“If you do not mind me asking--” You offer him a fond gaze, your smile growing when he tilts his helmet dramatically to the side, his Beskar cheek nearly touching his shoulder, “May I have your name? I am trying to learn who everyone is, but the visors are all the same and sometimes the color of armor is similar and--”

“I get it,” The older man sounds like he’s amused and you briefly wonder if he was once an outsider like you, though you find it rude to ask, “I was about to write it in your little notebook, but I fear my hands are too unsteady for you to understand my writing, little one.”

You perk up and quickly stand up, making your way over to where he’s sitting before you crouch down in front of your desk and grab one of the several pens in the little cup near your notebook. The Mandalorian makes a funny noise as you give him an inquisitive glance, wordlessly asking for his name with a quirk of your brow and though he wears a typical Mandalorian helmet, you think he must be grinning underneath his Beskar guise.

“Ezir Ralas.”

You somehow manage to write down his name as fast as he spells it out for you and you grin at how demanding he sounds upon spelling every single letter out and how he describes the exact colors of his faded helmet. There’s something about his lighthearted tone that makes you think he’s not as intimidating as every other warrior you’ve encountered since being brought to the covert.

“Well, it is lovely to meet you, sir,” You beam at him as you make your way back to the medical cot to sit on while you wait for your first patient of the day, “Have you been the tribe’s nurse for very long?”

He chuckles again, long fingers curling against his knees, “Oh yes, I’ve been with the tribe since we were forced into hiding years ago. Before all of this, however, I was a field medic for my people on Mandalore, back during our civil war.”

“Oh, I um, I had no idea there was a civil war,” You frown at this new information, briefly wondering if Paz knows about this, though you think he must, “That must have been so scary to be out there on a battlefield, trying to save your own people.”

He lets out a small grunt as he leans forward to rest his forearms atop his thighs, “Even though I am a medic, I was also born and raised a fighter, little one. Though the things I have seen haunt me at night when I cannot sleep, I would not so willingly admit that I was ever afraid.”

You slowly nod and gaze down at the steel pendant that hangs between his collarbones and you recognize it as the one you often see around the covert, or in the morning when Paz tucks his own into the collar of his tunic. Seeming to recognize your curiosity towards the skull sigil, he unties the knot at his nape and holds out the necklace for you to inspect up close.

With great eagerness, you reach forward to accept the kind gesture, “Is it rude of me to ask what this is?”

“It is not rude,” Ezir sounds amused by your curiosity and your cheeks grow warm as you trace over the sharp horns protruding from the cheeks of the skull with your thumbs, “It is the skull of a beast that was once native to Mandalore--the mythosaur. They were these enormous monsters with teeth and horns sharper than a sword made of Beskar and when they tried to attack my ancestors, we either slayed them or conquered them and rode them as transportation.”

“How big were they?”

“Massive,” He flippantly waves a hand in the air, appearing far too nonchalant while speaking of terrifying beasts, “Well, I would imagine they’re the size of the village currently above us, little one.”

Your eyes grow wide and a chuckle escapes past his modulator at how incredulous you sound, “And you’re ancestors fought them?”

“Without hesitation,” He informs you and though the image of a monster so fearsome and enormous terrifies you, it also fills you with feelings of reverence and awe, “After the beasts went extinct, the mythosaur skull became a symbol of our people and all that we had overcome; it is a symbol of our history and culture.”

You hum quietly, barely noticing the way his tilted visor is trained on the way you tenderly trace all the curves and divots of the pendant with admiration, a smile tugging at your lips as you think of the symbolism behind the sigil. Suddenly, you understand why people have always murmured terrifying rumors of the Beskar-clad enigmas and you think it must be true that they’re the strongest warriors in the galaxy. You wonder what it must feel like to exude such power to the point where people fear you without even knowing who you are and though you still regret feeling so much terror upon initially meeting Paz, you’re suddenly grateful that you’d eventually let him into your heart.

“Perhaps one day, you will have one of your own,” Ezir concedes and your head snaps up to peer at him with shock; you hand the pendant back out for him to take, feeling undeserving to be holding something so precious to his people, “Oh, don’t give me that look. You may not wear our helmet or armor, but once I teach you some Mando’a and get a weapon in your hand, you’ll be a fearsome warrior.”

You think of what Paz had mentioned about the others in the tribe teaching you Mando’a, and while you’ve only known him for a few minutes, he seems to be a respectful man, albeit a little quirky.

“What does riduur mean?” You blurt out, your skin instantly growing warm when you see Ezir’s shoulders shaking as he laughs at the innocent question; suddenly, you fear that everyone has been saying something demeaning about you, “I just... everyone in the tribe keeps calling me ‘Paz’s riduur’ and I--it’s not an insult, right? They’re always laughing when they say it.”

He shakes his head as his laughter eventually ceases, “No, little one, it is quite the opposite of an insult, but rather a term of endearment. I do not think it is my place to tell you what it means and I am not sure if Paz has the guts to actually tell you, but I can say that I am certain you will find out for yourself one day when he calls you that himself.”

Your leg bounces anxiously as you watch him situate his mythosaur pendant between his collarbones and as you think of all the meanings that the word possibly possesses, one stands out to you the most.

“Is it something I would be allowed to say to him as well in the future?”

“Yes,” He reaches down to pet your vulptex that’s awkwardly making her way towards his boots, sounding utterly entertained by your inquiry, “Though I cannot promise you that his brain wouldn’t combust if he heard you call him that.”

“Then perhaps I would call him that as payback for all the times he’s teased me about certain things.”

Ezir guffaws at that, remaining diligent in petting the lazy vulptex that’s headbutting his calf in a needy manner, “I like you, little one. I almost didn’t believe Ima when she told me you had stopped the fight between Din and Paz, let alone when she informed me that you had stood up for yourself and the bounty hunter.”

You watch as the older man awkwardly scoops the little vulptex into his arms and you’re grateful that not many seem to mind her presence in the covert, as you’re not sure what you would have done had you been forced to get rid of her.

“I have been belittled by men all my life,” You shyly admit, staring at the little creature that’s reaching up in an attempt to bite his pendant, though Ezir doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest as you continue, “And for the longest time, I just learned to keep my mouth shut and deal with it because that’s just the way I was raised, I suppose. These last couple of days have taught me that it does not make me a bad person for only wanting to be treated with respect and my only regret is that I did not realize this sooner in life. Perhaps I’d be a stronger woman if I had realized my worth at a younger age.”

No longer is Ezir petting the vulptex, but instead, he now has his visor trained on you and in return, you offer him a small smile. He remains deathly silent for at least a minute before giving you a curt nod, as though he approves of either you or just your declaration in general.

“In our language, we have a word that I think perfectly describes you, little one,” His gruff, filtered voice drops to something softer as he watches you perk up with curiosity, “Ramikadyc--it means that you have the tenacity and determination of a Mandalorian, that you have our mindset.”

Your heart instantly swells with gratitude and you shyly cross your ankles together as you wring your fingers together on top of your lap, “I would hardly compare myself to your people. I do not think I would have the tenacity or determination to fight against one of those mythosaurs that your ancestors slayed.”

“Something tells me you and I are not too different,” Ezir informs you with what you think is mirth laced within his deep voice, “I do not think you would hesitate to put yourself in harm’s way if it meant protecting someone you care for or someone you do not wish to see to get hurt.”

You smile softly and give him a slight nod as you think of the bounty hunter that you had stood up for, despite him not deserving it, or even your little vulptex that you had taken a blaster shot for. If Ezir truly thinks that you have the heart of a warrior, then he must be saying it for a good reason and his words, along with Ima’s and Paz’s confidence in you, fills you with a little more hope in regards to your future with the tribe.

“Will you tell me more about you?”

“I am afraid my stories might bore you to the point of insanity,” Ezir chuckles, shifting in his seat a little so he can hold your vulptex in a more comfortable position, “But since you seem so curious, what is it you wish to know, little one?”

“Can you tell me more about Mandalore and the civil--?”

Before you can finish, a deep baritone from the entrance of your office interrupts your inquiry and both you and Ezir immediately turn around to find your blue Mandalorian standing tall behind another unarmored Mando, though this one is still taller than you and Ezir. The smaller Mando is holding their wrist protectively against their chest and it takes a few seconds for you to recognize the warrior as one of the younger ones that seems to have a knack for constantly getting hurt during training.

“Saviin’ika,” Paz greets politely with a slight nod, cocking his helmet to the side upon noticing who’s been keeping you company in the short amount of time you two have been apart, “Ezir.”

You raise your brows at the way your warrior tenses up a little upon seeing the elderly man, though you manage to get in a word before any of the Mandalorians can say anything, your attention focused on the injured boy.

“Is your wrist hurt?”

The unarmored Mando peers up at Paz with what you think must be a wary expression through his visor--something that your warrior immediately picks up on. With absolutely no hesitation, the heavy-infantry warrior murmurs something to the younger Mando in his native tongue and you raise your head with anticipation and a kind smile. As though that’s all the confirmation of the young teenager--Vhan--needs, he nods a little and you slide off the end of the cot so your first patient of the day can sit down.

You give the boy a small, encouraging smile as he takes his glove off and pushes up his sleeve to reveal a swollen wrist, “What happened?”

“It was my fault,” Paz says immediately, making you raise your brows in surprise at the thought of him somehow hurting someone so young, “He was sparring with his brother and I looked away for a minute. He fell and landed right on his wrist.”

You frown a little at the guilt in his voice, though judging by the exasperated sigh that wafts past Vhan’s modulator, you think this must be a common occurrence amongst the younger ones who get hurt on Paz’s watch.

“Well, it’s hard to tell for sure without x-rays,” You manage to rotate Vhan’s wrist in the slightest, a gesture that seems to cause minimal pain to the boy, “But it looks like it’s just a minor sprain, since there seems to be no crooked bones and you can still move it around a little. Nothing too serious and nothing to feel bad about.”

Paz lets out a relieved huff at the news, though you know your blue warrior enough to know he’s not going to let the guilt down so easily, especially not when it pertains to one of the younger members of the tribe. A knowing grin stretches your lips when Vhan groans, and now you’re certain this isn’t the first time Paz has been worried like a mother hen over the clumsy teen. Though the blue warrior has quite the reputation among all the adults in the covert, it seems he also has a completely different persona when he’s with the younger ones.

“See? I told you it’s fine. Can I go back to training now?” Vhan insists, moving to hop off of the cot, though you are quicker to stop him by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Uh uh,” You shake your head, earning another groan from the teen and what you’re sure are surprised expressions from the two other men occupying the room, “Just because it’s a sprain doesn’t mean you can go running off just to damage it even further. You should at least rest it for forty-eight hours and put some ice on it every thirty minutes for two hours until the pain goes away. Also try to keep it elevated as much as possible.”

“That’s so much work for a little sprain though!” Vhan argues and you let out a soft sigh as you begin to compress his wrist with a thick bandage, “Can’t I just--”

“Hey!” Ezir suddenly sounds annoyed, and you’re surprised when the boy tenses up a little, just as Paz had earlier, and something about their reactions has you growing even more curious to what kind of reputation the elder has among his family, “Listen to the nurse, di’kut. She only wants what’s best for you.”

“Yes sir,” Vhan mumbles, though you can tell he’s still not happy about it when he turns his visor to you, “S-Sorry, Saviin’ika.”

You blink your surprise at him calling you the familiar nickname, but eventually you give him a kind smile and stand up to retrieve your roll of ice wraps, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m sure it must be difficult for you to miss out on training, but it really is for your own good. I don’t have the resources here to fix your wrist if it was seriously broken, so it’s detrimental to make sure that the sprain heals properly before doing any serious training again. Perhaps there is… um, maybe something else you can do in the meantime that’s not too strenuous?”

He perks up a little and hope instantly flares in your chest as he gives you an eager nod before turning to look at Paz, “You told me the other day that you would show me how to take apart an assault rifle and put it back together--would that be okay?”

Paz glances at you and the boy’s eager tone makes it hard for you to say no, so you give your warrior a reluctant nod as you finish tying the ice wrap around his swollen wrist, “Just as long as you make sure to not move your wrist around too much and keep the ice wrap on, okay?”

“Alright!” He’s instantly hopping off the cot and you chuckle at his newfound excitement, “Thanks vod’ika!”

You huff a little, opening your mouth to stubbornly remind him that you’re far older than him, though he cuts you off with a quick headbutt to your forehead; while it’s not too harsh of a harsh gesture, it’s certainly not as gentle as all the times Paz has performed the same action. You rub your tender forehead as Paz turns to the side a little so Vhan can make his way, presumably, to the armory. Paz shakes his helmet in an exasperated manner as he steps toward you, most likely to get a look at your forehead, but Ezir’s small grunts as he slowly stands up has your full attention.

Instinctively, you move to help the elder up from your office chair, noticing his slight struggle to stand and you force yourself not to cringe at the numerous pops and cracks coming from his knees and back. After a lifetime of fighting and being a medic, you’re certain it’s taken a toll on him, though he simply chuckles a little and pats your back as you both make your way over to Paz.

“I suppose I should take this as my sign to leave you to your duties for the day, verd’ika,” You beam at the new nickname as he carefully grabs onto your elbow for better balance while you lead him to the entrance where Paz is still standing with a cocked helmet, “I’ll have to look for my old medical books and datapads for you to read.”

“Oh, thank you!” Happiness and warmth instantly blankets your heart at his consideration, gratitude filling your soul when you realize that he seems to approve of you being the tribe’s new nurse, “I would love that very much, if it’s not too much of a hassle.”

“Of course not,” He gives your hand a little pat before latching onto a grumpy Paz’s elbow instead, “I’ll just make this one help me later since he can reach the higher shelves.”

“I have other things to--”

Jutting a thumb out in your direction over his shoulder, Ezir sends a rough little whack! of his walking stick to Paz’s armored shin, “It is good she is here with the tribe now--perhaps she can teach you and everyone else some manners, you big brute.”

“Yeah, ori kebiin,” You giggle in a teasing manner, earning a small grunt from the blue warrior, “Would it really kill you to learn a few manners?”

Ezir lets out a loud laugh that has Paz shaking his helmet at you, and though you know you’ll soon regret it, you think it’s worth the delightful torment he’ll inflict on you later when the two of you are alone. Without another word, Paz reaches out to give your nape a tender squeeze before leaving you alone to your thoughts in your little office, though you think that seeing Ezir and helping Vhan has already given you a bright start to your day.

With a faint smile stretched along your lips, you add a few comments to your little notepad and take inventory of the supplies you have and what you need for the next time Paz goes on a supply run. For the most part, the day goes by slowly and uneventfully--something you are actually grateful for, what with being so used to the chaos that came as a result of working in a village full of crime and those with cruel hearts.

Needless to say, you don’t mind a calm day in the slightest and when Ima passes your office hours later to politely inform you that training and sparring lessons are done for the day, you’re grateful that no serious injuries were sustained. Packing up your things and making sure your office is in order, you turn off the lights and exit your office, eager to explore the covert a little more and go to the room that Paz and Ima had decorated for you.

After conversing with a few of the Mandalorians you had befriended in the short amount of time you’ve been at the covert, you happily make your way down the stairs that you know leads to everyone’s private quarters, as well as the nursery and your little flower alcove.

You hum a mindless tune to yourself as you stroll down the long tunnel, smiling when the atmosphere gets a little warmer when you pass the shielded alcove that leads into the nursery; your walking slows a little and you’re half tempted to go inside and say hi to the little ones, though you don’t want to cause any chaos again, especially so late in the day. Reluctantly, you continue past the nursery and make your way to the little room Paz and Ima had decorated with your flowers, your vulptex resting comfortably in your arms as you two seek out relaxation.

“I need to think of a name for you, little one,” You murmur, earning a soft gaze from her, crimson eyes slowly blinking up at you, “Maybe I should ask one of the younglings to come up with one. They must be far more creative than me.”

She simply answers you with a dramatic huff as you continue down the path that Paz had already taken you down a few times.

You’re completely oblivious to the little footsteps following you far behind.

Finally, you make it to your beloved sanctuary and let out a relieved sigh upon seeing all your growing flowers and the lights that hang above them. Placing your little vulptex on the center of the desk where you had placed a little pillow for her, you dutifully water the plants and flowers that look like they need it the most. It’s comforting to have a little place of your own, especially after dealing with so many of the boisterous warriors all day and while you feel as though you’re slowly getting used to their antics, you realize you truly had no idea what you were getting yourself into upon agreeing to be the tribe’s nurse.

A small smile quirks at the corners of your lips as you feel the tiniest ache in your temple where the younger Mandalorian had headbutted his gratitude a little too roughly earlier, though warmth fills your heart when you remember how he had referred to you as his sister.

You’re in the middle of checking on your little violets when your vulptex raises her head in a jolting manner; immediately, you turn around, expecting Paz or perhaps Ima needing you to tend to someone’s wound.

It is neither one of them, you realize with surprise.

You let out a little gasp upon seeing a pair of wide, fearful eyes poking from the tiny crack between the curtains and the doorway and you instantly recognize the sad, golden brown orbs from days ago in the nursery.

“Oh, it’s okay, little one!” You give him a warm smile that instantly seems to allay some of the despair in his big eyes, “You may come in, if you’d like.”

Hesitantly, he makes his way into the unfamiliar room, looking like a lost animal that’s experiencing a new environment for the first time and you think you know the feeling all too well; even after spending a few days at the covert, you still feel quite lost and you can’t possibly imagine what this child is going through.

You blink your surprise when he gets halfway across the room before spotting your lazy vulptex who is still curled up on your desk, staring at the boy curiously, though not unkindly in the slightest. Carefully, you make your way closer to the little who simply stares up at you with wide starry eyes, his hands clasped together politely in front of him and your heart melts at how nervous and scared he seems.

“It’s okay, little one,” You reassure him in a calm, hushed tone, reaching your hand out for him to take, “She loves younglings very much and would never hurt you, I promise.”

The curly-haired boy shifts his gaze between you and your rocky companion before ultimate latching onto your hand with his. Cautiously and without any force, you guide him closer to your desk where the vulptex is still observing the little boy with gentle eyes; you think that on top of being intelligent, her species must also be quite empathetic and can differentiate a kind soul from a dark one.

“Is it okay if I pick you up?” You question the boy softly, earning you a shy nod as an answer, and you carefully haul him up to the chair in front of your desk, keeping a hand pressed to the back of his shoulders to keep him steady, should he stumble, “If you want to hold your hand out to sniff it, it’ll be a sign that you want to be her friend.”

His eyes widen a little more and you can’t help but to grin as he holds a shaking hand out for the rocky vulpine to sniff eagerly, his other hand pressed shyly to his cheek in anticipation. A tiny, childish giggle meets your ears and warms your heart as the vulptex licks his palm, though he is quick to pull his damp hand back and wipe it on his beige tunic with a scrunched up expression. When he smiles up at you, you’re certain your heart is going to melt into a big puddle of goo in the pit of your stomach and you offer him one in return, smoothing his dark, unruly curls away from his forehead.

“See? She knows you’re brave and likes you now.”

He gives you a toothy grin and you feel a lovely warmth in your soul knowing that you were able to provide some emotional reprieve for the sweet child.

“Did you sneak away from the nursery, little one?” You ask him gently, not wanting him to think you’re upset with him at all; he simply drops his head in shame and you continue to stroke his curls in an attempt to comfort him, “It’s okay! You’re not in trouble, I promise. I just want to know why.”

For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to answer as he keeps his head lowered, but then he eventually peers up at you and whispers his response in a tiny, meek voice.

“Y-You were singing,” He explains quietly, and you realize he must have heard you humming and followed you all the way here, “‘M sorry.”

“Hey, no, none of that,” You crouch down in front of him so he’s taller than you while he stands on your chair and you give him a kind smile, “It’s okay, but how about next time you just ask the caretaker on duty, alright? They’ll come find me, wherever I may be.”

He gives you a shy nod, seeming thoughtful for a few moments as he presses a chubby index finger to his pouting lips, “Do I have to go back?”

You should say yes and you know it, but his eyes are all but pleading with you to say no and he looks so hopeful that you’ll let him keep you company. You think he must feel just as out of place as you do, not knowing who to talk to or who to trust, though you seem to be the one person he finds solace in.

How could you destroy that tiny amount of trust he already has in you?

You give him a tiny smile and shake your head, “You may stay for a little while, but I fear I do not make for the most exciting company, little one.”

The boy doesn’t say anything to that and you blink your surprise when he reaches out to clumsily touch the thick braid wrapped around your crown, along with the few flowers that you had strategically placed throughout the weaves that morning when Paz had been watching you. He seems curious by the vibrant flora, his eyes blinking and flickering with awe and you bow your head a little so he can get a better look at them.

“Do you like flowers?” You ask him quietly when he eventually ceases his exploration, and you look up to see him giving you a shy little nod, “What’s your favorite kind?”

You expect him to not know many, especially if he’s spent his few years of life on Nevarro, though he surprises you when he speaks in a barely there whisper, “I like roses--like the ones my ‘gramma used to paint.”

You’re desperately inclined to ask more about his grandmother--if he had any parents and what planet he had been saved from, but if he’s the covert’s newest foundling, the wounds on his heart and mind must still be so fresh and you do not wish to infect it further with your invasive questions. Instead, you force yourself to give him a warm, big smile and somehow manage to keep the tears out of your eyes when his chubby fingers find the little blue flower that Paz had tucked behind your ear earlier in the morning.

“Yeah? I bet they were beautiful,” You grin and he gives you a fervent little nod to confirm your thoughts, “What color roses did she paint?”

And what you thought was only going to be a ten or twenty minute interaction with the boy ends up to be more than an hour and a half long meeting where the two of you talk about harmless topics like flowers, favorite animals, different types of stars and constellations. Though for once, you do most of the talking and you are more than satisfied to describe the beautiful hot springs and caves that Paz had taken you to, sparing all the mushy details that you knew would probably gross out a child.

“He’s scary,” The boy murmurs as you tell him of the story, at least the clean version, of how Paz had stood up for you the night you first found your vulptex, “They all are--they don’t smile.”

“Well of course they do,” You inform the little one, curling a finger against his cheek and earning a tiny giggle, “Everyone smiles, you just can’t see it because they wear their helmets to honor their creed. It does not mean they are robots or incapable of feeling the same emotions we do.”

He’s perched on one of your thighs, seeming comfortable as he softly pets the sleeping vulptex and you smile down at him sympathetically upon realizing he’s still apprehensive of the armored warriors, “I was scared of Paz at first too, but he turned out to be one of the kindest, most honorable men I have ever met. These people are not cruel, but I understand why you are afraid, little one. I have only been here for three days and I am still learning how to fit in as well. Perhaps we can figure this out together.”

He gives you another toothy grin and nods, seeming comforted by your words as he leans back into you and your heart aches at the trust he shows in you; a part of you wonders if it’s because he can actually see your face. You’re not entirely sure of what to say as he continues to pet the sleepy animal, smiling whenever he hears the soft squeaks that the vulptex lets out every now and then.

“Do you have a name little one?” You ask kindly--tenderly--hoping that the question won’t overwhelm him as he tilts his head to stare up at you.

You truly don’t think he’s going to answer you, but then after a few moments of silence, he lowers his head a little, not looking you in the eyes.

“Odisian.”

“Odisian... what a lovely name,” You repeat it with a grin, earning a shy smile from him, “Is it okay if I call you Odi? Or do you prefer your full name?”

Suddenly, he beams up at you and kicks his legs a little, as if having a nickname makes him feel more at home, “I like Odi!”

