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cutieodonoghue · 2 years

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invisible string (16/18)

summary: modern soulmate birthmark au; After Omera lost her soulmate, she lost hope she’d ever find love again. Then, a short time before Earth’s first colony ship will be sent to a place they call the Outer Rim, she meets a Mandalorian whose touch makes her Soul Mark burn. (Mandomera!)

rating: hard T

word count: ~5.2k

prev. chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen

read chapter 16 down below or on ao3!

an: Quick reminder that I'm updating every day now so don't miss yesterday's update! :) Thanks for reading!!

Chapter 16: Engine Trouble

“Incident report one. 01.02.09.

The ship is in good condition following a small leak we encountered in the cryo bay. One of the nozzles was loose on the pumps on Pod 95. All souls are healthy and accounted for. Primary power is still engaged and fully operational. [Attached: Security Log 01.02.08 - Cryo Bay] [Attached: Personal Video Log 0001, Crew Member: Din]

>Personal Video Log 0001 (Crew Member: Din)

Personal log one. Day two. It’s been smooth since we took off. A few hours ago, the computer alerted us to a leak in the cryo bay. Easy fix. The colonists are all okay.

The computer almost triggered the wakeup procedure on the bridge when the alert came through. I reset it and ran a dry test. Hopefully it was just a bug.

[sighing]

I’ve been keeping busy with the bridge imaging monitor. Not a lot to report. Got this shot of Saturn on the first day. Made me think of someone. [Attached: Photo - Bridge Capture 01.01.11.96]

I’ll check back in later if anything interesting happens.” - Transcribed Crew Flight Video Logs, The Razor Crest (Crew Member: Din, Entry 0001)

“Leia wants you on the ship.”

Din looked up from his tablet to see Fett enter the office with a casual sigh. He sat down at his desk and lifted his eyebrows as he awaited a response.

“I told you. I’m not going.”

Fett nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I told her, but she insists you need to be there. You trained the bridge crew. You’ll be an asset on Planet Alpha and anything that comes after. What do I have to do to make it happen?” The man waited. He sat forward in his seat. “I can get you pretty much anything you want.”

Din shook his head. “I can’t leave.”

He looked back down at his tablet, done with the conversation, but his boss sighed again.

“Djarin, you’ve been… stiff and miserable for months. I’ve been respectful. Thought you needed the space. But then you took your name off of the manifest with less than a week until launch day. What happened?”

The way Fett spoke to him reminded him of his own father. There was kindness in him that didn’t want anything more than to help.

Din thought about the kid. It was all he could think about lately. After things ended with Omera, he had to make the choice to move on and instead focus on what he was staying for: Grogu.

The ship would leave in a few days. Omera would be on board. As much as he wasn’t okay with that, he’d found peace in it.

Din lifted his gaze. “I’m Bonded to Omera.”

Fett’s eyes grew wide in immediate surprise. “Omera.”

He nodded. “We… were going to go together to the Outer Rim. Then, the Mandalorians found out. They decided to take the kid and gave me the choice between staying with him and getting clean or losing my job here. It would’ve thrown the whole mission off track, so I chose to go with them.”

His boss sat back again. “That’s what those reports are for.”

“Right,” Din replied. “They wanted to make sure I’m not seeing her while I’m at work.” His jaw clenched. “I took my name off the manifest because I can’t leave without the kid.”

There was understanding and patience in Fett’s eyes. “We can fix it.”

Din narrowed his eyes. “If you’re going to suggest taking the kid and running now that the work is finished, I’ve thought about that already.”

His boss frowned, confused. “Why won’t it work?”

He sighed. “They’ll claim a Mandalorian child was sent into space without consent. It would put Falcon underwater. Bad press would kill any future missions and funding. I won’t do that to you.”

Fett nodded slowly. Then, as if he made up his mind, he stood and grabbed his phone. “Come with me. We’re going to meet up with Leia. Tell her what you told me.”

Din stood. “I can’t ask you to-”

“You had a path.” Fett shook his head. He lifted his phone to his ear. “Let’s get you back on it. We need you out there.” He became earnest, “Omera needs you out there. I was there when she lost her Bond. Took every ounce of hope straight out of her. I won’t let that happen again.”

Armas was silent. If it was in surprise, or if it was a mechanism to inspire dominance over the situation, Din wasn’t sure. She was outnumbered and hadn’t been given the chance to prepare for this meeting.

In the chairs opposite her at her desk at the covert were Din, with Grogu in his lap, Leia Organa, and Boba Fett.

They’d gone straight to the covert from the office when Leia learned what was keeping him from joining the crew on the Razor Crest. Her exact words were: “Like hell they will. Come on, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind.”

In the time since then, Leia had come up with a solution that felt foolproof. It was almost upsetting that Din hadn’t thought of it himself. Although, it wouldn’t have been possible without leverage that only Leia could provide.

“When we made our agreement to hire a Mandalorian, we mentioned the possibility of them being sent to the Outer Rim,” Leia said calmly, “but how could we have known he was given guardianship over this child? It seems unfair to separate them.”

“The stipulations of our agreement have not changed,” Armas replied coolly. “Din Djarin will simply no longer be the Mandalorian sent to the Outer Rim on this ship.”

“You’re right,” Leia agreed. “The Mandalorian that Falcon Aerospace Industries would like on board this ship is Grogu.” She gestured to the child in Din’s lap with both of her hands. “If you deny us this, we have grounds to sue you for breach of contractual obligation.”

Armas stared at Leia. Din wasn’t sure how she felt, if she felt anything at all. She was always impossible to read.

Finally, after several seconds, she leaned forward.

“The child is not Mandalorian. He cannot teach the Way. He can barely speak. We cannot in good conscience agree to send him as our ambassador.”

“He is being raised here,” Fett spoke up, “which makes him Mandalorian in title, regardless of what he knows right now.”

Armas looked at the man. “How do you know this?”

“My father and I were both Mandalorian children,” he replied evenly. “I was lucky I got out before it was too late.”

Din felt Grogu’s fingers on his. The boy had been quiet since he arrived, but he was made even more anxious by Armas and didn’t hesitate to show it. He sat facing the opposite way, looking out the windows in her office, and held onto Din as tightly as he could.

“If your suggestion is that we don’t care for our children, you are incorrect,” Armas said. “Everything we have done for the child, Grogu, and for Din Djarin, has been to protect them as they live according to our beliefs.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Leia said in an effort at cooling things down. “I think we’ve lost track of what’s important. We want Grogu on our ship.”

Armas looked at Din. “Does the child wish to go to the Outer Rim?”

He swallowed as he looked down at the kid. “Grogu?”

His boy looked back up at him, glad to hear him speak his name.

“Do you want to go to space?”

For a few seconds that felt so impossibly long, the boy was dead silent, and Din worried that he had clammed up because of Armas. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Grogu go to space,” he finally replied. He smiled at Din and reached up to the edge of his helmet to touch it gently. “Daddy go to space.”

Din held Grogu closer. He didn’t want to look away. “What’s in space, buddy?”

His smile reached his eyes. “Home.”

Din nodded, proud of him, and felt tears in his eyes as he looked up at his Mandalorian mentor.

Armas sighed heavily. “We will allow the child, Grogu, to be the Mandalorian sent to the Outer Rim.”

Leia beamed at Armas. “We appreciate your willingness to take our meeting.”

She stood, leading Din and Boba to do the same, but before they could go, Armas held up a hand.

“Din Djarin, have you decided to leave the covert having unsettled your atonement?”

He swallowed thickly. “I have.”

Armas nodded in understanding. She stood up. “I had hoped you would be able to overcome your attachments, but I see now that your heart is set and there is no changing it.” Her hands extended outward. “Relinquish your helmet. You won’t need it anymore.”

Din stood there in shock for a few seconds before he finally touched his hand to his helmet. Grogu helped him push it off, something he thought poetic, and when he was free of the Mandalorian face covering, he set it into Armas’ hands.

“It is the Way to forsake attachments to focus on what’s important,” Din told his mentor. “It was only when I Bonded that I realized what true focus feels like.”

Armas set his helmet down on the desk in front of her.

“I will raise him with Mandalorian beliefs,” he added, “but he will be allowed attachments.”

She was quiet. “A new type of Mandalorian for a new world.”

Din nodded.

“You have my blessing,” Armas shared, surprising him. “Teach many this new Way.”

He gave Armas a small smile. “I will. Thank you.”

As he followed Leia and Boba out of the covert, Din squeezed Grogu closer and kissed the top of his head, filled with relief that the worst of it was finally over.

Just outside of the building, Leia climbed into a private car. Boba had brought his truck. Din would have to ask for help for just one night before the ship was scheduled to depart.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell Omera,” Din said to Leia at her car door. “I need to apologize. I don’t want it coming from anyone else.”

Leia looked between him and Grogu. She nodded. “Of course.” She smiled. “You’ll be our Primary Team lead pilot. I’ll have Fennec send your paperwork and schedule tonight. Where will you be staying?”

“They’ll stay with me,” Fett spoke up.

Din’s eyes widened with surprise, but he said nothing. He and Fett exchanged nods.

“Thank you,” Din told Leia earnestly. “I couldn’t have done this without your help. I was ready to stay behind.”

“I’m glad you’ll be on the ship. You’re important to the mission.” She looked at Grogu and her smile became warmer. “You were both worth fighting for.”

After Leia’s car pulled away, Din was left with hope that burst through his chest in a way it hadn’t before. For the first time since he was a small boy, he no longer had to fight one way or another.

“Let’s get your things,” Boba told him. “Will you want a ride over to Omera’s tonight?”

Din’s heart leapt. There were too many uncertainties about how she might react to what he’d done and he didn’t want to face them head on just yet. He would talk to her in the morning, before the ship took off when they were both locked into their roles and there was no turning back. She deserved to know for certain that he was all in and that nothing would pull them apart again.

“No. Not tonight. There should be time tomorrow morning.”

“I need your help.”

His soul was immediately assaulted with a tight burst of fear. And then there was the noise. The wail of the alarms was familiar but still so foreign.

He forced himself to focus as he stepped out of his pod, leaving behind blissful dreams of what he hoped his future would look like and a heart at peace for nothing but chaos.

To his surprise, Omera was the only one awake. She had a hazmat suit on, which could only mean one thing: a chemical breach in the engine.

They had trained for this. There were weeks of training that the crew had done to prepare for literally every possible scenario, ranging from small to massive scale. The simulators in training were part of that, though being in a real scenario felt very different than any of the preparation was.

In an uncontrolled environment, he and Omera would have to work in perfect tandem. The lives of everyone on board were at stake. The lives of their kids were at stake.

There was a glaring sense of urgency, but amidst that urgency, he couldn’t help but realize that this was the first time they’d been awake in the same room in weeks - flight time notwithstanding.

He’d missed her. He’d missed everything about her. And he had no idea if she was ever going to be his again.

Those thoughts didn’t matter, though, with a hot alarm in his ear and the main bridge console lit up with alerts and procedural guidelines.

“There’s been a breach,” she explained. “I’m going to go fix it, but I need you to walk me through it from the bridge.”

He nodded. “Did you power down the air filtration on the lower deck?”

“The vents were closed while I brought you out of cryo.” Omera hesitated. “Life support was disengaged in the engine room immediately to prevent spillage, so I’ll only have a few minutes at most.”

Now he understood the fear in his soul. She was fearful that she’d fail. It was a one person job, and in the event that something went wrong, he was her choice to do what he could to fix it.

He couldn’t help but think back on her training in the simulator. She had been one of the best in the final simulation test, but it hadn’t been without bruising their trust and connection with cold, clinical language and an even colder shoulder.

“Gravity?” he asked.

She nodded. “Still operational, but there’s no airflow.” She began to walk backward toward the door off of the bridge toward engineering. “Warn me when the integrity is near ninety percent. If it gets that low, we’ll have to wake someone else up and see if there’s a hidden leak.”

Once she was gone, Din looked directly at the primary engineering console that sat next to the piloting station.

“Engine integrity at ninety eight percent,” the computer shared.

He sucked in a breath as he brought up the camera feed for the engine room. She hadn’t arrived just yet, but would very soon.

It would be hard to calm down. Her fears were strongest in his soul but his fears were close behind them.

Since the computer woke her up first, she’d had to take on the mantle of leader whether she wanted it or not. Per the programming, she would always be chosen to wake up first in the event that something went wrong with the engine. She knew it better than anyone here- even the crew engineers were a step below.

He wondered what she thought of him being on board. Was she surprised? Upset? Had she somehow known beforehand?

Through huge carefully sealed doors, Omera entered the engine room.

The sheer scope of the engine was always a concern of his. There was a lot of room for failure, but they’d tested it on its own for four full years before they committed to using it for long-term travel. Chemical leaks were common and easy to fix, so there wasn’t any need to panic.

Once it was done, they would have time to sit down and talk about what happened. He really hoped she wasn’t so upset with him that they’d have no future, but he would understand if she wanted to put space between them. He had been distant and cold in their time apart to try and make it easier.

“The breach is in the forward quadrant,” he told her through the comms in her suit. “Left hand side. Station three.”

Omera made her way toward the station carefully. “I can see the fumes. The chemical hasn’t been fully vacuumed out.”

He glimpsed at the screen on the console that indicated how much integrity the engine sat at. Still above 90%.

“The only way we’ll be able to get it cleaned up is by opening an airlock when you’re done.”

Omera was quiet. Focused. He watched through a new camera angle when she went straight toward the breach.

Beside the engine, there were workstations at quadrant intervals that contained what they would need to perform for scheduled and unscheduled maintenance.

She pried open the workstation lid at the forward quadrant and reached inside for the kit and bolt drill. He’d seen her operate them before. He knew she could handle them. This step was the simplest.

It would be fine, but he couldn’t help feeling uneasy. From what he could tell, this was the first major setback during their journey and if the problem wasn’t resolved, lives were at stake.

“I’m shaking,” she admitted with a trembling breath.

He closed his eyes briefly. “You’re doing fine. It should be easy. When it’s over, we can talk.”

Omera released a purposeful breath. “We definitely need to talk.” She returned to the leak site and asked, “Can you disengage the forward part of the engine?”

Din set his thumb on the authorization button on the console. “Done. Need you to give consenting authorization.”

“Computer, power down the forward part of the engine,” she said. “We will re-engage in five minutes.”

“Powering down.”

The system went dark. The glow of the engine dimmed. A light on Omera’s helmet flicked on.

“Eight bolts,” he told her. “That’s all. Then you’re done.”

Then, they could sit down and talk the way they needed to.

Omera pressed the thick metal sheet against the leak with one hand. With the other, she operated the bolt drill. It was virtually foolproof, but he could hear her breathing tremble through the mic in her suit.

He tried to quiet his soul. Anything he could do to help her.

“I just-” Omera’s voice cut off with a crackle.

He analyzed the video, narrowing his eyes some. She continued to work. Whatever happened to her mic’s feed must have been related to her suit.

“There’s some interference. Can you hear me?”

She stopped what she was doing and turned to face the camera. Tapped her ears.

Din cursed. He didn’t like the idea that she could need help and he wouldn’t know.

“Keep going,” he said on the off chance she’d hear. The computer alerted him of the engine integrity. 96%. “There’s not a lot of time.”

Omera returned to work. He watched her finish six of eight bolts before something happened to her. She bent over halfway and clutched at her chest.

Shit. Shit. The suit had been punctured.

Din scrambled into action. He ripped open the door beside the engineering door and grabbed a hazmat suit that he fumbled his body into. He couldn’t go fast enough.

He felt her soul cry out. It burned him like he’d started on fire and it was terrifying.

Once he was in his suit, he ran the entire length of the ship to the engine room and didn’t let up until he was next to her.

She’d soldiered through and finished bolting the metal sheet, but she remained doubled over and coughed violently.

“Computer, re-engage the forward engine and restore ventilation in the engine room.”

He went to Omera’s side just in time for her to collapse onto the floor. His soul immediately went ice cold. It fractured. Bent. He could feel her fading heartbeat in it.

“No!”

In one swift movement, Din leaned down and lifted Omera off of the floor. He tossed her over his shoulder like she was a rag doll and rushed out of the engine room. He only stopped to put her down once they cleared the doors. They sealed behind him with a heavy thud.

“Computer, open airlock six for five seconds,” he ordered, breathless.

“Opening airlock six.”

Din quickly yanked Omera’s helmet off and was forced to watch her pale face lull to the side. She was out cold, but he could still feel her with him. It was just so small.

He took the rest of the suit off for her and then carried her away from the toxic suit to place her body into the decontamination tank. It was an upright machine that was positioned next to a small emergency medical bay.

Inside the tank, her body was propped up by prongs on the back wall, limbs limp and head hung against her chest. He touched his fingers against her neck to check her pulse. It was weak.

Once he stuffed her suit into a decontamination bin, his next course of action was to grab the medical supplies he needed from the nearby wall while the machine sanitized her to cleanse her skin and lungs.

His soul ached. It throbbed. It felt increasingly worse, to the point that he physically knew he might lose her because his body almost doubled over in sheer agony.

He ripped his suit off and tossed it aside as he prepared an oxygen mask that had a gauge to detect the chemical toxicity in a user’s breath.

Din winced when he was hit with a fresh crippling wave of pain that came from seemingly nowhere within him. This time, he had to stop moving to try and breathe through it.

They still hadn’t been able to talk about what happened. He hadn’t had the chance to apologize.

They hadn’t had any time to build the life they dreamed about. The kids were still young. He couldn’t raise them by himself. He didn’t want to.

He wanted her to wake up so they could go to the Outer Rim together. What time they’d shared on Earth wasn’t nearly enough.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Was this his reward for everything he’d done? Was he about to lose his soulmate because he couldn’t stay faithful to the Way? Because in everything he did, he chose her?

Din waited impatiently for the tank door to open. When it did, he hauled her limp body against his and carried her to the floor immediately beside it.

Another pang wracked his body. This one was so much worse than before. His soul swirled frantically, like it cried out to its companion. Strangely, his Mark began to burn impossibly hot. It hadn’t done that since they Bonded.

“No, no, no.”

He forced himself to move, physically fighting against his own body to get the breathing mask.

Tears leaked free from his eyes on their own accord. He could feel nothing but darkness, an endless pit that he felt his own soul getting sucked into.

His body felt stiff. His muscles tightened and his lungs refused air. He felt himself get dizzy as the Soul Mark beneath his ear became increasingly more inflamed. His vision blurred and his hands both trembled violently, unable to keep still enough to hold the mask properly.

He became furious with himself. She was dying and his body wouldn’t cooperate long enough to save her.

A growl wretched out of his chest when he tightened his fingers around the medical tool and pressed it against her face so it covered her nose and mouth.

His chest heaved, gasping for breaths that just weren’t coming, as tears ran down his cheeks. His body acted on its own, unable to hold anything back while his Mark grew somehow hotter.

Was this what it had felt like for her before? This dark, terrible, awful torture? Knowing he’d lost her- that he’d failed her?

She had been so willing to let him go before. She’d given him countless ways out. The only time she’d panicked was when he suggested breaking their Bond. Now he understood why.

“Breathe,” he instructed through gritted teeth. “Come back. Wake up. Please.”

All at once, everything changed.

She bolted upright with a sharp gasp and the dark pit within him became light again. The grip his own soul had on his body was released and he could breathe once more.

“You’re okay,” he told her, more for himself than for her.

She sucked a clean breath from the device he still held against her face.

His eyes watered as he touched his other hand to the back of her head and kissed her forehead out of pure relief that the worst of it was over; that he hadn’t lost her.

“You’re okay,” he murmured again, his lips pressed against the crown of her head. He closed his eyes tightly. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Omera held onto his gaze as her breathing slowly returned to normal and he dragged his hand over the side of her face and into her hair, unable to stop feeling how warm she slowly became. Her skin felt clammy and wet, but there was life surging through her that felt tangibly beneath his fingertips.

It took a few exhales for the red color on the indicator to go away. He only pulled the device away once it turned green, and even then he was careful and made her breathe out a few more times before he tucked it back into the kit.

“You should take a shower,” he told her. “Have the computer scan you after. Make sure it’s all gone.”

Omera nodded, but she was silent with the shock of what she’d been through. He helped her to her feet and she clung to him with her arm tight around his waist.

“Engine integrity restored,” the computer trilled overhead. “Life support on the engine deck has been reinstated.”

“Computer, is there any indication of a leak in the engine?” Din asked as they walked slowly toward the crew quarters.

“Negative. The engine is presently free of damage. System is fully operational.”

They’d done it. It was over.

Now, they could both breathe easier.

The crew showers were in one small room. There were dividers that separated into three stalls, should more than one need to be used at a time, but it seemed unlikely to him that it would ever be the case.

When he got Omera positioned beside the first shower stall, he took the initiative to turn the water on for her. She waited quietly for him to return.

“I’ll go find you something to wear,” he told her. “Do you need help getting out of your suit?”

He gestured to the skin-tight cryo suit she wore. He’d have to change out of his, too. They were going to have to stay up for a day per protocol anyway, so he might as well do it comfortably.

Slowly, her eyes went from him to her body. She shook her head, still wordless.

“Be right back.”

Din was out of the showers before Omera could say anything. He found her something to wear in her locker and kept them in a neat pile as he returned to find her beneath the stream of water hidden behind a privacy wall.

He left the pile of clothes out for her with a towel and said, “I’m gonna go get changed.”

Omera didn’t reply. Maybe it was for the best. It took everything in him to not picture what she looked like behind that privacy wall.

While he walked toward his cabin, he had to remind himself that they weren’t together anymore. He ended things so he could show honor to the Way and to the Mandalorians, but to her as well. She owed him absolutely nothing. If she wanted to put distance between them and keep things neutral like they were before, that was fine.

Inside his cabin, he changed out of his cryo suit and into a pair of lounge sweats and a loose cotton knit top. It felt so much gentler than the unrelenting pinch of the all-purpose fabric of the cryo suit.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and a pang of guilt hit him in the chest when he thought about Omera again.

What if she didn’t want him in her life anymore?

The fact that he was on the ship, that he’d been the one to revive her, might have been the final straw.

He’d done all of this, come all this way, so they might get a chance to be together again the way they dreamed. He hadn’t talked to Omera individually since that day in her office, and he knew he hadn’t been good to her after that.

Their interactions were always stilted. Always cold. Always brief. He couldn’t crack because if he did, there was no telling where it would have led him.

If Omera wanted to talk, they would, but he didn’t want to force it. He didn’t want to make her do anything she wasn’t comfortable with- especially after he almost just lost her.

It was uncanny- he could still feel the ache of loss in his bones as if their souls were pulled taut in the aftermath of a near death experience.

All he knew was he was grateful he hadn’t severed the Bond by force. He was also glad they were going to age in tandem so that she wouldn’t have to deal with that pain on her own from galaxies away.

Din stared at the floor of his cabin for a long time before he decided to search for Omera in case she might need help.

She wasn’t in the showers, but her cabin door was sealed closed when he made his way up the hall to check if she went to lay down.

Good. She was probably exhausted and overwhelmed. She should rest.

His fingers twitched at his sides restlessly as he stood in the hall with his eyes set on her door as if he could see through it. With a small shake of his head, he made his way out of the crew quarters and instead onto the bridge.

He’d wait for her to make the first move. He didn’t want to push. He wanted to tell her everything, but only if she wanted to know everything.

It was ridiculous. He had somehow survived months apart from her, but the prospect of another hour or two felt unbearable and impossible.

Din sat down in a chair at one of the computer consoles and ran a hand over his face.

An hour. Sixty minutes. Three thousand six hundred seconds.

It was much better than the alternative of a lifetime apart.

Read Chapter 17

#mandomera #din x omera #the mandalorian #my writing #invisible string fic #hihi it's a surprise daytime update :)#this chapter...........#me @ din in the last scene: tell me you're in love without telling me you're in love

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

Balloons

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Warnings: cursing, arguing, and Clint (since he seems to be a sensitive topic for some of you)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Natasha surprises you with balloons. What do you get for her in return?

A/N: It can get a little confusing, so just for clarification, a single dash (-) indicates a flashback, and three dashes (---) means a skip forward in time. Also, this takes place during the Snap.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a couple of days, okay?” Natasha barely looked up from her computer screen, but she heard your murmurs, going so far as to lean into your touch as you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

If you didn’t love her, you would’ve scrunched your nose, judged her for what must’ve been days without taking a shower. Instead, your brow furrowed slightly as you leaned over her, allowing your arms to drape over her torso, your hands clasping together at the center of her chest.

“Take care of yourself, okay? No more peanut butter sandwiches.” That elicited a groan from your wife. Her eyes remained on the monitor in front of her, but she still sunk into your embrace, her body almost on autopilot once she felt the familiar contact. “Promise me, Nat. I’ve left enough meals for the next two weeks in the fridge. All you have to do is microwave them.” A low sound left her mouth—maybe it was an “okay” or an “alright,” you really couldn’t tell—but you knew that was all you were getting from her at the moment. So, with a sigh, you brushed a quick kiss to her cheek and pushed yourself to stand straight.

“I love you, Nat.” It was only then that she turned around, finally allowing you to see the sparkle in her eyes that, more so now than ever, she reserved only for you.

“I love you too, malysh. Be safe. And call me if you need anything.”

“So you’re saying I can call and ask for you?” The redhead chuckled, leaning out of her chair to grab you by the hands. Once you were standing in between her legs, one of her hands trailed up to your cheek before pulling you down to kiss her.

“Anytime, malyshka, anytime,” she murmured, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, yeah?” Natasha nodded at you. The last thing you saw as you walked out the door was her characteristic smirk, the sly wave of her slender fingers, and the way her body was slumped against the chair, another sign that betrayed just how long she had gone without sleep. You had to succeed at this, for her.

---

It was pouring when you found him. You don’t think you would’ve seen him if it weren’t for the neon signs, their reflections against the growing number of puddles lighting up the street. But you didn’t need to see him to find him; the yelling and clashing of swords were enough to tell you where he was.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was gruff. It was clear he didn’t want to see you.

“I’m here to bring someone back.” He had yet to turn around, and yet you could still hear him scoff despite his turned back and the patter of rain.

“Then keep looking.” You rolled your eyes before clearing your throat and straightening up. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to see your growing assertion, but you’d make sure he heard it.

“I’m here to bring you back.”

“Don’t you have a wife to be getting back to?” You almost flinched at his words.

“How funny, I wasn’t sure if you even knew we got married.” Yes, Clint was your friend, but you didn’t forget the way Nat’s eyes shined with hurt when she looked in the crowd at her wedding and noticed that her best friend wasn’t there. It was just another thing that made her doubt what she was doing, wonder if she was a monster for moving on while everyone else suffered. You almost lost her that day, having to get Steve to pause the ceremony as you took her off to the side, desperate to make her stay.

“Nat, every day I wake up I think of all the people that we lost, just like that. But you’re still here, and I can’t lose you too. And if wanting to hold onto the one good thing I have left in the world makes me a monster, then-” She had pulled you close, kissed you through the tears that ran down her cheeks.

“You could never be a monster, my love.” Your foreheads pressed together as she whispered, allowing you to see the crystal droplets, physical evidence of the internal struggle she felt every day.

“And neither can you. Marry me?” She simply nodded, and you thought you couldn’t have been happier, more relieved.

But she proved you wrong only minutes later when she read her vows out to you, her eyes only leaving the crumpled paper to look at you, to make sure you were still there, as she tried to make her true feelings known. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper—you were sure you were the only one who could hear her, but that was more than okay with you—as she told you, “You told me I’m the only good thing you have left in the world, but you are my world. If I lose you, I’ve lost the world. It doesn’t matter how many other planets there are, how many galaxies exist outside of our own. There’s nothing after you.”

You pulled her into a searing kiss, not caring that Steve had yet to tell you to kiss your bride.

You were married. You were hers, and she was yours.

And he missed it. Clint missed one of the most important days in his best friend’s life. He still hadn’t responded when you spoke up again. You were bringing him back no matter what. Because she needed you to.

You got him to come back with you. You honestly weren’t too sure how you’d done it; maybe he was just too tired to argue anymore. But it didn’t matter because the two of you were getting in a Quinjet and going back to Natasha.

It took less than twenty minutes for you guys to be off in the air. You set the aircraft on autopilot and left the seat, heading back to put away your things.

“I will admit, I thought we’d be moving a little faster.” Your head cocked to the side at Clint’s words, not quite understanding what he meant.

“Trust me, we’re going as fast as we can. We should be there in a couple of hours.” You were almost out of earshot when he spoke again, but his words caught your attention as if he had screamed them at you.

“What’d you get her for the anniversary?”

“Wha- what do you mean? What’s today’s date?” And as Clint sighed with a shake of his head, you felt your heart sinking in your chest. He didn’t need to answer. You thought back to yesterday’s phone call and you knew exactly where you’d messed up.

“Hello? Nat? What are you doing awake? It’s late, you should be asleep.” There was a pause over the phone, and at first, you thought she’d hung up.

“I, um, I just wanted to check in on you.” It wasn’t so much the fact that she called or her words as it was her dejected tone that grabbed your attention, immediately made you concerned.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she quickly reassured you. “Just… you sure you’re not forgetting anything?” You scanned the supplies you’d laid out on the dresser. A weapon or two, a couple of toiletries, only the necessities. But nothing was missing.

“No, I think I have everything. Why? Did you see something at home?” Another pause. And, still, you chalked it up to bad connection, or maybe the fact that it was late for her, she must’ve been tired.

“No, you didn’t leave anything at home.” You took one last glance at your things before nodding and launching into your plan for how you were going to get Clint back. She wasn’t as excited as you thought she would’ve been, but you never caught it. Even when you ended the call and all she gave you was a quiet goodbye, you never caught it.

You entered the compound with a crash, scrambling to find Natasha. It was nighttime when you got back, the lights automatically turning on one by one as you ran through each of the rooms, each of them full of furniture but devoid of life.

First, you reached the kitchen. Natasha hadn’t put away the candles, the wicks drowning in wax as if nobody had bothered to blow them out. One plate of food—which was much fancier than any of the meals you had left for Nat in the fridge—lay untouched on the counter, and you knew that, if you dared to open the fridge, there’d be another plate waiting for you.

Next, you made your way into the living room. A vase of roses sat on the coffee table, but one of them was already wilted, a petal threatening to fall off if you so much as looked at it for too long. A small bunch of heart balloons hovered in the corner. The shadows fell on them in just the right way it seemed, with them looking more like they were threatening to chase after you rather than welcome you home.

You went to your bedroom next. You doubted she would’ve been in there, but some small part of you hoped that you and Clint were wrong; you hadn’t actually missed anything, and Natasha somehow pulled herself away from her work to grab a few hours of sleep. But it wasn’t your wife on the bed. Instead, an unfamiliar yet friendly-looking teddy bear sat on the comforter, the card next to it standing upright. And though every part of you yelled at you not to open it, you did.

It was storebought, but that wasn’t what affected you. What finally broke the dam, made the tears stream down your cheeks, was the brief message she’d written on the inside.

“I know I haven’t been the best wife lately, but you are still my world. The sun, moon, stars, it’s all you, malyshka. It always will be. Happy anniversary.”

It was only then that you set off for the one place you were sure Natasha would be.

---

The smell hit you before you even entered her office. Then, you heard the somewhat incoherent grumbles, each word charged with more anger and sorrow than the last. And so it was more to your horror than surprise when you found her still at her desk, her head in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other.

“Natty…” A flash of red filled your vision as her head whipped up to see you, but you weren’t sure if the color came from her cheeks or her hair.

“Oh, so you still remember my name?”

“Natty, please, I’m so sorry. I was so hun-” At first, your wife seemed slightly surprised, as if she wasn’t expecting you to apologize. Or maybe she wasn’t expecting you to know what you were apologizing for.

“Don’t you dare call me that right now, Y/N.” If her order didn’t sting, her use of your actual name definitely did. But you pushed away those feelings; right now, it was about her, the way it should’ve been about her yesterday.

“Natasha, let me explain. I was so focused on Clint, on the things we had to get done here. The dates really meant nothing to me.” Her flinches were delayed, slightly sluggish, but they nevertheless hurt to see.

“So the date of our wedding means nothing to you? I got you balloons, Y/N, I got you fucking balloons.” You flinched, but it wasn’t at the sound of the vodka bottle slamming down on the desk or at her words. It was at the words she’d told you on your six month anniversary of dating, the day she’d surprised you with a dinner at a three Michelin star restaurant and a night in a five-star hotel, a luxury you’d never experienced before and never thought you’d have in your life, let alone while you were on the run from the US federal government. But, you’d had to remind yourself as Natasha pulled you into the hotel room with a giggle, this was the world’s best spy you were dating. Of course, if anyone was capable of pulling this off, it was her.

“What are those?” you’d gasped, the glint of the dim lamplight on the mylar catching your attention.

“I got you balloons,” she’d chuckled as she pulled you into her embrace. “I love you so fucking much that I got you balloons. God, I’m such a sap.” You met her lips in a sweet kiss before pulling her closer, if that was even possible.

“You’re my sap.” Nat pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth, loving the way it curved upwards in a grin. Loving the fact that she made it do that.

“Well, duh, you think I’m going to go out and get balloons for Tony?” You simply giggled, the champagne the two of you had enjoyed earlier that evening only strengthening the joy that bubbled in you. “No. Never. Only for you, detka.” She had punctuated each sentence with a kiss, each one being on a different spot on your face.

“You got me balloons,” you finally whispered, meeting her eyes.

“I got you balloons,” the blonde agreed. You loved the way the green orbs captured your own gaze; you could bathe in the love they held for you.

But at this moment, you felt yourself drowning in the sorrow filling her eyes, the fact that she wasn’t crying being one piece of dignity you couldn’t maintain no matter how hard you tried.

“Nat,” you slowly stepped closer to her, your footsteps being the only sound filling the room during the pause. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant I barely processed what day it was at all. The only thing I was focusing on was getting Clint back.” A small part of you knew that Natasha was far too hurt and drunk to be reasoned with at the moment, but you still tried. And the rejection hurt just as much as if you hadn’t been expecting it.

“You don’t love me.” You were by her side in an instant, quick to refute her point.

“That’s not true at a-”

“You don’t love me! Just admit it, Y/N. You don’t love me.”

“Natasha, please-” Your vision was so clouded by tears you could barely make out your surroundings, but the anguish on your wife’s face was somehow clearer than it had been all night.

“You only love me when it benefits you! God, how was I so foolish to believe you could ever love me back in the same way I love you?” And though you tried to stop her, pleaded with her to just listen to you for a second, she never even hesitated for a second, the remaining vodka threatening to spill out out of the bottle with how she swung it in the air. Her insecurities from your relationship, the ones you had spent night after night reassuring her of, were coming out in full force, each word thrown out of her mouth being another punch to your gut.

But it was her last sentence that made you almost double over in pain; the way she looked at you, eyes glassy and her lower lip wobbling, the way she spoke, her voice airy and broken, the way her face was contorted, as if something had broken inside of her. Maybe something had.

“Did I really make you feel safe, or did I just help you not to feel alone?”

You knew she was standing outside of your room well before she knocked. Well, you knew someone was standing outside of your room.

Sure, you weren’t expecting the normally-closed off assassin to be the one who entered when you let out a measly “come in,” but you were too wrapped up in your grief to care.

“Wanda made dinner.”

“I don’t want it.” You didn’t have to turn your head to know how she was standing, feet shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over her chest. And maybe, if you cared, you would’ve been scared, but for all you were concerned she could come running full speed at you with widow’s bites in her hand and you wouldn’t even flinch. Maybe you’d welcome it.

“It’s not a negotiation. You’re coming to dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’m not hungry.” At first, Natasha didn’t respond. You thought you were safe. She’d turn around, close the door behind her, and you’d be alone once again, the way you should’ve been. The way you always should be. But instead, you heard her approaching footsteps and felt the mattress sink as she perched herself on the edge of your bed.

“You deserve to eat, Y/N. Just because you made a mistake-”

“A mistake is forgetting your phone at home, Nat. I got people killed. I deserve to die.” Natasha paused for a moment, and you felt the weight of her hand as she rested it on your ankle.

“You’re not the first of us to do that. Do you think we deserve to die too?” Anger and frustration swelled in your chest at her words. Of course they didn’t deserve to die; how could you agree to that? But she didn’t understand, you were different because you were you.

You hated the way she trapped you with simple logic, wanting to scream and yell for her to get out. But she was the woman of your dreams, so you stayed silent. She’d leave eventually. They all did. Or maybe you just made them leave, who knows?

But she was there 5 minutes later, 10 minutes later, 15. Half an hour passed and she was still sitting there, her posture just as perfect as when she first sat down.

Another half an hour passed before Natasha sighed, the corner of the mattress lifting. But she didn’t leave the room. Instead, she rounded the bed and sat down next to you, hands folded in her lap and her back against the headboard.

“You’re not going to leave?” you finally asked.

“No.”

“Why?” You hated the way it came out cracked and broken. You were the one who messed up; why were you also the one falling apart?

“Because you deserve to be forgiven. And you don’t deserve to be alone. I’ll stay until you realize that.” It amazed you how she said it so matter-of-factly, how she said it as if it was painfully obvious.

“Then it looks like you’re going to be staying the night.”

“Good thing I wore my pajamas.” It wasn’t until she said that that you finally turned around to look at her. Why was she wearing her pajamas?

“You knew I wasn’t coming out.”

“I had a feeling.” Her shrug was nonchalant, but the way she picked at her fingers suggested she was more nervous than she was trying to let on.

“Why are you here, Tasha?”

“Because I care,” was her answer, spoken softly yet firmly, as if she was challenging you to oppose her. But you let her.

You let her slide down, lay her arm over you. You let her lay a kiss on your forehead, hold you while you slept, fend off the screams of the departed so your dreams didn’t turn into nightmares. And just before you finally dozed off, getting the rest you’d been deprived of for days, you murmured something so quiet she could barely hear it. She’d never forget it.

“Ever since I joined the Avengers, I’m always waiting for someone to leave. Someone getting hurt, getting killed. They’ll leave one way or another and I won’t be able to get them back. I’m always on edge. But you make me feel safe, I think.”

“Tasha, you know that’s not true at all. Please,” you tried walking towards her again with one trembling hand outstretched, just to get her to put down the bottle, just to pull her into your arms as you tried to physically show her just how much you really did love her, just to do anything.

She backed away.

It hit you then; you weren’t going to get her back. Not now, at least. Nothing you could say, nothing you could do, could get her to listen to you at this moment.

“Just leave me alone,” she whispered, as if she could read your mind. You always thought the two of you were connected in some way. Maybe she could tell what you were thinking.

But it seemed the connection stopped there. She couldn’t understand how your feet were glued to the floor, how your heart stopped for the umpteenth time that hour, how your eyes scoured any and every part of her for want of some sign that things would be okay. She gave you nothing but a renewed hardening of her gaze, as if she had just remembered her days as one of the world’s most formidable assassins.

“Fine. I’ll leave.” And just like that, she was gone. It didn’t matter that she almost stumbled over the leg of a chair, or how you got an extra strong whiff of vodka as she passed by. What mattered was that she was gone.

---

Natasha got you balloons, filled you with joy and love as if you were a child at the center of attention during their birthday party. And you, distracted by all the other decorations that surrounded you, had let them go, the strings slipping out of your grip and floating to unreachable heights.

You had let her go.

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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smutbymia · 4 years

Note

classmate jeno x reader with enemies to lovers please 🥺

There were a million and one reasons why you couldn’t stand Jeno:

1. he’s an asshole

2. he’s the student body president for the second year in a row (you lost twice)

3. he’s a popular rich kid

4. he’s smart, athletic, AND good looking (I mean seriously... who is that lucky?)

Just to list a few.

You went to school together all your lives and it somehow felt like each year he got more and more irritating. This year is your last year and you promised yourself you wouldn’t let whatever ridiculous rivalry you and Jeno had ruin it. And so far you had done a good job of keeping that promise until this very moment.

School had ended for the day, marking the completion of the first week of your senior year. You were reaching for a pen that dangled from a string next to a sign up sheet when you felt the warm skin of another hand brush against yours. You raised your head planning to mutter a quick apology to the person until you locked eyes with that bastard Jeno. The soft expression on your face immediately went icy as did his.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you spat at him, the pen lingering in your hand. Jeno plucked it from between your fingers and wrote his name on the sign up sheet. Your eyes went wide and he dropped the pen, letting it hang from its string once more before turning to you and stepping forward.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he towered over you with his height.

You groaned, stomping your feet before whining “You’re already president, why do you have to join yearbook too?”

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Because I need more clubs for my college application.”

Your eyes shot daggers into his. You picked up the dangling pen and scribbled your name under his on the list before turning on your heels and walking into the open classroom next to you. You emerged from the room an hour later, expressionless. You pinched yourself, hoping that today was just an awful nightmare. Person after person left the room, walking past you until the hall went quiet with the exception of a few voices that lingered further down the school hall as people slowly made their way out.

Things had gotten just slightly worse. When choosing the president for the Yearbook club, you and Jeno ended up in a deadlocked vote -- thus encouraging Mr. Park, the faculty member in charge to come up with the brilliant idea of electing you both to share the presidency. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had to be in the same club. Now the two of you would be spending basically the entire year together working on such an important project.

“Im not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me,” you repeated to yourself quietly as you slowly walked towards the nearest exit, in what felt like a daze.

“That is quite the mantra,” teased Jeno. He had left the classroom last after talking with Mr. Park and caught up to you at some point. You jumped at the sound of his voice.

“What do you want now?” you groaned.

Jeno stepped in front of you blocking your path.

“Does it look like I want to be president with you? I’m being mature about it because it’s what everyone else wanted so you should stop acting like such a brat,” he spat.

“You’re calling ME a brat? How ironic,” you scoffed, “You’re already in a ton of different clubs and hold multiple presidencies. What else could you possibly need for your college application? You could even buy your way in if you wanted to.”

Jeno froze at your final sentence. You continued the assault of words. “You know what your problem is? You can’t stand to lose,” you said, standing toe to toe with him. Jeno chuckled under his breath before bending slightly so that his face was hovering over your face.

“You know what your problem is, princess? You’re okay with losing unless it’s to me,” he began, “You may still be royalty but that doesn’t mean you are anywhere near as powerful as I am,” he said as he straightened himself back up, walking backwards as he spoke. He tapped on one of the series of pins fastened to his school uniform jacket and you dropped your gaze to see what he was gesturing to -- it was a golden line drawing of a king’s crown. You locked eyes one last time before he turned around and stormed out of the school, leaving you standing alone in the empty corridor, blood rushing through your body with your fists balled up at your sides.

That night you returned home, diving right into your study routine and getting an early start on some assignments to distract yourself from the awful day you were having. You had just gotten comfortable in bed when your phone buzzed with new notifications. You leaned over to squint at the bright screen.

JENO: It’s Jeno

JENO: School tomorrow. 5:30pm.

You groaned before reaching for the device to type out a reply.

Y/N: How did you get my number?

JENO: I’m the student body president. I can do anything I want.

JENO: Just be there we have work to do.

You rolled your eyes at his response before locking your phone and drifting off to bed.

The next day flew by the way Saturday’s typically did. You had breakfast with your family before heading out for a jog and coming home to do some workouts on youtube in your bedroom before taking some time to study and do some yearbook club work. When that evening finally rolled around you threw on some black biker shorts and a comfy oversized black graphic tee with some rock bands logo printed on the front before putting your hair up into a bun.

Your school uniform was very preppy looking and you had to keep up appearances so every other part of your appearance had to be up to the same standard everyday. This resulted in you dressing quite “girly” so you enjoyed being able to dress down on the weekends when you weren’t out socializing.

Once you were done getting ready you made your way over to the school. According to Jeno, he had both keys and permission for the both of you to get some work done despite it being a Saturday. A security guard was parked outside by the gates when you arrived and you held up your yearbook club pass before he gave you a quick nod then immediately returned to watching some sports game on his phone screen and eating a sandwich.

When you finally entered the school and got to the Yearbook/Media club lounge, you found Jeno leaning back in a computer chair as he clicked away at the mouse with his eyes glued to the monitor. He didn’t hear you when you entered because of the headphones he had covering his ears. He was dressed down too. He sported grey sweatpants, and a white t-shirt and his black hair looked slightly damp as the strands clumped together slightly and rested against his forehead. He nodded his head to music, and tapped his free fingers against the desk he was seated at.

When you stepped further into the room he spun in his chair to face you. Jeno’s eyes scanned the entirety of your body before he slipped the headphones down to his neck and spoke.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your preppy headband, all that makeup, and those stupid earrings you always wear,” he muttered.

Okay, low blow. The downside to wearing school uniforms is that you lose a lot of your individuality, and the school rules limit what you can and cannot wear. In fact, students had to fight for the right to accessorize until the ban was lifted. You personally enjoyed wearing tons of different earrings from hoops, to waterfalls and of course you felt a nice headband would draw together your academia look. Both were your signatures and makeup was just a given at such a fancy school.

“I’d insult you back but honestly you look a lot less annoying when you’re not wearing that preppy uniform jacket filled with pins and patches,” you snapped back.

“Whatever, I never said it was meant to be an insult,” he mumbled before gesturing for you to come look at his computer screen.

“I’ve been working on the first draft for the welcome week pages. I think we should follow this layout and theme for the rest of the yearbook. I’m submitting it to Mr. Park,” said Jeno.

You looked over the screen as Jeno waited for your feedback. “I like my version better,” you said after a few minutes.

“Your version? Let’s see it then,” he urged. You took a USB keychain that hung with the rest of your keys out of your bag and connected it to the computer before leaning over Jeno and pulling up the file. He shifted his chair backwards to give you room, and sat back as he admired you from behind. It wasn’t until you spoke to him again that you realized what he was doing.

“How does it look?” you asked as the document loaded onto the screen.

“Real good...” he said as his voice dropped an octave. You turned your head to face him, catching him with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyes still set on your backside before he drew them up to meet your gaze and flashing you a cheeky smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons.

“Stop being a perv and come look,” you said sternly as you changed your position, lowering yourself to your knees by the monitor. Jeno scooted his chair forward again before looking up at your work. Within seconds he had a series of critical comments spilling from his mouth thus triggering a heated argument between the two of you.

“You know what? I’m tired of going back and forth with you. Let’s just send both to Mr. Park and see which one he likes best,” he challenged. You were both on your feet now and standing toe to toe like you did yesterday during your face off.

“Fine,” you accepted. Jeno sent the files off and the two of you drifted off into other work. You were both working in the dark room, developing some film, when you heard the faint sound of an email notification ring out from the monitor in the room next door. You and Jeno immediately looked at each other before frantically wrapping up your work and rushing to the computer.

The two of you were huddled closely by the screen when Jeno clicked on the email to reveal its contents. You both silently read the screen before you were overcome with disappointment

Mr. Park: Hey President’s. Both look great and would work perfectly with this years Yearbook but if you want my personal opinion, I think I’m leaning more towards Jeno’s! Great work so far and kudos for being so productive on a Saturday! Reach out if you need anything.

You groaned as you stood back up. Jeno chuckled next to you.

“Congratulations, you win again,” you snapped at him. He was so caught off guard by your tone that his smile fell from his face immediately and was quickly replaced by a smug expression.

“Is that all that matters to you?” he asked raising his voice, “winning?”

You were toe to toe for the third time now and it was really starting to get on your nerves because Jeno was built and tall and something about him looking down on you made this stupid position even more annoying for you.

“One thing! You couldn’t just let me have this one thing!” you yelled back.

“Oh... my... GOD. You are unbearable!” Jeno groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“You want to know why I couldn’t let you have this one thing?” he started, leaning down closer to your face. He was inches from you now and his breath danced across your lips when he spoke.

“Because... you’re such a fucking brat. Every time you whine and complain all I can think about is filling up this pretty mouth so I don’t have to hear your voice anymore,” he said through gritted teeth, reaching his hand up to your chin.

“And your face... the look on your face every time i beat you at something or take something away from you... the way your eyes get big and teary, and the way you pout your lips like you’re doing right now” he continued, running his index finger across your bottom lip.

“Nothing turns me on more than taming you like this,” he whispered. Your body shivered under his touch. You were fuming on the inside at his words. They hurt. Yet you were also feeling things you had never felt before. Your eyes scanned Jeno’s face, along his lips and eyes and his jawline. Your nipples hardened underneath the cotton material of your shirt. Jeno noticed. You fought back tears of frustration as one slipped down your cheek, cursing yourself for being so turned on at a moment like this.

“Don’t cry, baby girl,” Jeno muttered as he took his free hand to wipe away at the tear as his other hand cradled your cheek. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides and you stood frozen in your spot.

“You’ve been so worried about me ruining you, but maybe that’s exactly what you need to get rid of that attitude...hmm?” he murmured.

“I-I hate you,” you sputtered out, sounding more whiney than angry. Jeno let out a breath of air as the corner of his mouth turned up into a brief smile. He stepped closer to you and you stepped back until you were trapped against a table.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled as he hovered his lips dangerously close to yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. You broke eye contact with him as your gaze settled on his lips. You subconsciously licked your own as you blinked away the remainder of the dampness in your eyes.

You didn’t notice the way you gravitated towards his lips like a magnet until he leaned away from you slightly and your lips chased after his -- not letting the distance grow too much. Your eyes were still glued to his lips which had formed into a smug grin when you noticed how you had chased after his lips like a needy girl just as you felt the first wave of heat rush to your face.

“Just as I thought...” he muttered as one of his hands dropped to your waist and you felt him tighten his grip ever so slightly. Jeno ran his hand down the side of your body, trailing his fingers along your thighs before running his hands back up again -- this time gripping the bare skin of your waist underneath your graphic tee.

You sucked in air when his warm hands came in contact with your skin. His eyes were glued to your face and his expression showed a slight hint of darkness. Jeno gripped your waist with both hands firmly before suddenly lifting you off the floor to sit on the edge of the table you had been trapped against.

You let out a gasp as your butt landed on the cool surface, leaving you seated with Jeno standing between your legs. He bridged the gap between you by stepping closer and pulling you by your hips -- until every part of you was pressed against him. Your hands flew up to his chest to stop you from literally crashing into his chiseled torso.

You accidentally let out a breathy moan when your crotches met -- feeling Jeno pressed against your center, leaving only the thin material of your biker shorts and your undies between your bodies. Jeno bit his bottom lip in response and rolled his lips once more, making you whimper and sending your hands sliding from his chest down to his waist. You hesitated but your hand placement was a dead giveaway that you wanted more friction. Jeno pulled at your hips one more time as he met your center with another stroke. You felt wetness begin to pool between your legs and tightened your grip on his waist. This time it was you who pulled him forward but he froze just before your bodies could properly connect again as you desperately tried to rut yourself against him.

“Look at me,” he ordered. Your gaze immediately locked with his, eyes wide and lips pouted, a bit frustrated that he had stopped moving.

“Good girl... Didn’t think you’d listen to me so well the first time,” he said, rewarding you with another roll of his hips. You groaned at the contact.

“F-first time?” you question, rolling your hips to meet his as his breathing became more unstable.

“It’s gonna be a long year, baby,” he started, “We have to work together, so it’s my responsibility to calm you down when you get all bratty.”

There was something really sexy about the way you both managed to continuously grind against each other in pure ecstasy while having a full blown conversation, speaking between moans and grunts.

“I’m n-not a brat, you’re just an asshole,” you snapped as you crossed your legs at your ankles, pulling him against you even harder.

Jeno cursed under his breath at the friction as his hands reached down to grip at your ass before mumbling, “only person who thinks i’m an asshole is you,” he taunted, “you on the other hand are widely known for acting like a complete...”

You interrupted him with another roll of your hips, as a groan slipped from his lips. “Choose your next words carefully, Jeno,” you warned.

he chuckled before finishing his almost forgotten sentence, “princess... that’s what you’re known for. For acting like such a fucking princess,” he groaned.

Jeno wasn’t entirely wrong. You did strive for excellence when it came to your common interests in academics and extracurriculars. In fact, a pet peeve of yours was the fact that you and Jeno were always compared to each other, with most of the school being shocked that two people who were so alike seemed to always be at war with each other. In everyone else's eyes you were both one in the same.

Though you were respected, you weren’t delusional. There were definitely people who weren’t fond of you, but you had chalked it up to mere jealousy that was inevitable for a person who excelled as much as you did to experience. Jeno must have noticed your mind wandering because he lifted your chin slightly to direct your attention back to him muttering a soft “hey...” as he snaked his free hand up your shirt, hands brushing against your bare breast.

You moaned when you felt his fingers tease your sensitive nipple. “Whats wrong with being a princess? People only call me that because they’re jealous,” you questioned. You had definitely begun to soak through your shorts, as you watched a faint wet patch begin to show on Jeno’s joggers. You gripped at the collar of his shirt as he dropped his head down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all over the delicate skin.

“F-fuck,” you groaned at the contact, hips jerking.

“Exactly,” jeno said, lifting his head to lock his eyes with you again. “They’re jealous of how powerful you are... but that’s exactly what turns me on,” he confessed.

He ran his hands along your cheek, leaning in to a whisper. “Do you know how hard it makes me when I think about turning the most powerful girl in school into a powerless mess?” Jeno tugged at one of your nipples as he finally drew your mouth into his for a kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, overcome with pleasure.

Jeno deepened the kiss and for once you just allowed him to take control. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny that his energy was intoxicating and yes, maybe you were a little bit jealous of him for the same reasons as others were jealous of you.

How could you not be attracted to someone who was as driven and talented and equally, if not even more powerful than you were in that regard. As much as you butt heads there was no doubt that you were very much a good fit for each other-- if all the fighting and competition were set aside, that is. But this didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the way he was making you feel. It was as if though all those years of tension had finally bubbled over.

Jeno’s tongue swirled against yours sloppily, just the way you liked. Even your bodies seemed to be on the same page. He pulled away from you after a few minutes of making out -- leaving a trail of spit hanging from your lips to his as he lifted you off the table and carried you over to one of the couches in the lounge area of the room.

The sun had already begun to set ages ago, and only the faint hint of the computer screens you had been working on were illuminating the room. Jeno sat on the couch with you straddling his lap as he pulled his shirt over his head. You did the same and soon enough you were both left topless. Jeno wasted no time drawing you towards him and trapping a nipple between his lips as he palmed your other breast. You arched your back into him letting his name spill from your mouth.

He kissed his way back up your chest as he pulled you in for a kiss.

“Mmm.. Need all of this gone,” he said as he pulled at your shorts. You got up from his lap, and he immediately began to peel off the remainder of your clothing, dragging the material down the length of your body.

His breath hitched as he stripped you of your shorts to reveal your white cotton thong. He brushed his fingers softly against the material before mumbling to himself, “cute...”

His fingers ran against your slit, feeling the damp material under his touch and making you grow weak in the legs.

“You’re so wet for me already... Such a good girl,” he said. Hearing words of praise fall from his lips like that made you feel so soft. For some reason, compliments hit different when they came from him. Your eyes drifted to the growing bulge in Jeno’s joggers.

Your mouth fell open with the sudden desire to be filled with as much of him as you could fit as you slowly fell to your knees. Jeno raised his eyebrows while he watched you intently. You tapped your fingers against his knee, “off, please” you said as you pulled at the strings in the waistband of his bottoms.

“Fuck, do you know how good you look on your knees for me?” he said as he lifted his hips to get rid of the rest of his clothing. Your eyes went wide when he finally settled back into his seat and began stroking his length while analyzing your expression.