Your cheeks nearly hurt from how big you’re smiling at him and you nod, deciding it’s best not to dwell too much on his own name or what nicknames he might have had before being brought to the covert. You straighten your spine a little and reach out to pet your little vulptex who keens under all the adoration and attention she’s suddenly receiving from you and the little one.

“Would you like to pick out a name for her?” You ask him softly, tilting your head to the side when he gives you an expression filled with awe and wonder, like he can’t believe you are asking him to do such a thing, “She needs one and I do not think I am creative enough to bestow her with such an honor.”

Odi swings his legs nervously and you can’t help but to grin as he seems to seriously contemplate this huge decision, his tiny hand squeezing his cheeks together in great concentration. You remain patient with him as he turns his head a little to stare at all the flowers on your desk and the colorful vines that are draping off the edge of the shelves attached to the wall with admiration.

“Rosie?”

He says it more as a question, like he’s nervous for your response, so you offer him a warm grin when you realize this sweet child wants to name your vulptex after his own favorite flower. You wonder if he somehow knows just how much your flowers mean to you, just as Paz does, or if the flower simply has some sort of deeper meaning to him and you playfully ruffle his curls, earning you a little giggle from him.

“That is far more lovely of a name than I could ever come up for her,” You inform him, your cheeks hurting from how big of a smile you’re wearing on your face and he perks up at your reassurance, no longer seeming quite as nervous, “Her eyes are red like roses too! Is red your favorite color?”

“I like yellow,” He bashfully admits, and you nearly chuckle at the way he pronounces his ‘L’s as ‘W’s, “It is a happy color.”

You agree with him as you begin to collect some flowers for the little boy, though a part of you lamely thinks he probably doesn’t even want them. You’re in the process of pointing out all the different flowers that Paz and Ima had been so kind to plant for you in anticipation of your arrival when the drapes to your alcove shuffle to the side a little.

You’re completely unaware of how long your blue warrior is standing in the entryway, simply observing you and the little one perched contently on top of your leg who seems utterly interested in what you have to tell him about the healing properties of violets and lavender.

“Oh! And then this one right here, if you just grind it up and add it into--”

“Cyare.”

Immediately, you and Odi both turn to face where Paz is standing just feet away in front of the rounded entrance, though the little one in your arms is quick to lower his head in fear of the massive warrior. Wanting the youngling to feel more comfortable, you simply smile up at Paz, who suddenly seems frozen to his spot as he stares at you with a cocked helmet, his shoulders tense as his pauldrons inch closer to the bottom of his helmet.

“Is something wrong, Paz?”

“No, it’s just--” His helmet slightly jolts to the side and he’s acting odd as you gently heave Odi off of your lap, offering him the little bundle of flowers so he won’t feel so lonely without you by his side, “It is time for the younglings to sleep and the caretaker on duty got scared because he was missing. I thought you might know where he is and it seems as though I was right.”

Odi is staring up at you with the saddest expression, as though he’s pleading with you to not return him back to the nursery and you gently cup the back of his curls, giving him a kind smile in return. Nervously, he fiddles with his hands as you stand up, easily scooping your vulptex into the crook of your elbow, all while the little one stares up at Paz with the most frightened expression you’ve ever witnessed, hiding behind your leg.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere and you’re more than welcome to visit me anytime,” You offer him a reassuring smile as he gazes down at the little bouquet of flowers and he is quick to grab your outstretched hand with an eager expression, “C’mon, I’ll walk you back. Besides, he likes flowers too--I bet he would like it if you gave him one.”

You say the last sentence in a low whisper, as though you’re sharing some sort of gossip with him and you instantly notice the way he perks up as Paz holds the drapes to the side for you, his helmet still tilted to the side as he observes you two. Odi is still quiet and thoughtful as he stares down at the little bundle of colorful flowers you had gifted him, all while holding your hand as Paz slowly leads you through the dim tunnels.

Shyly, the child gazes up at Paz and warmth blooms in your heart and soul when he lowers his helmet to regard Odi with what you’re certain is the utmost kindness, most likely wanting nothing more than to earn the boy’s trust. Without saying anything, the little one holds up the colorful bouquet of flowers for Paz to see and you grin at the adorable interaction.

"Those are... pretty,” Paz comments in a softer voice and you can tell he’s trying to appear as placid as possible to the nervous boy, “Which one is your favorite?”

Odi lets go of your hand to press his index finger to his bottom lip in severe contemplation and you nearly chuckle at what must be a cute little habit that he does unknowingly when he’s thinking too hard. After a moment’s consideration, he points a chubby finger at one of the many violets that you had tucked in the center and you instantly grin.

“Those are my favorite too,” Paz says quietly, and you’re too focused on the way Odi is smiling down at the little bouquet to notice the Mandalorian’s visor trained on your face.

Odi seems conflicted as he gently tugs one of the violets from the middle of the colorful bundle and offers it to the huge warrior with a hopeful gaze, not saying a word throughout the entire exchange.

“What an honor,” Paz sounds like he's grinning as he accepts the little flower and Odi immediately seeks out your hand again, “Thank you.”

The youngling peers up at you with a cheerful glimmer in his eye, as though he’s proud of himself for showing such bravery and selflessness in the presence of a powerful warrior. Once you offer him a knowing smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand, Odi turns to gaze down at his colorful bouquet with a tiny grin on his face.

Content upon realizing the little one no longer seems sad or fearful, you tilt your head up to beam happily at Paz, your heart still full of love and admiration towards both him and Odi; immediately the warrior lifts his hand to tenderly stroke your cheek. The cold bite of leather nearly makes you flinch and suddenly you’re remorseful that both of your hands are occupied by your littlest companions as you now long to touch the lighter blue in the hollows of his cheeks.

It’s not until you make it back to the nursery that Odi’s smile drops and his lips form into a little pout. Paz presses his gloved hand to the small of your back to guide you further into the nursery and through a short tunnel leading the four of you to where the younglings must sleep and take their naps.

“Hey,” You whisper after the four of you enter a dimly lit room with several beds lined up; you notice the tiny lumps curled up underneath the fuzzy blankets and smile as you crouch down in front of Odi, “Remember what I said, okay? You ever want to come see me, just ask one of the caretakers. I’ll always be here for you.”

He nods, and before you can even think about standing up, he steps forward to wrap his tiny arms around your neck and you’re quick to return the sweet gesture, your free hand coming up to gently cup the back of his head. You feel his chubby fingers curl into the hair you had left unbraided that morning and smile when he holds onto you a little tighter; you can tell he’s still afraid of you leaving as an idea pops into your head.

“Since Rosie seems to like you so much, why don’t I leave her here with you for the night?” Immediately, he pulls away from you, his starry eyes wide and filled with disbelief as you gently shuffle the lazy vulpine into his awaiting arms, “She may be small, but she’s a fierce little thing that will protect you from any nightmares you may have, I promise.”

He holds the animal closer to his chest, grinning when she lifts her head to lick at his cheek and Odi instantly giggles in response. He gives you one last shy smile before making his way to his little bed and you stand up to your full height as you watch him shuffle underneath his blankets, all while holding Rosie close to his chest. It’s not until you watch his eyes close that you let out a deep exhale and you wonder when you had stopped breathing; tears nearly escape your eyes when you watch Rosie curl herself closer to the child, head tucked underneath his chin as he smiles sleepily.

“Ner cyare,” Paz whispers and you jump a little, nearly forgetting that he had been standing there this whole time; you turn to face him and you give him a questioning look when he threads his fingers through the valleys between yours, “There is something I want to show you.”

You think when he says ‘something’, he most likely means ‘someone’, and your heart thrums wildly in anticipation as he leads you away from the younglings’ sleeping quarters. The alcove he’s leading you to is the one he had popped out of a few days ago after you confronted him after the fight, you realize, and you wonder what could possibly be in the room that he seems so excited to show you.

You blink owlishly at him as he politely holds the drapes to the side for you and you hesitantly enter the warm room; instantly, another Mandalorian with black and yellow armor turns to face you and Paz. Before you can offer the stranger an affable greeting, a soft whimper cuts you off and your heart instantly freezes over when you spot a wooden crib in the corner of the dim room.

An infant…

There is an infant in the covert and the thought simultaneously terrifies you and breaks your heart.

Paz quietly says something in his mother tongue when the caretaker on duty tenses as you step forward to try to get a better look at the distressed infant, your heart now pounding so wildly that you hear it in your ears. Whatever Paz said to the caretaker immediately seems to calm them down and they simply watch as you observe the fussy baby that is kicking its little feet wildly and growing even more distressed. The infant is wearing tiny white socks and a long, dark brown tunic that falls to her ankles; her little head is adorned with a white beanie, but you see dark tufts of hair poking out from underneath.

“I… I cannot get her to stop crying,” The Mandalorian’s deep, filtered voice is coated with exhaustion and despite the tears burning your eyes, you fixate your attention on the defeated Mando, the vibrancy of the yellow stripes painted on his black armor nearly hurting your eyes, “What am I doing wrong?”

You wonder if he’s ever had to take care of an infant before, but judging by the way the black and yellow Mando shuffles around nervously makes you think it is not all too common of an occurrence in the tribe.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, shaking off your fears and insecurities as you remind yourself that you were brought here to take care of others, “O-Okay, how old is she?”

“I only found her a few weeks ago, cyare,” Paz informs you quietly, not wanting to disturb the baby even more, and you turn around to gaze up at him with wide, watery eyes; he must see the confusion etched on your features because he immediately explains himself, “I was walking back from seeing you one night and found her abandoned behind one of the vendors in the marketplace. I can’t… I can’t imagine what kind of monster does such a thing.”

You know all too well of the monsters that are capable of leaving a helpless creature behind to die, most likely feeling no guilt when they close their eyes at night.

You nod again and let out a shaky exhale as the caretaker turns his body to the side and allows you to lean over the crib, your chest aching something fierce as you carefully scoop up the tiny creature into your arms. Instantly, she lets out with a piercing, shrill scream and you heave a small sigh at how fussy of a little thing she is, though you think you already know what her problem is.

“What are you--?”

The strange Mandalorian jolts forward a little as you shuffle the crying baby around in your arms until her chest and stomach is resting against the inside of your forearm, her arms and chubby legs dangling lazily around in the air and her cheek tucked against the crook of your elbow. It takes a few moments of tenderly stroking her back to get her cries to soften into something less ear shattering, and you let out a relieved sigh when her whimpers turn into little coos and grunts.

“I think she might be colic,” You inform the caretaker with a shaky whisper, his helmet tilted to the side with what you think is either curiosity or shock as she dribbles, “I’ve uh, I’ve seen this before and read about it. Are you making sure to burp her after each feeding? Or perhaps she should be using a different formula if she has a sensitive tummy?”

“I--” He drops his helmet a little, staring at the cooing infant that you’re bouncing a little, “She wasn’t spitting anything up and I just thought… I wasn’t sure how to do it, how to burp her.”

You give the black and yellow Mando a sympathetic expression and nod, your eyes still burning with tears, “Babies can be pretty fussy sometimes, but once you find out how they like to be held and handled, it makes things a little bit easier. This tends to be a good trick at calming a lot of babies, but you need to make sure she gets burped after every feeding or else she’ll be really uncomfortable and even fussier than normal.”

“Thank you,” The caretaker nods his gratitude as you continue to stroke her back and you give him a weak smile in response, “Could you maybe get her to go to sleep? I should check on the others and I--”

‘Need a breather.’

He doesn’t say it out loud, but you hear it in the way his deep voice drops and his shoulders fall at the mere thought of having a few moments of peace and relaxation.

He fidgets when you hesitate, though Paz places a gentle hand on your nape and he must realize that something is wrong as he squeezes the warm skin there; it’s something he only does when he’s trying to comfort you. Afraid that your voice will fail you, you offer the caretaker a jittery nod and he wastes no time in leaving the nursery that’s dedicated to this tiny infant.

You find it difficult to even look at Paz as you make your way over to the rocking chair that seems far too small for any Mandalorian and slowly sink down until you’re sitting comfortably with a cooing, sleepy baby tucked in your arms. A soft sigh escapes your lungs when you feel a little bit of drool soak through the material covering your elbow and you risk a glance at Paz when he gets down on a knee next to the rocking chair, his gloved hand moving to gently squeeze your bicep.

“What happened?” He questions as quietly as possible, warranting a tiny grunt from the irascible infant, “Why are you so sad all of a sudden?”

The way he asks such a question so softly instantly leaves you feeling painfully raw and vulnerable and you are quick to shoulder away a tear before he can wipe it away for you; you shake your head viciously, “It’s nothing.”

“Cyare--”

“I will explain later.”

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod and retrieves a piece of cloth for you as you move the calmed baby to burp her against your shoulder. You can tell he wants to say something as you pat her between the shoulders, but he remains silent and tilts his helmet to the side upon hearing the infant gurgle and do her business against the cloth draped over your shoulder. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep once she’s burped up all the air and spit from her meal and you let out a grateful sigh when you watch her eyelids slowly droop, somewhat eager to get her out of your arms and into her crib.

Once she’s comfortable in her cradle and fast asleep, you are quick to exit the little alcove, Paz hot on your heels as you practically storm past the exhausted-looking caretaker who’s sitting on a stone ledge in the main play area.

“Hey thank you for--”

You’re out of the nursery before he can fully express his gratitude to you and you hear Paz mutter something to the caretaker before rushing after you. Halfway down the tunnel leading to his private quarters, Paz catches up to you and carefully wraps his leather-clad fingers around your bicep, turning you around to face him.

“Cyare! What’s going--?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You don’t even realize you’re sobbing until you hear your own voice and Paz’s other hand comes to squeeze your shoulder in a comforting manner, “Wh-Why didn’t you tell me there was a baby and why would you make me…? I didn’t know and... Maker, she was so much like--”

Your chest is heaving, tears streaming from your cheeks like raging waterfalls and Paz gently pulls you to the side and covers you when another Mandalorian passes you two, giving you what you’re certain is a curious gaze. He cups a massive hand to the side of your neck and leans down as you continue to sob and babble incoherent pleas at him, wondering why he’d put you through this, though he truly had no idea what he had done to you.

“I-I am sorry, cyare,” He breathes, squeezing your bicep firmly with his other hand, “You seemed to love the little ones so much and I thought… I thought you would love to see the baby, but I didn’t think…” He shakes his helmet in a jolting manner as you viciously rub at your eyes and cheeks, “What happened? What did I do wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” You ignore his frantic questions as you try desperately to stop the tears escaping your eyes, along with the horrific memories from flooding your mind, “I didn’t mean to be so rude! I thought I was over it and I could forget, but seeing her...”

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” He hushes you in a kind manner, shielding you from any wandering eyes that might see your tears, “Why don’t… why don’t we go back to our room and you can tell me what’s going on? That’s what you said the other day, right? That we should talk about the things we feel?”

You nod your answer, not trusting your voice in that moment, and you try your hardest to force down the massive lump in your throat.

“Will you tell me why you are so broken up over seeing the baby?”

He’s quick to pull you in close, hunching over to hold you easier and you immediately stuff your face into the crook of his neck as you give him another jittery nod, “I fear you will hate me upon hearing what I’ve done in the past--how I have failed the ones I was supposed to take care of.”

“I… I could never feel such a thing towards you,” He promises with a deep exhale, sounding just as heartbroken as he reluctantly pulls away and leads you closer to his private quarters, keeping a firm hand on the small of your back, “Whatever it is, I could never hate you, I swear.”

Your chest aches more and more the closer you get to his private quarters and once you finally make it, he’s quick to sit you down on the foot of his bed, kneeling down as he collects your hands in his leather-clad ones.

“What is haunting you, ner cyare? What makes you cry so much when you sleep?”

You pray that once you tell him, the horrific memories won’t weigh heavy on your conscience any longer.

Translations:

Ner cyare=My beloved

Mesh’la=Beautiful

Ori Kebiin=Big blue

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum=I love you (lit. I know you forever)

Saviin’ika=Little violet

Verd’ika= Little soldier

Di’kut=Idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aerynwrites @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion @tangledlove27 @justrunamok @peqchynero @haloangel391 @awhiskeywithawinchester @aliciaxglasgow @bonesaldente @kawaiitimecharm @karaabove @clydesducktape @misssilvertongue @heartxheat @pazvizslasgirl4ever (Please let me know if I missed you or you’d like to be taken off!!)

Author’s note: As always, thank you all so much for being as patient and kind as ever <3 I don’t know why this chapter was such a struggle for me to finish, but I’m so glad eventually managed to get all the words I wanted down lol. I was worried it might seem like there’s a lot going on in this chapter, but I just wanted more interactions with our nurse getting more settled in with the tribe and meeting others, so hopefully this chapter doesn’t seem like it’s all over the place :( Anyways I love you all and thank you so much for all the support y’all continuously give me <33

#paz vizla x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #Paz vizsla x you #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #my writing #IDK WHY I'M SO NERVOUS TO POST THIS CHAPTER OML #I hope you guys enjoy it tho <3 #also now y'all know why christina and I were fighting over wearing socks to bed lmfao

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

rapp-ed around your heart (01)

word count; 19,578

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

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

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

The South East

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

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

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

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

“Your point?”

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

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

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So where exactly are we going first?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?”

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

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

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

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

“Good afternoon.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you going to do?”

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

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

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

“Can I pick the film?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you satisfied now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re stylish!”

“They’re hideous is what they are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you really doing this?”

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

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

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

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

“Did you just buy those?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep well?”

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

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

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

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

“Cold?”

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

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

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

“So, can I ask a question?”

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

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

“So, what was your question?”

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

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

“Sounds fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pastries?”

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

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

“Deal!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I have a plan, Mitch!”

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

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

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

“Do you want to sleep longer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.”

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

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

“You don’t have to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fifteen minutes.”

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

“We’re taking a tour of a cemetery?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“So, when are we booked in?”

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

“Want to take a picture with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Fifty-Three) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Talk of PTSD, hostage situation, shooting, murder, bombing, physical trauma. I’m pretty sure that’s it!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 7900

Timeline: Season 7 Episodes 24. Right after part fifty-two.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

As the sun began to set, a specialist came back in with my release form for Hotch to fill out while he talked to me about what the next steps for my recovery were. While Hotch worked on the form, we both listened to the endless number of rules I had to follow. They were giving me top notch pain killers to help with the inevitable constant pain I’d feel after the hospital’s morphine would wear off. I had to take two in the morning, two in the afternoon, and two before bed. I wasn’t allowed to take them on an empty stomach, and I wasn’t allowed to have alcohol at all— no cheating. After running us through the medication rules, the doctor handed me a piece of paper he ripped out of his notepad. I read the name, the phone number, and the address on it while he explained that it was the information of the best physical therapist in the state. He told me that if I were ever going to get better, then I needed to see him sooner than later. The longer I waited to seek out the proper help, or the longer I pushed myself without guidance, the higher the chances got of me fucking my back up forever.

“That isn’t to say that you can’t walk around at all,” the doctor backpedaled for a moment. “In fact, you should try walking around every thirty minutes or so. You can go up and down stairs, you can pace around the house, you can go on walks in the park. But no running, jumping, bending, strenuous exercises, bike riding— anything like that. The point is that you can do the bear minimum so that your back can start the healing process. If you ever start to feel the pain again, it means that you need to stop what you’re doing. You need to go lie down, put ice on your back, and relax. The ice will help with the pain and swelling.” The doctor turned to Hotch, “Your job over the next few months, Mr. Hotchner, is to make sure that they’re not pushing themself at all. If you notice that they’re trying to do something that they shouldn’t be doing, you need to stop them. Unfortunately, it’s going to feel like babysitting,” he addressed both of us, “but it’s for the best.”

Hotch’s phone started ringing. He apologized profusely while trying to dig it out of his back pocket. The doctor and I watched as Hotch stood, put the form down on his chair behind him, and hurried out of the room to take the call.

The doctor turned back to me. “Painkillers, rest, ice, walking occasionally. Got it?”

I nodded.

“That was Rossi,” Hotch explained, returning from the hallway. “Will and JJ are getting married at his place tomorrow night, apparently.”

My face brightened. I thought to myself, finally… The two of them had been together forever. I always figured that they would have gotten married before me and Hotch, but they had been holding off for some reason. Despite having Henry and being entirely devoted to one another, it took them forever to finally do it. I mean, the decision probably came with the aftershock of the day they just had, but still. This was great news—news that we needed when everything else seemed so shit.

“I want to go,” I insisted.

Hotch’s attention turned to the doctor. “What do you think?”

The doctor shrugged slightly. “I think it’s fine as long as you keep up with the medication, stay away from the champagne, and don’t attempt to do any splits on the dance floor.”

The three of us chuckled.

----

When we got home, Hotch helped me up the steps to the porch, then hurried to open the door for me. Just as we saw the living room, I caught a glimpse of Jessica and Jack on the couch, watching a movie together. I smiled. Home. I survived all that shit with The Face Cards just to come home, and I had never been more relieved in my life. As we stepped inside, I looked over at Scarlet’s bouncer to see that it was empty. She must have been asleep upstairs already.

“Mom! Dad!” Jack cheered as he pushed himself off the couch and sprinted over to us.

I crouched down as far as I could go and pulled him in for a tight hug, trying to lift him off the ground somewhat so that I could swing him around. I cringed slightly at the pain shooting down my back, but tried to hide it so that none of them could notice. Hotch was watching me like a hawk, though. My change in posture, my wincing face, and the groan that left my throat as I struggled to pick up Jack, all of that was apparent to Hotch. It wasn’t going to be easy trying to convince him that I was alright. Now I understood why he was always so annoyed with me after New York and Foyet.

“Be careful, bud,” Hotch warned. “Mom hurt their back at work today.”

Jack looked at me as I let him sit on my thigh as I stayed crouched. His index finger curled a strand of my hair loosely. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

I nodded. “I’m okay, little man. I promise. How was your day with Aunt Jessica?”

“We went on a bike ride, then we played soccer with Scarlet—”

“Did you win?” I asked.

He nodded. “Of course!”

“Good job, little man.”

“Aunt Jessica took us for ice cream.”

I squinted at her, but she was laughing and hiding behind a pillow in order to avoid my playful glare. I looked back at Jack. “What flavor did you get?”

“Chocolate fudge.”

“Of course you did.” I kissed his cheek and stood up straight as slowly as I could, reaching for Hotch’s help when I felt my back sting again. I whimpered. He stepped closer to me and kissed my temple to comfort me. “Hey, Jack, Henry’s parents are getting married tomorrow. Do you wanna go with us?”

“Do I get to play with Henry?”

“Duh.”

“Yay!” He jumped forward to hug my legs. I was going to take that as a yes, then.

“Did you guys have anything besides ice cream for dinner?” Hotch asked, but it was more directed to Jessica than Jack.

She nodded. “I took them to Olive Garden.”

Hotch ruffled Jack’s hair. “Spoiled kid.” Well, that was what he deserved, considering we got called away for work at the last second on a weekend, as usual. “Why don’t you go upstairs and start getting ready for bed, bud.” Jack released me and immediately started running for the stairs. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” He kept running, though, pretending like he didn’t hear his dad. Really spoiled kid. Hotch dug his wallet out and pulled out some money for Jessica. “I’m so sorry again for today—”

“When will the two of you get it?” She laughed while standing up, gathering her things. “It’s okay!” She walked around the couch. “I love spending time with my niece and nephew. It’s not a job. It’s a chance to help them grow up.” She took Hotch’s money, but then quickly stuck it in his back pocket before he could catch her. “No money, no apologies.” She glanced at how I was leaning on Hotch to offset the chronic pain that was fucking killing me. “You okay?”

“Rough day,” I answered.