For once you couldn’t blame him for the arrogant expression on his face. He had every right to be proud of what he was packing.

“Ugh, is every part of you perfect?” you complained as you scooted closer to him. You dragged your fingernails along his thighs as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth again. Your fingers danced dangerously close to his member as he slowed the movement of his hand before letting go of himself.

You wrapped your hand around him, shocked at how much bigger he looked between your fingers. He throbbed and raised his hips slightly, thrusting up into your first. “Needy...” you teased, looking up at him as you giggled softly.

“Y/n” he whimpered, a bit embarrassed at the sounds leaving his mouth now that you had momentarily gained the upper-hand. Jeno watched as you pressed your tongue to the slit of his cock before popping the head right into your mouth and sinking down around his length in one go, bottoming out.

Your lips were wrapped around the very base of his cock when you moaned around him, making your entire mouth vibrate.

“Holy shit,” he moaned loudly as he reached out a hand to draw circles on your cheeks while you worked at his length. You lifted your mouth all the way back, as his hips jerked forward again, fucking into your mouth as another whimper fell from his mouth. Your eyes were locked in his and you couldn’t believe how different he looked. His hard expression had gone soft. You had definitely managed to strip him momentarily of his power.

“So naughty - where’d you learn - to use your mouth like this- huh, princess?” he asked between thrusts. Your eyes watered but you continued to let him use your mouth as you watched him grow more desperate.

You removed him from your mouth with a pop as you pumped at his length fast. Jeno cursed under his breath before letting his head fall back on the couch for a moment.

“Gonna c-cum,” he warned.

“Look at me,” you ordered and Jeno obeyed.

You locked eyes as you delivered the final pumps, and waited with your mouth open and your tongue out as you felt him throb underneath your grip before spurts of his warmth shot up -- spilling onto your tongue and dripping from your lips down your chin. The remainder of his cum had spilled over onto your fingers, and you released him to pop them into your mouth to clean them off.

You were aimlessly licking and sucking at your fingers, caught up in your own world when you noticed Jeno staring at you, chest rising and falling with a surprised expression on his face.

“Hmm?” you hummed as you titled your head, wondering if everything was okay. Jeno, who had just cum harder than he ever had in his life was in pure disbelief at how you sat so calmly and managed to look so sweet and innocent with his cum dripping down your chin as you suckled at your own fingers. The sight alone made him start to grow hard almost instantly.

After a few seconds he snapped out of it, leaning forward and cupping your cheek in his hand like he had been all night.

“D-don’t think I’m letting you win that easily,” he muttered. He motioned for you to get off your knees, and he drew you in for a kiss as he repositioned you both on the couch so he would be on top of you. You seemed to have sparked the competitive fire within him.

Jeno hadn’t expected you to switch on him like that and he was determined to follow through on his promise of ruining you.

He trailed kisses down your body, skipping your pelvic region to drop kisses along your thighs as he peeled off your panties.

“I’m sorry but I won’t be going easy on you... not after what you just did,” he warned as he pushed apart your thighs. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your center and it drove you insane.

Jeno carried out the first lick along the length of your slit and it was enough to have you moaning and immediately roping your hands in his hair. You had been turned on for so long that even the slightest touch felt like heaven.

He flicked his tongue against your entrance, muttering to himself about how great you taste, teasing you as your clit yearned for attention. He worked at your flesh, dipping his tongue in between the folds of your center before prodding at your hole and slipping his tongue inside. You tried to move your hips against his mouth but he firmly held you in place.

“Jeno, p-please,” you pleaded. He smiled against your skin as he continued to dip his tongue into your hole, driving you closer to the edge but still not quite getting you there.

“Whats wrong, princess?” he taunted before running his tongue up the length of your slit, once again avoiding your clit. You whimpered, reaching your hand down to feel yourself before he roped his fingers in yours to stop you. He lightly flicked his tongue against your clit, just enough to send electricity running through your body but still not enough to please you entirely.

“I want to hear you beg for it,” he said as he blew air softly against your center, the sensitivity was overwhelming. He planted a soft kiss directly on top of your clit that would have melted your heart a bit if you weren’t so violently horny at this point. So instead, your hips jerked against the plushy feeling of his pursed lips. Jeno chuckled at your body’s reaction, before repeating the action -- drawing the same result.

After the third peck landed on your clit, and the third jerk of your hips sent you into a frenzy, you simply couldn’t resit any longer.

Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes, and words spilled endlessly from your mouth. “Please, Jeno.. fuck, please let me cum. I’m d-desperate,” you confessed as your hips raised off of the couch, and he pulled away teasingly watching you squirm beneath him.

“How would you like to cum, baby?” he asked.

“I need to feel you inside of me,” you pleaded before adding a soft “please” to the end of your sentence.

You watched Jeno position himself at your entrance before stopping.

“i’m on the pill, we don’t need --,” you assured him, reading his expression.

He groaned straight away, interrupting you before you could finish as his mind drifted to places he was too ashamed to admit. He ran his head along your slit, making you twitch before he entered you with a quick snap of his hips, bottoming out immediately and forcing a scream from your lips.

You weren’t sure what to expect from Jeno but it definitely wasn't this. He angled himself perfectly, propping you up so he was hitting all the right places as he pounded into you relentlessly. Within a single minute you were both racing towards your orgasms.

“I’m close,” he murmured as he planted a kiss to your lips.

“Me too,” you answered, “one last thing...” you said as he continued to thrust into you at a delicious pace.

“Hmm.. what is it, baby?” he asked. You locked eyes with him, feeling quite shy at your next words.

“F-fill me up, please. I want you to cum inside of me, really really badly,” you whimpered and with a final groan at your unexpected demand, you felt Jeno’s warmth spill all over your insides, sending you right over the edge and leaving your insides contracting against him. The two of you remained exactly how you were for awhile.

Jeno was the first to move after catching his breath. He slowly slipped out of you with a breathy moan before lowering himself towards your center and softly licking at your folds even though they were covered in his own cum.

“Shit, i’m sorry... I barely made it to the end of your sentence before letting go,” he chuckled as he lapped at your skin.

“JENO” you shrieked as an unexpected orgasm rushed through you again when he flattened his tongue against your entire slit and you found yourself moving against his mouth in seek of more pleasure. You pushed his head away as you clenched your legs together feeling a mixture of both pleasure and agony run through your body.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry... last one, i promise” he laughed as he moved to your face to plant soft kisses on your cheeks and a peck on your lips. It took you a while to come back from your high.

it was a bit late when you guys had finally cleaned up and locked the school back up. Jeno had driven you home in his new Volvo which he tried to convince you was a totally normal back to school gift, and had texted you for the remainder of the night about things like yearbook, and homework. It almost seemed as though what had happened was merely a dream.

It wasn't until you were back at school on Monday that you realized that going back to normal was going to be impossible. You and Jeno still bickered over Yearbook decisions and didn’t hesitate to challenge each other during class debates but things had changed. Every annoying exchange you had simply fuelled your desire more.

You’d get into intense match ups only to find yourselves coming up with excuses about Yearbook club to sneak out of class for quickies in Jeno’s car. He even had his way with you more times than you could count across his desk in the office he was awarded after becoming student body president. At first it was fun -- your adrenaline would pump at the thought of sneaking around so much but then things slowly started to shift again.

Soon, you would spend afternoons at his freaking massive mansion of a family home where you guys would go over yearbook work. When you didn’t have yearbook work to do, he began inviting you over for study sessions, and to do homework -- all of which would end in amazing sex. Soon those invites extended to regular hangouts for no particular reason but to enjoy each others company and you found yourself drifting away from casual hookups to something that felt heavier -- more serious.

The final nail in the coffin was when Jeno let your little secret slip after getting so worked up in a class discussion. You had been discussing the symbolism of a film you had just watched for an english class when you began to clash.

“Baby, that makes no sense,” he mumbled after you had shared your opinion. He was doodling aimlessly on his notebook. The entire class went wide eyed, and a few gasps were let out.

“Actually, it makes perfect s--” you began before freezing. You had just noticed his mistake, and everyone had noticed yours which was how the pet name didn’t seem to phase you at all. Luckily Mr. Park quickly moved on to another topic as you both sat cursing yourselves silently.

After the final bell rang for the day, you locked eyes with Jeno.

“Idiot,” you mouthed. He offered you a sheepish grin in return as he approached your desk.

“I’m sorry, it slipped,” he began, “but now that every knows..” Jeno, slipped his arm around you as you entered the hallway. Most students minded their business, which you were grateful for while others stared and whispered.

“I have a student body meeting for the next hour... you have debate team right?,” he said as you approached an intersecting series of hallways. You nodded.

“I’ll meet you outside then, and we can go to mine to go over the photographer schedules for this months events,” Jeno said.

“Sounds good,” you responded before turning on your heels to head in the opposite direction. Jeno’s grip on your wrist had him tugging you back towards him.

He stood above you with an annoyed expression on his face, pouting. He pulled your face close to his, mumbling about you being heartless before he planted a lingering kiss on your lips, of course drawing the attention of onlookers. Your cheeks were on fire when he pulled back, leaving you flustered and a bit embarrassed as he shot you a final wink before checking his watch and rushing off to his meeting. You turned around to head to debate club, wondering how exactly your biggest enemy had turned into the sweetest, most caring lover you could have ever asked for.

#tell me your thoughts please😣#wtf i wish i was in this fic #jeno scenarios #jeno smut #jeno imagines #jeno angst #lee jeno #nct jeno #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct au #switch!jeno #nct imagines #nct scnearios #nct fanfiction #NCT Dream Scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fanfic

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nymphigeon · 3 years

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From me, to you || 07

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.5k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): Mentions of hybrid abuse, swearing.

♤ A/N: Surprise! I'm really sorry it took me this long, but I finally found the time and drive to write again :) Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you’ll give it to him.

Series masterlist

06 07

"What do you mean this hybrid doesn't exist?"

Her eyes are wavering with an unspoken fear, perhaps caused by the bitterness my questions holds. I'm not happy, and she knows.

“It’s just, the chance that a dangerous breed such as the tiger hybrid would escape our system is basically zero..” The gaze she held on the computer screen unsurely moves my way. My expression must've instilled another layer of anxiety to the already existing one, as her mouth abruptly stops moving and her pupils dilate.

“Go on, explain.” The tone of my voice softens a bit as I notice her visible discomfort worsening. Even if there is no way that I’ll get any information from this place regarding Taehyung and his owner, I would still like to know why they’re both not showing up here.

Eun-ji takes a few deep breaths to stabilize her voice. As she does her posture slowly relaxes just a little and her eyes lose some of the nervousness they held before. “Because the first ‘successful’ tiger hybrid ran rampant after killing their creator, anyone who still breeds or creates them is being watched very closely by us, as well as by some other institutions.”

Perhaps it’s my lack of reaction that causes her to trail off at the end. Though I’m not judging her or her story, unlike she may think. To encourage her to continue, I give her a nod, tilting my head to show interest.

“The regular citizen isn’t even allowed to have one, needing special training to handle them. It’s like that for most hybrids that find their origins in wild animals. Creating tiger hybrids obviously requires a lot of knowledge when it comes to playing with genes and breeding them…. Well there are only three organization that are authorized to do so. All the resulting hybrids are registered and chipped.”

The explanation, which turns out to be a lengthy one, gets broken by a shuddering breath leaving her lips. She composes herself, clinging on to the little confidence she has left in her line of work to speak about the rest of her clarification.

“Of course people have tried to do it themselves, but those d.i.y operations have always ended in disappointment. If not taken proper care of, with substances only a board certified hybrid doctor can provide you, the pregnancy will fail. These are no easy practices they are dealing with.”

After the girls’ last words I give myself some time to think, letting a silence full of tension fill the room. It must be obvious that my mind is somewhere else at the moment, as the other girl in the room does her best to stay quiet. I don’t need much time however, my thoughts having quickly rearranged themselves as they were trained to do.

“So what you’re saying is, since tiger hybrids are hard to ‘create’, if you will, there are only a few people who actually manage to bring them to life. And so those few people are kept under close watch, as are the hybrids they successfully wake, am I correct?”

Eun-ji nods affirmatively, clearly happy that I seem to understand the situation. “So there is absolutely no way that someone without authorization has had a decent attempt at either genetically merging a human together with a tiger or getting a tiger hybrid pregnancy to be successful?”

Perhaps there might be a bit of scepticism in the question I asked, as her attitude immediately changes into a defensive one. “There is not! Whatever hybrid you’re searching for either gave you a false identity or is not a tiger hybrid at all, which would seem rather unlikely. I told you they get chipped right? Why not go look into that.”

“He doesn’t have one. We already had a hospital take a look at him, they didn’t find anything. ” The statement seems to shock her, the gears in her head instantly turning as to find an answer to this riddle. She however can’t seem to get one.

“They can be removed, can they not? They’re just under the skin. If someone decided to just cut it out they could. Terrifying, but plausible. Either that or one of your faithful authorized employees has been leaking information to outsiders.”

This is where Eun-ji seems to give up. Her shoulders sagging and a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “There would still be the problem of the missing equipment, test subjects, practice… How would you even get hold of fertilized human eggs to play around with? But I guess that wouldn’t be totally impossible. As for cutting it out… There would be a noticeable scar. The implants are always put in the same place, it wouldn’t be hard to miss.”

I make a mental note stating to ask Taehyung about all of this when I get back. If anyone knows how he got onto this world it would be him. “Is there a possibility that you could have someone look into it?” The girl nods in defeat, paying more attention to the ground than to anything else. “I’ll see if I can get someone on the case. I’ll have them contact you if we know anything.”

After those words she turns around in her chair, facing the monitor that had already put itself into sleep, and turns it off. Taking a notepad out of the drawer to her left, she quickly writes something down with the pen from her breast pocket. “I’ll get on it right away. Would you like me to walk you back to the exit?”

I shake my head. “No It’s okay, I’ll find my way back. Thank you for cooperating.” Eun-ji gives me a small smile, followed by a bow and walks out of the room taking the note with her, presumably immediately keeping herself busy with the extra work. Not wanting to waste any time I copy her, walking myself back into the direction we came from. Turns out it proves quite easy to find the exit by myself.

It’s already far past dinnertime when I make it back to the office. Not many of my colleagues have remained in their seats, most of them opting for a nice meal with their families. The few that have stayed behind are mostly known to live alone, quite like myself.

I quietly knock on my supervisor’s door, but when no response emerges from within the room, I can safely deduce that she too has already returned home. “I’ll have to write her a report about today later..” I mutter to myself, before stepping away from the door and instead heading to the cells at the back.

Technically the arrest period had already ended for Taehyung, as the law wouldn’t allow us to keep him locked up for any longer without any charges being held against him. His cell however technically was never locked and so even now, he is free to go wherever he wants. Though it didn’t change the fact that he still has no place to go to.

“Good evening. Had anything to eat yet?” He just chose to stay here and we accepted it. “Oh, hello! Yes, that tall handsome bulky man gave me something earlier, I can’t remember his name. He said something about it ‘being the best shit in town’.”

I slightly giggle at his quote, knowing immediately who it belongs to. “That definitely sounds like something Namjoon would say. What did he give you?”

Taehyung looks a lot better than he did yesterday. The stress of the interrogation seems to have completely worn off, instead traded for the sweet bouncy personality he used to show around me.

“Umm it was something in the shape of a circle and it had meat all over it… Oh! I think he called it a pizza? It was delicious!”

“You’ve never had pizza before?” The words leave my mouth before I actually get the chance to process them, causing me to instantly regret ever even opening my mouth. These days are stressful enough for him as they are, he doesn’t need a painful reminder of the life he never got to live on top of that.

The question doesn’t seem to hit him as hard as I though it would though. In fact, his demeanour doesn’t seem to change at all. Although sadly, it doesn’t make his next words any less painful. “Nope! When I first got adopted all they would feed me was wet cat food. It wasn’t great, but at least I got my three meals a day. The foster family I stayed at after my first owners mysteriously disappeared didn’t actually have the money to even take proper care of themselves, so at that time all I would get was whatever was left of their dinner that day, if there was even any left. It was mostly just greens. The lack of meat made me real sick at the time.”

He pauses talking for a second to look up at my face through the metal bars. The content look on his face quickly changes to one of worry once he catches my eyes. It’s no mystery why, I know I look at him pitifully. Even if he may not wish for my concern, I am only human. I can perfectly hide it when I need to, but this is not one of those cases.

“There it is again, that sad look on your face…” He sits up straight on the side of his bed to fully observe me, a tilt of his head giving him away. I send a sad chuckle his way as I reach for the door of his enclosure, inviting myself into the small space with him. He doesn’t object.

“Is it that obvious?” It was meant more as a way to lighten the mood, not as an actual question that needs answering. He still does however, giving me a simple slow nod. “You don’t need to feel bad for me.”

“Someone has to. You deserve at least that much.”

There’s a chair neatly placed under a small desk in the room. It used to be quite lively, with all kinds of bright colours blending into each other. It was a little positive additive into the dark grey room, but after all the anger that has been acted out on it, it no longer has that same shine.

I pull the chair out to place myself upon it, straddling the seat while I rest my arms on top of the back rest. Facing the tiger I use my arms as a pillow to lean my head on, making myself comfortable on the creaking furniture.

“Say, Taehyung, do you remember anything from when and where you were formed?”

He seems slightly taken aback at first, though quickly regains his composure. He also doesn’t immediately answer, first taking some time to think before coming back to me. “I was born a hybrid to two purebred tiger hybrids. They did their best trying to care for me in the little time we got to spend together, but seeing as it happened on a breeding farm getting to spend time with my parents wasn’t the plan. I got sold off pretty quickly, as soon as I learned to hold my first few full conversations.”

“Do you… Would you happen to know what happened to the farm? To your parents?” I fail to hide my apprehensiveness, needing too much space to form a careful approach. This shouldn’t feel like an interrogation to him, I never even announced one. There is little reason for him to answer me, the vital information from his side has already been given anyway. Nonetheless, even though I probably shouldn’t be doing this right now, I can’t just miss this opportunity.

“I heard my adoptive family talking about how the place was burnt down a while later. Most likely the police had caught a hold of it and they had to delete their left behind evidence. Both building and hybrids.”

Despite talking about the death of his parents, he seems to tell the story with relative ease. Probably not having much connection with the far past, his brain too young to truly hold on to the memory of them.

“They were successful too, as the case got dropped faster than lightning. It wasn’t long before the general public forgot about it too, believing it was just another misunderstanding. Besides, hybrid lives weren’t as important anyway.”

The amount of rights hybrids had when they were first created back in the day were close to zero, only strictly being seen as objects to show off whatever possible wealth one may have had. For a while there was even a popular theory going around that hybrids didn’t actually have the ability to feel any kind of emotion or pain. The genetic puzzle wouldn’t allow for it, as it had been tampered with to an extreme extent. This only built on the carelessness shown towards them, slowly chipping away at their sanity.

Although the rumours were wrong, they came from a place of truth. Facial expressions were rare for hybrids, as was the ability to speak. Most of them couldn’t even keep up with regular humans, exhaustion quickly taking over the little anger they could show. Scientists hadn’t yet quite figured out how to perfectly combine the pieces of genetic code and so hybrids were more like living dolls in the eyes of evil humans. Having no voice to object and barely any means to actually hurt anyone, it wasn’t much of a surprise the selfish nature in humans came to rise.

Luckily, or depending on how you look at it, sadly, these first generation hybrids were never able to reproduce. The doll like hybrid features eventually died out with the rise of the newly perfected pieces and the theory was debunked by a group of scientist who actually did care about the hybrids’ wellbeing. Those hybrids had lived through countless punishments, and every single one of them had hurt. A lot.

Right now hybrids in a lot of ways are superior to the rest of us. Having the combined senses of both animal and human alike, society has reluctantly given up on trying to contain them. They are still to be bought and owned, but no longer to be treated like dirt. The smartest of hybrids have even already gotten complete freedom to do as the please, no longer having to be bound to a human to roam freely. However, those unable to pass the close to impossible tests aren’t so lucky.

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

Taehyung gives me a reassuring wave of his hand, effectively trying to lighten the mood, along with a sad smile. It wouldn’t take a trained professional to know he still longs for his parent’s presence, even if he may do well hiding it.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”

That doesn’t make the situation more okay, but I hold my remarks back. For now, that might just be for the best.

Taglist

@suhappysuho @intellectualxprincess @sana-b @littlewolfieposts @nellaphine @the8luvr @deathkat657 @elenaramos1 @namjoonies-dimple

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raging-violets · 2 years

Note

Kiss prompt "…because the world is ending." for Averey and Cisco!! :D

The Flash: Don’t Wanna Miss You Tonight // Prompt // CiscoxAverey (OC)

I got two asks for this in two different times of doing this prompt, so I’m just going to answer it both here. Set during Arrow S4x08, “Legends of Yesterday.” This plays out completely differently in my fic, but upon watching this episode for the very first time, the idea of this moment between the two of them slammed into my head. So, here it is for you all to read! Kiss Prompt | Ask Box

Cisco wrung his hands together, starting to pace back and forth in the quiet office. Over the top of the laptop she was situated behind, Averey watched Cisco as he crossed the room from one side to the other over, and over again. Until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would you bloody sit down?” she blurted out, annoyance filling her voice. Cisco reacted, startled, at the sudden outburst, “You’re driving me crazy! Just sit still.”

Cisco’s eyebrows came towards each other as he turned towards Averey, shooting her a look of frustration. His eyebrows lifted as he angled his gaze towards the back of the computer. “I’m sorry,” he said with an over-the-top smile. He stepped over to the desk she was seated behind, nodding his head towards the keyboard where her thumb repeatedly hit the space bar. “I didn’t mean to get in the way of your peaceful – and not at all annoying - tapping.”

Twisting her mouth to the side, Averey lifted her thumb form the space bar and the continuous rotation of camera angles on her laptop screen stopped. Settling back in her seat, she curled her legs up underneath her. She pressed her elbow onto the arm rest, propping her chin on her closed fist. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Her gaze landed on the slowly counting time code in the bottom right corner of the picture of the warehouse on screen. Any minute now Oliver and Barry would carry out their plan.

“Yeah, sorry,” Cisco said with a heavy sigh. “I’m just...” He lifted his hands and brushed his hair back from his face, “on edge, I guess. We all are. You, me.” He gestured languidly towards the door, “Something’s up with Felicity, and I know Thea’s anxious she’s not there to help Oliver.”

Averey merely nodded, her free hand going to her wrist. She tugged at the strap to her wrist monitor. Dragged a finger around the inside of the band, clearing it of any sweat, trying to loosen how tight it was pressing into her skin. She wanted to be out there fighting, too. Pressing her lips together, she fought the growing urge to break the law even further than she had before. And she wasn’t too keen to disobey a direct order from Oliver; having successfully avoided a verbal lashing from him thus far. Still, not being able to join a fight was hard to sit with.

“Your gauntlets will work,” Averey said to him. “That’s what you’re really worried about, isn’t it?”

Cisco let out an odd laugh. “Yeah, between an immortal sociopath, a guy insisting the girl I’m really into is destined to be with him, and, of course, being the sole reason behind whether or not we all survive this,” he commented with a wry smile, “I guess that could be one thing I’m worried about.”

“Don’t forget the psycho speedster from another Earth dead set on killing Barry,” Averey dryly responded.

Cisco snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “That, too,” he replied. With a groan, he put his arms down onto the desktop, putting his face into his arms.

Averey used her hands to push her chair back from the desk. She got to her feet and circled the desk to lean against the front. She crossed one leg over the other at the ankles and lifted a hand to place a comforting hand on the back of his head. “Mate, you’ve come a long way since holding Snart down with a vacuum cleaner. You’ve saved Barry’s and my bums a million times over since then.” Cisco turned his head to the side and gave her a look of amusement, and silent questioning. Their first run in with Leonard Snart had occurred before she had shown up at S.T.A.R. Labs. “Caitlin told me all about it. If you could handle that, you can handle this. In fact, I reckon there isn’t anything you haven’t handled.”

“Yet, being the operative word?” Cisco asked, pushing himself up into a standing position. He matched her stance, pressing his back against the desk. He crossed one leg over the other, crossed his arms over his chest. Sighed through his nose.

“No,” Averey said simply, shaking her head back and forth. Cisco’s eyebrows came towards each other. “I know you can do this. And if it doesn’t work this time, mate, no one’s going to look at you any differently. Or blame you. Even at your worst, Cisco, you’re still loads better than anyone. You deserve to believe in yourself as much as you believe in everyone else. And as much as everyone believes in you, yeah?”

A hint of a smile came to Cisco’s face. “Why does that sound familiar?” he asked.

“It’s what you told me during one of your visits after I was put on house arrest.” Averey turned her head to look at him, finding Cisco already looking back at her. “I don’t always believe that, but I’m trying to.” She lifted one side of her mouth in a hint of a smile. After a moment of silence, she said, “You know, you’re a pretty smart bloke.”

Cisco laughed through his nose. “I don’t always believe that,” he said, repeating her words, earning a quiet laugh from her. “There’s always someone that’ll be smarter than me. Sure, but no one’s better at being you. No one else could do better building what we need to go after Savage. You’re pretty great at what you do.”

“Only ‘pretty great?” Cisco asked with a wry smile. They shared a laugh. “You’re pretty great, too.”

His words were barely out of his mouth when it was drowned out by the rattle of the cup holder on the desk, chair legs and table legs scraping against the floor, and pictures rattling on the walls as the whole room, the whole world started to violently rock and pitch and roll from side to side, from one end of the room to the other.

Glass popped out of the window, sprinkling on the floor.

The computer danced off the desk and struck the ground, keys flying in every direction.

Light bulbs shattered, sending the room into darkness.

Thumps. Bangs. Crashes. Startled shouts from the rest of the team. It all reached their ears in one deafening cacophony as the house around them fell apart. She could sense Cisco still standing near her, and she reached out her hand in the blackness towards him. His fingernails scratched against her fingers as he had reached for her. They blindly grasped for each other until their warm hands connected and they tightly gripped each other’s – suddenly sweaty – hands.

It was the distant blue glow that pulled Averey’s attention towards the broken window. Her free hand on the desk to steady herself, and then sweeping it back and forth in front of her, she crossed the room on shaky legs, pulling an unsteady Cisco along with her. Reaching the window, she braced herself against the frame and squinted out into the night.

The wall of blue light was getting closer and closer the by the second. Face scrunching up, a dull pain settled at the backs of her eyes as the light got brighter and brighter. She lifted a hand to shield herself from the growing lumens. In the flashing of popping power lines, and transformers exploding, she could briefly make out how quicky the world was vaporizing. Chipped away with each flash, and pulse of light.

“Oh my god,” Cisco breathed. He started pulling on her hand, trying to pull Averey away from the window. “We’ve gotta go,” he shouted over the building noise, “We’ve gotta warn the others. We – We…”

“Cisco…”

It’s too late. The words slammed into her head, repeating over and over, joining the rumble and roar of everything crashing down around them until it was all just a wall of noise. Cisco pulled at her again, and she stumbled away from the window.

“Averey!”

She turned to face him, lips parting. Still, no sound came out as his wide, brown eyes searched hers. There wasn’t enough time to He opened and closed his mouth. She could see his mind working at high speed, eyes darting from place to place, before they landed back on her. All the fight relaxed from his body, yet his grip on her hand tightened. Silently telegraphing the sudden intensity she found in his eyes.

Then they were together. Lips crashing together as one kiss led into another, and another. Teeth clicked, noses brushing over the other. Hands gripping. Holding each other tightly, steadying themselves amongst the shaking world. Fingers feverishly burying into skin, trying to hold onto each other as close as they could. Foreheads pressed together they breathed, clutching each other.