She threw her arms around me for a gentle hug. “Call me if you need anything else.”

“Thank you, Jess.”

“I’ll see you guys soon.” She parted from me and headed for the door. “No money, Aaron!” She closed the door behind herself.

“That woman’s a saint,” I told Hotch, walking with him through the house. “We don’t deserve her.”

“No, we do not.”

When Hotch and I headed upstairs, he held onto my hand, his other arm wrapped around my waist so that he could keep me steady as we carefully made our way up one step at a time. He was hovering too much. I was completely capable of making it up the freaking stairs myself, yet he wasn’t going anywhere. So, I just gave in. I let him corral me up each step and through the hallway, all the way down to our bedroom where he helped me lay down on the bed. He lifted my feet up slowly.

“Baby,” I whispered, catching his attention. He looked so worried, as if he had done something wrong or hurt me, which he hadn’t. I smirked at him. “I’m okay.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes at me before standing up straight and moving towards the closet to grab a few extra pillows for me. He slid one under my knees, two under my ankles, and he left a third next to me in case I wanted it for something else. When I was drowning in pillows, he hurried back downstairs to make sure that there was ice if I needed it. We were getting an ice machine that just needed cold water to make it run, but that wasn’t going to show up for at least another few days, so he was going to have to run to and from the kitchen every time I was in pain and needed ice on my back.

“Here, baby,” he whispered, helping me adjust so that we could get the icepack under my back. He kissed my temple. “I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He kissed me again, recognizing that I was just being playful. After a moment of standing at my side, Hotch remembered that he had to get my medication around, so he hurried over to the bag on the dresser and started sorting all of the pills. I watched him carefully. I wondered if he was going to actually keep this up for the next few months or if he was going to forget about our deal back at the hospital and just let me back into the field once I was feeling a bit better. Could he really afford to keep an agent benched for months? I mean, we were barely holding on when he was gone in the Middle East and Emily was still… I don’t know… dead? Sure.

“You know, at some point, you’re going to have to realize that I’m not entirely bedridden. I’m going to have to leave the bedroom sooner than later.”

Hotch glanced over his shoulder and glared at me. “I will tie you to the bed, if it’s the only thing that will keep you there.”

“That’s less of a threat than you had intended for it to be,” I teased.

“Ha. Ha,” he said plainly. I chuckled in response. “Take these,” he told me, turning from the dresser to give me my medication. “I’ll get you some water.” He skipped to the bathroom, and I heard the sink run for a bit before he returned and handed me a half-full glass. He sat on the edge of the bed as I popped the pills and chased them down with the water.

“Tada.”

“You’re sure about going to the wedding tomorrow?” he asked, taking the cup back.

I furrowed my brows. “Of course.”

“I’m worried that your back—”

“Aaron, I’m going to be fine.”

“I said that after New York, too.”

“Yeah, but the difference is that I actually believe it.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know it’s my job to worry about you, my love.”

“I know,” I accepted, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I know. But, my love,” I teased back, “I can go to a wedding, and I promise I won’t break. I’ve already agreed to staying out of the field until I’m better, so just let me have this one.”

He huffed at the fact that he wasn’t going to win this argument before getting up to put the glass back in the bathroom, then head to grab our pajamas. He helped me out of my gross, dusty clothes and into his clean, cologne smelling sweatshirt and blue flannel pajama pants. I immediately felt cozy and relaxed. When Hotch tore off his shirt, I could tell that he was considering taking a shower, but he looked so tired, and he seemed desperate to stay at my side.

“It can wait ‘til morning.” He changed into his grey sweatpants then snuck into bed with me. He sighed. “I say we stay here for the rest of our lives.”

I nodded. “I agree.” We reached for each other’s hands, and I tugged to try to kiss his knuckles, but he beat me to it. “Sap.”

“Yup.”

We both stared up at the ceiling. We were silent, both of us just catching our breath, reflecting on the day. I could have lost him again. He could have lost me again. At what point was it going to get too scary and we would finally call it? I wasn’t ready to leave the field yet, and I was sure that he felt the same way, too, but it was something that we had to consider. I mean, we had to retire at some point. Right? We couldn’t do this forever…

----

The following evening was the wedding. Hotch spent the afternoon helping Jack get ready—making sure he actually showered, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and picked out an appropriate outfit. Towards the time when we were about to leave, I caught Hotch kneeling in front of Jack, teaching him how to properly put on a tie. I smirked and continued to spy into the room. I had a bad habit of eavesdropping on them, but who could blame me when those moments weren’t going to last forever? Before we would know it, Jack would be all grown up and heading off for college, and we weren’t going to get any daily memories at all. I had to make them count while I still could.

As for Hotch and I getting ready, I took longer than he did. Considering I was somewhat immobile, I spent most of my time going between getting ready and laying down with an icepack when Hotch wasn’t looking. I was wearing a pant suit, something simple and light. Easy to get on and off. I barely even bothered with makeup because it hurt too much to hold still while trying to get everything perfect, and I just kept my hair out of my face. Nothing too fancy. As for Hotch… I wasn’t sure if he understood that a few years ago, he would have worn a work suit or that brown quarter zip to the wedding, but this time around he was wearing a well fitted all black suit, and all I wanted to do was literally jump him. Every time I saw him walking around wearing just the dress shirt and pants—no jacket yet, I could see his muscles and abs, and I wanted nothing more than to just have him pin me down and fuck me. Fuck. It was weird to think how when I was told to not do something, I suddenly wanted to do it. Specifically, I wanted to do him. I supposed that was just the brat in me, though.

Before we were about to leave, I went to go check on Scarlet in her nursery real quick when I noticed that it was a total mess with all of the toys scattered around. I groaned quietly as I bent over to grab her koala stuffed animal off the floor. It hurt like a total bitch, and there was no good way to go about doing it besides making sure I went slow and easy. As I carefully stood back up, screwing my eyes shut and wincing at the pain on my lower back as I did so, Scarlet cooed in her crib. I tried to smile while holding my back with one hand and her toy in the other. She was staring up at me, waiting for me to pick her up or give her the toy— either way, she would have been content.

“Y/N,” Hotch whispered from the doorway, making me jump in my own skin.

I caught my heart as I turned to glare at him for scaring me. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

“Hotch—” I knew what he was going to say. I knew that he was going to give me a talk about how I needed to be more careful than I was being, but I really didn’t want to hear it, not for the hundredth time, at least. I was sick of people telling me what I could and couldn’t do. I could afford to clean up my kid’s room, alright. That wasn’t going to break my back. “It’s fine.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but both of us fell into silence when we heard: “Mama” come from Scarlet’s crib. I froze in place, thinking about what could have possibly just happened. Maybe I misheard, or maybe Jack was calling for me from downstairs, or maybe he was watching TV and they said it, or—

“Mama,” I heard it again, snapping my attention to the crib. Scarlet was still smiling— almost giggling, actually— and she was dancing around on her feet. “Mama.”

“Aaron…” I mumbled, too scared to move a muscle, thinking that if I did, she’d stop saying anything. Hotch took careful steps towards me, also trying to not startle her. “Did she—”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back.

“Mama!” She did a “grabby-grab” gesture with her hands, reaching out for the koala toy that I was still holding.

Finally, a year old, she was finally talking, and of course her first word had to be just for me. Morgan wouldn’t believe it. I mean, statistically speaking—at least, according to Spencer—Scarlet was a late bloomer when it came to walking and talking, but she wasn’t entirely behind the curve either. Just yesterday, I had been thinking about how I couldn’t wait until she would start talking. How the fuck did she know?

I did a little dance, too, before handing her the toy. She fell onto her butt and gave the koala a Superman hug. Hotch and I chuckled at the same time. Mama. Yeah, I’d take that. I kind of wished we got it on camera or something, but I think it was better that it was in the moment and that Hotch and I were both there, taken aback by how shocking it was when it came out of the blue. My perfect lil’ bug… I laughed again.

----

“Uh oh, trouble just walked in!” Morgan cheered from the living room as we walked into Rossi’s house, the door having been left open for all of the guests. Emily and Garcia turned to see who he was talking about, and they all smiled when their gaze met me, Hotch, and Jack. “Where’s my goddaughter?” he inquired, walking over to me.

I rolled my eyes as he kissed my cheek and I hugged him. “Jessica’s watching her.” I turned and hugged Emily. “No more almost dying,” I whispered in her ear. “We need you here.”

She smiled shortly as we parted but didn’t say anything. As I hugged Garcia next, Morgan crouched down to talk to Jack. They were talking about the chocolate fountain that was in the dining room, and the next thing I knew, the two of them were running off together to go take a look at it. Garcia and I laughed before she insisted that she should go keep an eye on Morgan.

I turned to Hotch. “I am not responsible for his sugar high this time. You’re on your own, Agent Hotchner.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. “I should go find Rossi and thank him for inviting us,” I told him quietly as he kissed my neck.

“No alcohol,” he warned.

“Yes, Sir,” I saluted to make my comment look innocent to Emily, though it was anything but innocent to Hotch. After I pecked his lips with a grinning kiss, I snuck out of Hotch’s arms and headed to the backyard so that he and Emily could talk since he said that she was acting off.

As I was wandering around in search for Rossi, I discovered that he was nowhere to be found. Somehow, our host for the evening had completely vanished. I shook my head. Well, I’d find him later, I supposed, and maybe Hotch would be free then to thank him, too. So, for now, I tapped Anderson’s shoulder, catching his attention, and I asked if he had seen Morgan around since I spotted Jack running around in the backyard with Henry, which meant that Morgan had disappeared somewhere.

Anderson pointed me in the direction of one of the rooms on the first floor that was acting as a coat room for the night. I thanked him with a smile. He waved me goodbye before taking his girlfriend Angelica’s hand and leading her outside to go meet everyone. It was so funny to see him with her because they reminded me so much of how Hotch and I used to be when we first started going out, and we were just so naïve, hands all over each other all the time, smiles constantly plastered to our faces, no problems between us yet. Life used to be so simple. Hopefully Anderson and Angelica wouldn’t get as complicated as Hotch and I were.

When I stepped into the temporary coatroom, I found Morgan hiding in the corner, sitting on a leather footstool, drinking a cup of scotch. He spotted me and forced a smile onto his face. “Hey, sunshine.”

“Hey.”

“How are you doing?”

I sighed heavily, taking a seat beside him. “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about me shooting you or Rossi for getting on my ass about not leaving the bank for the hospital the other day.” He furrowed his brows. “I’m leaning more towards shooting Spencer or Hotch are this point.”

Morgan chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no freakin’ idea. And I can’t even drink it all away because of the painkillers. So. Yay me.” I rolled my eyes.

Morgan didn’t respond, though, which was concerning. I half expected him to back up Hotch and Spencer, or maybe say something snarky about he was glad to be rid of me for a few months until the doctors could clear me again. But nothing. Even his smile faded into the unnatural silence between us.

My eyes pouted as I put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged my touch away, which also wasn’t like him. “Nothing.”

Oh, yeah. Sure. Nothing. Recently, Morgan had a terrible habit of pushing everyone away because he thought that it would somehow protect us, but all it was doing was hurting everyone involved. He knew that he could tell me anything and I would always understand. He knew that I would always stand by his side and back him up, no matter what. So why was he so afraid to open up to me recently? Had I done something to break his trust in me? Was I somehow involved in this secret he was keeping? I just wanted him to give me some kind of answer so that I could stop worrying about him for once.

He sighed when he saw my mind churning. “I can’t tell you what’s going on because it’s not my secret to share. Is that okay?”

I nodded. “If that’s the case, then I won’t pry. But… I’m always here to talk, Derek. Always.” I tried to lighten the mood by joking, “Especially since I can’t go anywhere anymore.”

He chuckled. “Touché.”

Silence settled for a bit as both of our chuckles faded. Now, we were just staring at the wall together. There had to be something more for us to say, something that would lift his spirits. Oh—

“Scar said her first word today,” I admitted, biting back a smile because I knew that it would cheer Morgan up to hear the good news.

Morgan looked up at me, shock mixed with excitement washing over his face. “You’re kidding.”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Who won?”

“I did,” I smiled. He groaned, rolled his eyes, and dug into his back pocket for his wallet. I grinned as he gave me a ten dollar bill reluctantly. “Sucker.”

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding,” someone said from the door. Morgan and I both glanced up guiltily, as if we were two teenagers who got caught smoking pot at prom or something. It was just Hotch, though. Actually, no, that was too nonchalant for referencing him. It was Hotch, yeah, but he did, in fact, look like a stern and disappointed principle who had caught up smoking pot at prom. “I’ve been looking around for you.” He looked directly at Morgan to ask, “Have they been drinking?”

“Nope. They’ve been doing a lot of complaining about not drinking, though.”

Morgan poked my side, laughing at me in a teasing way, skipping towards the door, barely dodging around Hotch in time. He sent me a thumbs up for good luck. I groaned and hit my head against the wall behind me, looking at my husband out the corner of my eye as he took Morgan’s spot beside me.

“If it weren’t for your back, I’d have you over my knee right now for breaking the rules,” Hotch whispered in my ear.

I gulped. The idea sounded so appealing. I wanted nothing more than for life to just get back to how it was. I didn’t want Hotch to be scared to touch me, or to kiss me, hold me, fuck me. The next few months were going to be excruciatingly long without being able to have all of him. I was so fucking pissed.

“Mmm… and what if I were to be good for you right now…” I tried playing with him, sneaking my hand onto his thigh, making an attempt to work my way upwards towards his crotch, but he snatched my hand away. “Please, Sir. Something.”

“You behave, take all of your meds, work on getting better, then I’ll consider it—But only after the doctors say we can.”

“Come on, baby,” I pleaded with a pout. “We don’t need doctors to tell us how to be us…” I tried putting my hand on his thigh again, but he kept me away. “Aaron, I’m not going to break.” I instead moved my hand to his cheek. “I love you, I trust you, and I know that you would never hurt me, and I know my own limits when it comes to—”

“Y/N, stop, please,” he whispered. “Please. I love you, Y/N, and I want to do… I want to be us again, more than ever, but I just want to be 100% sure before we do anything. It’s only been a day. A day, baby girl… You heal fast, I know you do, but not that fast. One wrong move, and you might not ever go back into the field. Sex is nice and all, but it’s not worth it if that’s the price you have to pay.”

I chuckled lightly. “Okay. Fair enough.”

“Hey, you two love birds,” Rossi interrupted, sticking his head into the room, “everyone’s waiting on you two.”

We hurried to follow Rossi out to the backyard where everyone was gathered in front of the priest, Henry, and Will. I slowed when I noticed that it was standing room only. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to stand through the whole thing without literally wanting to tear my own spine out and throw it across the fucking yard. I looked at Hotch, tugging him back towards me. He searched my eyes with worry, and when it finally dawned on him, the worry intensified, and he neared me to hold me close.

He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll hold onto you. If it gets bad, we’ll quietly excuse ourselves.”

“It’ll be rude,” I whispered.

“Everyone will understand. Come on.”

He continued to lead me to the group, a few of them shuffling around so that they could make room for us. Hotch was standing behind me, his arms under mine, hands on my hips, swaying them barely, almost as if it were some kind of hypnotizing therapy on its own, and he was kissing my neck gently, not passionately enough to leave a hickey, but enough to tell me that he loved me a million times over.

As JJ and Will kissed, Hotch pulled me closer and whispered, “You remember our first kiss as husband and wife?”

I nodded, smiling through the happy tears that drifted down my cheeks. I was just so happy and relived that we were all safe, and that we were a family again. Even though things didn’t go to plan yesterday, at least Will was there, and JJ would never have to know what it would be like to raise Henry without him. Even though I hurt myself, I at least had Hotch and he had me, and we would never have to know what it would be like to live without each other.

Everyone started clapping, which pulled me out of my trance. Hotch let go of me so that he could clap, too, and I turned to look up at him and kiss him as we both smiled and wiped each other’s tears away. He smiled against me, leaning into our kiss. He didn’t recognize what he was doing. He had been so careful with me since the bombing yesterday, and yet, for a moment, he forgot about everything and just kissed me the same way he kissed me the day we got married. And I kissed him back. I didn’t stop until the clapping stopped and he realized what he had done, quickly pulling away from me so that he could make sure that I hadn’t shattered to a million pieces. I hadn’t shattered, but I had certainly melted.

During dinner, I sat between Hotch and Morgan, just across from Spencer and Garcia. We were all eating—the rest of them drinking while I watched—and talking the night away, not even pondering for a second that yesterday we nearly died on multiple occasions. It was like all of the bad had been washed away. There wasn’t a single bad thought at the table, and there wasn’t a single frown on anyone’s face. Was that normal? I mean, our lives had never been normal, so I was pretty sure I forgot what “normal” was, but that kind of felt familiar, like that was how we would be if our jobs weren’t so time and emotionally consuming.

Garcia asked how I was, and I lied, telling everyone that I felt okay, that they were just overreacting yesterday. Spencer, just as he had at the hospital, actually told everyone the truth. I glared at him again. He didn’t recognize what he had done, however, and continued on to insist that he could help Hotch keep an eye on me since he could recognize the silence signs that I was trying to mask my pain in order to not worry everyone. I silently cursed him for being so damn smart. And oblivious. But the last part wasn’t necessarily his fault, especially with all the theories that had been circulating around the office since I first joined.

After we finished eating, Hotch held his hand out and asked if I wanted to dance. I stared at him for a moment. Was he really going to let me move? I mean, I wasn’t going to second guess him vocally, of course, but I couldn’t believe that he was asking. I jumped at the chance, though. I accepted his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. The two of us laughed excitedly as we carefully hurried to the dance floor and he turned me around so that I was facing him and we could start slow dancing.

Hotch was so gentle with me. We were hardly swaying, taking slow, gentle, and small steps in circles. His arm was barely even touching my waist. I rested my cheek against his chest and inhaled his scent. I loved him beyond words. Despite our ups and downs, despite his lies and my hurt feelings over and over again, I couldn’t shake that I loved him. I couldn’t help that all of that bad times just couldn’t compare to all of the good times, which made everything worth it at the end of the day.

“What are we going to do?” Hotch asked, sincerely baffled. I didn’t say anything. “This isn’t like when I left… You could move then, take care of the kids, and Morgan was always around… But now you’re actually hurt, and I’m going to be gone all the time. What… What do we do?”

“Nothing really changes, baby. I can take Jack to school; I can look after Scarlet. And, you know, Jessica will always be around to help, too, if I need. We’ll be fine.”

“You could barely pick up Jack yesterday.”

“In my defense, he’s getting too big to keep picking up.”

“Y/N, come on. I’m serious. You can’t put any stress on your back. That includes picking Jack up, and cleaning up the house, doing laundry, doing dishes— anything. You need to be really careful.”

“I’m fine, Aaron.”

“You couldn’t even bend down to grab Scarlet’s toy from the floor.”

I furrowed my brows at him when I noticed the way his hold on me loosened even more after recalling the memory of me in the nursery only a few hours ago. He wasn’t upset about that. I mean— he was. Obviously, he was. But there was something else stirring in the mind of Aaron Hotchner, and it had to do with his own guilt. That was the only explanation I could account for.

I brushed my hand over his hair. “Baby,” I cooed, waiting until he looked at me, “I’m going to be okay.” I scratched his scalp gently. He slowly melted against my touch, nuzzling into the way it relaxed him whenever I played with his hair. “It’s not your fault. I need you to hear that.”

He froze. “I—”

“Aaron, please, listen to me. It’s not your fault. I yelled at you, and I told you that I wanted to make the choices with SWAT, and you gave in. I made the call to send everyone into the bank, and I was the one who neglected to think that there could be a bomb inside. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t have sanctioned an approach if JJ hadn’t compared you to Will.”

My face softened at the realization. I had only thought that he blamed himself, but I didn’t know it for sure, and I hadn’t realized that this was buried so deep. This was far worse than I could have anticipated. “That’s why you’ve been all protective like this.”

I mean, he usually got protective when something changed drastically in our lives. Haley and Scarlet were prime examples. But this was… different. Instead of ordering me to do things that would force me to protect myself, Hotch was coddling me and attending to my every wish. He was trying to make up for what he did. He was trying to apologize to me for something that he had no right blaming himself for; and he was trying to relieve the guilt he felt by catering to me constantly.

Hotch pressed his forehead against mine. “You could have died, Y/N. I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that it was wrong to make a move like that again so soon, and I should have said something—but when JJ put it into perspective for me by asking what I would have done if it were you in that bank… I knew I had to help her. I had to help Will. And I forgot that it’s my job to protect you—to protect our team. I let my emotions get in the way. I shouldn’t have done that. It goes against everything we believe in at the BAU, and it nearly got you killed.”

“It was my choice, Aaron.” I brought my hand to his face and ran my thumb over his mole on his cheek. “Please, hear that. I made the call to move in with SWAT. It was my decision to push the front doors with you, and it was my decision to stay on site instead of going to the hospital afterwards. You can’t blame yourself.”

“But I do.”

“I know.” I felt a tear hit my thumb, making me pout. “It was an accident, baby.”

“Yeah, but it was an accident that could have killed you.”

I leaned in to kiss him because there was this overwhelming urge in the pit of my stomach to somehow comfort him, yet there weren’t enough words to tell him what I meant, and there wasn’t enough time in the world to hug him for as long as I wanted to—and even if the time existed, my strength to give him a Superman hug was too limited. But I could kiss him. I could press my lips to his until we couldn’t breathe, until he would grab my face and hold me there with him, leaning into me until I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him there with me. So, I kissed him. I kissed him as hard as I could. We exhaled through our noses, turning our faces to kiss from a different angle while catching our breath. But he didn’t hold me as close as I wanted him to. In fact, he pushed me away somewhat, and I could tell that it was because he was terrified that if he tilted over me at all, it would hurt my back.

My shoulders fell. “Aaron Christopher Hotchner, you are not stupid. You did not make the wrong call. Stop thinking that way before I smack you.”

He chuckled. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” I kissed him again, finally feeling his arms snake around the small of my back, giving me the chance to fling my arms around his neck, just like I wanted. I smiled against him.

Someone beside us cleared their throat. We parted to see Morgan standing there, gesturing to ask if he could dance with me. What a way to be a cockblock, am I right? Not that Hotch would have actually fucked me, even if I were on my knees and begging. He made it entirely clear that he wasn’t ready to have sex with me yet, knowing just how bad my back actually was, and he probably wasn’t going to give in for a very long time. I was going to be miserable. Miserable and horny. What was the point of being married to the love of my life if I couldn’t fuck him every chance I had? And then motherfucking Derek Morgan had to come along and ruin the slight chance I had by asking to dance with me. Oh, boy, he was really lucky I loved him.

Hotch was polite about it, though. We smiled, patted Morgan’s shoulder, then stepped away to go dance with Emily since she looked all lonely on her own on the side. Morgan took one of my hands in his, then wrapped his other arm around my waist while I put my free hand on his shoulder. I was staring at him, trying to gauge if he was any better since earlier. He wasn’t.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he insisted before I could say anything. “But thank you for being in my corner, sunshine.” I smiled. “And for always being so damn stubborn, too.”

I laughed. “Only for you.”

“That’s a blatant lie.”

I laughed again. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Can I sneak in a dance?” Emily asked, sneaking up behind me. Morgan and I turned to face her. I saw that she was forcing a smile, and behind that illusion of happiness was a desperation to dance with Morgan, so I nodded and stepped away. “Actually—” Emily started before I could walk away. “I was hoping to dance with you,” she told me. She reached out and grabbed my hand before I could get too far.

I smiled and took her hand. “Okay.”

Morgan didn’t walk away, so we both glared at him slightly as Emily took the lead. She put her right hand on my waist, her left hand clasped tightly with my right hand, and my left hand was on her shoulder. We still glared at Morgan.

“What? Can’t I watch?” he questioned through a chuckle.

I shooed him away until he gave up and went to grab Garcia from her seat. When I looked back at Emily, she was smiling for real this time, which eased my nerves. Despite how happy everyone seemed, there was something off with her. I could tell that she was the secret Morgan was keeping. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but some part of me just put the pieces together, and I supposed I should have attributed it to being a profiler, but I didn’t want to be that stuck up. I just knew. Something told me that she wasn’t entirely okay, and my heart sank.

As Emily looked away from me, almost like she felt too guilty to keep eye contact, I started putting the pieces together. Morgan was as upset that night as he was when he found out Emily “died”. Hotch stayed back to talk to her when we arrived. I didn’t like where this was leading me.

So, I just asked. “You’re leaving again… Aren’t you?”

Emily snapped her attention back to me, her smile falling from her face quickly. But she didn’t deny it. In fact, she didn’t even question it. The look on her face wasn’t confusion over what I was talking about, instead it was about how I knew. So, it was true. I had this feeling boiling in the pit of my stomach that something was wrong with her, and for some reason her leaving the team was the only thing that made sense to me. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was because if I were in her shoes, I would have felt the same way. I couldn’t imagine going through everything she went through; from finding out that Ian Doyle was back, to the fact that he was coming after us in order to make her life hell, in order to being tortured and stabbed by him, then… dying on the way to the hospital. After all of that, she still had the strength to come back when it was safe. But it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same. Since coming back, something had been off about her, and I really hadn’t put the pieces together until she went out of her way to come up and ask to dance with me. She knew she was leaving, and she wanted to cherish the moments she had left with us.

“I don’t want to talk about it—” she began.

“Don’t leave. Please.” I didn’t know how I could be more clear and sincere. “Please.”

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry.” We were silent for a moment. “How did you know?”

“Morgan was being all weird and keeping secrets from me, which was how I knew it had to do with the team. Since Hotch isn’t acting weird, I know he’s not keeping anything from me. The next option was you… and when you asked to dance… I just… I somehow knew.” I shrugged. “Profiling or whatever.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Sure.”

“We need you here. I need you here. Scarlet—”

“I’ll still be around, Y/N, I promise. I just need to do something else. The BAU isn’t what it used to be for me. I think I burned too many bridges when I was away.”

“What are you going to do instead?”

I felt a sob bubbling in my chest, even though I was trying my very hardest to suppress it. I didn’t want to be sad at a wedding. I didn’t want to even think that I would be sad in the future, missing one of my best friends, wondering if she was okay wherever she was, doing whatever it was, doing whoever it was. There was a time when Emily and I… We just clicked. I mean, at first, I was indifferent because she came shortly after Elle left to go travel and do something new with her life that she loved; but once I warmed up to her, we had a flow at work. Morgan and I were together in the field for almost every case, but there were instances when Emily would tag along, and it made sense. The one thing I could vividly remember about her before she left was the time we were working that swinger case and we were in the car together… With anyone else, I think it would have been awkward. But with Emily, I didn’t blink twice. Being stuck in that car with her—though I didn’t recognize it at the time—was actually funny, and I enjoyed little moments like that. If she actually left, I wouldn’t have those anymore. Hell, since she got back in the first place, there was hardly a chance to have little moments like that, and it broke my heart, but I thought that we were going to have a long time to make up for it.

Emily caught a tear running down my cheek with her thumb. Shit, I swore I wouldn’t actually cry. She searched my eyes for a moment, debating on whether or not her next words would force an actual sob out of me; but I was pleading with her for answers. “Clyde Easter called… He wants me to run the London Interpol office.”

I let out a shaky breath. “You’re taking it?”

“Yeah.”

“And it’ll make you happy?”

“I hope so.”

I sighed quietly and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she questioned.

“Yeah. Okay. If it makes you happy, then I can’t tell you not to jump at the opportunity, Em. Once upon a time, you told me that no one else’s opinion matters unless it’s optimistic and helpful. I want my opinion to matter to you. I want you to know that I will always be in your corner, and I will support whatever endeavor it is you choose to seek out because I want the best for you. Because I love you.”

She finally smiled again, almost like she was relieved to hear that from me. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly.” She stopped dancing with me so that she could hug me tightly. “I love you, too.”

And that was how we said goodbye because seeing her off at the airport a few weeks later was just too painful.

-----

criminal minds family: @gorgeousdarkangel @peggy1999 @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc @Braty-angel

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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jovialyouthmusic · 3 years

Text

Lovelink fanfic

Featuring Albert Bishop from Ludia’s fake dating app.

Word count 1868

A/N I’ve had this on hold for a while. Not sure where it’s going, but it’s still moving - just. Definitely NS*W

Holed Up

I felt stupid for going too far with Albert – calling him soldier when he was trying to cope with trauma. I’d left him alone to change and listened for the front door closing. After I’d washed up the breakfast things and tidied up I wasn’t sure what to do, but in the end I decided on yoga. It would calm and centre me, and I’d be better able to cope with Albert when he got back. I changed into my gear, cleared a space in the lounge, and set out my mat. I chose some ambient music and was soon stretching and letting go of any negativity I felt. I went through my routine and sat to meditate afterwards, clearing my mind and focussing on my breath. It didn’t seem long before I heard the doorbell again and he was back. I ran lightly to the door and he grinned at the sight of me in my yoga pants, looking me up and down with a gleam in his eye.

‘Damn Ma’am, those pants don’t leave much to the imagination’ I stepped back as he made to kiss me, putting my hand against his chest.

‘Now just hold up there Albert. You’ve worked up quite a sweat, so it’s off to the bathroom for you.’ I paused for effect ‘though I could join you if you like, yoga doesn’t always leave me smelling sweet either.’ His slow smile melted my core and told me that he had run fast and far enough to escape his demons.

‘Yes Ma’am’ he saluted and made his way to the bathroom. I fetched some towels and followed him. Already he had stripped and folded his clothes in a neat pile and grinned at me, already somewhat aroused before I had so much as taken my t shirt off. I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from his broad chest, flat belly and...

‘How about a nice hot bath? I suggested ‘There’s room for both of us’

‘Sounds good’ he said, watching me strip off my top. ‘You must be very flexible if you’re a – what do they call it – a yogini?’ I smiled seductively

‘I’m sure you can think of a way to find out. Running calls for stamina, so I guess we can do a little measuring experiment – flexibility versus stamina’ I went to the tub and turned the taps on to run the bathwater.

‘Sounds like an experiment I can get behind, but I think I’ll get clean in the shower first, then we can relax in the bath’ He leaned against the wall, arms folded and one foot resting against the tiled wall as I stripped, whistling with appreciation as I peeled my leggings off. He gave me another scorching look before turning the shower on and stepped in, not waiting for the water to heat up, grunting as the icy stream hit his skin. I bit my lip, watching appreciatively as he lathered himself off, watching his hands move over his muscled body.

He got out and waved me in and I stepped under the now warm cascade, soaping myself as he got into the bath. I heard him groan as he lay back, and was soon ready to join him. He opened his legs wide and beckoned me.

‘Let me wash your hair’ he said. I got my shampoo and stepped in, looking down at him for a moment and handing him the bottle before I sank to my knees and turned to sit with my back to him. I had a shower attachment to the bath taps and handed it to him to wet my hair, the warm water cascading over my head. I closed my eyes to let it flow over them before he handed it back to me to turn it off. I felt and heard him put shampoo onto his palms and rub them together before starting to massage it into my scalp with just the right amount of pressure. I moaned in appreciation.

‘How do you know how to do this so perfectly?’ He laughed softly.

‘I have nieces’ he said ‘You soon learn to be gentle when their shrieks shatter your eardrums at bathtime’

‘Your brothers have families?’

‘Yes, both of them. Two girls and a boy. I’m the fun uncle that gets them all riled up before bedtime. It’s great to look after kids when you can give them back’

‘Ha, my best friend has a little girl. You also figure out how to calm them down when you babysit and are responsible for getting them to sleep. Then you can get the snacks and chill in front of the TV’

‘Ah, see they never trust me that far. Do a job badly enough and you won’t be asked to do it again’

‘That doesn’t sound worthy of a military man’ He gestured for the shower attachment again and I handed it to him.

‘I have to let go some time, and I only do it to get back at my brothers for all the ribbing they give me for not joining them on the trawler’ The clean water sluiced the suds off my hair, and I closed my eyes against the sting.

‘Did you ever want to go with them – would you?’

‘No, I wanted to break out on my own. I enjoy my job, and I’ll be happy to go to university when I’m done. I’m applying for the course I want right now – my promotion will hopefully make a good impression on the application forms.’ He handed me the shower to put away, and I turned to face him, kneeling and putting my arms around his neck to kiss him long and slow.

‘Well Albert, the water’s not getting any warmer’ I pointed out ‘In or out?’ He grinned slyly, and I shook my head at the double entendre ‘of the water’ I added.

‘I definitely think we should christen it and find out how flexible you are’

‘Hmm’ I replied ‘Well, I could try a kneeling pose I suppose’ I knelt with my thighs either side of his, belly and breasts pressed to him, his erection increasing in appreciation. He put his hands on my sides and helped guide me up and forward ‘In a hurry?’ I teased ‘Don’t forget the condoms’ He sighed, and with a flourish I reached up to the shelf on the wall behind him and produced a foil packet.

‘You really do think of everything’ He took the packet from me and started to tear it open carefully with his teeth and fingers.

‘I went round putting them wherever I guessed we might need them’ I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his length. He grinned

‘Right about now is where I’d say you’re so wet baby but I can’t tell’

‘That is such a cheesy line’ I sighed ‘Please don’t use it again’

‘No ma’am’ He pushed my hand aside and rolled the condom over himself. I sat up as tall as I could, pressing my belly to his chest. He groaned and turned his head slightly to set his lips to one of my nipples, flicking it with his tongue.

‘No nipping’ I scolded ‘Play nice’ He let the nipple go with a soft pop.

‘I always play nice with girls’ I sank lower to start guiding him inside me, sighing with satisfaction as I stretched and settled.

‘Slow and steady now, let’s not flood the bathroom. I don’t want to get chucked out of my flat for anti social behaviour. It’s a nice neighbourhood’

‘I’m sure I could find a nice remote little bolthole where we could make as much noise as we like’

‘Shut up and concentrate, soldier’ I assessed that he was relaxed enough for me to use the term again, and was rewarded by a slow smile.

‘Yes Ma’am’ I closed my eyes to savour the feeling of him filling me and the warm water swirling around our bodies. I pivoted and angled my hips rather than rising and falling, give in him a quick kegel squeeze from time to time, and grinding my pelvis against his. He gripped my hips and bent his knees a little to change the angle until I gasped every time we found my sweet spot. Soon I was oblivious to the swishing and swirling of the water, intent on our pleasure. I felt it bubble up from deep inside me, and groaned in anticipation, my back arching. Arnold took my cue and I felt him start to twitch. Together we shot upward to oblivion, to shared bliss, shuddering and shaking as we came together, seeming both to last forever and be over in an instant, leaving us heaving for breath.

I pulled back to let him slide out of me, leaning back against the tap end of the bath, water sloshing and just topping the sides of the bath to splash out onto the floor. Arnold sat, head tipped back, breathing heavily

‘Fuck’ he panted, and it was a little while before he could speak again ‘You know – how you said – it was – oh fuck’ He took a deep breath ‘I’ve never come with anyone like that so often’ I furrowed my brow.

‘I’m not sure I understand’

‘We – we come together – at the same time. Every fucking time. I’ve only managed that once or twice before.’

‘Oh’ I was nonplussed

‘Is that normal for you?’ He asked, still not moving from the rapidly cooling bath water.

‘Uh – no’ I replied, and thought about it for a moment ‘I suppose we’re pretty special together – though it’s early days’ I shifted from my end of the bath, which wasn’t exactly comfortable, and pulled the plug out. At last Albert moved, removing the condom and heaving himself up to get out, offering his hand to help me. We towelled off and I went to the bedroom to get dressed. He followed me and caught my hand as I opened my lingerie drawer.

‘No panties today’ he grinned ‘Just wear that sexy nightie for the rest of the day’ I smiled and rummaged in the drawer, finding a scrap of red fabric that I held up for him to see.

‘Not even this tiny thong?’

‘Nope, no underwear’ He stood close to nuzzle my neck and smoothed his hands over my buttocks, pulling me against him.

‘Only if you go bare chested’

‘Deal’ He put on his boxer briefs and a pair of combat pants and I slipped on my silky robe again. He frowned. ‘If you’re cold, turn the heat up, I want to see as much flesh as possible’

‘I could be naked’ I said, raising an eyebrow

‘Hmm good as that sounds, I think a little mystery is good’ He skimmed his hand over the fabric ‘Plus it feels good’

‘Well okay soldier – maybe we should eat, keep our strength up’

‘Sure thing, Ma’am. I hope you’ve plenty of supplies, I intend to give you a thorough workout before I have to go back to base.’

‘There’s always takeaways’ I said over my shoulder as I went to the kitchen.

@kittidot @jaxsmutsuo @ramseyswifey @otakufangirl-12 @mostly-tessaandscott @aestheticallypleasing5sos @sunflowy @celiamcg @basicallysailormars @fabi-en-ciel @rdjcoldplay @cyn-onlyyou @american-satanxx @exxtrastout @callmeluna7 @theclowneryqueen @speedyoperarascalparty @katedrakeohd @notoriouscs @bobasheebaby @fluffyfirewhiskey

#lovelink #lovelink fanfic #albert bishop

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majoraop · 3 years

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Another contribution for the One Piece Bingo organized by @op-pirate-fleet: a short story from Doflamingo’s point of view based on the “heroic gesture” prompt of my card. If you’ll enjoy this fanfic or find anything to fix please comment! ^^

The Untangled Puppeteer Donquixote Doflamingo didn’t like heroes nor believed in good endings. Life wasn’t fair. When someone won, someone else lost (a loved one, freedom, a place to belong—the list could go on and on), and the ending that felt “perfect” to some might be unsatisfying to others. Doflamingo smirked even if his head still hurt as the result of his opponent's “heroism”. Usually, people root for the protagonist—the “hero” of a story—and the people of Dressrosa had rooted for that stupid monkey. They had even called him their “saviour”. How naïve of them! They were not safe nor free when they still had to pay a gold tribute to those other monkeys sitting on their opulent thrones. But they will fall too, one day. Soon. Dressrosa's people had got excited for the fighting more than they ever had for the half-hearted colosseum skirmishes. They had wanted to see the "good guys" prevail against the "bad guys". In the end, while some betrayed him (as usual), some others remained faithful. Maybe, his “family” had a real meaning after all. Doflamingo smiled. He could claim that victory at least. That Monkey D Luffy was interesting. While acting like a “hero”, he didn't consider himself one. He was different from most people: not after revenge like he and Law, but just a crazy free bullet that had only seen him as an obstacle to overcome. Sure, he had fought for Viola’s niece and the other people once he had discovered his plan, but Doflamingo couldn’t blame him: even if he had had his own rightfully reasons, he had still literally caged him and his friends. He had never seen someone fighting so fiercely to get his freedom back. Voices told the truth: Monkey D Luffy wanted to become the freest person in the world. The Pirate King. Doflamingo wasn’t surprised he hadn’t become a revolutionary instead. The Revolutionary Army fought for freedom, but its members were not free; they were too bond to their “liberty” ideal to pursue it for themselves. Pirates, instead, weren’t bound to responsibilities. Yet, that brat’s answer to his provocation (what’s the point of acting like a hero?) had still surprised him. If you cannot save everyone, why even bother? What good will bring an imperfect justice? His brother had acted upon “justice” too, but still a flawed one: he had “saved” a single child leaving the rest back with him. Maybe, it wasn’t a matter of justice but hope. However, Doflamingo had learned as a child that there couldn't be real hope in an unjust world where the winners—the “heroes”—decided what “justice” was for everyone else. Doflamingo's bitter laughter startled the guards, and he savoured the worried glances they threw at him. So-called “heroic gestures” were just the result of egoism: a “good” one for some, but still egoism. In the end, it’s just a matter of point of views. Doflamingo wondered if Monkey D Luffy, too, had felt angry, lost, or lonely as a child. Sometimes, he might have feared for his life or someone else's (nobody wants to remain alone). He must have cried—all children do—even if some only cry in secret, when nobody can see them, and people end up thinking they are fearless monsters (Doflamingo still remembered the fire, the screams, his angry tears). Why didn’t you understand, Roci? He imagined his brother smiling light-heartedly, joking, making plans for the future together with Law. Without me, your older brother. He had loved Roci so much he had killed him to forgive him. For breaking free of his cage without permission. For putting his morals as a marine—as if they weren’t assassins too, and of the worst kind!—over love for his family. For leaving him behind. Doflamingo felt irritated with Rocinante for even giving up his goal—stopping him—to stay together with Law. Someone so similar to me, not the less. Law knowing that made it slightly more tolerable, but in the end, he too became free from his past. But I won’t let it go. Victims turned into executioners had condemned him and his brother when they were just innocent children. He could not accept such injustice—such “justice” of the masses—and had fought back with his Conqueror's Haki. After that, he had tried to protect his family: he had helped Roci surviving in the streets, brought food to their ill mother. He had tried everything, unlike their inept father. Why wasting time asking for help from the same people who abandoned us in this hell? His disgustingly good-hearted, foolish father! He had betrayed all of them to follow his impossible ideals, so he had killed him. He had done it for Roci, too. To save him from a terrible life. But it had been useless: the Celestial Dragons had never admitted them back to Mary Geoise, and his brother had run away. His brother lost, Doflamingo still cared for his found family. He had mourned the death of Monet and then Vergo. He even felt remorse when they died for him, but that had been necessary in his ultimate goal to destroy the world: a world full of hate and discriminations, of prejudices and ignorance. People called him “Heavenly Demon”, and yet he had accepted in his family individuals no one wanted around. He did feel superior to the others, but he knew that they were all humans in the end, no matter how some still called themselves “gods”. No matter how he played along and claimed to be one too sometimes: it was just a game, an act. Doflamingo knew very well that his Conqueror's Haki wasn’t proof of some no-existing "birthrights". He deemed himself worthy of reigning over others only because he had earned that for himself. Despite all of that and his unshakable will to survive, though, he had lost. Now, he had no right to choose how to die anymore nor decide what “justice” was; winners did that. Yet, he still had his curiosity. What would the Riku family do from now on? Did they expect peace on Dressrosa? He laughed again, amused this time. He could see hordes of pirates invading it since the very day he had fallen. What would Law do? He hadn’t killed him in the end, so maybe he felt empty, his revenge unfulfilled? Or did he find something or someone else filling the void in his existence? And what about me? Despite lying chained on the cold floor of a cell, he didn’t feel so bad. Had his (spare) glasses shattering at the end of the fight been a catharsis? At least, he deserved punishment this time around. He could live with that. It felt strange to think that his confrontation with that crazy monkey might have been the best thing ever happening to him. Even if in a way he had not predicted, that event had broken the spiral of deceiving and violence that had entangled him ever since he was a child. For the moment, at least. He still had plans, cards to play. Maybe, one day he would also find hope again—no, better leave such useless things to guys like Fujitora (apparently, the Marine admiral had become a fan of Monkey D Luffy). He would rather keep his prudent stance, the protection of his glasses up again against that shitty world: he didn’t care if, from the outside, that may look like a last desperate tentative to keep control over his life. Probably, one day I’ll take them off myself. As much as he didn’t believe in heroes, to see the world unfiltered and not through rose-coloured glasses would be a heroic gesture by itself. How ironic! In any case, he believed that his role hadn’t ended yet. Maybe, his defeat had been a necessary step before a new beginning. He would find a way to free himself and the remaining members of his family. He would probably find new people worth his attention and time, too. He would be even more careful from now on (he would still ignore the remorse that sometimes bit him). He was still alive, meaning that he had a second chance. At worst, he would even help the revolutionaries if that meant finally seeing the World Nobles’ demise. He knew firsthand the pain they caused to people, so he may connect with the revolutionaries—or maybe not. Not on a deep level, at least. He liked to have people around but couldn’t let his guard down, ever. Unlike his stupid father, though, he wouldn't waste his potential and hide away from his fate. He would take things into his own hands. Not like a hero, but like a man. Even if nobody ever really treated him like a human being. So, why should he act like one? Abused for being a (fallen) Celestial Dragon or supported as a king by his new family, there was no middle ground. His found family had recognised his worth but eventually used him as much as he used them. Probably, only that crazy monkey had ever treated him as equal. Despite fighting Monkey D Luffy had made him relive his past trauma with parallels worth of a well-written story, it had also made him somewhat free. I can’t believe this just crossed my mind. Was that a “side effect” of his opponent’s “heroism”? After all, Doflamingo had been the one making the cage, but he had still been at the centre of it, caged himself, as he pulled strings and controlled others. But now, my threads have been cut. He could start anew.

#opbingo2020 #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #onepiece #one piece #opfanfic #opfanfiction #majoraop #long post #(Probably Doflamingo is a bit out of character here since I tend to mix my own headcanons with canon stuff. ^^’ )#(Sorry for not using the read more feature but that would count as a link and posts with links often don't appear in searches and tags...)#queued

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

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Strawberry Pancakes // Bucky Barnes

MASTERLIST

SEQUEL TO BLUEBERRY PANCAKES

DESCRIPTION: Lily Osborne and Bucky Barnes were never blessed with an easy relationship. Whether it be emotional trauma, or Lily's parents trying to be evil scientists. But they somehow made it work, after coming together once again after the birth of Lily's nephew. They were smooth sailing for a while. He proposed, they got engaged, but have yet to marry. While also juggling raising a teenager together as Hunter reaches the age of 16 now. All the while struggling with adjusting to their new lives in Long Island, balancing careers. Meanwhile, Lily struggles with the new found fame of being the fiancé of The White Wolf; and handling the tabloids critiques on her life and gossip columns digging up any information they can on her. While trying to maintain a low profile; and handle her life as it is. And becoming parents. Lily for the second time, while Bucky, well, this is his first attempt at a biological child. All the while a new threat from their past rises up once again, blind siding the family. Bringing forward old hatchets that had been buried, and putting their relationship at risk once more.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

STATUS: Unedited

NOTES: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Five: The One With Her Uncle

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2286

"Keep five feet away," Lily snapped, eyes not wavering from the man that stood on her porch, "Bucky go keep the kids upstairs."

No one argued with Lily as she grabbed a shoe and stepped out onto the sandalwood porch where the man stood. Her eyes stayed glued to his, though hers burned with a fiery rage that could only be described as murderous. The light spring breeze of Long Island danced along Lily's exposed legs as the door shut behind her. Everything inside of her wanted to grab the gun that Bucky always kept near the bed and threaten the man within an inch of his life, seeing as he deserved it.

But what kind of sister would she be then?

"Surprised you're even giving me the time of day," Cedar whispered, stuffing his hands deep within his pockets, "After everything that happened."

Lily stayed silent, eyes lowering as she continued to kill her brother a thousand times over in her head. He had nerve showing up at her home, where her kids were. Of course, he had no idea Stella even existed. She didn't bother keeping in contact with him or her parents when they were in prison. The only way he would have known about Stella, or Leo for that matter, would be if Rose had told him. But as far as the eldest Osborne knew, she didn't bother seeing them either.