Averey took in the warmth in his eyes until a loud crash, the loudest sound she had ever heard sounded. She flinched, squeezed her eyes shut. Blue light danced and flickered, glowing brighter and brighter until it engulfed her. A great shudder and she felt herself jerked away from Cisco before everything was snuffed out in blackness.

Tag List: @foxesandmagic @witchofinterest @ocfairygodmother @itsjustgracy @perfectlystiles @darknightfrombeyond @hogwarts-is-my-wonderland @codenamekryptonite

#darknightfrombeyond #witchofinterest #answered ask #ask #oc: averey moore #averey!the flash #cisco x oc #cisco x averey #CiscAve #rhuben answered #prompt

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angelinasway · 3 years

Text

Regaining Hope

Chapter Eight

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever. Authors Notes: Thank you all so much for being so very supportive. You guys have been absolutely wonderful. Seriously I couldn't ask for a better group of readers. I need to warn you all that this chapter has quite the graphic and gruesome scene in it, so if that's not your thing I highly recommend skipping the part where Clark starts to watch the video. Some major questions answered here. Hope you all enjoy, and keep the reviews coming. Special thanks to my ever amazing beta Hipkarma. She always helps and inspires me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Chapter Eight

Dawn smirked as she saw the caller ID flash. So, Buffy had talked to Wes. That was good. She really didn’t want to have to break into the Watchers Council just because she was nosy and worried for her sister. Buffy hadn’t told her much when they talked yesterday, just that there was some sort of prophecy about her and this Clark guy, which just raised all sorts of red flags for her. Dawn had insisted on seeing a copy of the prophecy and her hackles raised even more when she found out how quiet Wes and Willow were trying to keep this. Looks like big sis came through however, and now it was time to give the man on the other line hell for keeping something this important from her.

“Xand, honey, can you take Abby? Wes is on the phone and it’s time for her nap anyway.” Dawn said, reaching for the phone.

“No!” Her one and a half your old screeched at the top of her lungs, making Dawn cringe. When they coined the phrase, ‘children are your parents secret revenge,’ they weren’t lying. Abigail was just like her too, even in looks.

Xander came out of their shared office, a crooked and amused smile on his lips. “You should know by now not to say that word in front of her,” He said, kissing Dawn on the forehead before reaching out and swooping up their toddler. “Come on Abby,” he said as Dawn answered her call. “Daddy will read you your favorite story.”

“Try to get Joyce down too,” She added, before saying into the phone, “Hello Wes, so good of you to finally call me.”

She heard the groan on the other end of the line and smiled. “How much do you know?”

“That there’s a prophecy about my sister and some uber-powerful guy she’s been spending time with, on your instruction I might add.” Dawn said in a mockingly sweet voice.

She heard him sigh. “Yes, that is all true. Look Dawn, I’m going to send you a copy of the prophecy through your secure fax now. We’ve been able to translate some of it, but there are certain areas where…I don’t think the language is of this world. It’s nothing like we’ve ever seen in any human or demon writings before.”

Dawn got up and walked into the office, a frown on her face. “You mean like interdimensional, there’s gotta be a reference somewhere Wes.”

There was silence over the line and for a second and she thought Wes had hung up. She’d just opened her mouth to see if he was still there, when he finally said, “No Dawn, that’s not what I meant at all.”

Her frown deepened as the first page spat out of the machine. She slid it off the rack and looked at the prophecy. There were several different languages written on the copy, Etruscan, Ancient Sumerian, Ancient Greek, and Latin. At the top were strange symbols unlike anything she’d ever seen before, almost flowing together like cursive. The next page that came out was Wesley and Willow’s translation of that page. She bit her lip, walking over to her desk and went to work making sure what they had translated so far was correct.

“So,” she began casually, “what I’m getting from the first page is that this guy is much farther from home than just another dimension.” She paused, huffing in annoyance as she snootily added,” It was Sun God by the way, not Star God.” She sighed. “Who are you using anyway, Basile?”

“Vonten,” He answered and Dawn rolled her eyes. Of course, he was using that moron’s guide.

“Vonten is an arrogant prick Wes, that book confuses people more than it helps. Burn it, it’s better as kindling. Bachman is the best at Etruscan and Ancient Sumerian, and you already know Ancient Greek and Latin enough not to need a reference.” She said, before frowning as she came to the part about the soulbond. “Wes, what the hell is a soulbond, and why is this referencing my sister and Mr. E.T. having one?”

As Wesley began to explain what they knew so far, Dawn's face began to pale. Oh, this was not of the good. Buffy was gonna wig to the nth degree when she found out.

"Does she know any of this?" Dawn asked, turning around and grabbing more of the pages that were still spitting out of her printer.

"She knows about the bond. I told her this morning." He answered.

"And what, you’re waiting until she gets pregnant before you tell her the rest?" Dawn asked angrily. "You know this is gonna freak her out..."

"Which is why I decided not to tell her." Wes interrupted.

"If you'd let me finish," Dawn snapped, slamming her hand on the desk. "I was going to say this is gonna freak her out, but it would be better if you tell her now." She huffed in frustration. "This just proves how little you guys know my sister. She absolutely will freak and she'll probably fight it at first. Just the idea of her own children having to live the life she has, is not gonna be a happy, joyous moment for her. She's already worried that Joyce or Abby, or maybe even both will be called one day.” Dawn said, before emphasizing her next words, "However, my sister is not stupid, and when push comes to shove, she'll make the right decision like she always does. I get that you’re worried about the Slayer line Wes, we all are, but keeping this from her is not the right way to go about it.”

She heard Wes’s sigh, “I realize that Dawn, but with the bond itself needing to be fulfilled, I thought that was more than enough for both of them to handle at this time.”

Dawn looked at the pages covered in the strange flowing script, similar to the symbols on the first page. Wes was right, it was a language. "We need to find a way to translate this. Do you think this is Clark's language from his home world?"

The line was silent for a moment, before he said in annoyance, “Yes, that’s what I meant when I said I don’t think the language is of this world.”

“Do you think Clark knows how to read it?” Dawn asked.

A sigh came over the line, “I honestly don’t know. I believe he just discovered where he came from, so I don’t see how he could.” He paused in thought and then murmured to himself, “But even if he can’t, perhaps the ship has a historical archive or maybe there is some form of AI technology that could translate it for us.”

Dawn frowned, “What ship?”

As Wesley explained how Buffy and Clark met and the danger Buffy had recklessly put herself in, Dawn found her ire sparking at Buffy’s stupidity. “I’m gonna kill her!” Dawn growled. “She hasn’t done something that reckless since Joyce was born. God fucking dammit, she promised me!”

Wesley sighed. “In her defense, it could have very well been her fate that made her act so rashly.” He paused before saying, “In any case, Clark was there and according to Buffy, he saved her and watched over her after she went into a healing sleep.”

Dawn was quiet as she processed that information. So, she didn’t die, which meant Buffy actively tried to stop it from happening. That was good, she was still getting smacked when Dawn saw her, but at least she hadn’t completely broken her promise from three and a half years ago. It was also good to see that this godlike Champion the prophecy spoke of wasn’t just a creature with a penchant for destruction playing at being a white hat because of a curse. That was a nice change.

“What else do you know about him?” Dawn asked. “I’m assuming you started trying to find him as soon as you started translating this.”

“Well,” Wesley began, “We first caught wind of a possible candidate about a year ago. We’d been monitoring airwave chatter for possible beings with superhuman strength when we caught a lead. A distress call came in about an oil rig off the coast of Canada in flames and about to explode. In that communication there was talk of a man rescuing the crew members aboard the rig and preventing the tower from collapsing on the rescue helicopter with his bare hands.” He paused for a moment, before saying. “We managed to find a few other incidents of him saving people, one that happened when he was thirteen. According to the incident report, his school bus went off a bridge and into the river. Three witnesses stated that a young Clark Kent managed to push the bus out of the water and rescue his classmate.”

Dawn whistled, “So this guy really is the real deal white knight, huh?”

“It would appear so.” He sighed.

“Wes we’re gonna need to access that ship.” Dawn said, looking over a small section of Sumerian that talked about a trial of choice. The rest of the page was in the alien script however, so any clue as to what that meant was beyond her.

“I know,” Wesley agreed.

“Which means, we’re gonna have to tell Buffy and Clark everything.” Dawn reiterated.

She heard Wesley groan, but he conceded nonetheless. “Alright fine, Willow needs to bring them some pendants to stave off the worst of the compulsion the bond is creating. I’ll have her stop by and get you on her way, unless you want me to tell Buffy myself, that is.”

Dawn shook her head, “No, no. I think it will be safer for everyone if I’m the one to do it.” Then she bit her lip in thought, “And don’t bother with Willow, just call me when she gets back. I think I need to do this one on my own.”

“Very well,” Wes agreed. “Willow should be finished within the next few hours. I’ll call you as soon as I know she’s returned.”

“Alright, in the meantime I’m gonna go over this and make sure all the parts I can read are translated correctly.” Dawn said, adding, "Talk in a few," before hanging up.

She sighed, rubbing her fingers along her forehead. "Well fuck," she muttered to herself.

"Everything alright?" Xander asked, coming into the office.

"No, not really," she answered handing him the translated first page of the prophecy.

She watched his eye scan the words before he blew out a breath. "So, this guys an alien?"

"Looks like." She answered.

Xander snorted, "Man the Buffster really knows how to pick 'em, doesn't she?"

Dawn mock glared, before she couldn't contain her amusement at the absurdity of the situation. "Well, you know Buffy. She doesn't do anything by halves."

****<S>**<S>****

As Clark followed Buffy down the hallway, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. He knew she had been trying to reassure him, but her words only had the opposite effect. Were they only feeling any of what they were because of the prophecy and furthermore, given the choice, would she even choose him? She had basically confessed to falling in love with her best friend. The history they had both shared, as disturbing as it was, was an important one to her. She had cared very deeply for this man. How could he ever live up to the memory of a man who had essentially changed a piece of himself for her? Part of him wanted to erase Spike’s memory from her mind, to do whatever he could to drive this man, this demon from her past and another part of him just felt wholly lost. He didn’t want to be anyone’s second best and he certainly didn’t want her to want him only because some guy thousands of years ago decided they were destined. God, he wished his dad was still alive. This would definitely be the type of thing his dad could help him through.

She stopped at a large set of double doors and turned, catching his expression before he had time to school it into a much more neutral one. She blinked in surprise, "Clark...what’s wrong?"

He shook his head, “It’s nothing Buffy.”

Her frown deepened, “Oh no, you definitely have something face. Talk to me. I promise whatever it is, I’ll try to understand.”

Clark shifted uncomfortably, before finally admitting, “I’m just feeling a little unsure about all this.”

Her eyes widened slightly, “Because of Spike?”

Clark sighed, “Well I mean think about it Buffy. You basically told me that you fell in love with your best friend and were willing to marry him for eternity, but the only reason you didn’t is because you were too scared. Would you even look twice at me if he was here now? Are the feelings I’m having for you even real, or is this just destiny trying to force us together?”

Realization flooded her expression, and she quickly shook her head. “I can’t speak for what-ifs, because I would be lying if I answered that either way…” She swallowed, “As for how you’re feeling, I’ve been under love spells before and granted you usually don’t know you’re under one when you are, but if the feeling’s part was being fabricated, we…we wouldn’t be able to fight this like we are. We would have probably already slept together.” She blushed, looking down. “Fabricated feelings they’re false obviously, but they’re very strong…strong enough to make people dangerous. If what we were feeling was a manifestation, you wouldn’t have these doubts Clark, you wouldn’t even realize there was doubts to be had.” She met his eyes then, her expression serious and stoic. “And as for the fear part, I didn’t want to get into it because…” She sighed again. “You remember how I told you that Angelus showed up right when I was starting to get my life back together?”

Clark nodded, “I remember.”

“Well, what I didn’t say is that I was planning on retiring.” She rolled her eyes, “I had this grand plan of going back to school and getting a degree in Art History and moving to Hawaii to open a gallery.” She shook her head, “It was stupid, I know.”

He immediately shook his head, “That doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

Buffy blushed. “I just mean it was stupid that I ever thought it could happen.” She shook her head, “Anyway, I started training a girl named Rayanne when we were first getting the new Watchers Council on its feet. She was bright, witty, resourceful and she already had the makings of someone who could be an excellent leader.” She looked at her feet, her hands clenching. “Me and Giles had agreed, in three-years-time, when Ray was eighteen, she would step in and fill my shoes. Faith didn’t want the position and the only other possible candidate that actually did, I flat out refused due to her inability to get along with just about anyone but Willow. I mentored Ray for over a year and she became…well, like a little sister to me. After the whole General Voll fiasco, I was ready to promote her to Senior Slayer status. She had been on it more than any other girl at the compound, helpful and demanding when need be. She’d fought through a horde of zombies and we came out of it with zero losses. The attack was completely unexpected and if she hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would have done.” She met his eyes, “I was so proud of her.” Buffy sighed, “A few months later is when the first girl, Alicia went missing, and by the time Ray disappeared, there were already six that seemed to have just dropped off the planet.” She swallowed, “Angelus revealed himself and killed Giles a few weeks later, and almost three weeks after is when we found Alicia. She was the first and youngest to go missing and she was the first he dropped on our doorstep.” Buffy shook her head squeezing her eyes shut, “I knew what he was doing to Rayanne then, and that she would probably get the worst of it because of her association with me. Alicia was just a taste of what Angelus was capable of.” She opened her eyes, meeting his. “I wanted to have Spike claim me so we would be strong enough to save her and the rest of them, and I was scared because I knew I’d be asking for the wrong reasons. I was afraid Spike would know it too and I would only hurt him by asking. Does that make sense?”

It was Clark’s turn to avert his eyes. “Yes,” he said quietly.

She pulled out her phone and began to scroll through it, “Well just in case you have any doubts…” She swallowed, “I don’t even know why I kept this. Angelus loved tormenting me and we didn’t know it at the time but there were several Watchers from the old regime who were very unhappy with the way we were running things. Some of them made deals with Angelus, gave out my email and phone number and my location.” She looked at him, her lips pursed in anger. “One of them would even take video or pictures, documenting my pain for him when he couldn’t be there hiding in the shadows to see it.” She handed him her phone, “I’ve never watched this one, it’s the morning I found Rayanne, he saved her for last. I don’t need to see it, I lived it.” She nodded at her phone, “When he sent it, I didn’t even open it. I just dropped it in an archive and it’s been there ever since.” She shook her head, “I highly recommend only opening the third video file, the one that says, ‘Are you broken yet?’ She met his eyes then, “The first two will be what he did to her. So, unless you feel like throwing up, I would skip those.” She gestured with her chin at the double doors. “I’ll be in there beating on a bag, meet me when you’re done.”

She turned without another word and went through the double doors not looking back. Clark looked down at the phone swallowing heavily, before opening the file. The video began with the image of the front of a house, not unlike the one they were in now, except there was a large tree in front and something very obviously dangling from it. It looked to be sometime in the middle of the night or perhaps early morning, but he couldn't tell either way due to the lights on the house illuminating everything.

The person carrying the camera ran towards the house and a refined British voice in distress yelled, "Ms. Summers, come quickly. I think it may be Miss Stevenson."

The front door flew open and there she was, except she looked nothing like she did now, her eyes were wild, feral even, and she was so pale and sucked up. She looked hollow, worn-down, nothing like the girl he’d spent the last couple of days getting to know. The scream that tore from her lips and the look on her face when she saw what was hanging from the tree, tore through him like a tidal wave of emotion. Clark felt himself growing angry at the Watcher, who was obviously playing both sides. Another man with bleached hair and nothing on but a pair of black jeans came flying through the door next, his eyes wild and worried.

The camera panned and followed Buffy as she ran out to the tree, falling to her knees and screaming again. Clark saw what was in the tree then and his stomach almost rebelled right then and there. It was a young girl, no older than sixteen and the only skin left on her body was on her beautiful face and near her pelvic region. The girl’s expression was frozen in a horrified scream that no one who cared ever had the chance to hear. A large white sheet wrapped itself tightly around the girl’s wrists and tied over the lowest branch, the excess linen draping behind the dead girl as some sort of sick backdrop silhouette for the body hanging lifelessly from the tree. There was hardly any blood to speak of, just a pinkish residue from where the body had touched the clean white linen, which told Clark she had been dead for more than a few hours. It wouldn’t be visible to a human through the recording, but because of his enhanced vision Clark could even see puncture wounds in places and deep gashes from where the girl had been restrained.

The blond man came into the picture then and the Watcher came towards them, circling around so he could see Buffy’s expression, or at least that’s what he assumed the person with the camera was doing. Buffy's mouth was open in silent gulping sobs, giant tears dripping down her cheeks.

“Love,” The blond man whispered in an apparent British accent not nearly as refined as the Watchers Clark had heard so far. The man fell to his knees behind her looking up at the tree. He shuddered as tears sprang to his electric blue eyes. “Don’t look Buffy…please kitten, please go back in the house.”

The man placed his hand on her shoulder, and Buffy turned at the gesture and Clark could no longer see her face as she flung herself into the man’s arms and began to sob harder. “It’s Ray,” she howled. “Oh god, it’s Ray.”

“Shh,” The blond man hushed, rubbing hands along her back in a comforting gesture. “I know,” He choked. “I know, love.”

“We…we can’t leave her like that.” She sobbed. “I-I have to get her down.”

Clark watched the blond man close his eyes and shake his head, “I’ll do it. Go back in the house, please Slayer.”

“No,” Buffy shook her head as Clark caught the silhouette of another man flying from the house and over to them. The sound of retching could be heard, and it took Clark a second to realize the sound came from whomever had just come from the house and seen the body. “It has to be me. Don’t you see, don’t you get it? I knew,” she sobbed. “I knew what he was doing to her and I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, sweet girl, you’ve been trying to find her. We all have. This isn’t your fault.” The man choked.

“It’s not good enough,” She screamed, shoving away from him and falling on her rear, “And it is my fault, all of it! They were called because of me, because I was too chicken shit to just except the power that was offered to me!”

A sob broke from her lips, and she turned looking directly at the cameraman a sudden realization dawning in her hollow eyes. “You!” She snarled, her eyes flashing. “It’s you, isn’t it?” She started marching towards the cameraman.

“Ms.…Ms. Summers,” Whomever was holding the camera stuttered and then she was there, a well-aimed kick flying towards the camera before Clark saw sky for a few seconds.

“I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!” She screamed suddenly hovering over the man, the wild fury in her eyes telling Clark that she had every intention of killing this man, and part of Clark couldn’t agree more. “No one else but an Angelus minion would have called me out here for Rayanne! Everyone else would know better!”

Clark watched as she threw a punch, the sickening sound of cartilage breaking ringing through the speaker as the guy howled in pain. The way her arms were angled next and the gurgling sound through the phone told him she was choking the man before three sets of arms suddenly grabbed her, pulling her off. Clark could hear the man wheeze as he tried to catch his breath while Buffy screamed and fought the three people who had pulled her away. Faith was one of them, and then the blond man, which Clark was pretty sure by now was Spike, and another man, tall, brunet, with an eyepatch. He saw Willow in the distance coming towards them and when she reached them, she touched Buffy’s shoulder before she could react and muttered a few words that sounded like Latin. Buffy suddenly collapsed and Clark realized Willow had put her to sleep. All eyes then turned towards the cameraman.

“Get her in the house, Xander.” Spike growled.

“Uh, Spike–” Xander started to say when Spike turned on him.

“Get her in the bloody fucking house, now!” He snarled, a sound like grinding bone emanating from the man as his voice altered to something more sinister. “I’m not going to kill him.” He said turning back towards the camera as two glowing amber eyes stared at Clark.

“Speak for yourself,” Faith said marching towards the man. “I’ve been getting those fucking emails too.”

“So have I,” Willow said, her eyes black as she stared the camera down.

“We won’t have to kill him,” Spike clarified as he fell in step with Faith. “Angelus will do that for us.”

“How you figure?” Faith asked, her eyes just as enraged as Buffy’s had been.

Spike suddenly sprung forward, his arm reaching out and a ripping sound emanated as the man screamed. His hand came back with what looked like a wad of hair. “This enough Red?”

“Plenty,” Willow said, sudden realization dawning in her black eyes.

“Now,” Spike said, a sinister grin stretching his fanged mouth, to the whimpering man. “The way I figure it, you got three options. The first being, you can go back to Angelus and give him this tape, at which point he finds out we now have a way to track you, and oh trust me Marcus, he will most definitely kill you for that.” Clark heard the man begin to sob, and part of him wanted to turn off the video at that point but couldn’t look away at the furious amber eyes that stared back at the camera. “Option number two, you can destroy the tape and run, which if we’re being honest would be the preferable of the three, but I’m sure you are well aware of the kind of wrath he would bring down on you if he didn’t get to see his almost masterpiece complete, so I’m sure you won’t.” Spike’s hand suddenly flew forward and the man screamed in pain, “Or option three,” He growled, “Where you run like a coward and keep the tape for leverage, hoping that your usefulness hasn’t run its course.”

He suddenly had the camera in his hands, staring directly into the screen his eyes burning into the lens. “Looks like your mole got ousted. This is your last one, Angelus. We’re coming for you and when we’re done there won’t be anything left.” The screen suddenly went black as the video cut off.

Clark let out a trembling breath looking around him and realizing he had slid to the floor at some point, his heart pounding in his chest. God, he didn’t know, he didn’t understand until that moment. That poor girl, no wonder Buffy was desperate. How many girls did she find like that before this one was left for her? How many videos did she force herself to endure before this one was sent, even Faith and Willow had said this wasn’t the first one? Clark squeezed his eyes shut, she had told him, so had Gunn but to see it. She was driven half-crazy by what that vampire had done and he could not blame her for that. What would he do if it was his mother in that position? God, he could only imagine.

He shakily got to his feet, listening as he heard the sound of a fist hitting leather, he walked to the doors and threw them open, not stopping when she paused to look at him. He had to reassure himself that she was okay, that she wasn’t that angry creature that he saw in the video. He went straight to her, his arms coming around her in a crushing embrace before his lips met hers. God, she was so strong, he didn’t realize how much until that moment. Buffy immediately melted into him, her lips parting for him as he slid his tongue into her mouth. She was such a small woman, everything about her was deceptively tiny, except her strength and fortitude both physically and emotionally. To go through what she had and still be able to function on a normal level was just short of a miracle.

He pulled away and looked down into her green eyes, haunted by her past but not dead and hateful like in the video. He bent down and laid his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I…” He started, “I didn’t…I’m so sorry Buffy.” He whispered, and he could still feel himself trembling. “I didn’t… You hear words like torture, rape, and murder but–”

“They’re not real until you see it for yourself.” She finished in understanding.

Clark sighed, hugging her closely, her head resting against his chest. “I get it now, not…but I understand how desperate you must have been to try and save the girls from that.”

He heard her sniffle, “I didn’t know what else to do. I watched all the others you know, even…even what he did to them. It was my fault, you see; those girls lost their lives because they had a connection to me.” She shook her head, “If they hadn’t been called, they would still be alive today.”

Clark pulled away and used his hand to raise her chin so he could see her eyes, “You blame yourself for every one of them that dies no matter how it happens, don’t you?”

She closed her eyes a shuddering breath hissing through her lips, before she opened them, meeting his gaze head on. “How can I not?”

He sighed, hugging her close again and shook his head. He had no response to that; he didn’t think she should. He didn’t think it was healthy, but he didn’t want to get in an argument about it with her right now either.

They stayed like that for a little while before she whispered, “You’re shaking.”

Clark nodded. “I know, the video…I’m still upset.”

She pulled away, meeting his eyes again. “Do you want me to show you how to throw a punch properly? The heavy bags have been warded well, we can start there.” She looked down, “It will…it will help relieve some of what you’re feeling at least.”

“Yeah,” He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay.”

****<S>**<S>****

To say Clark was a fast learner when it came to training would have been the understatement of the year. He was an absolute natural. He moved with precision and grace, sometimes striking so fast she almost didn't see him move.

As of now she was simply holding the bag for him as he got comfortable with the rhythm of landing punches and even with the wards on the bag, she could feel the impact of his strikes. At this rate she would need her suit within a few days to let him get the feel of fighting a moving target. At some point she might even bring him back to Cleveland to put him up against multiple fighters and see how he did.

"Remember to move your feet,” She reminded. "A moving target is harder to hit."

He nodded, bounced on the balls of his feet and struck, the impact of the punch making her bones rattle. "Whoa, nice one Clark." She laughed, "Felt that one in my toes."

He grinned, striking the bag again harder. "You were right," he said casually in between punches. "This does help."

She grinned, "Nothing like getting your aggression out with a bit of violence." And then she blushed, smirking, "Well almost nothing."

He chuckled as he threw a few more punches in quick succession, his own smirk forming on his lips. He had a mischievous look in his eyes and had just opened his mouth to comment when Buffy’s phone rang.

Buffy sighed, releasing the bag. "That will either be Wes or Willow."

It was now around three in the afternoon; Clark had told her he had to pick his mom up at six and it was an hour drive to Smallville from where they were. So, she was grateful that they were going to be able to get this taken care of before meeting his mom.

Buffy walked over to her phone and answered. "Hey Wes," she said in greeting. "What's the haps?"

He was silent for a moment and she could almost hear him roll his eyes at her butchering of the English language. "Willow," He began, "should be there shortly. Dawn would also like to see you. I told her I would call her once Willow was done securing the pendants."

Buffy frowned, “What? Why?”

“Dawn and I have come to the conclusion that one of the languages in the prophecy that I have been unable to identify, is most likely written in the script of Clark’s home world.” He paused, “We are going to need access to the ship, unless of course Clark can read it.”

Buffy looked at Clark and raised an eyebrow, but he quickly shook his head. “Only a few words,” He confirmed. “I think the computer on the ship might be able to translate it though.”

“That’s a negative, Wes,” Buffy answered, beginning to pace. “But he agrees that the computer on the ship should be able to do the job.”

“Very well, I’ll inform Dawn to dress accordingly. The ship is still in the same location I presume?” He asked.

“Whoa,” Buffy said halting her steps, realizing what he was suggesting. “You want us to go tonight? Clark has to pick up his mom from work, Wes.”

“I think it would be for the best. The sooner we get this prophecy translated, the better.” He paused. “Lorne told me I needed to send out more Slayers to India, Kansas, and Metropolis within the next two weeks and I would very much like to know if I should be sending two or a few hundred. If this prophecy gives any indication of what’s to come, I would very much like to know what it is.”

Buffy and Clark exchanged worried looks. “He only told me something was coming for Clark, and we’re gonna need all hands-on deck when it does.”

Buffy watched Clark swallow nervously. “He told me my time for hiding was almost up, but he said it was in the coming month.” His eyes widened in realization. “We need to translate that prophecy.”

Buffy nodded in agreement, “And I need to train you harder than just beating on a bag, which means it’s gonna be eight-hour days from here on out.” Clark opened his mouth to argue and she held up her hand, “We’ll get as much as we need to do in the mornings done, but if for whatever reason we can’t, I would loan you the money before I would let you lose your home.”

Clark frowned, “Buffy–”

“Take it from someone who knows what those kinda money troubles feel like,” She interrupted again. “I think in the scheme of things saving the world is a little more important than pride, don’t you?”

His frown deepened. “You think it’s going to be that big?”

“Lorne said all hands-on deck and it’s you. Someone coming after you has got to be as powerful, if not more.” She watched his face fall and reached out her hand out running it down his arm, “You’ll be ready, and now that we have a general idea of where this stuff might take place, we’ll all be even more prepared.”

“Wes,” she said, addressing the Watcher once more. “Were gonna need Willow to keep close, and I would call Illyria back from Cairo.”

“I agree,” Wesley said, just as a portal opened up and Willow walked through. Her smile melting away at the look on both Buffy and Clark’s faces.

“Uh-oh,” Willow said nervously. “I know that face.”

“Is that Willow?” Wesley asked over the line.