"You have five minutes to explain how you're here before I call the police because you're trespassing," Lily stated, face blank as she stared down her brother, "Any longer and I'll throw this shoe at your head."

"Awfully small shoe for you, Bucky, and Hunter," Cedar joked, seemingly attempting to lighten the mood.

Glancing to the side, Lily noticed she had grabbed one of Stella's Crocs. She smiled softly at it before returning to her stone-cold facade. As far as Lily was concerned, Cedar had no business knowing that he had a niece sitting in the house they were both standing in front of. He had no business knowing what was going on in Lily's personal life. And she had no intention of telling him anything explicit.

"I'm going to guess that you've had another kid," Cedar sighed, "Can I at least ask her name?"

"Stella. You have three minutes," she sighed, shifting her weight.

"I was released because they dubbed me a victim," Cedar shrugged, rocking back and forth on his feet, "I have to attend court-mandated therapy and I'm on probation for a bit just in case. I got in contact with Scott and asked him where you were living now. I don't have anywhere else to go."

Lily felt her heart long to embrace her younger brother. But the rational side of her reminded him of the terrible trauma he had caused her and Hunter. The things he said to her the day he was arrested. They still haunted her at night, kept her wondering what else she could have done to help him. To protect him from the terrible things her parents forced him into. He was her baby brother, her only brother. And there he stood on her front porch, asking for help. What could she do? Say no?

"Try Rose," Lily stated simply, turning and walking back into the house without risking another glance at the frail boy on her porch.

When she shut the door, Lily saw Hunter and Bucky standing on the landing of the stairs. They both looked crestfallen and upset, but Lily didn't know what else to do. He had hurt her and her son more than words could truly describe. She used to drop everything for Cedar. And yet there she was, standing on the other side of the door where she knew he was still standing. Hoping and praying for his big sister to change her mind. He had been released on probation and as a victim. The legal system trusted him enough to let him walk free. Why couldn't she?

"He can stay in the guest room," Bucky whispered, squeezing Hunter's shoulder, "Rebecca's heading back into the city today."

Lily let out a breathy sigh before twisting the doorknob once again, opening the painted wood. Stepping around the other side, she noticed he was still there, just as she had predicted. His eyes were soft and his cheeks were hollow. It broke Lily's heart to see him in such a solemn state. This wasn't her brother. This was the same shell she had seen all of those years ago when he had asked her for help. When he needed her the most. And she used that against him.

"She's asleep, but you can meet her when she wakes up," Lily nodded, opening the door wider for her brother.

-----

An hour or so later, Lily found herself terrified for Stella to meet her Uncle. It was just the week before when she had asked if she'd ever get to meet him. It was ironic timing, to say the least. She knew that Stella would be overjoyed to meet Cedar and she was sure he'd be a dotting Uncle. But it didn't help the fact she was terrified that he would use her and manipulate her family to work in his favour.

After getting dressed in a pair of loose jeans, a flowy gray t-shirt and one of Bucky's flannels, Lily raised her daughter from a dead sleep. The young brunette whined as the light hit her eyes, earning a gentle laugh from her mother. Dressing Stella in a white shirt with frills at the top and a pair of red overalls, Lily prepared herself for the man downstairs to meet her. She brushed out her long dark hair before placing a gentle kiss on the girl's forehead and scooping her into her arms and shutting the door behind her.

"There's someone here who is very excited to meet you," Lily whispered into Stella's ear, earning a giggle from the girl, "Any guesses?

"...A new puppy?"

"You won't give that one up will you?" Lily laughed as she landed on the main floor of their home, "No. Chandler and Joey are enough as it is. Plus Alpine. The best I could do is get you a fish."

"Fish smell," Stella cringed, "Hunter and I went fishing. I don't like them."

Lily shook her head and laughed at her daughter's story before rounding the corner of the living room where the rest of the family sat, attempting conversation. Even from the threshold, Lily could feel the awkward tension that laid heavily in the room. Pursing her lips, the blonde continued her entry, Cedar watching her with a sad look in his eyes as he admired Stella.

"Stella, this is your Uncle Cedar," Lily cooed, placing the four-year-old down on the floor, where she ran into Bucky's legs beside her mother, "Remember you were asking about him last week?"

"Well aren't you so pretty," Cedar cooed, bending down from the couch so that he was at eye-level with the girl, "It's nice to finally meet you, Stella."

Lily watched carefully at her daughter's reaction. The best judge of character were dogs and young children. And the dogs were in the backyard, so Lily was selfishly relying on her young daughter to see. If Stella was uncomfortable with Cedar, there would be no questions. He would have to find somewhere else to say. If Hunter even showed an inkling of discomfort around his Uncle, Lily had no issue book a hotel for the man. If anyone, and she truly means anyone, found issues with Cedar, there was no doubt in Lily's mind that she would have him leave without a second thought.

"Everything alright, darling?" Bucky said in a hushed voice, running his flesh hand down Stella's, "He's your Uncle it's okay. I promise, nothing will ever hurt you. As long as I live."

"Yeah, remember meeting Aunt Mary for the first time?" Hunter piped up, "You were so confused as to why she was black and white in all her photos, same with Aunt Frances. You thought they were ghosts. But then Dad told you that we'd protect you from everything, even ghosts," he cooed, bending down so he was face to face with Stella, "Uncle Cedar won't hurt you. I promise."

Lily felt tears gather in her bottom brim, threatening to pour over as she watched her two boys comfort the young girl who was clearly hesitant with new people. She chuckled softly as Hunter raised her pointer finger, prompting his little sister to make the same promises he and Lily used to make before he went to Scott's. Lily's heart grew ten sizes as Stella wrapped her smaller finger around her big brothers before turning and walking over to her Uncle with her arm outstretched.

"I'm Stella Barnes."

-----

"You let him in your house?" Rose scoffed as she took a sip of her wine, almost spraying it all over Lily.

Lily pursed her lips as she glanced between her sister and best friend. She knew they wouldn't take it well when she told them she and Bucky agreed to let Cedar stay with them. It was only a natural reaction. Even Lily was still hesitant to let him stay. But Bucky seemed confident that it was okay and that Cedar would be fine. It surprised Lily, how much faith he had in the law and the legal system. Especially after the life he has had.

"And Stella actually went up to him?" Gen asked as she took a quick sip of her wine, "It took that girl almost a year before she even let me hold her."

It was true. Stella and Gen did not have the best start to their relationship. Despite being the baby's godmother, Stella despised Gen for the first bit of her life. If Gen even attempted to pick up the newborn, Stella would scream bloody murder. Lily was terrified that her daughter had an innate dislike towards her best friend. Luckily, the Barnes child was able to outgrow the distaste towards Gen and now looked forward to the times her 'Auntie Genny' would babysit her. Which wasn't often, seeing as both Lily and Bucky were homebodies. But it happens every once and a while.

"I was just as surprised as you guys," Lily admitted, shrugging as she leaned back in her seat at the table, "I almost cancelled dinner tonight because I was too worried to leave everyone home with him."

"Yeah but Bucky and Sam are there, so is Hunter," Rose sighed, crossing her legs and shaking her head, "I would have told him to get lost."

"I did at first," Lily chuckled, running a hand through her blonde hair, "Told him to go to you. But when I went back inside...I just couldn't do it."

She knew it wouldn't be forever. There was no way in hell she was letting Cedar squat at her home and live off of her and Bucky's hard work. He had managed to get himself into the mess. But that didn't mean Lily wouldn't be a loving big sister and let him stay for a bit. She knew Bucky agreed, seeing as he was the one who gave her the look that convinced her to let him stay.

"You said he got your address from Scott?" Rose asked, smiling as the server placed the three women's food on the table, "Wonder why that was the first place he decided to go."

"Well, it's not like he would have the nerve to show up at your place." Gen shrugged at the younger Osborne sister.

"I would have thrown one of Leo's toys at him without a second thought," Rose sighed, twirling pasta onto her fork, "The audacity he has to just show up at your doorstep though."

"He was released by the court," Lily sighed, shaking her head, "I don't trust him fully but I couldn't just toss him out onto the street. No one could survive the streets of Long Island."

"You're nicer than most people though, Lily," Gen sighed, taking another swig of wine, "I'm with Rose. Honestly surprised Bucky didn't stare him down so much he ran away in fear."

Lily chuckled softly as she cut into the chicken parmesan she had ordered. A light conversation ensued as the girls began each of their dinners, all now a bit relieved that the elephant in the room had been talked out. Lily still wasn't entirely confident in the decision she had made to allow Cedar to stay with them. She worried that he was just using her to his advantage. If that were the case, Lily had just put her entire family in danger. But it was Cedar...he was her baby brother.

Lily lifted her gaze from her food and felt the air escape from her lungs. Just across the room sat two people Lily would have killed to keep apart from one another. They were talking in hushed voices, each glancing from side to side constantly as if they were ensuring that their surroundings weren't listening in on whatever conversation they were having.

She could have gone her entire life without having to see the two of them together. Sharing a meal and talking back and forth. She wondered what on earth they could have been talking about. The only thing that they had in common was Lily. And barely so for one of the parties. But there the two sat, leaning over the table and speaking with one another as though there were unspeakable secrets being shared.

"You alright, Lil?" Gen asked, placing her hand on her best friends.

"Walker's here. With Scott."

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madpanda75 · 4 years

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“Taking Chances Part 5: Busted”

Find out what happens when Sonny walks in on the reader and Rafael mid-coitus...cause what could be more embarrassing 😳 Also you’ll get some of Sonny’s perspective in this chapter.

Thanks for all the amazing feedback! If anyone wants to be added to my tag list, let me know ❤️

Sonny whistled a tune as he walked down the hallway towards your apartment. The law book. The pancakes. It was all a ruse. You had been avoiding your big brother for weeks. Further confirmed by the fact that you didn’t respond to his text the night before. Something was off and Sonny wanted to find out what it was.

Did he feel guilty about checking up on you? Of course he did, but you were his baby sister. It was only natural for him to be worried and he actually did leave his immigration law book at your apartment. So technically, he did have a valid reason for stopping by. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

While walking Sonny bumped into your neighbors just as they were leaving their home. “Hey...uh…Sandra and Tom, right? It’s Sonny Carisi. I’m just stoppin’ by to check on Y/N.”

Sandra scoffed and shook her head. “Hope you brought your ear plugs.”

Sonny knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “Ear plugs?”

“Good luck, pal.” Tom patted Sonny on the shoulder and left to catch up with his wife.

Sonny glanced between your neighbors and the front door of your home. He could hear the faint sound of music playing inside. Taking out his spare key, he opened your door and stepped inside. “Hello?” He called out, but there was no answer. Sonny assumed you were painting. You always played music whenever you were working on a piece, completely lost in your own creative little universe.

As he headed down the foyer, a wave of relief washed over him. Everything was fine. You were probably busy with the gallery and your art. He was just overreacting. Working at SVU, it was hard not to assume the worst. Unfortunately, the detective was reminded of what happened to people who make assumptions when he turned the corner.

Sonny froze in his tracks, shocked at the scene he was witnessing. There you were laying on a table with your back arched, moaning loudly while a dark-haired man’s head was between your legs. His sweet precious baby sister who would beg him to play Pretty Pretty Princess over and over again; who used to sing in the youth choir at St. Thomas. The teeniest feather could’ve knocked him over in that moment.

“Y/N?!” He exclaimed.

Upon hearing your name, you turned your head. “Sonny!” You screamed and immediately tried to cover yourself.

Sonny was horrified. It was like witnessing a car crash. The most horrific carnage-filled car crash. He silently prayed to God for a sudden bout of hysterical blindness. Although even with his eyes shut, the images he had just seen would forever be seared into his brain. He was going to need trauma counseling and wondered if perhaps his boss’s therapist was available.

Just when Sonny thought it couldn’t get any worse, the head of a certain sharp-tongue, sassy, snarky ADA popped up like some sick version of Whack-A-Mole. The man in question looked almost as stunned as the blue-eyed detective. “Carisi,” Rafael softly said and wiped his chin and lips—which were coated in your arousal.

When Sonny saw Rafael, everything suddenly clicked into place—the recent tardiness, the perfume. It was you. You were the mysterious hook-up the squad had been teasing Rafael about. Sonny choked back the bile rising in his throat and then he saw red. Fury flashed before his eyes. His fists shook with rage. Never in his life had he wanted to hit someone so much as he did right then. “RAFAEL?!” He boomed and dropped his bag of groceries. “What the fuck is goin’ on here?!”

You hopped off the table, quickly picking Rafael’s sweater up off the floor and putting it on.“Sonny?! Get OUT!” You shouted in a shrill voice and stomped your foot like a petulant child.

“Seriously, Y/N?! On Nonna’s table!” Sonny ran a hand through his hair, his eyes were wild.

Rafael cautiously took a step closer, not wanting you to catch all the heat from your big brother. After all it took two to tango and to be fair, he could understand why Carisi was upset. This certainly was not what Rafael had in mind when he wanted to break the news that you and him were dating. “Carisi, I can explain,” he calmly said.

“Explain my ass.” Sonny marched up to Rafael and got right in his face, prodding the ADA in the chest. “That’s my baby sister you’re defiling on a family heirloom,” he growled.

You moved in between the two men, recognizing by the tone in his voice that Rafael was seconds away from getting punched in the face by your brother. “Sonny, calm down.”

“And you!” Sonny looked you up and down while shaking his head in disapproval. “Is this why you’ve been so busy? Cause you’re more interested in fucking some guy than spending time with your own family?”

You drew a sharp intake of breath at his harsh words. Your brother had never spoken to you like that before. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, wanting the floor to swallow you up whole.

Rafael saw the hurt in your eyes and something inside him snapped. Before his brain could even process what his body was doing, he pulled his fist back and punched Sonny square in the nose.

“Oh my God!” You stood there with your jaw dropped open, completely stunned—at Sonny, at Rafael, and at Rafael’s fist colliding with Sonny’s face.

Sonny doubled over and pinched the bridge of his nose, tears welling up in his eyes. “My nose!”

“Don’t you dare speak to her like that,” Rafael snarled and clutched his fist, trying to flex his fingers, his knuckles red and swollen. “Fuck, my hand!”

The two men groaned in excruciating pain. You glanced between them, not entirely sure who to go to first, your boyfriend or your brother. “Wow, Ma was right,” you mumbled to yourself. “Men really are just overgrown children.”

Sonny glared at Rafael, his nose bleeding profusely and began to lunge at him with his fist in the air ready to counter-attack. Thankfully, you were prepared this time and jumped in between them both with your arms outstretched, palms pressing against each of their chests as you pushed them off each other.

“STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU!” You turned and pointed to Rafael. “You sit DOWN and don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Rafael immediately followed your orders, kind of turned on by your dominant side shining through, but now was not the time to tell you that.

You then turned to your brother. “You. Bathroom. NOW!” Sonny wouldn’t budge, muttering to himself in Italian as he tried to wipe the blood off his nose. “NOW!” You smacked him upside the head.

“Ow! Ok, I’m goin’! I’m goin!’” He held his hands up in surrender and headed down the hallway.

“Put those long limbs of yours to good use and walk a little faster then!” You said, hot on his heels.

Rafael could hear you both bickering all the way to the bathroom, your normally non-existent Staten Island accent coming out in full force. It was strange. He had never really noticed a family resemblance between you and Sonny until now.

*****

Sonny sat on the edge of your tub, nursing his swollen, tender nose. To stop the bleeding, you split a tampon in half and shoved each part up his nostrils. It wasn’t broken, but bruising was already beginning to form. He was gonna have a great time trying to explain two black eyes and a bashed-in nose to the squad on Monday morning. Who knew Rafael had such a killer right hook?

You walked into the bathroom—now dressed in your own clothes—and silently handed him a bag of frozen corn. In order to keep the peace, you had to put Sonny and Rafael in timeout. If it worked for your nieces and nephews, it would certainly work for your brother and your boyfriend.

“Thanks,” he muttered and held the frozen vegetables up to his face, wincing in pain. “Where’s Barba?”

“Still sitting at the table with his hand under a bag of frozen peas. You both owe me for groceries by the way.” You stood there, studying the tiled floor in silence before clearing your throat. “I better go check on Rafael.”

Just as you were about to leave, Sonny took hold of your hand. “Y/N, wait a sec, will ya’?”

You pulled out of his grasp and turned to face him, crossing your arms. “What is it?”

Sonny sighed and looked up at you with black eyes and a bloody nose. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I shoulda’ never said that. It’s just when I saw you and Barba. I freaked out. Please forgive me.”

You mulled over his apology for a moment, worrying your bottom lip. “I forgive you,” you replied before punching him hard in the left shoulder. Rafael had nothing on you. Over the years, your brother had done a stellar job teaching you how to fight. You may have been the creative, sensitive artist, but you could also quit your day job and become an MMA cage fighter if you wanted to.

“Ow! Jeezus!” He hissed in pain. “What was that for? I said I was sorry!”

“Rafael got a hit in and now it’s my turn.” You clutched your brother by the collar. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again or I’ll do worse. I’m a grown-ass woman and this is my home. My boyfriend can eat me out cafeteria-style and make me cum until I scream if I want him to!”

“Oh God! I didn’t need to hear that! Please do me a favor. Take somethin’ sharp and pointy and gouge out my eyeballs and puncture my eardrums, will ya’? Haven’t I been punished enough?” He groaned.

“For barging into my home and embarrassing me in front of Rafael? No, you haven’t.” You let go of Sonny’s shirt and sat down next to him, taking the bag of frozen corn and bringing it back up to his face. Your expression softened a bit. You loved Sonny with all your heart. His recent outburst aside, he was the best big brother a girl could ask for. “I shoulda never given you a spare key.”

“How did you two even meet?” He asked.

You shrugged. “He stopped by the gallery one day and then I ran into him again that night you and I were supposed to get dinner. The rest is history.” You softly smiled, thinking back to that first embarrassing encounter with Rafael and everything that followed. That first drink. That first kiss. Reflecting back on this past month, you realized that slowly but surely Rafael had changed your life for the better. “Guess you kinda had a part to play in all this. If it wasn’t for you cancelling on me. We may have never gotten together.”

Sonny pushed your hand away from his face. “Don’t say that. I don’t want to be responsible for this.” He sadly shook his head and got up. “I better get goin’.”

“Sonny, wait!” You followed him out of the bathroom and down the hallway.

He ignored you, tossing the bag of frozen corn on the table where Rafael was still sitting, flipping through Sonny’s immigration law book.

“Here’s your book,” Rafael said, handing it over.

“Thanks,” he sneered and snatched the book out of Rafael’s hands before heading to the door.

“Carisi!” Rafael called out.

Sonny whipped around to find the ADA right behind him. “What?”

“You have a tampon up your nose,” Rafael coldly replied.

Sonny’s cheeks turned bright red. He pulled the tampon out of his nostrils and tossed it on the ground before leaving.

You flinched when you heard the door slam and crept up beside Rafael. Wrapping his arms around you, he kissed the top of your head and sighed. “I hate to say it, but I knew we should’ve told him earlier.”

@glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @melsquared79 @dreila03 @frenchiefoxy @tropes-and-tales @thecraziestcrayon @goodluckfindingone @scarlettsoldier @amirightcounselor @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii @graniairish @ashley-chi @imjustreallynosy @lolacolaempath

#rafael barba #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fic #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #barba #barba fanfic #barba fic #barba x reader #law and order svu imagine #barba imagine #rafael barba fan fiction #law and order svu fic #taking chances

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lacrossepapi · 5 years

Text

Happiness is a Buttefly

This is set to Lana del Rey’s Happiness is a Butterfly

Words: 2428 Ao3: Link

This was insane. Stiles felt his heart racing as he thought over the last few weeks. He’d returned to Beacon Hills and discovered that it was possible to live a relatively quiet life now that the Nemeton was appeased. That had been a shock on its own, but the larger shock that hit Stiles on his first day home was that the Nemeton was appeased because Peter Hale bound himself to it. Peter, who had always said he only stuck around for Derek and Cora, was now the only pack member to reside there full time. Stiles’ return meant that there was now two pack members in Beacon Hills year round.

He had rushed to the rebuilt Hale House and discovered Peter sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, a soft gray cardigan around his shoulders and a steaming cup in his hands. Stiles had stumbled at the sight. Peter had always been hot, sexy, fierce, and Stiles had been attracted to that. This Peter on the other hand? Soft, warm, cozy Peter sent a pulse of want down Stiles’ spine too, in a different way but no less strong.

He had taunted the human for stumbling before welcoming him home with a hug, cheek rubbing affectionately against Stiles’, and a soft ‘I always did like you best Stiles.’ Something in the man had fundamentally changed in the years Stiles had been away, yet Peter was still Peter and Stiles still felt so drawn to him that he couldn’t stop the invitation to dinner from slipping out of his mouth.

The odd thing was, Peter declined the offer. Peter continued to decline his offers, even though every time Stiles visited the werewolf his actions spoke of a yearning to see and touch Stiles. Muttered things like ‘It is always a pleasure, Stiles.’ and bold statements made with heated eye contact like, ‘I don’t know why you gift me with your presence but I’m grateful.” left Stiles feeling like a ship out to sea. He was being rocked this way and that by Peter’s behavior and knew Peter well enough by now that he knew what the man was doing.

Stiles checked the time one more time before sending Peter his location, entering the bar, and praying to a god he didn’t believe in. Maybe he’ll be able to save the werewolf from himself.

Do you want me or do you not?

I heard one thing, now I'm hearing another

Dropped a pin to my parking spot

The bar was hot, it's 2 am, it feels like summer

Stiles nursed his vodka cranberry and pointedly did not look at his phone. If he couldn’t get Peter out of the house then Stiles would content himself to a life indoors. He’d been in love with Peter since he was seventeen. Stilinski’s fall in love fast and they stay there. They had both endured lives so dark, and Stiles had found a light, soothing solace in Peter long before the man had even looked at him twice. Peter did not deny himself simple pleasures, but he did deny himself the pleasures necessary to be healthy. Stiles had noticed it quickly, seeing past all the pompousness and sarcasm.

Stiles followed the thought process of ‘If I’m miserable all the time, why would I deny myself any happiness I found?” and lived his life accordingly. When he discovered he was falling in love with an older man, who had enough baggage and psychological land mines to bury them both, he didn’t hesitate for a moment. Contentment was so rare in Beacon Hills already and Stiles feel peaceful next to Peter. That’s all that mattered to him in the end. In those moments of peace with Peter, Stiles was able to learn more about the man’s life than he ever thought Peter would give up willingly.

Peter was a Scorpio, his favorite ice cream flavor was mint moose tracks, and he used to spend his days watching the pack’s children. He was the only teenager in a pack full of adults and babies, and looking at him in the light of Derek’s desk lamp Stiles could see the young man he’d been. Peter had loved taking care of his nephews, nieces, and cousins. He spoke fondly of his aunt Ruby who’d teach him about magic and the world around them while the younger kids slept. Peter had smiled then, the memory still brought butterflies to Stiles’ stomach six years later.

He was starting to get drunk on his nostalgia of a man he thought would love him back one day, and the alcohol burning his throat.

Happiness is a butterfly

Try to catch it like every night

It escapes from my hands into moonlight

Every day is a lullaby

I hum it on the phone like every night

And sing it for my babies on the tour life

Ah ah

His phone chimed, and Stiles couldn’t resist checking it.

Not very smart to send a murderer your location, Bambi.

Peter made jokes about being a villain, but he was no longer the half-mad man he once was. He’d more than paid for his crimes by now.

What could you possibly do to me that hasn’t already been done? Come drink with me.

Stiles sent the message off before he could rethink it. If Peter was the villain of this story, then Stiles would gladly get caught in his traps. Stiles has had his heart, mind, and body broken and come out the other side stronger. There’s nothing left for Peter to break, not that the werewolf would even try.

Peter had been alone for at least two years now, wrestling with his guilt and shame on his own. The man that Stiles found waiting at the Hale House was not the same man he’d left there four years ago. His trips back had been so brief the first two years, always full of fighting and fear. He hadn’t even questioned why they called him back less and less the last two years of his degree. Now, he knows though, knows that Peter sacrificed any chance at having a life outside the horrors and traumas he endured here to bring peace to his home land. Now, he knows that he isn’t going anywhere either. Stiles will stay with Peter no matter what.

The door chime made Stiles glance up, already telling himself there was no way it was Peter, and directly into a pair of sad blue eyes that spoke of grief and fear.

Peter had actually come to the bar.

For a moment they stared at each other, both surprised the werewolf was there, before Stiles smiled at Peter and patted the seat beside him.

If he's a serial killer, then what's the worst

That could happen to a girl who's already hurt?

I'm already hurt

If he's as bad as they say, then I guess I'm cursed

Looking into his eyes, I think he's already hurt

He's already hurt

The bar around them was once loud, now a quiet buzz as all of Stiles’ focus zoomed in on Peter and the wary look he had in that moment. Stiles doesn’t know what to do with the melancholy that clings to Peter, so he does the only thing he knows will work: distracting. Stiles is able to needle Peter until he relaxes and they converse as easily as they would’ve before Peter had been left in solitude with only his inner thoughts as company. Stiles talks of his dad, and Peter informs him that Derek is currently helping an associate of Deaton’s that recently took down a puppy mill.

They share a smile over a picture of Derek covered in fur and smiling with a freshly shaved poodle in his hands. They share a laugh over a picture of Cora hanging out the window of a jeep, her tongue out and her hair whipping wildly around head, in a jungle somewhere without consistent service. They share a kiss over a vodka cranberry.

Stiles hadn’t meant to do it, but Peter looked so handsome in the colored fluorescents he couldn’t stop himself. He leaned fully into the kiss, his arm going up onto the bar to support his weight.

He didn’t understand why Peter had jumped back so fast, breaking their kiss abruptly, until he looked down at his now sticky arm. Of course a complete klutz like Stiles would ruin his first kiss with Peter by spilling his drink. At least it didn’t get on either of their clothes.

When Stiles’ eyes found Peter’s again, the older man wasn’t making eye contact and seemed to be disappointed. Stiles hurriedly apologized for being an idiot and knocking over his drink, but Peter just admonished him for calling himself an idiot.

The werewolf decided it was time to go, no word of their kiss. Stiles was four vodka cranberries in and more than a little drunk, which meant a tantrum when they got outside.

Peter really started it by wrapping Stiles in his cardigan before ushering him into a taxi. He refused to let the other man shut the door and part ways. He demanded to know why he couldn’t ride home with Peter. When Peter pointed out that he drove his motorcycle, which Stiles hadn’t even known the man owned, Stiles protested that he wasn’t too drunk to ride on the back.

“What’s the real problem, Stiles? You’re not like this, even when you are drunk.” Peter’s worry was clear in his breathtaking eyes.

“I’m not that drunk.” He muttered petulantly, getting out of the taxi.

When Peter only stared at him, he sighed, “I just wanted to spend more time with you. We could go dancing if you won’t let me ride your motorcycle?”

Peter smiled sadly at him and shook his head before motioning for Stiles to follow him to Stiles’ Jeep.

I said, "Don't be a jerk, don't call me a taxi"

Sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat

Ooh

I just wanna dance with you

Hollywood and Vine, Black Rabbit in the alley

I just wanna hold you tight down the avenue

I just wanna dance with you

Baby, I just wanna dance (dance)

With you (dance)

Baby, I just wanna dance (dance)

With you

Peter took them to downtown and parked across from Jungle, apprehension noticeable in his movements. A war was being fought in Peter’s mind, and Stiles could only hope things would come out in his favor. They entered the club hand in hand and made their way to the bar, one more shot before show time. Stiles nodded to himself before slipping his fingers between Peter’s and gently pulling the man onto the dance floor. Something in Peter had changed the minute he realized he wasn’t going to back out of this night with Stiles and the events unfolding between them. Gone was the soft, melancholy of a man twice abandoned and left to live with ghost, and in his place was the predator Stiles had first fallen in love with.

Peter smirked at him before he spun Stiles around and roughly pulled him against the werewolf’s chest.

“Dance for me, Stiles.”

The words went straight to Stiles groin, but also to the part of his brain that reveled in Peter’s aggressive behavior. The part of his brain that held tightly onto the memories of Peter’s aggression saving his life more than once.

The two of them danced until last call and lights up, shuffling out with the other stragglers, the embarrassed grins of new lovers on their faces.

They drove down the boulevard with their windows down and their hands intertwined.

Left the canyon, drove to the club

I was one thing, now I'm being another

Go down to Sunset in the truck

I'll pick you up if you're in town on the corner

Ah ah

They made it back to the Hale House and Stiles could see the doubt creeping back into Peter’s eyes. He left the werewolf to over think alone in the Jeep and made his way inside the restored pack house. When Peter finally came inside it seemed like he was about to apologize or something equally unwarranted, so Stiles rushed to inform him that he was indeed allowed to be happy.

Peter’s shoulders sagged as a breath whooshed out of him in defeat. He made his way over to the couch and sat heavily down next to Stiles. The older man tried to say that Stiles didn’t understand, but the human was more than equipped to understand and handle Peter’s grief.

“Peter look at me.” Stiles had to repeat himself twice before Peter finally made eye contact.

“You deserve to be happy. You have paid for your crimes tenfold. Do you honestly believe your family would want you to punish yourself this way?”

Peter could only choke out his niece’s name before sinking to his knees at Stiles’ feet. The human ran his finger slowly through the werewolf’s hair as he spoke with absolute certainty, “You made a mistake. You regret that night, and you weren’t in control. No, it doesn’t bring her back and it won’t take away your guilt. But Peter that doesn’t mean you should live with the ghosts of your mistakes. Laura wouldn’t want that.”

Peter’s breathing hitched as Stiles spoke.

He let the other man grieve in silence for a while before grasping his hand and standing.

“I think that’s enough for tonight. The Peter Hale I love would never kneel at anyone’s feet.” Peter’s head whipped up to face him, his eyes flashing supernaturally blue, “One last dance before we go to bed, zombiewolf.”

Stiles smiled at him before pulling out his phone and putting on the first classic slow song he saw.

He hummed along with Patsy Cline as he placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders and swayed them around the room gently.

Happiness is a butterfly

We should catch it while dancing

I lose myself in the music, baby

Every day is a lullaby

Try to catch it like lightning

I sing it into my music, I'm crazy

Things aren’t better in one day, but they’re starting the journey to ‘better’ together. And in the end that’s what matters right?

If he's a serial killer, then what's the worst

That could happen to a girl who's already hurt?

I'm already hurt

If he's as bad as they say, then I guess I'm cursed

Looking into his eyes, I think he's already hurt

He's already hurt

#steter #Peter Hale #peter/stiles #Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski #stiles stilinski #Stiles #song fic #happiness is a butterfly #kyla writes #kyla creates

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neverforgetkpop · 4 years

Text

Beautiful Mess | Pt. 05

Summary: Running from her past never seemed like something she would find herself doing, but if she wanted to stay alive she had to hide. Making her way back to Korea for the first time since she was a baby, Yuna is thrown into a life full of hiding unaware that the roof she’s hiding under is not as incognito as it should be if she wants to survive. Yuna suddenly faces 7 men who change her life, 7 men that can either save her or destroy her, and one man that can remind her of who she was before her life turned dark.

Rating: M

Pairing: Namjoon & Yuna/Reader

Genre & Warning: Strangers to lovers. Mentions of physical abuse and possible other traumas. Angst, eventual fluff and intimacy.

A/N: This is my first fanfic in years, and most importantly my first BTS fanfic. I named the female character Yuna, but you can change her name to yours if you want. It’s written in 1st person. I feel like I should add the (obvious) disclaimer that the story is not real, and though the characters are inspired by the boys, they are not the boys.

PS. The name of the story is inspired by the song Beautiful Mess by Kristian Kostov if you want to check it out.

PT 01 / PT 02 / PT 03 / PT 04 / PT 06/ PT 07/ PT 08/ PT 09

____________________________________

“I’m sorry about that. They get excited,” Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s ok,” I reassured him.

“So, this is your room. As promised we are on the other side of the hallway so we won’t be a bother.”

From the main living area there were two hallways. Both long and full of doors from what I could tell. Apparently they had their rooms on the left side of the floor while I was given a room on the right side. On the way to the room I saw an office full of books, a room full of instruments, another room with exercise equipment and many more doors.

I stood in the room I’d be staying in. There was a large bed on the corner with windows on both sides showing the view. There was a couch, a desk, and two doors on each side which I later learned were the bathroom and closet. The room was white with wooden touches.

I looked at Namjoon who still stood by the door, his expression expectant. “My room?” I asked at a loss. This room was the size of most of the places I had lived in before. It was more clean, more bright, more wide, more everything.

Namjoon smiled. “How about you get your things ready and come eat what the guys cooked when you’re ready?” he didn’t wait for an answer as he closed the door behind him with a satisfied expression.

After getting acquainted with the room, I put away what little belongings I had. I took a shower and sat on the bed. I rubbed my knees hoping the bruises that had formed would heal soon. The sun was beginning to set and I could feel my stomach grumbling. I took a deep breath and made my way back to the kitchen.

Once I was close enough to hear and see the guys, I stayed a bit hidden looking at them. They were young, each had a singular look and personality that bounced off them when they talked. I had been an only child my entire life. I never met any of my cousins once we moved to America and I wondered if this is what it felt like to have siblings. They were loud and comfortable around each other in a way that reminded me of my parents.

“So Jin and Taehyung are going in tomorrow?” Yoongi asked sitting on the table between Jin and Hoseok.

Jimin and Jungkook sat opposite them, Taehyung sat at the end of the table between Jungkook and Hoseok.

“You can go with me on Friday if you want to check out the new tracks I worked on today.” Namjoon hummed into the conversation standing in front of the stove.

“Did we already decide how many songs we’re releasing for the album?” Jungkook asked.

“I think we’ll sit down next week to talk about the concept and songs.” Namjoon answered before looking up at me. He smiled welcoming. “You hungry?”

The rest followed his line of sight. I smiled feeling a bit awkward, feeling caught. “A bit.” I admitted.

“We were actually waiting for you to start eating.” Jimin smiled.

I smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

“You can sit next to Jimin. I can take you a plate over.” Namjoon said reaching for a bowl.

“I wish you’d take care of me that way.” Jin teased.

“If you cooked, I think you can plate your own food.” Namjoon shot back.

“Don’t distract him, those plates aren’t plastic.” Yoongi said over his shoulder before looking at me. “It’s nice to meet you,” he gave me a small smile.

“Thank you, you too.” I answered as Namjoon set a plate in front of me while the others began getting their own.

“So your Kyung-soo hyung’s niece?” Jin asked.

I nodded silently eating the ramyun Jin had cooked. “My mom was half-Korean, half-American, and my dad was American.” I answered the unspoken question of my mixed look.

Jin’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t- I mean I-” he stuttered.

“It’s ok. I’m not offended,” I reassured him.

He took a relieved sigh.

“Wait to go,” Hoseok mumbled.

Jin tried to hit him behind Yoongi, but Hoseok simply slapped his hand away.

“Were you born in America?” Taehyung asked from the end of the table, his deep voice not what I expected.

“I was actually born here in Seoul before my parents decided to leave for America.”

“What do you think of Seoul so far?” Jin asked.

“I don’t think she’s had an opportunity to see much.” Yoongi said reaching for a cup of water.

“We can fix that,” Jimin perked up beside me. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone around the city.”

“I do have a new camera I’d like to try out.” Jungkook added.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Namjoon chimed in, his tone heavy.

I looked down at the plate of rice Namjoon had also given me, I could feel the atmosphere change. Of course it wasn’t a good idea. The reason why I was staying with them was to hide, and if I were seen with them it would cause a lot of trouble. I felt guilty, they seemed like nice guys, so full of energy and excitement, and above all they were trying to welcome me.

“This is really good Jin.” I offered trying to lighten up the mood.

Jin smiled widely. “Thank you. You want me to get you more?”

“Don’t praise him too much, we won’t hear the end of it.” Yoongi laughed.

“You should really be thankful I can cook or you’d all be eating burnt omelets all day.”

“As if you’re the only one that can cook,” Yoongi said before shoving a spoon full of rice into his mouth.

They began playfully bickering between them. Not only did I then realize the smile on my lips, but a familiar feeling: the feeling of family. I swallowed back tears. For the first time in a long time I was looking forwards to the next day because of the people that were around me.

#bts fanfic #bts army #bts fic #bts namjoon #rm fanfic #kim namjoon #namjoon fic #namjoon fanfiction #bts fanfiction #beautiful mess fic #bts au #bts au fanfic

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red49m0on · 4 years

Text

Need to know if this it any good? I want to make a story out of it.

"You don't have what it takes to be a hero!"

"Ya! Your daddy must have been so disappointed when he saw your quirk."

"Can you plant some roses for me, Ms. Gardener!"

The group of kids laughed tauntingly at the young girl. She was bent over picking up her books, that knocked out of her hands when the kids shoved her to the side.

A boy in the middle of the group growled at her quiet nature. "What are you deaf too? Add that to the list of problems you have!" He smirked looking at his pals. They laughed at his joke and watch the girl slowly to put her books in her bag. This made him angry. His taunting and harassing didn't make her weep or beg him for forgiveness. When bullying other kids they almost instantly back down and did what he wanted them to do. But this new transfer girl isn't like most kids. She had a resting bitch face as he puts it. No one dare go near her like she was the plague. That irritated him knowing some kids feared her presence more than his. His smirked lowered while reaching for her hollow cheeks. He grasps them with a tight hand. "What makes you so special?" He hissed. "Your allegedly A hero's secret love child...but yet you sit here looking defenseless." He watched her icy blue eyes cloud up with hate. He knew he was about to strike a nerve. He was ready for her to snivel and give in to his hurtful words doing his every command to make them stop. This works for all the difficult kids he's dealt with.

“That’s why your mommy left you?”

He could nearly feel the grieving aura around her.

"She couldn't depend on a defenseless little nobody to come and save her!" He laughed. Throwing her to the ground he watched as a tear was dripping down her cheek. Her blonde hair spread out across the hard tile covering some of her face. Her body was huddling up in a ball against the locker almost as instinct. She truly looked like a tiny fragile girl who needed a hero to come and save her. Damsel in distress. He knelt beside her. His fingers wrapped themselves around her soft hair. Pushing the remaining hair out her face he saw her eyes glowing bright blue. He jumped slightly in surprise.

"Don't touch me." She whispered suddenly.

"What was that?" He chimed. Grabbing a fist full of hair he brought her face close to his.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed and punched his gut. He moaned and rolled on his side. She scrambled up and kicked his chest. He grabbed her foot and pulling her down to the ground. Soon it turned into a full fistfight. His pals ran to get a teacher knowing this was getting worse by the minute. The girl grabbed his shirt pulling him into a head-put. He rolled off her while she lunged on top of him punching. Soon she realized she didn't know what she was punching but she couldn't stop. Her pain and anger she had built up were being taken out. In the mix of the fight, she starts seeing spots and blacked out completely. The only thing she could remember was being pulled away and a small glimpse of a bruised and bloody boy on the school floor.

"Mr. Tskauchi I understand your niece's troubles but Ms. Yagi cannot run around this school using her fist as a way to express her feelings."

"He slammed me onto the ground! He started it I only taught his arrogant ass a lesson." She yelled standing from her seat.

"Maka that's enough." Tskauchi mumble.

"If this continues she will be expelled from this school. We don't tolerate this behavior. Especially from a soon to be hero." He glared over at her. She sat down looking at her red knuckles.

"I do recommend counseling." The principal sighed. He pulled out a blue card with a bright yellow smiley face on it. "Mrs. Suki is excellent with children with trauma like this. I'd give her a call." He glanced over the Maka. "You might learn a few things from her." He handed over the card to Maka's guardian. "Thank you, sir, I'll make sure her father knows about this." He nodded and stood up waiting for Maka to follow. Once they were outside he took a deep breath in and turn to her. "What happened?" She rolled her eyes. "Were you not paying attention? I got into a fight." He opened the car door for her and resumed the conversation. "You don't get into a fight unless necessary, so I'll ask again what was said and done you're not telling me." She hugged her body and shift more towards the window.

"Nothing."

"Maka."

"He needed to get thrown off his pedestal, that's It."She hissed.

Tsukauchi rubbed a temple. "Your dad's not going to be happy." Her knuckles started to grip her uniform tighter. "This is the fifth time you've been expelled and transferred. Keep this up and you might be homeschooled."

"What do I care about how the old man feels? It's not like he gives a damn."

"Of course he does-"

"-he didn't even bother showing up to my school after they called, he sent you!" She whipped her head around. "Does he have something so important he missed the meeting? Did some talk show host ask him to come for an interview?" She sneered. "Hey!" He fumed out making her shut up. "I know you're spiteful towards your dad but he's still your parent. You know he's busy. He's the number one hero Maka, the symbol of peace." She sighed and glared out the window. These conversations happen almost daily. Her father was the great symbol of peace, Allmight. He was never home and rarely showed up to anything important of hers. He was always busy saving lives and caring for other's needs instead of hers. This made Maka furious. How could he simple but her in the back of his mind like she didn't matter? Is what she thought. For that is only a quarter of why she hates her dad.

The car suddenly stopped. In front was a gated house that had big windows. The house was two stores and didn't look like anyone was living there. Like a new house. It's bright white trim didn't fail to crack in any way. Maka open the door stepping out into the pouring rain. She didn't realized it rain during the trip. "I'll see you later." Tsukauchi gave a half-hearted smile at her, one she didn't return. "Ya, whatever." She mumbled and slammed the door shut walking to her empty home.

#my ocs #mha fanfiction #bnha oc #fanifiction #allmight #pls help

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alittletournesol · 5 years

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Kingdom Of Jinju {MinKey} part 29/33

Chapter 29 : And the truth shall be revealed

Minho was feeling a bit uncomfortable by minutes passing, sitting on the couch beside his father-in-law as they both stared at Kibum. The latter was pacing up and down in the small living room, still dumbfounded by the recent find. Too many questions were assailing his mind and he didn’t know which one he should ask first ; he knew his father was ready to answer any of them, even his nanny was waiting for him.

He could feel his husband’s eyes on him, perhaps the most unbearable ones considering they were talking about a baby his sister had when she was betrothed to the future King… However, the tall man didn’t seem outraged at all, but rather worried.

“Dear, perhaps you should sit.” The sovereign eventually called him, his voice low and his tone as gentle as when they were alone. “You will dig holes in the floor if you keep walking like this.”

“I don’t want to sit.” The Prince replied before facing the other three, holding his head with both his hands. “I… I don’t know what to start with.”

“You are troubled, and you have all rights to be.” Lord Taehyun spoke. “Ask your simplest question.”

“None of my wonders are simple, Father. I never saw my sister during her pregnancy because I thought she was sick. And tonight, I learn that not only did she have a child, but also that she died giving birth and… you hid it from me. You hid the real reason behind my sister’s death and it’s shameful. It’s dishonoring her memory. Also, do you even know about the trauma I suffered towards the people because I thought she had died after that kid’s bite ? I wouldn’t let them approach me, wasn’t able to walk among them alone like I used to do with her. But it all rested upon a lie.”

“I didn’t know about it and I’m saddened to hear that it left you a mark of that sort… but we couldn’t let this be known, even by you.”

“And why so ? I was… I am her brother, and now an uncle who missed the first ten months of a niece he didn’t know about !”

“Your sister was betrothed to the future King of Jinju, this agreement had been sealed years ago as you already know. She was honored and happy, you can remember yourself how her dream was to be a princess, even a queen, the kind to be close to her people.”

“I can’t see where this is coming.”

“Years passed by, until the ice age was over. Haneul grew up and since we were always letting both of you walk in the town… she met a young man, a commoner. She naturally hid it from us because she knew she couldn’t fall in love with him, not when she had promised to marry someone else, someone with the highest status in all the realm.”

“How did you find out about that man ? When ? It certainly wasn’t a teenager’s simple love interest, she was twenty-two and got pregnant !”

“And I was the first surprised one, son. Your mother and I got to learn about this affair because of the pregnancy. Your sister knew she couldn’t hide it from us, so she came to us and kneeled before us, crying and asking for forgiveness. She had fallen in love and although they didn’t get married in secret, they shared a bed. Once.”

“Kibum, I’m well placed to tell you this.” Minho added before his husband could answer with more anger. “If anyone had known about your sister’s affair, our marriage would have been cancelled and it would have meant a potential war.”

“War ? Who’s talking about war ?” Kibum frowned.

“The constant trading between my kingdom and your province had been sealed with this marriage. If the aforesaid marriage didn’t happen, Jinju would have not been able to repay its debt to Mongje, at least not before decades. Imagine spending years and years waiting for this repay, while your home lost most of its own wealth in trading and ends up struggling with more and more people to feed but less and less resources. What would happen ?”

The black haired man pondered the question and ended up sighing, while he slowly walked to the armchair and sat. Obviously, the longer the debt’s delay would have gotten, the more complaints would have risen, and these could have turned into threats from both sides, arguments, quarrels… and a potential war. All of this because of his sister’s choice.

He remained silent for a few seconds, allowing himself a moment to calmly gather his thoughts and questions. He couldn’t be mad at anyone, and especially not his sister and the baby she had had.

“Did the man know about the pregnancy, did he even want to take responsibilities ?” He asked, looking up towards her father. “Or did she choose to hide it from him too, for her safety ?”

“He was aware of it, she told him before us.” The older man said. “He wanted to be responsible for impregnating our daughter, he even asked for a formal audience to offer both his apologies and a promise to take care of your sister the same way the King would have.”

“I don’t understand, then.” Minho spoke in. “If she was aware, him as well, also your wife and yourself… why hiding it from Kibum ?”

“Your Highness, I think you are both smart enough to guess what happened.”

“Mother didn’t accept it, right ?” Kibum sighed. “That would have been a full stop to her hunt for power, her daughter she was so proud of getting pregnant after lying with a commoner…”

“Yes. Your mother rejected this young man’s proposal and dismissed him quite rudely. She decided this couldn’t happen, the marriage couldn’t be cancelled over an illegitimate child… so she planned everything. We would hide Haneul and disallow every visit as soon as her womb would be too noticeable. The bite she suffered served as an excuse and you know what happened next. She remained bedridden for almost six months until she had to give birth.”

“Wait… I remember she got sick for a bit more than seven months. Wasn’t it too early for the baby to come ?”

“It was, and although your niece came difficultly, our physician managed to keep her alive and she’s now healthy. Smaller than full developed newborns, but healthy. But your sister… she wasn’t mentally prepared for an early childbirth and being locked up for months didn’t help, she went through anxiety attacks while being in pain because of cramps. It took her way too many hours to deliver. She lost a lot of blood and was drained, physically and mentally. She… she survived a few hours, the night after she gave birth, but that’s all… She asked for you.”

“What…?”

“She knew. She wanted to say goodbye, to tell you the truth. Your mother pretended that she would send you to her once she would have rested a bit, but… it didn’t happen. She was already gone when you woke up that day, we just… we just made sure to clean everything so you wouldn’t suspect anything about the childbirth.”