“Yeah,” Buffy said.

“Let me speak with her, please.”

Buffy held out the phone to Willow, who frowned but took it anyway. “Hey Wes,” Willow said in greeting as Buffy walked over to where Clark was standing looking more than a little worried.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

He attempted to smile but he couldn’t pull it off. “Hey, yourself.”

She bit her lip watching him, seeing the turmoil play across his face of having an unknown enemy out there that could be responsible for hurting others when they decided to rear their ugly heads. She didn’t blame him, if she needed to pull out her big guns as Lorne hinted then it could definitely get bad. She was optimistic however, because of what she’d had to face in her past. Clark didn’t have that same luxury.

“I-I know you’re not exactly used to going up against big bads, or having to fight gods,” she started. “But I promise you Clark, no matter what it is we’ll deal with it together. Tonight, I’ll have my sister meet us at your place and we’ll go to the ship and find out what this prophecy says. Whatever’s coming, we’ll deal. I promise you; we won’t lose.”

“How do you know?” He asked, a bit of hope showing in his eyes.

She stared at him seriously, “Because I don’t lose when it’s the world.”

His lips quirked slightly, and he opened his mouth to say something when Willow walked up to them. “Wes wants me to fit you for a suit,” She said to Clark, handing Buffy her phone before saying, “And, he wants to talk to you.”

As Buffy reached for the phone Clark said, “I already have a suit and it’s Kryptonian.”

Both Buffy and Willow blinked in surprise at his words, their voices ringing out in unison. “You do?”

He nodded, “Yeah, it’s on the ship still, but I have one.”

Willow smiled, “Well then, that’s gonna make this quicker. Can you bring it to me? I can enhance it with magic, add some safety features and protect you against the mystical.”

“Will that still work, even if the material isn’t of Earth?” He asked.

“Yeah Wes,” Buffy finally said into her phone, pulling herself away from the conversation. So, Clark already had a suit, she wondered what it looked like.

“So, for the time being I’m going to send fifty Slayers to each location, but keep the others on standby incase things go pear-shaped.” He said, already planning ahead. “I’ll also be moving quite a few closer to all three locations, that way all the girls have backup nearby. I think Willow should stay there at the safehouse that way she’s not far from either of you.”

“And Dawn, Xander, and the kids? They live in Metropolis after all.” Buffy asked.

“Perhaps you should explain the situation to her when she gets there. Staying there at the safe house with Willow might also be a wise move for them.” Wes said, adding, “As well as a few Slayers. I know Faith’s been itching to get out of Cleveland for a mission, maybe she and a few of the other girls should accompany her.”

“Just as long as it’s not Tanya, that girl’s a liability and she doesn’t listen to anyone.” Buffy said.

“I concur,” Wesley agreed. “Only the girls who are focused and dedicated will be allowed to participate in this mission. I would like as little casualties as possible.”

“I agree,” Buffy nodded, “What about the mystics, how many of those can we tap?”

“I have sixty-eight on file, I’ll start making phone calls now.” He sighed. “I’m just glad we have this much to go on.”

“Me too,” Buffy agreed. “I’ll call Dawn when Willow gets done here and tell her where to meet us and to put on her suit and a warm hat.”

“Very well,” he said. “Call me when you know more and I’ll begin the preparations.”

Buffy hung up, walking back over to Willow and Clark as they spoke to each other a bit awkwardly. “So, let’s get this over with Wills.”

Willow quickly nodded opening a small bag she brought with her. “So,” she said quickly. “These were a bit difficult to make since from what we’ve read the compulsion itself seems to be based purely on hormones as well as a need to unite your souls.” She looked at them both, “It took me a little while to find what I needed and even longer to put the spell together.” She sighed, “The pendants themselves will be made out of several crystals used to block compulsion, amethyst, ametrine, chrysocolla, and ruby.”

Willow pulled out two small corked vials filled with multicolored stones and handed them to both Buffy and Clark. “Now, hold out your hands and link your free ones together.”

Buffy and Clark did as she asked, holding their hands out palm up. Willow placed a vial in each of their hands and then covered them with her own hands, closing her eyes and beginning to chant. Buffy immediately began to feel her hand heat up and for a second it almost became unbearable and Buffy even watched Clark wince from the heat. It was gone just as quickly however and in its place were two hard looking marble like multicolored stones with a dark metallic chain that would hang from each of their necks. Buffy heard Willow mutter one more spell that she recognized to be a ward against breaking.

“Well go on.” Willow said smiling happily at her work. “Try them on, see if it worked.”

Buffy quickly slipped the necklace over her head and a sigh of relief left her lips. The sexual tension that had never fully abated her all day finally easing enough to where she wasn’t thinking about sex every few seconds.

Clark had a similar reaction, his face seeming to ease slightly, but Buffy was surprised when he turned to Willow and asked, “You said the compulsion is only based on hormones, does that mean any feeling we have that aren’t sexual are real?”

Willow nodded, “Of course, real love is something that can only be based off of free will. Its why love spells don’t ever work. You can’t force someone to love you.”

Buffy watched amused as Clark seemed to sigh in relief, and then quickly blushed when he noticed her watching him. “Come on stud,” she said hooking her arm through his and dragging him towards the door of the training room. “Let me go grab my stuff before we go get your mom,” a grin creeping over her face as she turned and wished Willow a good night and a promise to catch up tomorrow. “And for the record”, she added quietly as they walked out of the training room. “I still want to jump you, that hasn’t changed even with the necklace on.”

He quickly reached out to grab her arm, but she easily dodged him and took off down the hallway, a blush and a giggle leaving her lips.

Clark was suddenly there in front of her, a crooked and devilish smile on his lips. “Is that so?” And then his lips were on hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth as she squealed in surprise.

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 17

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,160ish

Summary: Tony asks Y/N and Pepper for some help.

The rest of the day, and into the next morning, wasn’t exciting. JARVIS allowed Y/N access to the security cameras in every room of the house, whenever she wanted. Tony stayed in his workshop the whole night, with Y/N staying up most of it to watch him using the security cameras. By lunch time, Pepper had picked up food for everyone and was working on the couch while watching the news. The reporter was screaming about Tony’s announcement at the press conference yesterday. Both women were cringing as they watched.

“Pepper,” Tony’s voice called over the intercom. “How big are your hands?”

“What?” Pepper questioned. Y/N and her shared a look of confusion.

“How big are your hands?”

“I don’t understand why—“

“Get down here. I need you… You can come too, Barnes.”

The two women made their way to the workshop, Pepper leading the way. When they arrived, Tony was laying, shirtless, on a chair.

“Hey,” Tony said, giving them a small smile. “Let’s see them, Pep. Show me your hands. Let’s see them.” Pepper held up her hands as she and Y/N moved closer to Tony. “Oh, wow. They are small. Very petite, indeed. I just uh.. need your help for a sec.”

As the women moved closer, Y/N examined the metal in his chest and the other contraption he was holding. It seemed to be keeping him alive.

“Oh, my God,” Pepper exclaimed. “Is that the thing that’s keeping you alive?”

“It was,” Tony responded. “It is now an antique. This is what will be keeping me alive for the foreseeable future. I’m swapping it up for an upgraded unit, and I just ran into a little speed bump.”

“Speed bump, what does that mean?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just a little snag.” Tony twisted the device on his chest. “There’s an exposed wire under this device. And it’s contacting the socket wall and causing a little bit of a short. It’s fine.”

After pulling out the old device, Tony handed it to Y/N, leaving a hole in his chest. She examined the device carefully. The way it was put together she could clearly see that Tony had welded it together when he was kidnapped. He definitely was his father’s child.

“What do you want me to do?” Pepper asked.

“Barnes, you can put it down on the table. It’s irrelevant.”

“Of course, Sir.” Y/N replied, doing as she was told.

“Okay, Pep, I want you to reach in, and you’re just gonna gently lift the wire out.”

“Is it safe?” Pepper questioned.

“Yeah, it should be fine. It’s like Operation. You just don’t let it touch the socket wall or it goes ‘beep’.”

“Operation?” Both women questioned.

“It’s just a game, never mind. Just gently lift the wire.”

“Okay,” Pepper agreed.

“Okay? Great.”

Y/N watched as Pepper went to reach her hand into the hole in Tony’s chest but quickly retracted it.

“You know, I don’t think that I’m qualified to do this,” she nervously stated.

“No, you’re fine. You’re the most capable, qualified, trustworthy person I’ve ever met. You’re gonna do great. Is it too much of a problem to ask? ‘Cause I’m…”

“Okay, okay.”

“I really need your help here.”

“I just don’t think—“

“I’ll do it,” Y/N offered.

“Yes,” Pepper quickly responded as Tony said, “No.” Pepper quickly glared at Tony.

“Fine,” the man gave in. Y/N and Pepper swapped places. “Okay, just like I told Pepper, gently lift the wire out without letting it touch the socket wall.”

“Don’t let it touch anything, got it.” Y/N carefully slid her hand into the hole, trying to feel for the wire. “Is that pus?”

“It’s not pus. It’s an inorganic plasmic discharge from the device, not from my body.”

“It smells!” Pepper added from the side.

“Yeah, it does. The copper wire. The copper wire, you got it?”

“Okay, I got it!” Y/N said, grabbing the wire and beginning to lift it out. “I got it!”

“Okay, you got it?” Now, don’t let it touch—“ Just then, Y/N accidentally let the wire touch the socket wall. “—the sides when you’re coming out!”

“I’m sorry, How— I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” Y/N didn’t miss the look of confusion that Tony gave her due to her mistake.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you before. Okay, now make sure that when you pull it out, that you don’t…” Before he could finish, Y/N had accidentally pulled out the wire with a magnet attached to it, causing the medical equipment Tony was hooked up to to began beeping. “There’s a magnet at the end of it! That was it. You just pulled it out.”

“Oh, God!” Pepper exclaimed.

“Okay, I was not expecting…”

“Mr. Stark, what do I do?” Y/N asked, the monitors still going crazy in the background. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just going into cardiac arrest—“

“What?” The women both yelled.

“You said it was safe!” Pepper shouted.

“—‘cause Miss Barnes here yanked it out like a trout… We gotta hurry. Take this. Take this.” Tony pushed the new device into Y/N’s hands. “You gotta switch it out really quick.”

“Okay. Okay.” Y/N nodded, nervously. “Mr. Stark?”

“What?”

“It’s going to be okay. Okay?”

“Is it?”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Pepper added. “Y/N’s gonna make this okay.”

“Let’s hope,” Tony said. “Okay, you’re gonna attach that to the base plate.” Y/n quickly began working as Tony slowly began to lose consciousness. “Make s-sure you…” As soon as Y/N attached it, Tony let out a scream. “Was that so hard? That was fun, right? Here, I got it.” He swatted Y/N’s hands away from his chest. “I got it. Here. Nice.”

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, I feel great. You okay?” He chuckled, looking at Y/N.

“Don’t ever, ever, ever, ever ask me or Y/N to do anything like that ever again,” Pepper said.

“I don’t have anyone but you,” Tony says, looking straight at Pepper. “Anyway…” Began ripping the wires off of him as he stood up. Y/N glanced as the old device. She needed to get some scans of it and send it to Coulson.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Y/N asked, picking up the device.

“That? Destroy it. Incinerate it.”

“You don’t want to keep it?” Pepper pushed.

“Pepper, I’ve been called many things. ‘Nostalgic’’ is not one of them.”

Pepper sighed. “Will that be all Mr. Stark?”

“That will be all, Miss Potts.” Pepper then turned and walked away, Tony’s eyes careful watching her before shaking out of his thoughts and talking to the robot near his desk. “Hey, Butterfingers, come here. What’s all this stuff doing on top of my desk?”

“I’ll go dispose of this for you, Mr. Stark.”

“Thank you, Miss Barnes.”

next chapter >

NOTES: I begin student teaching on Monday (08/17). (Yeah, I get to learn how to teach in this craziness.) So I won’t be able to update as much. I’m hoping to get at least two updates a week, but we’ll see. I’m working on a lot of chapters at the moment, so hopefully I can just have the ready to post. Thanks for all the support guys!

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

Text

The Hard Things

Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.

Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.

Calum X Black Female OC.

I cried once writing this. 7.4k words. Angst. Just angst and sarcasm.

@notinthesameguey is personally responsible for this. So blame her.

The Hard Things--Alternative Ending

Masterlist (on semi hiatus)

___________________________________

If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.

But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.

Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.

This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.

“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.

“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”

Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”

The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”

The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.

“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.

“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”

There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.

“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”

When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”

Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.

In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.

Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”

Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.

With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.

“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.

Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”

“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?

“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”

Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”

“So says the expert?”

Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”

Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”

A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.

Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”

“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”

“In the wrist.”

A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.

Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.

“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”

Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.

When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.

******

Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”

“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.

“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.

*****

Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.

He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.

There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”

“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”

Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”

“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.

“Just me.”

“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.

“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”

“Laugh at you?”

“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”

A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.

“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.

And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.

*****

She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.

Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.

Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.

“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.

“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”

Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”

Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”

“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”

“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”

He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”

“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”

“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”

“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”

“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”

“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”

Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.

“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”

She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”

Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”

“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”

“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”

“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”

He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”

“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”

“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”

“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”

“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”

“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.

“And a dog,” Calum corrects.

“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”

“Tell me something.”

“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.

“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”

“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.

“Do you want to answer now?”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”

“What if I stay until dawn?”

“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.

“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.

“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”

“That darlin’ is what I call details.”

“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”

Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”

“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”

“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”

Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.

It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.

“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”

Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”

“The truth,” Freya confirms.

“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”

“That sounds lovely, Calum.”

“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”

“And if it does.”

“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”

“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.

“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”

“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”

“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”

“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.

“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”

“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”

“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”

“How often did you go between their houses?”

“Every weekend.”

Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”

“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”

Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”

Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.

“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”

“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.

“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.

“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”

“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.

“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”

“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”

Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”

They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”

Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”

“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.

“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”

“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”

“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”

Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”

“Someone’s self flagellating.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”

Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”

Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”

“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.

“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”

“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”

“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”

“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”

“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”

Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.

His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”

“Just a little sting.”

Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”

Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”

He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”

Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”

It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.

Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears

She’s just gone.

******

When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.

“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”

He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”

Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”

But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?

Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.

Calum,

I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.

I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.

With Love,

Freya.

P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.

*****

Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.

Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.

There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke

“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”

But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.

Freya,

Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.

I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.

Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.

Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)

With Love,

Cal

Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.

But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.

There’s silence that engulfs her but it gives no response.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #5sos #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood x black oc #calum hood x oc #calum hood x fem oc #h writes

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eskalations · 3 years

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"I've always known that I was a big target for them - almost as big as Erwin himself - but I never thought they would go after my own daughter." Levi released a dark chuckle at this, closing his eyes in disbelief. 'I can't believe my stupidity. The Titans have cut down families before, I don't know what made me think that mine would be any different."

(Rivetra AU where Petra is a pediatric nurse and Levi is a single father)

Hello! Wow oh wow! I haven't written since August and this oneshot definitely made it more obvious. Originally it was only supposed to be about 5,000 words but it soon grew into the monster that it is now. Will it stay a oneshot forever? I don't know...but for now, it is what it is! Editing this was a nightmare, so I apologize for any missed mistakes, as well as my poor writing skills that have been underutilized for quite some time.

I hope regardless of that, you will still enjoy this! I just finished AOT and this couple's story absolutely gripped my heart. Here you go, Rivetra fandom!

As always, reviews are MUCH appreciated. So please be sure to tell me what you think!

Petra Ral was NOT having a good day.

While she had been a night nurse for several years now, her penchant for making rookie mistakes was almost as bad as it had been when she started. Upon crashing into bed at seven this morning, she had completely forgotten to set her alarm for later in the day. Hence, why she was running through the streets of Paradis like a madwoman.

Her co-workers were less than impressed with her dramatic entry onto the ward. Nanaba was glaring at her over the top of the counter, while Nifa bristled from beside the employee water tower.

"Really, Petra?" The spunky redhead commented in a low, disapproving tone - watching as the other ginger woman threw her bag down onto the floor beneath the desk and hurriedly began to punch in her time. "This oversleeping thing is getting pretty old, considering it's six in the afternoon, not six in the morning."

Petra held back a growl as she fumbled with her card, sticking it into the machine but not getting any response due to the shakiness of insertion. Finally, she heard a click and withdrew the parchment. With her heart still racing like mad after her dash up the stairs, she dropped in exhaustion into a vacant chair.

“You say that - “ Petra spoke for the first time since entering Paradis Hospital, her usual chipper voice hoarse from her ragged breathing. “ - but you’re not the one who worked a 12-hour shift yesterday. You were too busy working on that boyfriend of yours to even - "

“Shhhhhh!” Nifa’s face glowed scarlet as she shushed the young woman, her pale skin heating at the vulgar comment. Nanaba just laughed quietly at her friend’s embarrassment, turning her attention back to the file in front of her. All the nurses and doctors bustling about around the counter paid the girls no mind, used to the familiar banter between the three.

"Say what you want about Nifa's love life," Nanaba bristled, pulling out another form from the file in front of her for closer observation. The blonde's eyes cut towards Petra, disapproval evident in her tone. "But your the one who's late today. We had a pretty intense case come into the ward too from emergency."

“What?!” Petra yelped, her nurse’s instincts kicking in instantly at Nananba’s words. Despite her still heaving chest, the young woman sat up straighter to observe the report that was being handed over to her. “Is the child okay?”

"She's stable." Nanaba offered, turning back to the folder on her desk to grab a few more forms. "However, she's going to need to be watched closely throughout the night. The poor thing was stabbed and the blade had poison on it."

Petra wished she could act shocked, but she wasn’t. Paradis Hospital received several stab cases a day due to the gang violence in the area. The Titans certainly weren’t pulling any of their punches when it came to looting. Regardless of whether their victim was eight or eighty, they would steal from anyone with a bit of coin in their pocket.

Stabbings weren't super common on the pediatric ward, but common enough that all the staff who bustled about barely batted an eye at the thought of such an injury being treated on the floor.

"She's already been stitched up and the antidote for the poison has been administered - but, the emergency department sent her up here for monitoring, just in case she relapses," Nifa explained, now leaning over the counter to read the forms Nanaba still held in her hands. The blonde threw her an exasperated look.

“She’s not your patient, so stop being so damn nosy.”

"Well, I've never - " Nifa scoffed at the blonde's scathing tone, though Petra could hear the amusement behind it. "Sorry, for wanting to dedicate my life for the next 12-hours to a hot man with a nice - oh, I mean to a sweet little girl with a -"

"Nifa!" Petra exclaimed, catching on to what the young woman was implying. "Don't tell me you're trying to hit on a little girl's father while she's bedridden in the hospital! Have you no shame?"

“Not really!”

Even Nanaba laughed at Nifa's answer.

"Well, too bad for you, since you have a boyfriend." The blonde reminded her, to which the red-headed nurse simply stuck out her tongue. " - and Petra has been assigned to be her nurse."

“Me?” Petra had the gall to act surprised, but her friends simply rolled their eyes at her modest response.

“Oh please!" Nifa sighed, crossing her arms over the counter to once again lean closer to the girls on the other side. One of the older doctors, a man with grey hair and spectacles, eyed her disapprovingly as he passed. Nifa didn't even spare him a glance. "While you may be a notorious flake when it comes to arriving on time, it's no secret that they entrust you with the higher priority cases on the ward."

Nifa was right - it wasn't a secret. Since graduating at the top of her class in nursing school, she had always been highly respected for not only her knowledge but bedside manner, as well. Just last year, she had received an award for having the highest satisfaction rate on her floor. Now, if only she could show up to work on time…

“- he’s really short, but his eyes - wow!" Petra was brought back from her thoughts by Nifa's words. Nanaba was shaking her head as she wrote a note down in one of her patient files, trying to tune out the girl's excessive praise. "He's got that rough around the edges look, yet is put together and clean and - "

"I hate to cut you off in the middle of your fantasy - " Petra commented before standing and collecting the patient papers from the desk. "- but I have patients to take care of."

Nifa's mouth popped open in shock, her expression quickly turning to one of disbelief at the sight of Petra's teasing look.

“Says the girl who was LATE!”

Petra chuckled, shrugging her shoulders as she rushed off to her first patient's room, ready to begin her shift with newfound energy. Despite her exhaustion from the night before and the soreness in her limbs, she couldn't approach the job she loved with anything less than excitement and positivity.

Maybe it would be a good day after all.

Upon entering Heidi Ackerman's room twenty minutes later though, Petra was once again lamenting the horrible luck that seemed to be plaguing her during the past twenty-four hours.

It wasn't the child who was causing her such discomfort, but her father.

After having checked on and familiarizing herself with the low-risk patients she had been assigned, Petra finally decided to introduce herself to the latest Titan's stab victim that was residing on her ward. Checking the young girl's forms before entering the room, the nurse noticed that the child was due for a round of medication soon anyways.

‘Perfect,' Petra thought to herself while turning the knob of the door. 'If I take care of her medications now, I won’t have to return for another hour and then I can go check on - ‘

Petra's thoughts were interrupted by the sight that met her upon entry to the room.

Nifa wasn’t kidding - the guy was short. Like, really short.

Petra rarely met a male anywhere close to her height - so, the short stature of the figure that stood by the lone window of the room, instantly caught her attention.

The second thing that caught her attention? His looks.

While the man was certainly not attractive by societal standards, his piercing gaze was enough to stop any woman in her path. His eyes were grey and heavily hooded by pale white lids and beneath his stare, lay two dark bags that spoke of a restless nature. Despite the blatant signs of exhaustion, his dark hair lay near perfect across his forehead, the shaved lower half of it buzzed in an undercut fashion.

He was captivating and terrifying all at once.

“Oi, are you just going to stand there?”

His gravelly, low voice broke her from her analysis, jolting her back to reality as he shifted his posture to a more casual stance. Whereas he once stood rigid, he now placed a hand on his hip and schooled his features to resemble something more akin to indifference.

Realizing she had never responded, Petra suddenly jumped into action.

"Oh!" She smiled awkwardly, not quite feeling like her usual self. Typically, talking to patients and their families wasn't so difficult for her, but this guy was unlike her usual clientele. He practically exuded indifference and didn't look very interested in receiving an answer to what she had to assume was a rhetorical question - but Petra did not care. "Hello, my name's Petra Ral, I'll be the night nurse for Miss Heidi."

As if saying her name had reminded her of exactly why she was standing there in the first place, Petra turned her smiling face towards the bed, trying not to show her concern as her gaze fell on the small child.

Heidi Ackerman at five years old had experienced more pain in the past several hours than some adults would face in their entire lifetime. While the child's sweet features could still be seen over the top of the crisp white blankets, the pained lines of her forehead spoke of a quiet distress that had taken a hold of her and refused to let go.

Petra ached to go towards her - however, a snide remark from the man on the other side of the room had her pausing.

“You’re going to attend my child looking like that?” Disgust was evident in the man’s tone as he gave her a once over from top to bottom. “Ever heard of an iron?”

The young woman could feel her face go red at his comment, her eyes glancing down at the outfit she typically wore during her shift - a white nurses uniform, tights, and white slip-ons. The front of her outfit was pristine white - however, the bottom of her skirt had a set of small wrinkles. Petra went redder as she realized that in her confusion to get dressed after having slept in, she had picked up her uniform from the previous night that had been lying atop of the hamper.

Most people wouldn't even have noticed her slightly used uniform, but somehow this man had called her out on it, despite it only having had a few wrinkles of use embedded in the fabric.

Petra was furious. Of course, she wasn't going to show it, since she was a professional - but she couldn’t help but bite back, even if it was just a little.

“Yeah - well you aren’t looking too good either, so I guess we're even.”

The man cocked an eyebrow at her comment, before looking down at himself to see what she was talking about.

In Petra's defense, she hadn't actually looked at the man's clothes. When she had entered the room, she had been so distracted by his face, that she hadn't even gotten the opportunity. But, as he looked down at himself in search of the reason for her comment, Petra was able to give him a once over too. After examining his outfit of choice, Petra had to bite back a groan from the error of her comment.

He was dressed immaculately, wearing a dark brown leather jacket with a white shirt underneath and a pair of slender black jeans on the bottom. On his feet, were a pair of shiny, black combat boots that looked as though they had been polished that very morning.

However, the state of his clothes was not the reason Petra wanted the Earth to swallow her whole. It was the substance on the front of his shirt.

Blood.

“Tch," The man clicked his tongue, having caught sight of the dried, red blood covering his otherwise pristine white shirt. "I guess my child's blood isn't the best accessory to wear, huh?"

Fully embarrassed by her comment, Petra immediately stuck out her hands in defense, forms and all.

“Sir, I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean - “

“I’m sure.” The words were said with such a quiet finality, that the woman felt her tongue grow heavy in her mouth. Not knowing what else to say, the room fell into an awkward silence that even Petra’s vivacious personality couldn’t conquer.

Perhaps, she had officially met her match.

The man continued to stare at her with his slate-gray eyes as the silence drug on - however, they were both interrupted from their thoughts by a quiet cough coming from the bed.

‘That’s right!’ Petra thought, a newfound energy taking hold of her as she returned her attention to the small patient residing in the bed. ‘She’s the reason I’m here.’

"Sorry, Miss Heidi!" Petra adopted her usual, chipper tone as she approached the child, already glancing at the chart that had been left on the wall at her side. While the form should have match the one she had been given, she wasn't one to cut corners, so she began to read over it to check for any additional information that could have been missed. "Your father and I are rudely neglecting you. Are you in any pain at the moment?"

While most children instantly brightened at the ginger's easygoing bedside manner - Heidi, much like her father, was not acting like a typical patient. Instead of answering, the small, dark-haired girl remained silent, glancing over at the woman with the same hooded gray eyes as her father.

Petra found the whole thing incredibly unnerving. To keep herself busy, she began to check the young girl's vitals. As she glanced over the numbers, she snuck a peek at her charge who still lay silent in the hospital bed.

Despite her lack of response to Petra's earlier question, the woman could see from the lines of distress on the girl's forehead that something was bothering her. She knew from the child's file that she had been slashed with a knife across the stomach and had been on the receiving end of an incredibly deadly poison. There probably wasn't much on her body that didn't hurt at this point.

Although she knew that the young girl must be in pain, the silence continued to grow as the two females in the room kept their gazes locked on the other.

Finally, Heidi turned to her father, who had been watching the scene unfold from his designated spot by the window. The girl's eyes shone with nothing short of fear as she appeared to silently communicate with her father. While the look on the poor child's features caused Petra's heart to clench, the man by the window merely bristled at his daughter's behavior.

"Stop trying to be tough, brat." His voice was rough, the edge in his tone similar to what it had been a minute ago. However, Petra was relieved to note a slight gentleness to his words that hadn't been present in their earlier conversation. "There's no reason to hide your pain if you're feeling any."

While the young nurse imagined any normal child would flinch at such words being thrown at them after having experienced such trauma - Heidi just blinked at her father's comment, almost as if pondering the meaning behind it.

Petra was about to jump in, having seen quite enough of the man's crass attitude towards his daughter, when the little girl finally spoke. Feebly, but with conviction.

“My stomach burns.”

Unlike her father's voice, Heidi had a sweet, slightly high-pitched voice, that would have had Petra cooing, had it not been for the current predicament the child was in.

“That’s to be expected.” The ginger responded understandingly, wanting the girl to know that she was someone she could trust over the next twelve hours. “What if I told you that I have some medicine that could make it feel better? Would you like that, Miss Heidi?”

Heidi hesitated for a moment, pulling the crisp white blanket up to her chin, almost acting like she was ashamed for having to take medicine. However, only a few beats passed before she nodded in response to the young woman's question.

"Perfect!" Petra's smile grew, the genuine kindness that typically radiated from her, shining from the depths of her chestnut eyes. "You're going to need a drink to help you wash down your pills - and I know they may taste a little nasty - so, how about I get you a juice to make it just a little bit better?"

As though a switch had been flipped, Heidi’s pale hands dropped the sheet covering the lower half of her face, revealing a tiny, rosebud mouth opened in shock. The dull gray of her eyes that had been so flat just a few moments ago, sparkled at the prospect of such a treat.

It made Petra’s heart clench once again.

The nurse was about to ask what flavor the girl wanted when her attention was drawn back to the man standing on the other side of the room. He had made a disapproving noise with his tongue as his daughter's face lit up at the thought of the sweet drink.

"Now you've done it." The man chuckled, though there was no real humor behind it. "This girl's favorite thing in the world is sweets. Now she's going to say she's in pain, just so she can get some juice."

“Sir,” Petra responded firmly, her once shining brown eyes hardening at such a careless statement. “I’m sorry, but after what she’s been through today, I think the least we could do is allow her to have some juice.”

The man shrugged his shoulders, raising his brows as though to tell her ‘do what you want’.

Which she would - gladly, in fact.

Turning back towards Heidi, who was now watching her father with a concerned expression, Petra attempted to redirect the girl’s attention.

"What flavor do you want?" That got Heidi's head swiveling back towards her. "I have cherry, grape, apple, orange, or watermelon."

“Uhhhh - “ Heidi pondered over her choices, looking up at the ceiling as though the answer would be there. After a few moments of thinking it over, the girl finally glanced back at the nurse waiting anxiously by her bedside. “I guess...cherry?”

“Excellent choice!” Petra agreed, readying herself to leave the room, but stopping dead in her tracks when hearing Heidi’s little voice again.

“Is that okay, Daddy?”

Petra watched as the little girl turned to her father, gauging his reaction for some kind of approval. The nurse waited with bated breath as the man simply stared back at the child, giving no indication of his approval either way.

Just when he was opening his mouth to give Heidi an answer - Petra jumped in, tired of witnessing the power dynamic in front of her.

“Your Daddy’s not the one drinking the juice, Heidi - so, I’m sure your choice is of no real consequence to him. Isn’t that right, Mr. Ackerman?”

There was a challenge in her tone, the words laced with borderline rudeness as she stared down the man across the room from her. Never in her life had she been so sharp with a patient nor a patient's family - however, she guessed there was no day like today. If she was going to get fired due to bad conduct, at least let it be because she stood up for a child who seemed to be in want of an advocate.

What reaction she was expecting to get from the man, she did not know - but it certainly wasn't a smirk.

He was smirking at her.

The silence stretched on for a few more seconds, the man's thin lips holding that frustrating smirk in place. He watched her as though waiting for what she was going to do next, but instead of shrinking under his gaze, she simply crossed her arms over her chest, ready to stand her ground.

Once the older Ackerman noticed Heidi’s head swiveling from side to side, watching their reactions, he released another tired, breathy chuckle.

“That’s right, Miss Ral.”

Petra hated to admit it - but, even after exiting the room, her legs continued to shake as she made her way down the hall. The trembles soon transferred into her hands as she poured the little girl a glass of cherry juice.

Upon re-entering the room, the first thing Petra noticed was that Mr. Ackerman had moved from what she thought was going to be his permanent spot in the room. He now stood by his daughter where she lay in her hospital bed, speaking quietly to her about something that the nurse couldn’t hear.

The second he saw her walk through the door, he quickly quieted - his lips returning to the thin line of indifference that she had become acquainted with, not too long ago. Choosing to ignore the strange atmosphere that settled over the room at such a blatant display of secrecy, Petra smiled brightly towards the child lying in the bed.

She was her priority.

“Alright, Miss Heidi!” Petra chirped happily, trying her best to return to the usual persona that she emulated while within the walls of the hospital. “Time for your medicine! If you could just sit up for me - “

The girl began to shift higher up in the bed, struggling to prop herself up against the pillows that lay behind her. Petra rushed to find somewhere to set the glass of juice down so that she could help her patient - however, she was beaten to it.

The girl's father placed his hands underneath her armpits, slowly pulling her back towards the head of the bed. After she was situated a little bit higher, he released his grip on her before tugging at the pillows to arrange them in a fashion that was more comfortable for her. Though he moved with purpose, his actions held a tenderness that Petra was surprised to see. If this was an unusual occurrence for Heidi, she certainly didn't show it on her tired, yet grateful features.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

The man grunted in response, patting his hand on the pillow behind her head one more time before moving his hands back to his pockets.

Petra’s brow rose in response to the uncharacteristic helpfulness she had just witnessed, but she tried to school her features in a way that didn’t show her surprise.

“Well - “ The woman cleared her throat, before handing the glass of juice over to the girl, to give herself time to retrieve the pills she had placed in the pocket at the front of her dress. “Hopefully, your pain will lessen after you take these.”

Heidi gave a shy nod at the woman’s words, looking warily at the pills. Noticing the child’s hesitance, the older Ackerman reached for the cup of juice in her shaking hands. With the movement of his arm, Petra watched as the cuff of his jacket slid up and over the skin of his wrist.

She couldn’t hide her surprise at what she saw branded there.

It was a ‘Wings of Freedom’ tattoo.

This man was a part of the Survey Corps.

It wasn’t that Petra had never interacted with an SC member before, it was just that they normally didn’t frequent this side of the hospital. Most of them didn’t have children and, even if they did, most of them wouldn’t have the opportunity to care for them properly.

It was no secret that of all the cities in Marley, Paradis was the one that had the biggest gang violence problem. Paradis was deemed as the headquarters for the infamous Titans gang, a group of thugs who were well-versed in politics and typically well-educated. One could never know that someone was a Titan, since they blended in so well to society.

There were rumors floating around that several larger corporations had Titans at the helm, working their way through the ranks in an attempt to have a better chance at being elected into political office. Their end goal was unclear - however, their violent acts and shady business dealings had escalated over the recent years.

Suddenly, businessmen who were in perfectly good health one day were turning up dead in a river the next. The same went for major political figures. Several big-name military men had been cut down in the streets and in their homes, to the point where the implications couldn't be ignored.

This was an all-out war.

Though Petra had been busy in nursing school at the time, she still vividly remembered Commander Erwin Smith’s case - since it had eventually led to the creation of the Survey Corps.

Erwin Smith had walked into his home one day after a long day of work, only to be attacked by a group of four masked Titans brandishing knives. While the Commander had lost an arm as a result of the poison on the blades that had come in contact with his arm, he was able to fight off all four assailants and come through the accident with a clear vision of what needed to be done.

This incident prompted the formation of the Survey Corps.

The Survey Corps was a group of former criminals who would have otherwise faced jail time or execution if they chose not to serve their government. The Commander's idea was that when it came to the Titans - one had to fight fire with fire. For him, the Survey Corps was his fire.

The men would be given a meager compensation in exchange for their loyalty, as well as a full pardon for the crimes they had committed in the past. All they had to do was promise their hearts to the cause.

Petra had always thought the venture sounded like a risky one. How could someone trust a criminal? If someone was willing to commit a crime once, wouldn’t they be willing to do it again? From what she had seen of the SC members who had been wheeled into the Emergency Room over the past few years, they looked more like thugs than the actual Titans themselves.

However, it appeared that that was the whole point.

The Survey Corps were used to obtain information about the Titans from the inside. To learn about the Titans, it seemed you had to act like one. Once inside, their goal was to negotiate deals with the underlings, who would then pass on the information to the SC in exchange for compensation. No surprise, though - these exchanges could turn deadly pretty quickly.

The young nurse couldn’t imagine how anyone could trust a criminal to infiltrate the enemy without the fear of them turning themselves - but from what she had heard, Commander Erwin Smith was a very good leader who kept a tight hold on all the men who worked under him.

Petra guessed as much since a good majority of them had small government-issued tracking devices located somewhere on their person - somewhere that they were unaware of, of course.

The woman had only ever seen an actual 'Wings of Freedom' tattoo once, and it was on the wrist of a body that was being rolled to the morgue past her in the hallway one day. The symbol was a sign of rank. Much like how the military operated, the Survey Corps themselves had a set of ranks that signaled a separation of powers within the group.

Only captains and the Commander himself were given the ‘honor’ of bearing the SC tattoo. The placement was purposeful, too - right on the wrist, where an opponent’s eyes would be drawn as they wielded their signature blades.

Suddenly, the behavior of the man made a lot more sense. He was a former thug - now, turned Captain of the Survey Corps.

The nature of Heidi’s injury also made a lot more sense now. She wasn’t victim to a few Titan pick-pockets on the street of Paradis. She was a victim to her father’s line of work.

She had been caught up in the crossfire.

"Miss Ral?" At the sound of the man's deep, gravelly voice, Petra looked up only to be met by a steely gray gaze. He had noticed where her eyes had fallen and had also deduced where her train of thought was drifting. "Are you ready to hand over the medicine?"

His tone was polite enough, not to alert Heidi to the mounting tension that seemed to build with every interaction the two adults had - but there was certainly an edge to it. He was pretty much daring her to ask questions.

Petra certainly was not taking the bait.

“Yes,” The woman responded, slowly. The smile that had fallen from her face at the sight of the man’s tattoo, returned as she warmly regarded her waiting patient. “Let’s get this over with!”

Neither father nor daughter caught the double meaning behind her words.

This shift could not go by fast enough.

After what she could only describe as ‘the longest 12-hour shift ever,’ Petra was ready to hit the sack and enjoy the next two days off.

It seemed like fate, though - had other plans.

"What?" The woman groaned as she pulled her time card out of the slot, her whine catching the attention of a few doctors passing by. Petra couldn't care less what they thought of her right now, she was exhausted - and the news Nanaba had given her was definitely less than welcome "There expediting Krista's maternity leave? Isn't she still like - I don't know - four months away from giving birth?!"

Nifa shook her head from her usual spot by the water tower, looking just about ready to fall over herself.

“Two months,” She reminded the frazzled ginger, chuckling at the groan her answer received. “It was bound to happen sooner or later with how faint she’s been - it just so happens that they made the call during a hospital-wide nursing shortage.”

Petra didn’t want to seem inconsiderate, but this news had really put a wrench in her plans - plans which had included nothing but cleaning and sleeping - but plans nonetheless! There were about a million other things she'd rather do than continue to cross paths with her patient's reticent father.

She had really thought that as the hours passed, his mood would perhaps lift and become a bit more pleasant - but no, things had only seemed to get worse.

While Heidi had slept most of the night, it was almost as if the dark-haired man was reluctant to close his eyes. No matter how many times Petra had walked in there over the past twelve hours, he never moved from his spot near the window. Even when Petra offered to help move the chair over closer to the wall so that he could see, he had glared at her as though she had outright insulted him.

Never had Petra felt so uncomfortable while tending to a patient and she had been doing this for years!

The worst instance of this was when she had gone to change Heidi's bandages over where her injury was. While she had tended to many injured patients before, she could feel a cold sweat breaking out along her hairline as she gently removed the bandages from the young girl's pale skin.

Every movement she made was subject to his intimidating glare - almost as though he was waiting to snap at her the second she made a wrong move. Though he was trying to hide it behind a wall of indifference, Petra could tell that he was on edge as she began to work on Heidi’s wound.

If one thing could be said, it was that Petra had never met a five-year-old quite like Heidi before. Though she remained silent for most of the night, the young woman could tell that she was highly intelligent and aware. Never before had she had a patient who was able to grit their teeth and fight their pain so well. Not even when her bandage got stuck on a small area of irritated skin did Heidi release a whimper.

Petra knew the whole process must have caused her a great deal of pain - however, like her father said, she was hellbent on acting tough.

It wasn’t until she got to the part of the cut that appeared to be the most severe that the child even happened to make a sound.

“Is that tender?” She had asked, but it was more of a formality. The lines of distress on the girl’s forehead told her all she needed to know. “I’ll try to make it quick.”

Heidi said nothing in response, but at her obvious signs of discomfort, her father shifted forward - hands still in his pockets, but his rigid posture showing that he wasn't nearly as indifferent as he tried to act.

Petra was suddenly aware of the man's eyes following the movements of her hands and - though she had done this in front of an audience many times - his attention made her more nervous than she had ever been before. Not only were his eyes watching her like a hawk's - but his body was also tilting forward , closer to her, to see exactly what she was doing.

Under such pressure, she panicked - something that was highly unlike her on a normal day.

With the man's eyes boring holes into her hands, her sweaty palms lost their grip on the bandage she had been trying to pull gently from the skin. Heidi's reaction was instantaneous.

While she had made little more than a whimper up to that point, when the bandage slipped from Petra's hand and the skin of her palm made contact with the stitches that lay over the girl's abdomen - a short, little whelp escaped from her lips at the pain.

If that didn’t have the nurse feeling bad enough, Heidi’s dad’s reaction almost had her crying.

While most parents would be understanding of such a small mistake - many not even realizing she had made one - because he had been watching her so closely, he had borne witness to her error. The shock on his face, expressed only by the raise of his brows and the slight opening of his mouth, soon morphed into something much more threatening - anger.

"Don't you know how to do your job?" The man seethed, glaring at her with the same eyes that had been watching her so closely moments before. While his voice was not loud, the quiet tone almost made it that much scarier. "Can't you see that your mistake has caused her pain?"

Petra didn’t know what else to do besides look at him like a gaping fish.

"Well - are you competent enough to continue your work, or should I request another nurse?"

“No sir,” The woman answered, quietly - in a sort of daze from the man’s unusual reaction. Though she thought he was going to argue some more with her - he instead leaned back against the wall next to Heidi’s bed and continued to watch her in silence, as though he hadn’t questioned her skill at all.

Petra rolled her shoulders back, steeling herself to do the same thing she had done a million times. She would not let this man get to her twice.

After apologizing to the small girl, who merely gave a meek nod in response, Petra finished removing the old bandage from her cut. Once the wound had been cleaned and rebandaged - the nurse hurriedly made herself scarce, barely giving the girl's father a second glance.

When she had left the room, her face had been flushed and she had felt as though she was going to cry - but after hearing the taunts from her friends at the desk, thinking she had had some kind of flirtation with her patient's father, she instead turned to the next room and prepared herself to tend to her other patients.

“Earth to Petra?” Nifa’s voice brought her back to the present, something she was grateful for. Though it had been a long shift, at least it was finally over. “So, are you going to cover Krista for the rest of the week?”

Petra groaned once again. She had forgotten why she had spaced out for so long in the first place - they wanted her to take on the night shift for an additional two days.

"Hey!" Nifa chirped, crossing the small distance that separated her from Petra, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "The good thing is you'll get almost a full week off if you finish all your hours now!"

"Yeah - " Petra agreed reluctantly, though her voice held little excitement. "But what good are hours off if I'm too exhausted to enjoy them?"

"All you do is clean, you neat freak! Don't act like it's going to spoil a hot date or something!"

Nanaba chuckled at Nifa's words, also reaching to pick up her card and clock out. "You know, she's not wrong."

Petra blushed at their goading. “How would you know?”

Both girls looked at her dubiously, their reaction causing Petra to blush an even deeper shade of red. Nifa shook her head, clucking her tongue in disappointment.

“I rest my case.”

“Oh, shove it!” Petra grabbed her bag from the floor, ready to leave the past 12-hour shift behind. “I’ll cover Krista’s damn shifts if it means I’ll get some time away from you weirdos next week.”

Nanaba rolled her eyes at Petra's dramatics, while Nifa simply laughed in response, also retrieving her bag from under the counter. Though both busied themselves by getting their stuff together to take home, neither missed the shameless smirk Petra sent over her shoulder.

“I guess this is the price one has to pay when they’ve been named the most satisfactory nurse on the ward.”

Now, this comment had both Nifa and Nanaba groaning, the girls rushing to catch up with Petra as she made her way to the stairwell.

The second day Petra was assigned to the Ackerman’s was just as strange as the first.

After getting a good 8-hour rest, the nurse entered the hospital with a renewed bounce in her step. The reason? She had pressed her uniform to perfection and had even pushed back her shoulder-length hair with a headband with not a hair out of place.

‘Let’s see what that man can find wrong with me now,’ Petra thought to herself as she clocked in for the day, only to be shocked by what she saw going on at Room 325 - Heidi Ackerman's room.

She could recognize the dark blue suits of the Military Police from a mile away.

Two men, one with long blonde hair and the other with a dark, crew cut, stood outside the girl's room, talking with Heidi's father. The men were speaking quietly to each other, the blonde one jotting down some notes onto a form he held in his hand.

It looked like a statement.

Not wanting to intrude, Petra double-checked Heidi's folder to make sure that she wasn't due for another dose of medication for another half an hour still. The day nurse had left several notes for the night nurse, describing the girl's progress. While she was still in a considerable amount of pain, her vitals had remained stable throughout the day. Now, the only thing they needed to worry about was the possibility of infection setting in at the sight of her would.

Petra made a mental note to remain extremely vigilant when it came to caring for the girl’s wound. The faster she healed, the faster she would be out of the ward.

'...and the faster her father could get the hell off of my floor.' Petra thought to herself, jotting down a few quick notes of her own, before closing the file and picking up the next.

By the time Petra arrived at Heidi's room, the MP's were long gone and the girl was sleeping peacefully in bed.

Upon entering the room with a glass of cherry juice already in hand, Petra braced herself for a rude comment or a deadly stare - but was surprised when she found that she was not on the receiving end of one.

Mr. Ackerman was still dressed in the same clothes he had worn the day before, his hair styled still to perfection, yet a bit greasier from the lack of a good washing. While his gaze was cold as ever as it moved from his daughter's slumbering form to the nurse as she entered the room, it wasn't nearly as intimidating as it had been before.

The man just looked tired.

Still, he stood by the lone window in the room, leaning against the ledge as if it was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Petra spared a glance towards the only chair in the room by Heidi's bedside and noticed that the pillow and blanket that she had left for him last night were still neatly folded and waiting to be used.

He had never slept. He had never even sat.

Petra's mouth popped open in surprise as she stood in the doorway, glass in hand. She wanted to say something but found that every time she tried to get the words out, they got stuck in her throat.

"Don't wake her up." It was the first words she had heard out of his mouth since entering, his tone as deep as it had been the day before, but weaker from lack of rest. He almost didn't look so much annoyed, as he did exasperated. "She's had a long few hours and was just now able to fall asleep."

At his request, Petra felt conflicted.

"It's time for her medicine." The woman insisted, talking quietly as she approached the girl's bedside, placing the glass of cherry red liquid onto the side table. "I'm worried that if she doesn't take it soon, she may wake up in pain."

The man considered her words, staring at her for a few moments before letting his gaze drop to the sleeping five-year-old in the hospital bed. The fact that he was even chewing over her statement had Petra reeling. While the day before, he had been questioning her methods - now he was actually taking her seriously.

The man sighed, pushing himself off from the wall he was leaning against.

“Could you wait twenty minutes?”

The words were spoken quietly, yet for the first time, they held no underlying rudeness. He seemed genuine in his request, his gray eyes boring into her's as he waited for an answer.

Petra was beginning to feel as though she was experiencing whiplash on the receiving end of his mood swings.

It was only in that moment, when he was making such direct eye contact with her, that she began to notice the slight shake of his stature, almost as though a short burst of chills were beginning to overcome his body. The sight was so strange, that Petra felt herself nodding at the man's request before she had even had a chance to think it over.

"Uh - " The young woman stuttered, trying desperately to find her voice. "I guess that would be alright?"

The man gave her a short nod of appreciation, his lips pressed in a thin line as he seemed to consider whether to say something else. Instead of asking any more questions though, he breezed past the young nurse and began to make his way to the door - something that caught Petra's attention, considering he had not left his daughter's room the entire time during her shift before.

"Wait!" She called out in surprise, though the volume of her voice surprised her. The man gave her a sharp look as he glanced over at the still slumbering child. After watching the rise and fall of her chest for a few long moments - he switched his gaze back to her, annoyance evident in the twist of his features.

And just like that, the same man from the day before was back.

"What?" He asked, as though it wasn't unusual for him to leave his daughter's room. In most cases, it wouldn't be strange for her patient's parents to leave their child unattended while they went to find some food or refreshments in the hospital, but this man had never done that before.

‘Maybe that’s why he wants her to stay asleep…’ Petra thought to herself, as she tried to think of what else she could say without sounding too nosy.

“Where are you going?”

Nice one, Ral.

The man scoffed, as though he believed her question didn't deserve an answer. Without responding, he turned back to the door and placed his shaking hand on the knob.

But Petra was surprised when, before leaving the room, he quietly called back over his shoulder.

“Would you mind keeping an eye on her for me, real quick? There’s something I need to do.”

Not waiting for her answer, the man was out the door before Petra's brain could even catch up to what he had been asking. However, when she realized what he had done, she found herself seething.

What did she look like - a babysitter?! She had other patients to be taking care of!

Though she knew that she had no real obligation to stay in Heidi’s room, there was something that had her sitting in the chair beside the bed, scooting the pillow and blankets out of the way to make herself more comfortable. She didn’t know what it was that kept her rooted in that spot, but she truly felt like she couldn’t leave the little girl.

A vision of the MP's quickly flashed through her mind.

It was that feeling of guilt that had her planted in the chair for the next twenty minutes - even though she had other patients to check on.

‘Oh well,’ Petra picked a piece of lint off the top sheet of the bed, watching the steady rise and fall of Heidi’s small chest. ‘What are they gonna do? Fire me?’

Just as Petra was fantasizing about all the things she could do if her boss truly did fire her - Mr. Ackerman returned to the room.

The first thing the young ginger noticed about the man was that he held a large white bag in his hand - one that seemed to be from the hospital's gift shop. The second thing she noticed was that he held a mug of what looked like some kind of tea in his other hand.

The third thing she noticed was that he reeked of smoke. With this knowledge, Petra could feel her face heat up in annoyance.

Now the shaking of his body and hands made sense - he had been going through withdrawals.

“You left me in here to tend to your daughter while you went and had a smoke?” The nurse stood from her spot in the chair, quietly chastising the man as he walked through the door. “Don’t you know those things can kill you?”

After having gotten his fix of nicotine, the man was back to his usual pleasant self. Before Petra could even think of what else to say, his eyes flashed towards her in contempt.

"Don't you know how to mind your own business?"

At such a rude response, Petra threw caution to the wind, sick of the man's attitude. Not caring whether Heidi woke up at this point or not, she stormed over to the dark-haired man, pointing a single finger into his chest. At least the man had the nerve to look surprised.

“Listen here - “ Petra dug her finger further into his hard chest, the fabric of his white shirt wrinkling as she tapped him once more for good measure. “Your daughter is currently my patient, Mr. Ackerman. So yes, your health is a part of my business now. What I’d like to know is how you think you're going to take care of your child on nothing but cigarettes and tea? Did you even eat while you were gone?”

The man raised a brow at her tirade, still shocked at the fact that the small redhead had had the nerve to speak to him like that. He definitely wasn’t used to it.

"Well, did you?" She asked again, demanding an answer, sticking him in the chest with a finely manicured finger once more.

What the man did next, nearly floored the poor girl for what felt like the millionth time in the past twenty-four hours. He smirked.

That damn infuriating smirk again!

Before she could repeat her question, the Survey Corps member grabbed the finger that was currently poking his chest, pushing her hand down while the infuriating smirk on his face only grew bigger.

"No," He said simply, as though he had not a care in the world. Petra could tell by the challenge in his eyes that he was eagerly waiting to see how she would respond.

Almost as though it was a game to him. Well, Petra was perfectly ready to play.

Pulling her hand out of his hold, the woman crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at him as he continued to smirk down at her. While he had shaken her the day before, she had become familiar enough with him to know that he only seemed to respond positively to her when she was actively challenging him.

What was he - a masochist?

“Lucky for you I have a wide array of crackers to offer you.” Petra smiled sweetly, watching as the man’s brows rose at the sound of her tone. “What would your flavor of choice be - cheese or peanut butter?”

“Neither, I - ,”

“Oh!” She cut him off, tapping him once again on the chest, knowing that this seemed to annoy him greatly just a few moments ago. “I’m sorry but ‘neither’ doesn’t seem to be a flavor - try again!”

The man's brows rose even higher at her continued teasing. "What if I'm allergic to peanut butter and cheese?"

Petra was anticipating such an answer, her arms once again crossing over her chest as she puffed it out with pride, knowing that this was an argument she had already won. "Then I guess I get to pick your poison."

They stared at each other in silence, neither intending to back down. Finally, the older Ackerman broke.

The man chuckled. Not a pity chuckle, either - but a real, amused chuckle. Though it may have been quiet, Petra couldn't conceal the pride that swelled up in her chest at having broken through at least one of the man's self-made barriers.

They didn't call her the best nurse for nothing!

"Alright, alright…" He finally conceded, no longer chuckling - but still keeping that mysterious smirk on his face. "I'll eat something, but no crackers."

Petra’s brow rose at this. “Why not? Isn’t that the most universal snack there is?”

“They’re too messy.”

The woman had to stop herself from giggling at the look of annoyance that passed over the man’s face. It seemed they at least had one thing in common - Petra absolutely hated a mess.

“An apple?”

The man shrugged noncommittally. Petra took this as confirmation that the fruit would do.

“Daddy?”

The feeble call from the bed had both of the adults turning, their eyes falling on the once slumbering girl who still lay propped up against the pillows. Though she had only said one word, Petra could tell from the look on her face that she had been woken from her sleep by some kind of pain.

The girl’s father hummed in response, acknowledging that he had heard her. Not wasting a moment and with a new pep in his step from his smoke break, the Survey Corps member approached his daughter’s bedside, placing his tea down by the glass of juice that still lay on the bedside table.

It was when the girl glanced over at the juice and then at the door, that she noticed the short nurse who was also now standing in her room. Petra liked to imagine that the girl’s face had lit up a bit at the sight of her, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think that it was anything other than the prospect of juice that had her glowing.

Heidi, much like her father though, surprised her.

"Hi, Miss Petra," The girl said in that sweet tone of her, her words still shy, but definitely more confident than from the night before. "Is it time for my medicine?"

Petra smiled in encouragement, joining the girl’s father at the side of her bed. “Yes, it is. Are you in any pain?”

Once again, the child looked up at her father - but, instead of waiting for some kind of input from him, she turned back to the nurse and answered for herself.

“Just a little.”

While her answer was not nearly as descriptive as Petra would have liked, the woman knew that this was probably the best she was going to get out of the child. With a tough-as-nails father by her side, the little girl was never going to give a true indication of how she was truly feeling. To do so would be to admit defeat in her eyes.

It was sad to an extent, but having grown up with a single dad herself - something she was assuming based on the fact that Petra had yet to see a mother stop by for a visit to Heidi's room - she knew how important it was to show them that their little girls were strong enough to handle themselves.

Petra’s respect for the precocious five-year-old just continued to grow as she spent more time with her.

After the nurse had given the girl her pills and had made sure that they went down easily, she reviewed Heidi’s vitals one more time before promising to return in the next hour.

Before she could make it out the door though, she turned to face the girl’s father one last time.

“I’ll be bringing you an apple, Mr. Ackerman,” She called back to him, watching as his gaze drifted upwards to meet her’s. “- and I’ll be expecting you to eat it.”

“Levi.”

The response was so quick and unexpected that it had Petra quieting immediately. Seeing the look of confusion written across her face, one side of the man's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. He sighed, shaking his head before closing his eyes in exasperation.

When he opened them again, there was a softer look there than there had been before.

“My name’s Levi. Stop it with that Mr. Ackerman stuff.”

Even Heidi chuckled from her place in the bed at the sound of such a formal name for her father. Once Petra had collected her wits, she gave a short nod in response.

"Levi, then."

Without wasting another second, the woman turned from the room - shutting the door close with more force than what she had intended to.

Her face was burning as she walked away from the room - and for the first time since she had been assigned to the patient in Room 325 - it wasn't from shame.