Without him noticing it, the Prince’s cheeks were wet with tears as he listened to his father telling about his sister’s last moments. His chin and lips were quivering but he held any sob back, his back straightened and his fists closed on his lap. He was sad, but the strongest feelings invading him at the moment were anger and resentment.

“Why did you let her…” He asked, his teeth gritted. “Why did you let that woman decide if my sister had the right or not to see me before dying ? Why didn’t you say anything, why didn’t you come and wake me up so I could say goodbye too ?!”

“My son…” Lord Taehyun stuttered before standing up, walking to his son and going down on his knees, on the bare floor. “I would have given everything for my children to bid each other goodbye before being separated… but… I would have lost more than your sister that night, if I had gone against your mother’s will.”

“What could you lose more than a daughter ? Will you tell me Mother would have killed you ?”

“Not me. Listen, the day after Haneul’s funeral, your mother summoned our physician to… to ask him to quietly find a way to get rid of the baby. Her plan had failed, she thought she could have just eliminated any proof of your sister’s affair before the wedding. But the poor man refused to do such thing, it wasn’t the role of a doctor to kill. He became an obstacle, a person who knew too many things and could have put an end to everything your mother had been working on for twenty years.”

“Don’t tell me…”

“Yes, that’s what happened.”

“And the father ?”

“Do you think your mother would have kept alive a man who had destroyed her hopes for power ? Right after she got rid of him too with her bloody spies, she commanded me to kill my granddaughter. As you can see, I failed.”

“By the Gods…”

Kibum couldn’t take his eyes off of his father’s face, as he could read in them that he was telling the truth. This man had spent a lifetime lying to everyone, even to himself, hiding behind an always severe stare… but this time, pain and remorse were noticeable in the way he looked at his son, it was something the latter had never seen before. He doubted for a minute, wondering if Lord Taehyun, kneeling before him, wasn’t playing another role at the moment.

After all, if he had managed to play the strict, tyrannic ruler and father for two decades, he could be able to fake tears and sadness for an hour. However, the Prince felt deep in his heart that for once, his father was revealing his true side : the side of a man who had gotten mentally abused for years, threatened by his own wife with the use of some secret weapon, maybe blackmail. Nothing looked surprising to the young man anymore, when it came from his mother.

In a short span of time, he looked up and stared at the King, quietly asking for his opinion about the matter. Minho just sadly smiled at him and tilted his head to the side ; he was feeling sorry for his husband to face such a difficult situation, but he wanted to help him the best he could. Within a few seconds, he nodded and mouthed “I trust him”. As he looked back at his father, Kibum quietly sighed and gestured for him to stand up. He was about to tell him something when a broken sob interrupted them.

Their three heads turned towards the little room with the curtain-door, and the nanny rushed inside as soon as a few louder sobs joined the first, tiny one. The Prince’s father immediately stood up and looked at the door with apprehension, yet still not as much as his son and son-in-law. In no time, the old woman came back in the living room holding the awake little girl against her shoulder. The latter had her eyes still a bit sleepy but she opened them wider when she noticed the three newcomers.

As Kibum gulped loudly, suddenly finding himself unable to move an inch, he watched his father smile in a way he never had before. The latter approached the little one and carefully caressed her slightly swollen cheek while muttering inaudible words… but certainly funny ones as the baby’s mouth opened to draw a smile with two little toothy pegs on her lower gum, while a smaller one was showing up on the upper one. Her almond shaped, big eyes squinted when she quietly giggled and it hit the Prince.

She looked like him. Actually, she looked like his sister because she had the same expression when she laughed, the way she would close her sparkly eyes and show her toothy smile… but somehow, since Kibum and Haneul had so similar features, it also felt like his niece laughed like him. And it felt, strangely, like a warming in his chest that seemed to replace all trace of bitterness and resentment.

The nanny gently handed the little girl to her grandfather as she headed to the small kitchen, and Lord Taehyun smiled as he sat back on the couch, holding his granddaughter sitting on his lap with a hand supporting her back. She was wearing a rather cute night shirt that was a bit too long for her, made of white linen and decorated with fair green knot all around the collar. However, the fabric’s color had turned a bit yellow, what proved the shirt was an old one.

“Haneul wore it when she was her age, and so did you.” The man said when he noticed his son looking at the item of clothing. “I couldn’t let this little one with only sheets to dress her… though she is small, you used to wear this when you were around nine months and it fit perfectly.”

“She looks like her.” Kibum commented, still looking at the baby who had now her big eyes staring at Minho, who was sitting near and she had never seen. “I think.”

“She does, I can assure you. She has the exact same face than your sister when she was a baby, and you looked like this too, just a bit puffier.”

“She’s swollen too, it’s not just me.”

“Because she’s growing her teeth and it can hurt. That is why she wakes up at night, I remember your sister was insufferable at that period…”

The Prince got surprised at his father laughing with a rather soft voice at a negative yet precious memory ; it soothed him as well, as his shoulders finally relaxed. In no time, the old woman was back with a little bowl and a spoon in her hands, putting them on the tea table and stretching her arms to take the girl… but Lord Taehyun gently refused as he stood up and approached her son.

Before the latter could say anything, he found himself with his niece sitting on his lap and looking up towards him, her eyes blinking as she didn’t seem bothered to be so close to a stranger. Kibum stared back and he couldn’t help but smile when the baby seemed to frown at him, as if she was waiting for him to do something for her. She made a cute sound by smacking her lips and he laughed, not noticing how his husband was smiling softly while observing him.

Following his nanny’s quiet advices, he placed his niece on his left thigh to hold her back with his left hand, while her small feet rested against his other leg. Once the bowl was put on the armrest, he got surprised at the sweet orange and pink shades of the mash… and how cold it was. The old woman explained that since the girl was having a hard time with her teeth, she would make her eat a tiny bit of mashed fruits in a bowl that she would have previously let cool down in a plate filled with fresh water.

This was supposed to do her good for her gums… so Kibum just didn’t comment on it and grabbed the spoon to take a bit of mash on it. As soon as his niece noticed the food, she leaned on with her mouth wide open, what made both him, his father and Minho laugh at such eagerness. As if he had done it before — which he was sure he hadn’t — he fed her and made sure to catch the falling food on her tiny lips and chin with the spoon before it could stain her shirt.

The room went quiet as all adults were looking at the scene, only the girls’ chewing sounds and breathing could be heard.

“Does she have a name ?” The King eventually asked, making his husband look up for a bit too long so that his niece whined. “She is eating well.”

“It is a family thing to eat well.” His father-in-law answered, smiling as he looked at his granddaughter. “And yes, she does have a name. Her mother thought about Nari at first, for lilies, but she named her Sooyun, which means a perfect lotus flower.”

“She loved lilies so much but she would also spend a lot of time looking at the lotus flowers resting on our pond…” Kibum commented with a low voice, his smile still not leaving his face as he finished feeding the baby. “Hm, Sooyun-ah ? Will you grow up to be as beautiful as a flower ? Your mother did, so you will too.”

As she heard her name, the little girl looked up and offered a bright smile to her uncle, who melted right away as he put the bowl and spoon on the tea table to hold her, standing on his lap. Sooyun looked at him while her feet were trying not to slip on the trousers’ silk, but the operation seemed funny since she started giggling again, this time louder with her still tiny voice. The Prince kept playing with her, asking her some questions he perfectly knew she wouldn’t answer — except for the burp he received twice — until the girl yawned.

Obviously, it was like the middle of the night for her and now that she had eaten a bit too soothe both her painful teeth and her small stomach, digestion was doing its magic. But Kibum couldn’t let go of her, and he stood up while holding her against him to follow his nanny to the little bedroom, putting his niece to sleep and staying by her bedside for long minutes, just looking at her features. In the living room, both Minho and Lord Taehyun looked at each other and seemed to smile, both thinking that this little human had brought a bright light in a rather dark moment.

* * * * *

Minho straightened up from above the basin near the dressing table, soaking a towel as he wiped his face after a refreshing wash. He had already untied his hair and a few strands were wet despite he had tried to be careful ; he moped them a bit and ran his fingers through his bangs before walking towards the bed. He was only wearing his pants, finally ready to sleep after spending a whole hour at the hidden house.

But he stopped his movement when he didn’t see his husband in their bed ; as planned, when it had been time for their quarters to be prepared, Lady Eungyu had first commanded for two to be set up… but it had been with gritted teeth that she had obeyed the King when the latter had said the Prince and him slept together. They didn’t care shocking people anymore, considering their own ministers were aware of their bond and that they wouldn’t wait long to spread the word all around the realm…

Yet, he was sure Kibum had gone to bed while he was still undressing, and not seeing him made his heart jolt. He turned over and raised his eyebrows when he found him right away, standing in front of the window and offering him his back. He was quiet and seemed lost in his thoughts, as Minho carefully approached him from behind and gently circled his waist with his arms. He rested his chin on the thin shoulder and imitated the other man by looking outside without saying a single word.

They liked to share some peaceful moments, from time to time, after long days surrounded with loud people — could the latter just be speaking with them or each other. They weren’t the most quiet people in the kingdom themselves… but sometimes, they appreciated to relish a time of silence, holding onto each other and not moving an inch. At that moment, the King had feared he would feel his Prince tensed up between his arms, maybe troubled about his previous encounter or anxious about the upcoming trial involving his own family.

But none of these feelings welcomed him, it was quite the opposite. Kibum had immediately placed his hands on his, holding them against his stomach, while his head had slightly leaned to the side to touch his.

“It’s a beautiful night.” He eventually said when he felt like talking. “Who could think it’s preceding such a difficult day.”

“One more reason to appreciate it and rest.” Minho smiled as he slightly turned his head to press his lips against his husband’s jaw for a kiss. “I was afraid you might be anxious tonight, but you seem fine. Are you ?”

“I am, I think. I’m thinking about Sooyun.”

“Your father wanted to do something good by secretly keeping her alive, and he succeeded. She’s an adorable little girl.”

“Everything seems so… inimaginable. I came here to confront my parents but I discover that I have a niece who’s the spitting image of my sister. And with her… I just realise how sick my own mother is, ready to kill innocent people for the sake of a power she will never have.”

“So you trust your father, you didn’t change your mind at all ?”

“The man we saw tonight was the father I’ve always wanted to have. He wasn’t playing a role, I think his granddaughter helped him opening his eyes and understanding he could do something. But he couldn’t do anything on his own, not when my mother is the actual heiress… it would have been a suicide mission to go against her alone.”

“Do you think he waited for us ?”

“Maybe not for us, but he clearly waited for the good time. When we arrived, I told you he looked so different than when I was a child, even a teenager. He was… calm, at peace when he answered your questions and accepted to be locked up in his quarters until a proper trial. And he came to find us, to show us what this place has to hide. He knew the moment has come when we brought it, I think that’s why he showed himself so obedient and courteous. He didn’t have to play his role anymore, because we would save him, and Mongje.”

The taller man smiled while hearing Kibum’s speech about his father and was impressed at the way he analyzed a behaviour over years of basic observation. They had often talked about the Prince’s former life, about everything related to his two decades spent in his hometown, both positive and negative moments. Minho had laughed at the stories about the Kim children’s silly behaviour, and frowned at those who painted a violent, antipathetic fatherly figure.

But now, he was feeling like all of his husband’s long lasting resentment towards his father were slowly but surely fading. And it was all thanks to this new honesty he had found in the man’s personality, these smiles and sincere expressions in his eyes, the way he had saved a life… and the amount of love he was showing for a person because he had no reason, no pressure to hide it.

“I know, now, that he wanted to give us as much love and affection as he gives Sooyun now.” Kibum said. “But he couldn’t, he had this… this image he had to keep, because my mother had something against him that he was unable to deny.”

“What could be so important to a man that he’s ready to pretend to be the most horrible person on Earth when he’s not ?” Minho wondered out loud. “The man I saw in the past hour was the polar opposite of the one you told me about… the pressure on his shoulder must have been disastrous.”

“It’s totally my mother’s style to blackmail, she’s really a poisoned person. I’ve sought her acknowledgment for so many years, not even her love because I quickly gave up on it. But she would always dodge my tries, spit on everything I did for her or asked… It doesn’t surprise me that she could have threatened her husband if she had something important enough to him in her possession.”

“For your father to be so scared of her, it can’t be a something. It has to be a someone. Do you know if he had taken someone under his wing or something ?”

“My sister and I were the only persons in his life, because even if he rarely answered our calls for him, he was still present. With perspective, I can see how he was showing his love at that time, just by never being too far away. I never saw him with someone else, nor looking after someone else. But…”

“Yes ?”

The Prince suddenly moved in his husband’s arms to turn over and face him, placing his palms against his chest to keep his balance. In his eyes, the King saw the glint of determination that always found what it wanted.

“You’re right, it can only be a someone.” The black haired man firmly said. “And we must find who it is tomorrow.”

____________________________________________________________________

As commanded by the King, the entire staff of Mongje’s manor had been busy almost all night long to set up the court in the front yard, as to imitate Jinju’s trials. The main room was large but still not enough to welcome absolutely every single person who could have a role to play during the questionings. Although it had to remain a secret, both sovereigns had plotted an approach with their host, hidden from any suspicious eavesdroppers a few hours before.

The sun had risen and it was now time for the audience to start, as Minho and Kibum were waiting behind the main entrance’s door to walk back up the yard until their improvised thrones. They looked at each other for a few seconds and exchanged an encouraging smile ; this day’s trial was of these rare ones a King hoped he would never have to face during his reign. An accusation of attempted murder against the crown was by far the most difficult to handle, and the accused being from the Prince’s family didn’t make it easier.

This occasion was so rare that it was an old tradition for the sovereigns to preside the trial while wearing clothes that would represent all their titles. Thus, despite the summer heat, they had both yielded to the custom and taken a good hour to get dressed with the help of the few houseboys and maids who had accompanied them. When the doors eventually opened, they walked side by side between the long alley of trees and bushes, standing straight with their head held high.

They took their time to arrive at the extemporaneous courthouse, where a dozen of seats were placed in a semi-circle back to the main door and outer wall. Separating them in two symmetric halves, a small stage had been set up to hold two huge armchairs — the ones used by the Lord and Lady of Mongje when receiving people for formal audiences, Kibum thought. When they arrived and stood at the far end of the court, the twelve persons sitting on their seats stood up to welcome them, imitated by soldiers guarding the arc and the few nobles, ministers or employees who wanted to attend the trial.

This small assembly was made of the King’s personal ministers he had personally chosen for their ability to show themselves neutral ; they were mostly the youngest and newest hired ones, the ones who wouldn’t bring pure embarrassment upon their rulers and do as they were told. The first seat on the left arc was occupied by Jonghyun, member of the Private Council and would stand as a prosecution witness ; the first seat on the right arc was the General, who was here for the same position as his lover.

Once they were welcomed properly, Minho was the first one to walk forwards as the tradition required it. His usual imperial red and golden attire was once again enhanced by his shoulder pads and long cape, yet this time, he wasn’t only a King ; he was also the Supreme Commander of Jinju’s Army. Thus, his formal coat was opened on a mail coat and on his belt was hanging his sword, the sheath covered with gold.

On his head, placed over his free, long brown hair and letting his front bangs cover his forehead, a splendid crown was shining under the sun. Made of the purest gold, it was built as a thick circlet where hung six ornately chains, with golden leaves and rubies. On top of it, a gorgeous, high and complex structure made of several prongs with the same gems only added to his Highness’ original height and presence. It was the crown he had worn for his very first important occasion : his coronation.

Exuding royalty and power wasn’t a challenge anymore for him, and he climbed on the stage with an elegance that could be destabilizing considering his stature. When he was facing his throne, he nodded to both his General and the teacher before turning over to look at his waiting husband. He remained standing and gestured him to come in his turn, which was a change in the custom ; the King should always sit first, and just then, his Queen — in this case, his Prince — would join him.

Hiding a smile as he noticed the few surprised reactions in the audience, Kibum obeyed and advanced as told. For most of the attending people, it was the first time after six months that they were seeing their young Lord, and they couldn’t believe the same person was now walking past them and courteously bowing his head in their direction. Despite his now way higher status, he was showing that he hadn’t forgotten about them and greeted them with a smile on his lips.

The audience was returning his greetings but couldn’t help but staring, for he was inspiring wonderment in view of his appearance. He was wearing a sumptuous coat* that was falling on his body like a graceful waterfall with a soft-toned pale cyan colour. It was contrasting with his chest band and the inside of the sleeves that were black, yet embellished with golden designs, while the outside was covered with mostly silver patterns. It was an uncommon, original combination that scintillated enough to make his face glow.

He had once again chosen to let his hair free, with only his front strands being drawn to the back of his head and tied in a long, thing braid falling over his mane. His large forehead was ornamented with a sophisticated golden diadem that enhanced his already undeniable presence. However, what caught people’s eyes as soon as they could see his back was the long, thin bow that was tied to his coat, Heavens knew how. The ivory handle and quiver were reflecting the sunbeams and letting the audience know about his other title : Commander of the Hunt and of Jinju’s Archers.

Some employees smiled at this discovery, for they perfectly knew that this young man was gifted with a bow and arrows, and had led so many hunts with his father he was worth of such an important title. They watched him climb the stage to stand by his husband’s side, both of them inspiring glory and showing how like-minded they were. As the King and Prince of Jinju took their seat, which allowed every other person to sit in their turn, only Jinki remained standing and cleared his throat.

“The accused may enter the court.” He said, his voice loud, clear and carrying enough to be heard from the spot where the defendants were waiting.

Immediately following his command, four soldiers soon appeared on the way, surrounding the Lord and Lady of Mongje who had put their most formal outfits on for their trial. While the man seemed at peace and prepared to face the sovereigns, his wife had her lips pursed and her eyes were lit with a growing feeling of humiliation. Nevertheless, they followed the lead and took their seats, in the middle of the court and opposite the two thrones and jury members.

The General gestured his soldiers to remain by their side as a matter of safety and sat back, allowing his King to speak in as the latter stood up, imitated by the Prince.

“As requested by the person of Lord Taehyun of Mongje, you both stand here before us to answer for your crimes.” Minho said, not missing the way his mother-in-law seemed to flinch at his words. “The Prince and I will admittedly preside over this trial, but we wish for it to be fair. Thus, we are accompanied by twelve persons being representatives of Jinju and Mongje.”

“You may be counting as we speak, but you can see with your own eyes that there are as many representatives of Mongje as Jinju.” Kibum added when he clearly saw his mother’s eyes move from a sitting person to another one.

“These trustful persons will listen to our questioning and your answers, some of them might as well testify if needed. To avoid any form of chaos, you will not give us your answers at a same time and you will not be allowed to speak when it is not your turn to provide responses. Do you accept these rules ?”

The couple sitting on the defendants’ chairs nodded like one person, not willing to cause trouble for they both wanted this trial to be done as quickly as possible. The King and Prince agreed and took their seat back while Jinki once again stood up.

“Before the questioning starts, I will remind you about the matter.” He said, all attendants slightly leaning on to catch every word that was about to be said. “Four months ago, his Highness suffered an assassination attempt during a celebration for his people, caused by a poisoned arrow. The assassin got killed and it was later found that the poison was made from a plant in Baemyeong, putting Lord Changmin and Lady Taeyeon in a delicate position. By means of Sir Jonghyun’s knowledge, we managed to save his Highness and prove Baemyeong’s innocence in this crime by examining the corpse, which didn’t show any mark related to the assassin’s sender.”

The General took a short break in his explanation, quietly observing the accused’s reactions ; but both of them remained calm, if it wasn’t for Lady Eungyu’s eyes throwing daggers either to her husband or her son.

“We thought this story was behind us when his Highness recovered fully.” Jinki resumed. “Nevertheless, a second assassination attempt occurred exactly a week ago. This time, the perpetrator was caught alive and went through a body examination, a private questioning and a trial.”

“Thank you, General.” The King nodded. “Can the assassin come and stand before us ?”

Loud whispers invaded the court as they didn’t expect the killer to be there and even less that he would be called to testify. Their surprise grew stronger when a young woman was led in front of Jinju’s rulers, bowing to them and standing still while being surrounded by two guards. Behind her, Lord Taehyun straightened up and deeply inhaled, as his wife kept a straight face, both waiting for what was coming next.

“What is your name ?” Minho asked the girl.

“Lee Siyeon, your Highness.” The spy replied, showing herself strong-willed and even contented to speak.

“Do you agree with the stated charges against your person ? Do you confess that you were the person attempting to murder both my husband and myself ?”

“Yes, your Highness. I was the one sneaking in your quarters during the night, one week ago, and trying to kill you. The Prince stepped in and I tried to kill him too.”

Her blunt confession drew shocked gasps and muffled, offended reactions. However, neither the King nor the Prince flinched at the words, the latter even seeming to hide a smile…

“You were arrested and sent to the dungeon for the night, where you were examined by Sir Jonghyun.” Minho said, cutting the audience off. “Your trial occurred the next day and our discovery was confirmed by your admission.”

“Yes, that is what happened.” Siyeon replied.

“Sir Jonghyun, can you please stand and tell the court about your study ?”

“Naturally, your Highness.” The blonde teacher agreed as he stood up and joined the young woman, people once again whispering when recognizing him. “While Lee Siyeon was unconscious in the dungeon, I cleaned and sutured the wound on her skull which she got from a broken pot during the fight in your quarters. I then checked her body twice to look for any mark who could reveal her sender’s identity, but found nothing just like the previous assassin. This was linking them, they could have only be sent by a same person.”

“Please show us the reason that made us come all this way to Mongje.”

Doing as told, Jonghyun politely asked Siyeon if she could show her side and after making sure she allowed him to, he started touching her hair. This gesture made most audience members frown, wondering what could a woman’s hair hide to the extent it was proving anything. To their great surprise, the man was replacing a few strands to where they really belonged, revealing the hairless hole on her skull.

However, she was standing too far from everyone and they still couldn’t make out what was so needed to acknowledge. As the teacher made her hold her hair in a way it wouldn’t fall back to cover the hole, he faced the court.

“I had to shave a bit of Lee Siyeon’s hair to properly suture her cut.” He explained with a loud voice. “This allowed General Lee Jinki to notice a small stain, still half hidden. I recognized ink and shaved a bit more until her skull revealed a mark. Can one of Mongje’s representatives please join me and describe what he sees ?”

Within a second, a man in his forties stood up from his seat and trotted about towards the duo. His hand was searching in his coat pocket as he squinted when getting to Siyeon’s height, soon taking a small magnifying glass out, shaped as a monocle. He brought it to his eye before approaching her head to inspect the mark… and took a step backwards after a rather short moment, discreetly gasping. He turned towards his own rulers, then to his fellow representatives and the royal couple, all staring at him.

“So, my Lord ?” Kibum asked, cocking an eyebrow although he perfectly knew what the man had just seen. “What is it ?”

“It… It is…” The jury member stuttered. “My young Lord— I mean, your Grace, this undeniably is a mark from Mongje. Although our emblem is the transparent flower we know about, not all our seals use it… this mark is a stamp, the stamp of one of our seals.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

As the man was joining his seat, sweat running down his temple and his eyes going shifty, the blonde teacher just bowed to show his agreement. He then helped the young woman putting her hair back to the way it was and went to his seat, his role being over.

“Now, can you please tell the court what you confessed during your trial ?” The King asked Siyeon, willing to make things good and slow. “Tell us your story again.”

“Yes, your Highness.” The woman nodded, holding her hands on her stomach as she gathered enough mental strength to bring back a painful memory.