It was nearly an hour and a half later that she was finally able to return to Heidi’s room to check on the girl. With an apple in hand, the woman pushed open the door quietly, just in case the little girl had happened to fall back asleep.

The scene that lay before her, had her pausing in the open doorway in wonder.

Levi Ackerman was sitting. Not only was he sitting, but he was reading - and from a children’s book, nonetheless!

The white bag from earlier lay at his feet, the contents of it having been removed. While it had been puffed up quite large only an hour before, it now sat deflated on the cold tile of the hospital floor. Petra couldn't imagine that a few children's books from the gift shop would make a bag look that full, and she was right to assume that.

The reason the bag had looked so full was currently resting in the happy little hands of one Miss Heidi Ackerman in the form of a very large, stuffed teddy bear.

"Then Mr. Owl asked Mr. Bear if he could borrow a few - ," Petra listened to the smooth voice of the man who had nearly made her cry the day before, no rudeness left in his tone as he read to a very captive audience.

"Daddy, why would he ask to borrow something that he could never give back?' Heidi asked from her hospital bed, fully engaged in the story. Whether it was consciously or not, she hugged her bear a little tighter to herself as she turned onto her side to regard her father.

The man gave her a small, patient smile. "It's an expression, Heidi. Mr. Owl is going to eat the carrots, of course - so I'm sure hoping he's not planning on regurgitating them and giving them back to Mr. Bear. Mr. Bear is letting Mr. Owl have something without the guarantee of ever receiving it back or something in return."

“Then it’s not borrowing.”

Her father shrugged, his eyes turning back to the page in front of him. "Not really, I guess."

Before the man could pick up where he'd left off - Heidi cut him off once more.

“Daddy, I don’t think owls actually eat carrots.”

“Are you going to let me finish the story, brat?” The man gazed at her over the top of the book, annoyance creeping into his tone after having been interrupted for the second time. “Or do I need to read from the dictionary in order to please you?”

While Petra had been shocked when he had referred to his daughter as "brat" the night before, she would have to be deaf to not hear the endearment that lay hidden in his tone. He said it so gently - as though it was meant as an affectionate tease more than an insult.

Heidi certainly wasn’t offended by it if her sweet little laugh was any indication of how she was feeling.

“Daddy!” She whined, hugging her bear even tighter. “No dictionary! I want animal stories!”

“Then sit back and enjoy the damn book, instead of overanalyzing everything.”

Heidi’s eyes widened in shock, her small mouth forming an ‘o’ at her father’s choice of words. “Daddy, you swore.”

The man twisted his lips, trying his best to hide his face behind the children's book that he held in his hands.

“I heard you! You’re going to have to put change in the swear jar at home!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Heidi smiled brightly at her father. "Nuh-uh, it's a deal! I'm going to be rich!"

“Heidi,” Levi raised one dark brow towards the girl, his tone darkening with warning as she continued to get louder. “You need to be quiet.”

At her father’s admonishment, the child’s face fell, her bright smile falling swiftly off her features. Petra made a movement to jump in - anything to bring that sweet expression back to the darling girl’s face - but was stopped by the man’s voice chiming in once again.

“ - and besides, you only have two dollars. That’s barely enough to call yourself rich.”

While most children would have balked at Levi's use of blunt humor, Heidi - who must have been used to it by now - began to giggle once more, the bright smile from just moments before, returning to her face. Petra was even surprised to find that the man was wearing one of his own now.

"It's almost enough to buy a chocolate bar." Heidi insisted as if the candy was the most precious thing in the world.

Petra had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from laughing out loud. From her spot in the doorway, the nurse's shoulders trembled in quiet amusement. This little girl was something else - and, from what she had seen over the past few minutes, so was her father.

"Now you see, Miss Ral?" The question had her pausing mid-shake, her amusement slowly fading now that she had been caught. "I told you sweets would be her downfall."

Petra could feel her cheeks heating up. She had just been caught eavesdropping - how unprofessional could she be?

Opening the door all the way, the woman stepped fully into the room, apple still in hand. While Heidi certainly seemed to quiet as the woman entered the room, the smile on her face did not fade.

While she had thought the older Ackerman would look at her in contempt for having the gall to eavesdrop on him, during what she would call a very intimate family moment, he instead looked over at her with a slight quirk in his brow.

“ - and eavesdropping will be yours.”

Without saying another word, the man placed the children’s book on top of the bedside table, where Petra could now see an entire stack had been laid. Next to it, a small cat plush sat, almost as though watching over the mountain of books that now stood beside it. Before the nurse could make any comments in regards to his gift shop purchases, the man stuck out his hand.

Petra just stared at him in confusion.

Levi gave her a less than impressed look. “My apple, Miss Ral?”

If Petra had thought her face had been burning before, it was nothing compared to now.

A few hours passed uneventfully in the pediatric ward. That was one thing Petra had always enjoyed about the night shift - there was a certain calm in the air that seemed to hang over the 3rd floor of the hospital. A child would cry out in pain, only to be shushed a few moments later by comfort or medicine - or a buzzer would go off, signaling that someone needed assistance.

Other than that, the ward pretty much always stayed quiet in the late night to early morning hours of the day and Room 325 was no exception to this.

Heidi was snoozing peacefully as Petra made her rounds once again to check on the girl. After having received her last dose of medication until morning, the girl had lost her battle against sleep. She had fought valiantly - wanting to stay up and continue listening to the stories being told by her father - but after several hours and retellings of the same stories over and over, she was finally out for the night.

While Petra hated to disturb the girl's sleep, it was pertinent that she clean her wound every few hours to keep the infection from setting in. Though the girl was already taking oral antibiotics, the nurse knew that it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to wounds.

In an attempt to be as stealthy as possible, Petra quietly entered the dimly lit room of Heidi Ackerman, careful not to make any noise as she closed the door behind her.

Giving her eyes time to adjust to the lack of lighting in the room, Petra squinted while looking over at the chair.

There sat Levi, bloody clothes and all, by his daughter's bed and still wide awake despite his obvious exhaustion. Petra had given up hours ago on telling him to get some sleep, learning quickly that even without an injured child the man was a terrible insomniac.

However, she couldn't help but be concerned when it came to the man's state of mind. How on earth was he supposed to tend to his child when he wasn't willing to rest himself?

"Oi, stop lurking in the doorway." A ragged voice called from the chair, his eyes never drifting from Heidi's face. Even without looking, he seemed to just know she was there. it must have been a Survey Corps thing. “She’s out for the night, so there’s no need to sneak around as if the smallest noise is going to wake her up.”

Petra blushed at the call-out, stepping fully into the dim light of the room, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to change her bandages."

The man grunted in acknowledgment, shrugging his shoulders. "It can't be helped. Several more hours of reading from 'Mr. Owl's Adventures' sounds like a decent penance to me."

Though Petra found herself chuckling at the man's dry wit, she couldn't help but notice the strain in his voice that spoke of some underlying guilt she was not privy to. Trying to lighten the mood, she moved closer to Heidi's bedside, bandages already in hand and a soft smile on her features.

"Count yourself lucky," The woman bristled, reaching into her pocket for a disinfectant wipe. "You could be changing dirty bandages and bedpans for the rest of the night. I think I would choose Mr. Owl over that, any day."

While she hadn't expected the man to laugh at her remark, she wasn't expecting him to sober so quickly either.

He watched as she placed the packet of disinfectant wipes down on the table, her hands moving to the bandages to ready them for placement. The night before, she had found his gaze unnerving - now, however, he seemed to be pondering her actions more than looking for something that she was doing wrong.

“Could you show me how to change her bandages?”

Petra couldn't hide the shock that flooded her features at the quiet request. The words were spoken so softly that she questioned whether she had even heard them.

“Huh?” She heard herself ask, pausing mid-action.

Levi's face held its usual passive expression - but, when Petra looked closely, she could see the skin of his neck turning red underneath the hairs of his undercut.

The man was blushing.

Petra had little time to be amazed before he was speaking again.

"I tried watching you last night and when the nurse did it this morning," The man confessed, his voice tight as though he felt ashamed for admitting it. "But I want to make sure I know how to do it right since I'm the one who's going to be doing it at home."

Suddenly, his attentiveness to her actions during her prior shift made a lot more sense.

While she had thought he had been watching her closely to see if she made any mistakes while changing Heidi's bandages, he was really just trying to learn how to do it himself. So the reason he must have been so grouchy when she had made that one mistake, was because he was frustrated not only with her but with himself for having to seek out someone's help.

Man, she had misjudged him terribly in that moment.

Knowing that it was hard for the man to admit he needed guidance - Petra gave him a small but encouraging smile.

"I can show you," The woman gestured for him to come closer to the bed so that he could see better. "This is the perfect time, actually since I'm going to be doing it really slow, so that we don't wake her."

Petra tried to calm the furious beating of her heart as the man rose from his chair and made his way over to her side. This was the closest she had ever been to him, even closer than when she had gotten up in his face earlier. From this vantage point, she could see the dark stubble that now lined his cheeks and the puffy bags that seemed to permanently reside under his eyes.

The man was starting to look a bit ragged. However, no amount of exhaustion could dull the look of determination in his eyes.

Petra took her time, carefully peeling back the bandages that sat across Heidi's abdomen. Levi watched closely as she worked her finger under the sticky material at a particularly irritated patch of skin. While Heidi mumbled a few incoherent words in her sleep and turned her head to the side in agitation, she remained unconscious as Petra continued to work on her wound.

The nurse quietly explained proper wound care, as she cleaned around the stitches that lay on the girl's stomach. Levi nodded in acknowledgment to each of her points, his steely gaze never leaving her hands.

The whole process took about ten minutes, much longer than usual, but Petra felt like it had taken a hundred years.

The man was just so close and it was distracting.

Despite being flustered by his proximity and rapt attention, Petra was able to successfully clean and re-bandage the wound.

She ripped the end of the last piece of tape needed for the girl's skin, gently patting it down with soft pressing motions. "So, that's all there is to it."

Levi nodded, the wheels in his head turning as he tried to internalize everything he had just seen.

It struck Petra as odd that he needed such guidance from her when his line of work surely included some bumps and nicks over time. Almost as if he could guess her train of thought, the man answered her unspoken question.

"I've had to treat my own wounds before," He admitted quietly, eyes glued to the area of Heidi's stomach where her injury lay. " - but I've never had to treat a child's. I just want to make sure I do it right."

Petra gave him a sympathetic smile, placing the roll of tape back on the table. "It really isn't that much different from dressing your own wounds."

Levi's eyes darkened at her words, his tone shifting. "It is different."

The young woman watched as the man's eyes drifted back up to Heidi's peaceful face, her small pink lips opened in an 'o' as little breaths escaped between them. From a hardened gaze, the Survey Corps member's eyes softened at the sight of his slumbering daughter.

“What happened?”

Petra didn't know what had come over her, but at the man's words and expression, she couldn't help but speak out of curiosity. While the girl's file had said she had been cut by a blade that had been laced with poison, it hadn't said any more than that. She figured that Heidi had been caught up in a crossfire, but she couldn't be too sure.

She wanted to know what had caused her patient so much pain - and she also wanted to know what it was that was causing the girl's father so much guilt.

Petra had not expected much in ways of a response, figuring that the man would tell her to mind her own business. She was surprised when, instead of snapping at her in anger, Levi sighed and crossed his arms over his chest in defeat. She could see his reluctance to share in the rigid way he stood, but could also see in the way he rolled his lips inwards, that there was a part of him that wanted to tell someone what happened.

"They broke into my home when it wasn't there." The man admitted quietly, a quick rush of breath leaving him as he resigned himself to share with Petra the details behind the incident. "Heidi knows not to open the door to strangers, so when they came knocking, she hid - but they knew she was there. They had been watching."

"The Titans?" Petra asked in a whisper. Levi nodded.

The man sighed, his eyes cutting back to his daughter’s face. “One of my men had heard through our line of communication that The Titans were planning on laying siege to my house - however, it had been kept under wraps for as long as possible to keep the plan from getting back to me.”

Levi's face darkened, his thin lips pressing together as his eyes took on a faraway look - like he was being transported back in time.

"Unlucky for them," The man continued, his tone growing terser as time went on. "I found out and was able to intercept the attack."

Petra watched as the man’s focus drew back to the present, his steely gaze never leaving his daughter. “But not before Heidi could get hurt.”

Levi ran a single hand through his hair, the action causing the arm of his jacket to rise and the ‘Wings of Freedom’ tattoo to be exposed.

"There were six of them at the house," Levi admitted, not even pausing when this information called forth a gasp from Petra. "I cut down every single one of them."

At the dark look on his face, the nurse could feel herself gulp in fear. The same intimidating man whom she had encountered the night before during her first shift was suddenly making an appearance once again. His behavior - however, made more sense now. He had been reticent and ready to snap, not just because his daughter had been injured, but because he had just murdered six men.

Petra also realized that the blood that lay splattered across the man’s white shirt was, more than likely, not just Heidi's. While the news had Petra suppressing a shiver, she didn't interrupt him as he continued with his story.

"When I realized the blade had been laced with poison, I rushed Heidi here." He glanced over at her now, his gaze watching her carefully as he analyzed her reaction. "Then a few hours later, we met you."

Petra didn't know what to say - half of her had expected the story to be something like that, but also half of her wishing it hadn't. She was outright conflicted.

"She had been alone?" She heard herself ask through the whooshing in her ears. Her head was spinning from all the new information.

Levi nodded. "I can't afford to send her anywhere. She's always alone."

Though Petra tried to hide her surprise, she couldn't conceal it quick enough for his all-seeing eyes.

"She has no mother." Levi admitted though Petra had deduced as much. "The woman dropped her off on my doorstep years ago without so much as a word - so I'm all she has."

"That's horrible." While it was an understatement, to be sure, it was all Petra could think of in response. At least it was able to draw a dry chuckle from the man.

“I guess you could say that.”

Not knowing how to dispel the tension that currently lay in the air, Petra turned to continue cleaning up the used bandages from the side table, disposing of them in the trash while she continued to think of what to say.

Noticing her unease, Levi sighed. "I didn't tell you all of this to make you feel awkward. You did ask, you know?"

"I don't feel awkward!" Petra insisted although she knew it was a fib. She rolled up the gauze that she had neglected to use while trying to choose her words carefully. "I'm just not sure what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," The man said, walking back around to the other side of the bed. His eyes drifted to the children's books that lay stacked on the side of the bed. "It's the ways things are and the way they will always be. All I can do is ensure that none of my decisions from here on out will infringe on her safety.'

Petra nodded. “I guess you're right.”

The room was quiet as Petra continued to bustle about. She fluffed Heidi's pillows a few more times, before reviewing the young girl's vitals. She didn't know what it was, but despite the tense atmosphere that lay heavy over the room, she really didn't want to leave.

No matter what she wanted though, she knew she had other patients to see.

Before she left, a thought came to her as she reached for the handle on the door. She remembered at the start of her shift that Levi had only taken leave of his daughter's room when Petra was guaranteed to be there and keep watch. The circumstance had Petra pausing.

Was that why he hadn’t bothered to go home and change yet?

Petra could see that the man needed a good shower and a fresh pair of clothes - but, after hearing about what happened, she highly doubted he was willing to leave the hospital while his daughter was still in such a vulnerable state.

She didn’t know what came over her, but suddenly she was speaking.

“I get off in a few hours. Do you want me to sit with Heidi while you go home and change?”

Her offer caused the man to turn his head, his eyes gazing at her warily. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. I know you probably need your rest.”

Petra shook her head. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing.”

"I couldn't -,"

"No offense," Petra finally said, her arms crossing over her chest in an act of defiance. " - but you are starting to look rough.”

This caused one side of the man’s mouth to quirk up. “I’m just now starting to? I thought surely when I walked in covered in blood yesterday that I looked about as rough as I could.”

“Well, then I guess you’ve been proven wrong.”

Levi shook his head. “I’m not leaving. Besides, I have nowhere to go. My home is a crime scene, remember?”

"You can use my apartment." The words had left Petra's mouth before she even had time to think. At the suggestion, she could feel her face heating up, but she continued speaking anyway. "Go at least take a shower - please."

This had the man's brows raising to his hairline.

"You would let a man who just murdered six people take a shower in your home?"

Petra shrugged. “Yeah, I mean as long as you promise not to mess with anything.”

“You’re damned crazy.”

"Yeah, maybe," Petra conceded, but her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. "But it's better than being stinky. I'm going to get a shirt from the lost and found for you to take. My shift is over in three hours, so try to at least get some rest before it's my turn to watch Heidi."

Without waiting for a response, Petra exited the room in a flurry of white fabric and frazzled nerves, missing the smirk that followed her actions as she hurriedly exited through the door.

- True to her word, Petra had returned to Heidi's room after clocking out. The woman handed the older Ackerman a piece of paper with her address, a key, and a plain white t-shirt - before practically pushing him out of the room.

Not allowing any chance of negotiation, Petra slammed the door behind him, fighting the urge to actually lock it.

Now fully awake, Heidi giggled at the sight of the young woman bossing her otherwise intimidating father around. The sound had Petra smiling, too. Though she was tired, she was looking forward to spending a bit of downtime with the girl.

During the hour and a half that Levi was gone, Petra learned many things about Miss Heidi Ackerman.

She was born in late September and couldn't wait for the Summer to be over so that she could finally be six. Her favorite thing to learn about was animals - hence, why her father always bought her stories with animal characters rather than humans. She had named the big teddy bear her father had gotten her, Felix, after a cat character with the same name that existed in one of the storybooks her dad had once read to her.

While it wasn’t new information, Petra was struck once again by how intelligent the little girl was.

Heidi shared with her the process of her daily routine - how she woke up in the morning to find a bowl of cereal already sitting ready for her at the table. Though her father was usually gone by this time, he always left a note telling her what time he would be home and reminded her to never open the door to strangers. After reading the note, she would do a few chores around the house - she loved sweeping - and even had her own little broom that matched her father's so that on the weekends they could clean the floors together.

While Petra imagined such an existence would be a sad one - being all alone in a house all day, especially, at such a young age - Heidi didn't seem particularly bothered by it.

"When Daddy gets home in the afternoon, he always cooks me something yummy for dinner," Heidi's voice held all the wonderment of a child, who was properly spoiled by her father. "Uncle Erwin even sometimes comes over and eats with us. He can toss me up in the air really high! Higher than Daddy!"

Petra found herself chuckling at this. “Oh, really?”

Heidi nodded excitedly, her cheeks flushed from the conversation and probably what was still a bit of residual pain. Despite this, she continued chatting as though she couldn't be bothered.

Petra felt her heart warm as the girl slowly began to open up more and more to her - remembering how quiet she had been during the first time she had attended to her.

It was as though the child that sat before her now was a completely different person from the one before. While she could probably blame some of that on the young girl's injury - a bigger portion of it was just that it probably took the girl time to warm up to people.

‘Much like her father,’ Petra supposed.

By the time Levi returned, both his daughter and the nurse were sat up in the hospital bed, the scene causing him to pause in the doorway.

Petra had sat herself behind Heidi, allowing the girl to lean back on her legs and chest in a reclining position. The nurse’s hands were working through the girl’s hair, her deft fingers twirling the long dark strands into a simple braid.

“I’ve always wanted a braid!” Heidi shared, squeezing her bear close to her chest. “I’m so excited! I hope it looks pretty.”

“Oh, it looks very pretty," Petra insisted, her light, chestnut eyes finally drifting towards the man that stood in the door. Her lips quirked up in a small smirk. "Doesn't it, Mr. Levi?"

Fighting the urge to groan at the use of mister before his name, the man closed the door to the hallway behind him before stepping fully into the room. "Oh yes - very pretty."

At his insistence, Heidi giggled - her little cheeks flushed now from the compliments.

Once the girl was situated back on her pillows - chatting with her bear about all the hairstyles she'd like to try to learn to do in the future - Petra turned to Heidi's dad, giving him a smile of appreciation.

Instead of wearing the t-shirt she had retrieved from him, he was wearing a dark blue one with the hospital logo that they sold in the gift shop. The woman had to smirk when she saw that.

"What are you - a germaphobe?" She couldn't help but ask, remembering the wary look he had had on his face when she had handed the used t-shirt over. Though she couldn't blame him, being very particular about things like that herself, she couldn't hold back a laugh.

Levi shrugged. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

They stood there for a few silent beats, the only sound between them being that of Heidi's quiet voice as she chatted to Felix, the teddy bear. Finally, Levi pulled his hand out of his pocket, her key shining in his hand.

Petra held out her hand to receive it.

"Thank you for your hospitality." The man drawled, placing the object in the middle of her palm, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips. "Your lodgings were adequate enough, I guess."

After having heard from Heidi herself in the past hour of how her dad was a self-proclaimed 'clean freak' - the woman was not surprised at such a comment. In fact, knowing what she did now, it made her quietly chuckle.

“I’m glad.”

Petra called over her shoulder to Heidi that she would be back on the night shift in just a few hours, the girl happily waved at her as the woman made her way to the door. Knowing that she only had one more 12-hour shift for the week, the young nurse moved with a slight bounce in her step.

The realization that she probably only had one more night to spend with Heidi and her father had her pausing though.

Shaking her head, she attempted to rid her mind of the thought. She wasn't one to get attached to her patients and she definitely wouldn't start now.

Still, there was something in her heart that tugged every time she thought of Heidi’s sweet little face. Not only that, but the tug worsened every time she thought of Levi’s.

‘I need some sleep,’ She lamented to herself as she continued her way down the stairs.

Yes, sleep was all she needed.

Upon arriving on the 3rd floor for her fourth shift of the week, but third with Heidi, Petra was surprised to see the one and only, Erwin Smith exiting the room of her favorite patient.

She guessed she shouldn't be surprised by the appearance of the blonde man - given how much Heidi talked about him - however, what did surprise her was the grave expression present on his features. While not one to fear the worst, the furrow between his brows and the thin line of his lips had her heart sinking, just a bit.

After confirming with the day nurse that nothing had changed in Heidi's condition, Petra was able to breathe easier. Apparently, in the last hour, Dr. Shadis had even cleared the girl to return home whenever she pleased - however, both the Commander and Levi had convinced the doctor to extend her hospital stay by one day.

The day nurse said she had no idea what the reasoning was behind it but Petra had a good idea.

‘My home is a crime scene.’ Levi had said earlier in response to her pressures for him to go home and shower. The truth of the matter was, Petra feared that neither Levi nor Heidi had anywhere to go.

With that in mind, she entered the girl's room for her first round of medication with a slight hesitance in her gait.

Whatever nerves she had been feeling though dissipated at the sight of Heidi's joyful face.

"Miss Petra!" The girl exclaimed from her place in bed, arms wrapped around her teddy bear and now a large monkey plushie too. "Look what Uncle Erwin brought me!"

The woman was about to respond when a sort of grumbling coming from the direction of the chair caught her attention. Levi had his chin in his hand, his eyes glaring at the plush kitty that still sat on the bedside table untouched. Petra could see a hint of jealousy in his actions.

Dare she call it - adorable?

Though his mutterings weren't all that caught the woman's attention. The man had a whole new change of clothes on, the hospital t-shirt now stuffed away in the white bag that lay by his feet.

The commander must have brought him an extra pair of clothes.

Realizing that she hadn't ever answered Heidi's cheer, Petra smiled at the child who lay in the hospital bed. "Well isn't that a lovely surprise?"

Heidi nodded excitedly, hugging her plushies closer to her. “I think I’m going to name him Beast.”

"That's a lovely name," The nurse agreed, laughing quietly as she watched the girl's father roll his eyes. Despite the current levity in the atmosphere, the woman knew she wasn't going to be able to keep her mouth shut much longer.

Placing the cup of juice she had brought with her down on the bedside table, she busied herself preparing Heidi’s medication as she thought of how to brooch the topic.

“So, I heard Heidi’s been cleared to return home?”

Levi was silent for a moment, but she soon heard a grunt behind her. “It would appear that way.”

“I heard Dr. Shadis approved her for one more night in our care?”

Levi hummed in response, not saying anything more as the woman continued to arrange the pills. Her hands paused as she got to Heidi’s sleep medication.

“Will you be staying with Commander Erwin?”

At her question, the man remained silent - watching as Petra assisted Heidi with taking her pills. Always a brave patient, the girl barely grimaced as the nasty medication tumbled down her throat. When it was all over, the five-year-old simply laid back on her pillows, picking up right where she left off with her two stuffed animals.

It took Levi so long to respond that Petra figured he wouldn't say anything more on the subject - however, his quiet answer came soon enough, a sort of bitterness in his tone.

"No, we can't," He spat out, a rare show of his old reticence shining through. Petra could tell that it wasn't directed at her, though - it was more so in response to the situation. "Erwin thinks it's a bad idea for us to stay with anyone who's a part of the Survey Corps. If they had my address, who's to say they don't have any others?"

Petra had guessed this was the case by the way Commander Erwin had looked upon leaving the room. It was the look of a man who was used to solving problems, who just couldn't seem to solve this one.

Levi continued, missing the pensive look that settled across Petra's features. "He's trying to find somewhere cheap that we could stay, but at the end of the day, the Corps don't receive much funding. I barely make enough to pay for the place we have now and I'm still going to have to pay for it until my lease is up."

“You don’t think you’ll be able to go back after everything is cleaned up?” Petra asked, the wheels still turning in her head. Levi released a dry chuckle at the suggestion.

"I'm not going to make the brat stay in a home where she was almost killed. I may be a monster, but even I have more compassion than that." He spoke quietly, aware that Heidi was still very much awake and able to hear their conversation.

"There's no one you could reach out to and stay with?"

Levi laughed bitterly, once again. "The only people I know are either a part of the Survey Corps or thugs themselves, my options are pretty slim."

Petra nodded, quietly mulling over his words.

After a few moments, she made the offer she had entered the room willing to make.

“Why don’t you stay with me?”

Levi's brows rose, a look of mild shock commanding his features. Feeling uneasy from his reaction, Petra began to ramble in order to fill the awkward silence.

“I mean -,” She cleared her throat, hating how the words had come out as a mere squeak. “You said my lodgings were adequate, right?”

"Well, yes. But -,"

"I certainly wouldn't mind it - and you wouldn't have to pay me rent or anything! All I would need is maybe a little bit of money for groceries since I barely have any - and - uh - and I'm barely home anyway since I work so much, so it would probably be just like living alone!" The words left Petra in a rush, her brain working faster than her mouth as she tried to convince him that this option wouldn't be so bad. "I'm a pretty clean person, so you wouldn't have to worry about -,"

“Could you shut your damn mouth for a second?!”

The low growl of his voice had Petra pausing mid-ramble, her mouth hanging open as the man in the chair cleared his throat, in an attempt to get emotions back under control.

When he spoke again, his tone was even, incredulity evident in his words. "You really expect me to accept such charity?"

Petra closed her mouth, shrugging meekly. “I mean, do you have any other options?”

"Yeah, the street." The nurse found herself rolling her eyes at his words.

"What happened to not allowing any danger to fall upon your daughter again?" Petra asked, remembering their conversation from before. While the man's eyes flashed in anger at her implication, the woman didn't stop there. "Do you really think the safest place for your daughter currently is on the streets?”

The man was silent again.

“I can’t pay you.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“I hate charity.”

"This isn't charity." Petra insisted, meeting his steely gaze with one of her own. "I'm honestly being selfish. I don't think I could sleep at night knowing that the two of you ended up on the streets when I could have helped.'

“Why would you do that for people you barely know?”

"I don't know," Petra answered, honestly - her eyes drifting to where Heidi lay still unaware of the serious conversation taking place next to her. "But something inside of me is telling me that it's the right thing to do."

Levi stared at her, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"So you would offer up your home to two strangers just because your heart is telling you to?”

While his comment was snide, Petra refused to back down. "And you would offer up your life to a cause that will most likely get you killed in the end? It seems like neither of us is very responsible when it comes to where our hearts lie."