She remained quiet for a few seconds, looking for her words, and it was thanks to the few reassuring eyes on her that she managed to speak. Fiddling with her fingers and sometimes unable to look at someone while talking, she told about the happy young teenager she used to be, living in Mongje and helping her parents with their farm. She mentioned her younger siblings and their zest for life, how they would always ask her to play and teach them things.

These memories drew a few smiles in the audience, though some suspicious persons were frowning because they didn’t get the point of such a testimony — even more when considering it came from someone who confessed an assassination attempt. However, as soon as the beautiful family tale turned darker, they all understood. Siyeon had to take a few breaks during her speech to hold back her tears, and she even spent a whole minute with her head lowered, breathing deeply.

When she looked up and described the way she had found her family when coming home from a day with a friend, her voice was broken yet still trying to fight sobs. She wanted justice and although she had tried to commit an irredeemable act, her reasons and story had moved the royal couple of Jinju to the extent they had forgiven her. She couldn’t let them down when she owed them so much, and despite the fear she felt towards the two persons sitting behind her… she talked.

When the name of Lord Taehyun was called as she recalled the official statement pinned on her parents’ door, a loud gasp resounded in the yard. All audience members turned their head towards the man, who sat still and stared at the feminine back, a few meters from him. If only they knew, he thought while pretending to be careless and allowing everyone to quietly judge him.

Once her speech was done, Siyeon quickly explained how she got enrolled in a secret group of spies working for the man who killed her family, and lowered her head. With the approval of her sovereigns, she bowed and went back to her seat, her story still echoing in people’s mind.

“Thereby, these were several reasons that explain our sudden visit.” Minho concluded. “Because of all these proofs we found about both assassination attempts, we are accusing Lord Taehyun of Mongje of being the perpetrator. The trial will now begin, your Grace ?”

“The quick interview we had with the defendants yesterday gave us a lot to think about.” Kibum said, his eyes falling on his mother. “Thus, we would like to question Lady Eungyu first. Please stand and approach.”

This announcement came as a bombshell for how illogical it sounded, and the woman was the first surprised one. They had just called her husband out and she was prepared to listen to the latter answering questions… turned out she was the one led by two guards until the spot Siyeon took a minute before. Standing with her hands on her stomach, she bowed and straightened up, her posture betraying her tension.

“We decided to question you before your husband, my Lady, because of an information you let slip yesterday.” The King said. “Can you please repeat to the court the words you pronounced when we were joined by Lee Siyeon in the manor ?”

“I said she was an impostor, your Highness.” Kibum’s mother replied, her tone sharp.

“What else ?”

“I also said we had never seen her before.”

“Is this the truth, my Lady ?”

“I am not sure anymore, your Highness. As I said yesterday, we meet so many persons for audiences that her face might remind me of someone I saw once or twice.”

“You indeed said such thing. However, before we even broached this topic, your exact words were to ask us if we would believe a commoner’s daughter. My question is : how did you know her late father was a commoner if you stated that you had never seen her ?”

“Because of her looks, your Highness. She was wearing clothes you might have ended her, but her face is the face of a peasant.”

“Please develop.”

“She has that expression in her eyes, your Highness, an expression I saw in lots of commoners. Considering her apparent young age, I made a supposition about her father being a commoner because we should address underage kids by their parents’ responsibility and so, their position.”

“Thank you for this explanation. Your Grace ?”

“I have a question as well.” Kibum spoke in. “Supposing Mongje is ruled by two persons, could your position have allowed you to send guards to a family of commoners who would not have paid their due taxes ?”

“No.” The woman harshly replied, her change of tone noticeable when she answered her son instead of the King. “I have no such power for I am only a wife. I have no ideas about my husband’s ways of applying the law and I can only discover them once they are effective.”

“That will be all, you can take back your seat.”

Obeying right before she forced a reverence, the woman walked back to her seat and sat, not without a deathly stare towards his husband. She haughtily ignored the audience looking at her and closed her hands on the armrests to contain her rage regarding the humiliation she was living…

“Now, Lord Taehyun, please stand and approach.”

Hearing the King’s words, the called man straightened his back and stood up, waiting for the guards to surround him to walk forwards. With each step he took, two more whispers raised in the audience ; he was already guilty to every soul watching him at this moment, yet he had to hide the smile he wanted to throw at them. Because they weren’t seeing what was coming, and it felt like the sweetest revenge after all these years spent suffering in silence.

On his way to the awaiting spot, he glanced at all those people standing and sitting here and there, and he held back a relieved sigh when he didn’t see a specific face in the assembly. He could tell everything now.

“Your questioning is now starting.” Minho said once the accused was standing before the Prince and himself. “You have heard your wife’s testimony about yesterday’s interview. While she was claiming your innocence in the matter, you remained extremely quiet and even asked her to behave. Could you please tell us why you did not feel threatened by our accusation ?”

“I received many threats in my life, your Highness.” Kibum’s father replied, his voice as calm as the day before. “Yet, yours was the sweetest one if I may say. I was not scared of the accusations you were declaring.”

“Why did you tell your wife to behave when she was manifestly defending you ?”

“Because when such an accusation is made towards you, I esteem we should not add fuel to fire and behave, so our case will not get worse than it already is. By showing so much strength in defending ourselves, I considered my wife’s behaviour embarrassing and not helpful for my awkward situation. The answers she gave you yesterday could have waited for today’s trial, because as we all know, whatever you can say before a trial can be suspicious and used against you… you proved it earlier with quite a cleverness, your Highness.”

“Very well. What do you say about Lady Eungyu affirming that you never saw Lee Siyeon before ? Do you agree with her ?”

“I agree on the affirmation that I never saw her before.”

“Yet, the statement she found on her door when she discovered her slaughtered family, was signed by you. Do you deny signing the document ?”

“I deny it, your Highness. I never signed a document justifying the murder of a whole family over something as insignificant as unpaid taxes.”

Lord Taehyun’s declaration was welcomed by loud gasps and protests, which the King quickly dismissed by raising his hand. They knew perfectly what they were doing, and both Kibum and him remained calm, never showing any form of shock. On the contrary, the Prince’s mother had suddenly frowned and seemed way less at ease on her seat. She had obviously not expected her husband to answer this way.

“Then who signed it ?” Their son asked. “Do you send representatives who can imitate your sign ?”

“No, your Grace. If my sign was imitated, it was not to my knowledge.”

“But such a decision can only be taken by someone who has a significant power.” Minho cocked an eyebrow, ready to drop his bomb. “And by someone, I mean Mongje’s rightful ruler.”

“You are completely right, your Highness.” The man cleared his throat to make sure he wouldn’t show any obvious facial expression.

“Then, how can you not be the one who signed this paper and commanded the murder of Lee Siyeon’s family ?”

“Because I am not Mongje’s rightful ruler, your Highness.”

When hearing these words, Kibum’s mother immediately stood up as her hands closed into fists. She was ready to talk when both guards standing behind her pressed her shoulders down to make her sit. All around them, the audience was standing gaping, nobles and employees surprised and unable to believe what was just said. However, and this was the least expected reaction, Mongje’s representatives sitting on either side of the King and Prince had their eyes shifty.

Some of them were glancing at Lady Eungyu, as if quietly asking something, but the latter was boiling inside as she was disallowed to talk and held firmly on her seat.

“Are you calling yourself an usurper, my Lord ?” Jinju’s sovereign presented to frown, giving a seriously concerned tone to his voice.

“I might be an usurper, your Highness, but not by choice.” Lord Taehyun spoke, only creating more whispering chaos in the audience and more awkwardness on his representatives’ side.

“You will have to explain yourself, now.”

“The truth is, I am only a noble. My parents were from the high nobility, extremely close to my late predecessor on Mongje’s throne. My family’s name is Lee, and I am in no way a descendant of the Kim dynasty who is ruling here for centuries.”

“Taehyun !”

Incapable of resisting any longer, Lady Eungyu had fought the grasp on her shoulders and stood up, her eyes throwing daggers. The court went silent as she started walking towards her husband but was stopped midway by guards blocking her with their spears. She ignored them and stood still, looking straight between them, at the father of her children.

“How dare you spread such lies !” She yelled. “Don’t you have any dignity, dragging the family’s name, your children’s name, through the mud only to save yourself ?!”

“Lady Eungyu.” Minho stood up, his voice loud and his tone firm. “You agreed to this trial’s rules, I will ask you not to speak in when it is not your turn. Please go back to your seat.”

“I will not let him lie instead of admitting his filthy acts !”

“You will, and only us will decide if his words are lies. Stop embarrassing both your husband and yourself the way you already did yesterday, or I will dismiss this trial.”

“Is this your concept of a fair trial, your Highness ?”

“Go back to your seat.” Kibum suddenly spoke, standing as well but using an even sharper tone that made his mother flinch. “You are a defendant too at the moment, nothing else, thus you will defend yourself when you are asked to. If you do not comply, you will bear with the consequences and trust me, I will be the one applying them.”

The Prince’s eyes were shining with something that reminded the woman of herself, and for the first time in her life, she realized how her son had taken some of his personality traits from her, him who always looked so much like his father. Mother and son held gazes for a few seconds, a heavy silence poisoning the atmosphere, but the young man got the upper hand. Lady Eungyu gritted her teeth and walked backwards, reluctantly taking her seat back.

“You may resume your explanation.” Kibum told his father as he sat, the audience still looking at him with a great combination of admiration and fear as they didn’t recognize the quiet, young boy they used to know. “How did you manage to usurpe a power that is not yours ?”

“I did nothing, your Grace.” Lord Taehyun went on. “It was all about a great timing, because my parents died from an epidemic of measles when I was barely a few months old. I was lucky to be saved because they entrust their closest friend with me so I would not get infected.”

“Who was this close friend ?”

“Lord Kim Taewoong, the previous ruler of Mongje. You know him as your paternal grandfather, your Grace, but it was a long lasting trickery.”

“Who was he, then ?”

“Your maternal grandfather, and my father-in-law. His wife was pregnant when he took me in and she gave birth a few days later to a daughter. But Lord Taewoong wanted a son, so he pretended I was the newborn son without showing me to anyone until the usurpation wouldn’t be as noticeable. My marriage with his real daughter was sealed at the same time, and she did not know about this secret for years.”

“Are you saying she found out ?” The King asked.

“Yes, your Highness. My wife lost both her parents, her father first in a hunt accident which made me the new ruler. When her mother left us in her turn, she made sure to reveal everything to her daughter about her lineage and how she could claim her rightful heritage before passing away. Though I only discovered about it once our two children were born.”

“What do you mean ?”

“Although my wife knew the truth for years, she kept it hidden until she got herself an heiress. When our daughter was born, everything started to change, and she claimed her legitimate power. However, and my son can testify about it, I remained in charge.”

“Yes, I never saw my mother rule.” The Prince nodded, glancing at the enraging woman before looking at his father. “You were the one taking decisions, giving orders.”

“I was in appearance, but I was just a relayer in reality. It has always been my wife controlling everything through me, so she could increase her power in secret, while I was facing every consequence of her foolish decisions.”

“Why did you accept to be her shield, my Lord ?” Minho asked, gesturing to his soldiers to hold his mother-in-law when he noticed her face becoming red by seconds passing. “Why did you let yourself being brought in such a situation ?”

“I had no choice, your Highness. I am no strong man, unlike my wife.”

“What did she do to make you obey, Father ?” Kibum asked, his voice betraying his sudden worry as he hadn’t been completely aware of this part of the story.

“At first, it was physical threats. But I could still resist, until she found another way. She threatened someone else, someone I had to protect at all costs.”

“Who was it ?”

“My son.”

“M-Me…?”

“No, not you.”

It was too much for Lady Eungyu, who started shouting with rage at her husband, urging him to refrain for saying another word. Her tone was so threatening everyone went quiet, in shock, and even Lord Taehyun seemed to flinch just as he must have, so many times… but this time, he straightened up and looked at his wife.

“He’s not here.” He said. “You can’t threaten me anymore, he is safe from you and your bloody spies. Now it’s time for you to bear with the consequences of twenty years of lies and abuse. You made me a monster, you forced me to make my children think I hated them, you made me hit my son… you can’t kill him anymore, and people have to know that the real monster has always been you. You tried to kill your own son !”

“Liar !” The woman shouted as the last revelation made both King and Prince stand up.

“What are you saying ?” Kibum asked, knowing this time he was the son his father was talking about.

“How do you think this flower pot fell on you ?” His father looked at him with guilty in his eyes. “It missed you and you only received a shard that hurt you above your eye… but she made it fall on you. She wanted you dead for your sister to rule after me. I… I couldn’t protect you myself so I engaged someone to quietly protect you, while making you think he hated you. You didn’t notice anything, neither did she.”

The black haired man stared at his father with widened eyes, then at his mother whose features were deformed, torn with anger as she realized she was losing. He immediately remembered the chief of Mongje’s soldiers who was always under his feet, this same man who escorted him to Jinju for his wedding… they had never been in good terms, Kibum finding him too pretentious and the man always calling him a spoiled kid.

Turned out his life might have been saved my this person more than once. With his eyes shining with tears expressing a feeling he couldn’t put words on, the Prince stared at his mother. He closed his hands into fists, one of them soon being covered by his husband’s hand, the latter standing to be by his side. Minho’s eyebrows were furrowed as he was, just like the other man, discovering way more secrets than he had expected.

With only one hand gesture, he called more of his soldiers to hold Lady Eungyu while the woman was yelling at Lord Taehyun and her son. She had gone completely crazy after her years-long project had been destroyed in her own house.

“You tried to kill me…” Kibum said. “I knew you were favoring Haneul but to that extent ?”

“Haneul loved you too much, son.” His father spoke. “And your mother idolized her, so she stopped trying to murder you, for her. If it hadn’t been for your sister, you might not have been with us right now… unfortunately, fate decided to take her first.”

“How dare you pronounce her name !” The woman shout out, still fighting to be free of her movements. “Don’t you dare staining her with your filthy tongue, she was meant to a great life and that brat ruined everything ! You’re both dishonoring her memory and her legacy !”

“Are we ?” Her son spat. “Then why won’t you tell us the truth about her death, mother ?”

“What are you talking about ! How dare you forcing me to recall such a painful moment in my life !”

“Because you lied about this too !”

Before she could answer, the Prince looked at Jinki, who stood up right away and brought his fingers to his mouth to let a piercing whistle out. As a response, the huge doors behind the improvised courthouse slowly opened. Within a minute, about six soldiers entered and made sure to close behind them. They walked forwards all together until they were standing behind the six seats occupied by Jonghyun and the other representatives.

As soon as they were in position, they moved to the sides to reveal what, or actually who they were protecting. Hidden between them was Kibum’s old nanny, noticeably uncomfortable as she was holding a well awake Sooyun. The audience gasped and some of the persons sitting near the sovereigns stood up with shock when seeing the baby. Taehyun immediately left his spot to join his granddaughter, adding a supplementary protection.

When they all turned towards Lady Eungyu, the latter was fuming. But her eyes couldn’t lie : she was in denial, blindsided to the core.

“Who… who is that ?” She asked, yet this time, her lies didn’t work.

“Your granddaughter, Haneul’s daughter.” Her son replied. “My sister died giving birth and not only did you hide her during her whole pregnancy, but you also tried to eliminate her child ! Your granddaughter ! A baby !”

“This is a fraud, you just went to take a random baby from some peasants and made up this nonsense !”

“Enough with your lies, you monster.” Her husband spat. “You killed the father, you killed the physician who refused to make Sooyun disappear. And you dared to ask me to do the dirty work… you commanded me to kill my family, my blood ! It was my son or Haneul’s daughter, you wanted them both dead anyway !”

“Don’t call her name or I—”

“It’s over now, you can’t threaten me anymore and I’m not afraid of you. You lost, Eungyu. I may have lost my daughter, but I still have my two sons and my granddaughter. You got nothing left but your crimes.”

The yard went silent. Only the woman’s loud and enraged breathing could be heard as she stared at her husband, the baby in the nanny’s arms, and her son. She was still being firmly held on her seat, her hair and outfit sticking to her skin as she was drenched with sweat because of anger. Everything had been destroyed, all her hard work to claim what was hers, everything.

She suddenly lowered her head and stopped moving. Was she surrendering ? She had nothing left to prove she was innocent, all proofs against her were way too solid and mostly physical to be denied. However, the Prince was the first one to frown, followed by everyone when they made out… a laughter.

Lady Eungyu was laughing.

When she looked up, her face was distorted and she barely looked human as she sniggered.

“I have nothing left, you say ?” She told her husband. “Did you already forget what you told everyone ? I have Mongje. This province is mine and I own every single soldier it got.”

Before anyone could prevent her from doing it, she yelled, calling Mongje’s army for help. Straight away, the sound of feet running on the bare ground resounded in the yard, even making it tremble. It startled Sooyun who whined, making both her nanny and grandfather surround her in a protective gesture. In no time, the whole courtyard was surrounded by more than a hundred of soldiers, spears threatening.

“Soldiers of Mongje !” She called when the guards had no choice but leave her be when a dozen of enemies approached them in particular. “You are all aware of who is the rightful heiress to our home’s throne. Lord Taehyun’s usurpation is over and I claim the power that is mine. Will you fight for your Lady ?”

“Yes, my Lady !” All soldiers shouted in unisson, scaring even more people than just the baby.

“Perfect. See, your Highness, you seem to have forgotten about a tiny detail that still has its importance. Mongje is independent. We do not owe you any form of allegiance and your intrusion is a declaration of war.”

When the circle of armed enemies made a step forwards, their spears directed at Jinju’s sovereigns and way smaller army, the audience started to panic. They weren’t feeling safe either, although the threat wasn’t intended for them. As both Jinki and Jonghyun moved from their seat to stand before the platform, the King and Prince of Jinju reacted to the menace.

Like one man, Minho unsheathed his sword and held it in a defensive way, while Kibum caught his bow and drew an arrow, keeping it facing the floor. They were both standing next to each other in their royal attires, and their posture showed they knew exactly how to use their respective weapon. However, they refused to be seen as the offensive side.

“Lady Eungyu, what you are about to do is a mistake.” The King tried to reason with his new enemy. “As you said, Mongje is independent, but still, it follows some rules that were established for the Five Kingdoms. One of them being that the one declaring war is the one unsheathing his weapon first.”

“Your petty words won’t work on me, young man.” The woman said, purposely ignoring the courtesy due to a royal person. “You are on my lands without any authorisation, you showed up with all your prevention to threaten me but now, you are surrounded. I’m the one declaring war ? It’s fine with me, because you already lost.”

“This is madness !” The Prince said in his turn. “Will your thirst for power never be satisfied ?! What do you think you will get from this ?”

“Dear son, you definitely are the most stupid of my children… A shame that you��re the one who’s still alive. My thirst is about to be quenched, for I will not hesitate to get rid of you right her and right now.”

“Killing the King and Prince of Jinju ?” Jonghyun spoke in, his usually calm voice turning more threatening and sarcastic. “In front of so many witnesses ? Will you slaughter the whole yard while you’re at it ?”

“If it isn’t the smart boy who slept with the sullied thing that serve as my son… Look at them, idiot. They’re so scared of me right now that they’re wetting their pants. They will do as I said and will side with me when we will have to explain how these two little sovereigns died in a tragic accident.”

“And what will our death give you ?” Minho frowned. “Do you think you can claim my throne ? If I die before having an heir, it is the Queen Regent who will take my place. You will never win, your dreams are out of reach.”

“Once you’re dead, little king, your mom will be next.”

“Minho, don’t answer to her.” Kibum looked at his husband, immediately noticing how these words were angering him. “Don’t react, she’s waiting for us to make the first move.”

“Oh, not so stupid, aren’t you ? Now, I’m tired of waiting. Soldiers ! Let’s get this over with, kill them all.”

No sooner said than done, Mongje’s army started moving forwards, reducing the circle surrounding the King, Prince and their own soldiers. They weren’t enough to fight back, but the General still shouted to his present recruits as he held his sword and led the teacher behind him, commanding them to defend their sovereigns at the risk of their life.

The spears’ points were dangerously getting closer and Kibum’s heart started beating faster as he looked at his mother, the evil smile on her lips getting bigger by seconds passing. Her cruelty had no limit, even for a son she had conceived and birthed. It seemed completely over. The young Prince turned his head to look at the King, the latter feeling it and returning the gaze.

They smiled at each other despite their fear, quietly agreeing that if they had to die that day, they should die with dignity. Fighting for their life. The raven haired man lowered his eyes to look for his niece, who was hidden by the terrified old woman who served as a mother to him. He would fight for her, too. He wouldn’t be able to bring her home and raise her like his sister would have wanted him too, but he would give his life protecting her if it was needed.

As he looked up, ready to face whatever was coming, his eyes caught a movement beyond the manor’s outer wall. He squinted and frowned, wondering if it was just some bird… until he recognized the tip of an arrow. Within a few seconds, more movement could be noticed all along the wall’s top, and Kibum understood.

“We’re not dying today.” He said loud enough to be heard by whoever was standing around him, but not his mother nor her soldiers.

Cutting their failure to understand off, he straightened up and lifted his drawn bow, letting a piercing whistle out. It wasn’t a straight sound but three different notes with the last one lasting a bit longer ; an instruction. Lady Eungyu looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed, and before she could mocking him, she realized what was happening.

Countless silhouettes appeared from behind the outer wall, certainly standing on ladders that had been placed against the wall. They were all looking like each other, hair pulled in a pony tail and a headband keeping strands away from their eyes… and their hands were drawing a bow, armed with one to three arrows.

“Archers !” The Prince yelled. “Get into position, wait for my command !”

Mongje’s army got surrounded and soldiers started hesitating, stopping their walking and looking at the archers, then at their commander. The woman stood gaping for a few seconds, but she couldn’t let the opportunity pass.

“Keep moving !” She shouted.

Despite their logical unsureness, her men could only obey. They resumed their steps forwards but Kibum knew he only needed a moment. Just a second.

“Kibum, make them shoot.” His husband told him, a drop of sweat running down his temple. “Kibum, what are you doing ?”

“Wait.” The other man just said.

“We don’t have time ! Make them shoot or I do it !”

“Minho, trust me.”

“Wh—”

Before the King could tell the Prince he had gone mad, another whistle was heard from the outer wall. It startled everyone and Kibum just smiled, before returning the sound himself. It was a signal, and the huge doors were soon hit from the outside, an extremely loud sound resounding in the yard as Lord Taehyun covered his granddaughter’s ears. Mongje’s soldiers once again stopped walking to look at the trembling door ; a second hit was heard, then a third one… and the large wooden panels got knocked down.

A feminine voice was heard as it yelled with rage, and the silhouette of Siyeon came in, running as she was holding two swords. Everyone looked at her with stupefaction as they had never noticed she had managed to run away… and it turned into great astonishment when a bunch of voices shouted in return. Before they could move, the enemy army saw a myriad of soldiers wearing the colors of Jinju enter, led by a young man on a horse.

While the King, the Prince, the General and the Teacher welcomed their hidden army with a relieved and proud smile on their face, Lord Taehyun and Lady Eungyu went speechless. Their eyes weren’t showing the same expression, for it was all about positive surprise and pride in the man’s, while the woman’s were filled with pure hatred. She was staring at the newcomer, the hero with the irritating feeling of being deceived once more, yet this time it felt even more unfair.

Because the person who was riding a splendid black horse and had led nearly a thousand soldiers to end her victory was Lee Taemin. Her husband’s illegitimate son.

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#minkey #minho #key #kibum #shinee #fanfic #historical #kingdom of jinju #jongyu #onew #jinki #jonghyun #taemin

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