The man couldn’t argue with that.

The room descended into a suffocating silence for a few moments, before Levi spoke again.

"What about Heidi?" He asked. "She stays home alone all day. Are you okay with a child residing by themselves in your apartment?"

"Not really," Petra admitted, though she had already thought about this. "But my friend who lives down the hall runs a daycare out of her home. I'm sure if I explained the circumstances, she would be willing to make an exception and let Heidi stay with her when you or I can't be at home."

Levi sighed, realizing she had thought this out a lot more than he had expected. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Nope.” Petra smiled brightly, knowing that he was close to admitting defeat.

The man looked once more towards his daughter, who was now rubbing her tired eyes as she tried to win the battle against sleep.

“Fine.” He begrudgingly agreed, refusing to make eye contact with the now ecstatic ginger.

"Perfect!" The woman nearly exclaimed with glee - however, she kept her reaction quiet, aware of the presence of Heidi who was almost in the throes of sleep. "Leave all the planning to me. Heidi was cleared to stay one more night - so, once I finish my shift, I'll go home and get everything prepared for her discharge tomorrow afternoon."

Levi nodded, still not exactly happy about the situation.

"Don't think you're going to be able to stand around and mope, either," Petra warned, pulling the blanket up higher on Heidi's chest, the girl finally losing the battle against her eyelids. "I'm doing this because I want to, so I won't have you feeling guilty.

Levi shook his head, a smirk appearing on his features. "You're crazy."

"Maybe," Petra shrugged.

After picking up the empty glass of juice from the girl's bedside, Petra decided to take her leave, ready to attend to her other patients.

Before leaving the room, she turned back towards Levi, still sat in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

"We're going to figure this out," Petra assured him as she exited the room, smiling as he turned his face towards her - a look of apprehension on his features. "You, me, and Heidi - it'll work, I promise."

Though his answering smirk was tired, Petra could see that maybe - just maybe - he was starting to believe her.

#levi ackerman #petra ral #rivetra #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #fanfiction #my fanfiction #rivetra au

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mooniefics · 3 years

Text

just one night

pairing : reiner braun / reader

word count : 2.9k

tags : fluff, angst, heartache, acknowledgement of reiner’s suffering </3

summary : being a field nurse had it's ups and downs, but everything about taking care of reiner braun was the best and worst thing about your job.

— originally posted 12 / 16 / 20 on ao3 —

"oh, you're finally awake." you set the tray of medical supplies in your hands down on the small desk beside the bed, shutting the privacy curtain before you returned to his side, "i was worried about you, you know?"

though most of his body had regenerated over the seven hours he'd been unconscious, he was still missing a majority of his right hand up to the wrist, the steaming, incomplete appendage he was now examining with a tired look on his face.

"what time did they bring me in?" his voice was husky with sleep, eyes low as they flitted over to look at you.

"around eighteen hundred hours yesterday," you said, placing the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature, "i administered some pain meds a few hours ago, but let me know if you need any more."

being a field nurse for the marleyan army wasn't the easiest job in the world, mostly consisting of lots of running around in the trenches with your heavy kit and avoiding as much gunfire and blood splatter as you possibly could while still helping the wounded. you had volunteered to work soon after the conflict with the mid-east allied forces had begun, seeing as it was either that or see your father be drafted out into the eldian unit to become cannon fodder like so many of the soldiers you'd seen barely able to crawl their way back over the sandbags just to bleed out and die before you could even begin to assess their injuries. you stopped keeping count of how many people you couldn't save after your first few days of active combat, becoming more focused on not going insane from how little you slept due to the rumbling of the ground from enemy artillery that shook the walls of the underground quarters and reading the letters your family sent from back home to maintain a shred of morale for the future.

though, the job did have some perks. it was always honorable for eldian families to have someone enlisted, and it also meant you could support your parents with your minuscule paycheck from the government. and, of course, meeting reiner braun was the biggest plus of them all, though you probably wouldn't admit it if anybody asked. you were a hard worker, and evidently had enough natural skill to quickly be promoted to the position that you were at now, assigned as one of the few nurses who monitored the wellness of the warriors and their prospective candidates.

"my regeneration has been slowing down lately, i should have more of my hand back by now." reiner murmured, more to himself than you.

"of course it has, you haven't been eating as well as you should be. i don't know much about titan biology, but i do know that a soldier like you, a warrior no less, shouldn't live off of sandwiches and beer, you've been losing too much weight."

he chuckled, a quick smile flitting across his face before he returned to his previous sulk. "you sound like my mother, chiding me about how i need to take care of myself. isn't there other patients that need your attention?"

"you wish. me and another nurse have already taken care of this entire hall, and you, mr. celebrity, get a room all to yourself." you grabbed a pen and his chart, scribbling down a few notes about his current status while you spoke, "plus, i'm supposed to be checking up on you every hour until you're all put back together, magath's orders."

he paused, thinking to himself before speaking. "so does that mean galliard is ok?" you nodded.

"and pieck?" you nodded again.

"and zeke?" you sighed, but reaffirmed once more.

"you've been checking up on me all night by the looks of it. aren't you tired?"

"gosh reiner, would it kill you to focus on yourself for a minute?" you rolled your eyes at his confusion, pulling up the chair at the desk to his bedside and seating yourself down, "this is my job, i'm used to doing my job. in fact, this is one of the easiest nights i've had in weeks. i don't know about you, but it shocks me that the guy they blew to pieces yesterday afternoon is asking me if i'm the one that needs to get some rest."

his brow furrowed, mouth drawing into a small frown. "sorry. i know that the war has been hard for all of us. i just don't want to make it any harder for you than it's already been."

you couldn't help but smile at his genuine concern, planting your elbows on your thighs and resting your chin in your hands. "you don't have to worry about bothering me, reiner." you replied softly, playfully adding, "you know you're my favorite patient anyways" just to see his cheeks flush red.

"is that so?" he murmured in reply, now smiling with you as he met your gaze.

"maybe." you teased, leaving him hanging for a few moments before you continued, "galliard's always awkward when i'm in the room, jaeger never has much, if anything, to say, and pieck, she's nice to be around, but she always looks so tired i feel a bit bad when i chat for too long with her. so, if it's anyone i'm stuck on the night shift with, i'm glad it's you."

you laughed softly at his expression, feeling a bit sheepish under his gaze. he'd changed quite a bit over the two years you'd known him, the shadows under his eyes deepening with a clear exhaustion, cheekbones becoming more pronounced and face growing gaunter as the stress of the war withered away at his physical and mental wellbeing. before you personally met, you'd always seen reiner as the physical embodiment of marley's armor, with his sturdy, unyielding frame, towering over nearly everyone he met from his stature, and the iron will that never seemed to falter no matter how many times he returned broken to the barrack's infirmary.

but now, you could see how everything had been taking a toll on him, how he was growing thinner and weaker each time he returned from a successful military assignment. you had come to learn that despite his regenerative properties, he felt every bit of pain that came with the injuries he sustained, experiencing the absolute agony of having his limbs shredded and bones shattered by cannon fire in his titan form and still having to push forward on the battlefield. you had an immense respect for him and his unyielding nature, but you always worried. even though you knew he would always manage to get himself back together again, you always worried for him. you remembered how you felt as you peeked over the sandbags, watching with a mixture of awe and dread as reiner threw himself in front of jaeger at the last moment to shield him from the unexpected volley of naval artillery, the way your heart thundered so loudly in your ears at the sight of his titan crumpling.

the relief you felt upon being ordered to his hospital room and finding him still alive was indescribable, and the relief you felt now being able to talk to him, to stare into his tired eyes and take in his handsome features you'd become so familiar with, flushed softly from your playfully exchanged words— you didn't want to see him go again.

"l-let me go get you a blanket," you said, snapping yourself out of your unnecessary thoughts, "i packed it away since i didn't want the steam to overheat you, but now that its just your hand and ankle i think it'll be ok to let you have it back now."

you quickly got up from your seat and slipped past the privacy curtain, opening up the supply cupboard with sheets and extra clipboards and things of the sort to pull out the blanket you'd originally taken off of him and put away.

you had to control yourself, to stop letting yourself be distracted by these thoughts and concerns about him. you knew as well as anyone else in marley that he didn't have long left to live. you hated that everyone referred to it as his 'term', as if after two years passed he could return home to live a peaceful life away from the war and bloodshed, to enjoy the luxuries of a normal existence that had been snatched away from him from the very start of his life. he only had two years left before he had to be eaten by one of those children, children that had similarly had their innocence and adolescence stolen from them by the marleyan government. you had told yourself over and over to not let yourself get so close to him, to not trick yourself into believing that maybe something could work between the two of you after marley's greed for natural resources had been sated and all the nations were finally at peace.

but you knew better than anyone that these feelings had been growing out of control, and each day you spent tending to him, watching him out on the battlefield, finding more and more about who he truly was besides a soldier only fed the fire you'd been fighting between fueling and snuffing out for months now. taking in a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your face, not wanting to concern him with an upset expression and risk dumping all your pathetic emotions out under his scrutiny.

"here we are." you hummed, flapping out the blanket a few times before you stretched it over his lap.

for a moment your face was close to his, close enough to see the small brown spots freckling his golden irises and realize just how intently he was gazing at you. you quickly retreated back to your seat at his bedside, still feeling his stare lingering on you, stopping yourself from asking him what was interesting enough to make him look at you for so long.

for another moment, there was silence, and you debated on making up some excuse to leave the room, but you knew you would have to come back in an hour, and he most likely wouldn't be asleep by then, but he spoke before you could think up any other escape plans.

"you know, i was happy to wake up and see you." you felt your heart skip, blinking at him, trying to make sure you weren't hearing things.

"really?" you mustered, feeling your cheeks grow warm at the sight of his smile.

"yes, really." he affirmed, the brightness on his face dampening a bit as he continued, "most of the time when i sleep, i get a lot of... memories, from my time in paradis, and they're not the most pleasant things to see while i'm asleep. and i was having another one of those dreams just now before i woke up, so it was nice to not be alone, you know? it's always reassuring to see you."

you felt a light flutter in your chest, nodding in response, torn between feeling sympathy for his nightmares or happiness from honest words. no, you had to stop being selfish. you had to stop letting yourself play along in this fantastical idea of a happy future.

"y-yeah, i understand," you replied, fixing your gaze down in your lap as you tried to avoid his intention, "i could put in a request for sleeping aids, if restlessness is becoming an issue."

"you know that's not what i'm trying to say." his hand reached out to rest over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, imploring you to stop ignoring the obvious.

"reiner." you said firmly, lips pressing into a firm line, "we can't. i can't."

you could feeling that light, airy joy twisting down into something irksome, settling like lead deep in your stomach as he replied. "what's stopping you?"

"everything!" you snapped, stopping yourself to take a deep breath and regain control of your volume before you began again, "everything.. this war, this never-ending conflict, and.. y-your term, your life-"

"you think i don't know that?" he said softly, too softly, somber gaze flitting between the hand in his grasp and your face. he seemed so small just now, seated up against wall behind the hospital bed that was too little for him, barely covered by the thin, old blanket that was fraying at the seams, not at all like the stoic, unwavering warrior he made himself out to be in the public eye. "don't you think i'm tired of pretending? tired of having people toss the topic of my death back and forth like they're discussing vacation plans? i love marley, and i love what i can do for the people who look up to me, for the people who rely on me to be the hero. you never ask me about paradis, you never ask me about how i feel about all of this, you never expect me to be the hero, and you're still always here to listen, always here when i need you to be. but i just want to feel like i don't have to worry about all that, even if it's just for one night... i know it sounds counterintuitive, but i want to pretend like things will be alright.. for you, for me, for everyone. can't we just have this one night?"

your hand trembled, fingers lacing easily with his like you'd risked doing a few times before, tears pricking your eyes, feeling like there was something cinching around your heart and lungs and squeezing tight. the heat of his hand in yours was pleasant, calloused palm fitting perfectly against the contour of your own, thumb stroking softly over the side of your own hand.

you swallowed your apprehension, steadying your breath and blinking away the mistiness threatening to spill down onto your face as you moved from the chair to take a seat on the side of his bed. "ok. one night."

the relief that bloomed across his expression warmed your heart, the stress that had been creasing his face softening back into the relaxed, sleepy looking smile that you always poked fun at when you brought him his breakfast in the morning.

"you have to be up at seven, so lay down right, i don't want you to complain to me about your back hurting tomorrow." he complied, shifting back down in the bed to rest his head back on the pillow, allowing you to let go of his hand momentarily to tuck the blanket around him. "do you want me to go get you something to help you sleep?"

"no." he murmured, gazing up at you, "just stay here with me, please. i'll sleep just fine as long as you're here."

there was something so childlike about his words, not in the way of immaturity or naivety, but something that just made you want to take care of him, to protect him from the corruption of the world outside of the obsolete confinements of his hospital room.

"i will." you said, letting your other hand find the side of his face, "i promise."

and so you stayed, you stayed as long as he needed you to, alternating between stroking his cheek and slowly running your fingers through his hair. there were no words exchanged, but the silence was comforting, the quietest night you'd both had in weeks, only occupied by the intermittent footsteps of the other nurses making their rounds around the hall and the soft evening breeze blowing through the half-open window above the desk. you didn't care for how long you had to sit there, replying back to the small movements of his hands with your own reassuring squeeze as he slowly but surely fell back asleep. but even after his breathing had steadied out, and his grasp on your hand had loosened, you still stayed seated at his bedside, just gazing down at his sleeping face as your thought to yourself.

the war against the mid-east allied forces had come to a rocky close, most likely guaranteeing marley at least a few months of tension-filled peace before another nation made their strike on their borders once again. but you knew that marley wouldn't wait for that, you knew that they wouldn't stop until they had the world in their hands, paradis included. you'd heard the private murmurs of jaeger before you entered his room, seen the open pages of his journal when he fell asleep at his desk, you knew what he had been planning. and you knew that reiner would have to go running back to the island once again, and even if jaeger's grand scheme didn't drag him there by his collar, he would probably go searching out his own resolution him.

you checked your watch. 2:10. it was your turn to check the patients in critical condition down the hall. you sighed quietly, pulling your hand away from his and leaning down to gently press a kiss on his forehead, something you risked doing a few times before when you had these especially long conversations that made your heart ache for him.

but at least, you thought to yourself as you flicked off the lights, reluctantly leaving the room and shutting the door behind you as quietly as you possibly could, at least you could give him just one night of repose.

#reiner braun #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #reiner fluff

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 12

First

Carapace stared at the two different files on his computer, his mouse hovering between them.

What should he do? Should he force himself to finish his schoolwork tonight so he could have the next day off once class was over? Or should he work on a video for TikTok while he had motivation?

Or he could do both…?

He made a brief trip down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and his eyes narrowed when he saw that the coffee machine had mysteriously disappeared, as had all the coffee pods.

Chat hated coffee, but Rena and Chloe both accepted some when offered --.

Oh, who was he kidding? He knew the culprit.

He made his way up to the attic and he found Chloe and Ladybug cuddling under some blankets (or, rather, Chloe was cuddling Ladybug, Ladybug was sketching something and listening to music). It wasn’t even a particularly cold day, but he had long-since lost the need to question most of the weird things that miraculous holders did. It was probably a miraculous thing, it was whatever.

His nose picked up the distinct smell of coffee and he caught sight of the mug Chloe was using to warm her hands. Or maybe she was holding it for Ladybug. Or both. Whatever.

Ladybug didn’t even look up from her sketchbook.

Chloe did, though, barely lifting her head off of Ladybug’s shoulder to meet his eyes.

“Bonjour,” she said. Detached and formal, but it was better than her usual habit of just… rudely jumping into conversation without saying hi. He would take it.

“Salut,” he said. “Where’s the coffee?”

Chloe hesitated, then nudged Ladybug. She blinked behind her mask and pulled an earbud out of her ear.

“Mmm?”

“Carapace wants coffee.”

Ladybug looked a little put out but pointed her pencil at the desk, where the stolen coffee machine now resided.

He nodded and made his way over. He reached into the jar of coffee pods and then paused.

“I went shopping yesterday. How many has she had?”

Ladybug, who hadn’t yet put her earbud back in, flushed red. “An amount. Who are you, my dad? Leave it alone.”

“You’re going to die --.”

“No, I won’t. I’m monitoring my dosage.”

He opened his mouth to argue, and then decided it wasn’t worth it. “Whatever. I’m taking the machine back downstairs.”

This got a pout.

The blanket moved. He heard Chloe gasp a little as if she’d been jabbed in the side. She gave Ladybug a slight glare before rolling her eyes and sticking her lower lip out as well.

Now he was getting two pouts.

“Don’t give me that. Just be glad I’m not cutting you off entirely.”

This got Ladybug to shape up. She quickly put her earbud back in and went back to sketching.

Chloe looked between them and gave an exasperated huff, then went back to attempting to steal her friend’s(? Carapace was kind of confused about their relationship, if he was honest) body heat.

He took the machine down and poured himself a cup, then went back to his computer.

… damn. He’d taken too long and now his motivation to edit footage for TikTok was gone.

Whatever, he thought as he took a sip of his coffee, at least he could get his schoolwork done.

Okay, so, mistakes were made.

He groaned and rubbed his face sleepily as he detached his face from his desktop the next morning, his phone alarm blaring that it was time to wake up. The caffeine had kept him up until five in the morning. He’d forgotten that Ladybug had gotten the highest dosage she could last time. Damn it.

He slowly reached for his phone and pulled up the screen to turn off the alarm.

His eyes landed on the time.

He had fifteen minutes to get across Paris for class.

Not possible for him as a civilian, but Carapace…

Wayzz gave him a tired look, as he usually did when he was about to use his miraculous for personal gain, but he ignored it as he scooped everything on his desk into his bag.

He sniffed his hoodie and decided it was fine.

He did apply some extra deodorant, though. Just in case.

“Shell on,” he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulders just before he transformed and jumping out of his window.

Being the ‘nice hero’ was a bit inconvenient when he needed to get places quickly.

He had to stop every few rooftops to wave and smile at people lest he run into a chimney or walk right over the side of the building in his distraction. Beyond just his image, people are getting akumatized over anything these days, so it was necessary that he be nice to them. He was just grateful no one thought to ask for a picture or something.

But he managed to be on time. Barely. He detransformed in an alley near the school and sprinted the rest of the way to class. The door was pushed open a minute before it was due to start. However, in his haste, he tripped over the sill. He faceplanted.

Great, he thought bitterly as he rubbed his sore cheek. At least no one would suspect him to be a hero after that.

He walked over to an empty seat and plopped himself down, fighting the urge to sink into his hoodie as eyes followed him.

Thankfully, class was starting, so everyone was quickly distracted by the lecture.

It was about theater in the east for once! Cool!

A mere twenty minutes into class, the TV flickered to life and there was a collective groan as a few people leaned forward in their seats to see if the akuma was even worth heading to the nearest shelter for.

He barely even looked over. The people that had leaned forward had settled back into their seats pretty quickly, so it probably wasn’t anything major.

He smiled a little to himself. The best part of the new arrangement of everyone living together was that they all knew each other’s schedules. This meant he didn’t have to worry about being called upon during class --.

His phone vibrated in his bag.

Nope, he decided. He had just imagined that. Surely, they knew that he wasn’t able to do anything --.

His phone vibrated again. And again. And again.

The people around him were sending him annoyed looks.

He cursed in Arabic and pulled it from his bag.

Kittychat: It’s a water one and no one has any powerups. :(

Queenie: Carapace.

Foxyou: Spam him lol

Queenie: You’re right.

He scowled as his phone started blowing up thanks to the three of them.

Capot: im in class

Kittychat: Oh. Sorry. :(

Queenie: Don’t be sorry! We need him!

Foxyou: If we spam him enough he might get kicked out

Great. Now his phone was blowing up again, courtesy of only Rena and Chloe this time.

“Monsieur…” The professor began, looking through his attendance sheet momentarily before apparently decided it wasn’t worth the effort to find his name. “Would you like to share with the rest of the class?”

He sighed a little. Fine. Guess he’d do his stupid job or whatever.

“Sorry, my friend is new to Paris and she’s freaking out about the akuma. It’s her first one. Can I go check on her?”

“Sure. Just remember to do the homework. It’s due tonight at midnight.”

He nodded that he understood and reluctantly gathered his things. Within a few minutes he was out of class and transformed and on his way towards the body of water the akuma had claimed.

It just HAD to be a water one.

Hawkmoth probably did it on purpose, too. He loved being an inconvenience, Carapace wouldn’t put it past him to have figured out he was in a rush thanks to his running around that morning and deciding it was time to make a water akuma.

He sighed for what must have been the millionth time that day as he spotted the giant tentacle monster in the river.

Sure. Why not?

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write

#a miraculous tiktok account #carapace #nino lahiffe #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #queen bee #chloe bourgeois #chat noir #adrien agreste #rena rouge #alya cesaire #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

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neworleansspecial · 3 years

Note

for black! au what if Athena was doing a high profile investigation and it somehow led to Buck but when she pursued the lead it got shut down leading her to ask Eddie and Maddie questions

she doesn't get around to questioning Maddie/Eddie but enjoy some "Buck gets Arrested" content! //

Athena has been working this case for what feels like forever. A prominent international environmental activist was murdered in what was clearly an assassination, and it's been her precinct, her people, leading the investigation with a helping hand from the FBI, trying to figure out what happened. It's more than just who did it, but why, and who made them, because there's no doubt that this was a professional hit.

The investigation has been stalled for a few weeks when one of the rookie officers comes racing up to her desk with a flash drive in his hand, out of breath from running.

"Yes, Officer Martin?"

"Look what we found." He hands her the drive, which she immediately plugs into her computer to explore the contents of. "Most of the security cameras were disabled, but the baby monitor wasn't. The monitor was destroyed, as I'm sure you remember, but the company finally got us the footage. Our killer is on here!"

She searches through the files to find the last one, labeled with the date of the murder. "Have you seen it yet?"

"We thought you should be the first."

"Go get Agent Prentiss."

The rookie scurries off to get the FBI agent from the Captain's office while Athena loads the video up. She remembers the time frame the ME gave them and scrubs through the progress bar towards it, catching their victim looking up in surprise, presumably at their murderer's entrance just as Agent Prentiss pulls up a chair beside her.

"What are the odds our guy will be in the system?" Athena asks.

"A hit like this? Not good."

The monitor catches their perp walking in, his back to the camera. He looks familiar. Although she can't see his face, and the video is in black and white, she feels like she recognizes the slope of his shoulders.

"He's got tattoos," Prentiss notes. "That'll help. Two black lines on the forearm."

Athena's heart drops. This can't be right.

"And look, on his other bicep. That's a bar code."

Prentiss reaches around Athena to screencap the moment.

"This could be a problem. In our experience at the Bureau, two types of people use bar codes like that. Sex traffickers, to dehumanize their victims, and powerful government agencies, to identify bodies. I doubt this is that first one."

Their perp pulls out a gun and shoots the victim without hesitation. It's simple. One shot. A silencer was used, so no one heard. The victim never had the chance to get off their couch.

And then he turns around, and notices the monitor, stalking towards it to break it, at which point the feed cuts off. His face is imprinted in Athena's mind. She's seen it before. With her family. In her home. She talked to him just yesterday.

"Sergeant Grant, are you okay?"

Athena clears her throat. "I recognize him."

Prentiss rewinds the video to right before the perp broke the camera, his face in clear view. Even if Athena didn't recognize him, the birth mark would be a dead giveaway.

"That's Evan Buckley. I'm friends with his sister, Maddie, and his husband, Eddie. I'm friends with him." She looks away from the video. "I had him over for dinner last night."

"Do you know where he is?"

Mere minutes later, Athena and Prentiss are in her squad car, on their way to Eddie's apartment. Backup trails behind them, though Athena hopes they won't have to use it. They don't speak. Athena is struggling to reconcile the Evan who helps May with her math homework and babysits Jee-Yun and helped Bobby bake her a birthday cake is the same person who she just watched kill someone in cold blood. It's not him, even if he has always been a little off.

"Do you want me to do it?" Prentiss asks when they pull up in front of Eddie's house. "You don't have to be the one to bring him in."

"It's my job."

They walk up to Eddie's front door together, but it is Athena who knocks. Eddie answers the door in sweatpants and a hoodie that's just a little too big for him- Evan's hoodie, then.

"Athena? Is everything okay?"

"Is Evan home?"

He looks concerned, but he steps to the side to let her and Prentiss in, giving them a view of Evan sitting at the kitchen table with Christopher. The two of them appear to be playing some kind of board game. When Evan first sees them, Athena in her uniform and Prentiss projecting an air of authority, she can see the wheels turning in his brain. He glances toward the kitchen window. Then to the front door. Then back at her.

"Not in front of them," he says quietly. "Not in front of Chris and Eddie."

Athena will give him that much. "Step outside with us."

As he gets up, Evan kisses Christopher on the forehead and tells him to be good for his father, and then goes to Eddie, who he pulls into a tight hug.

"Evan, what's going on?" she hears Eddie whisper.

"It'll be okay," Evan assures.

Finally, he follows Athena and Prentiss out the door. The second that it clicks shut behind him, he presents his arms, as though he's been through this whole thing before. Maybe he has. It seems as though everything Athena knew about him was wrong.

"You don't need to read me my rights," he tells her.

Prentiss tilts her head to the side. "Legally, we have to."

"I'm not going to be in custody for long."

They read him his rights before putting him in the back of the car anyways.

For the entire drive back to the station, Evan is silent. He stares out the window, looking entirely unconcerned. Not once does he ask them what this is about, or how they found him out, or what's going to happen with him. For all the reaction he gives, it's like they're all taking a trip to the beach. He remains quiet even when Athena hauls him out of the squad car and into the precinct.

That's when things go bad.

Athena's captain is waiting at her desk, alongside Prentiss' coworker, Jareau, and two men in suits that look extremely official. "Sergeant Grant," her captain says, "please uncuff Mr. Buckley."

"We have him on tape committing murder."

"That evidence has been reviewed and found unreliable," one of the men in suits says.

Prentiss crosses her arms. "How was it unreliable?"

"Please uncuff Mr. Buckley," is the only response she gets.

Against her better judgement, Athena turns to Evan. He holds out his wrists to her once more, and watches her as she uncuffs him. There's no malice or anger in his eyes. They're blank. Almost like he's looking right through her.

"And who are you?" she asks.

"All you need to know is that your police department, and every other department in this country, defers to us. Come now, Mr. Buckley, we'll get you some coffee and explain this whole thing."

Evan leaves Athena's side to be led off by the two men, though when he casts a glance back at her over his shoulder, she gets the distinct sense that he's trying to tell her something.

#athena grant #evan buckley #emwrite #black!au

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greenninjagal-blog · 3 years

Text

Trouble

Hi yeah its me, and look I’m already back with a new fic for the new year :D cherish this moment I don’t think i will have have this turn around so quick again. For the TSS Fanworks Secret Santa Exchange because I was a pinch hitter :DD @nerdywriterhaven I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Patton has a thing about boardgames and Virgil has a thing about Logan. Together they figure it out.

Word Count: 7900

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Patton shows up at Virgil’s dorm room just slightly after six pm on a Tuesday with two thermoses of soup that are still warm to the touch, a halloween tupperware of chocolate chip cookies that had been passed between him and Virgil so many times that Patton really doesn’t remember whose it was originally, his laptop, phone, the chargers for both, and the board game Trouble.

Virgil, predictably, shuts the door in his face the second he sees the game box hidden under all the other things in his arms. Patton also thinks that Virgil tells him to go away, but it’s muddled by the door.

Instead he shuffles all the supplies to his left arm and knee, and knocks again on his door just below the leftover tape from the nametag that his RA keeps putting up and Virgil keeps ripping down because he doesn’t want anyone knowing where he sleeps. His knuckles hum with the rap, datatata dat dat! And he smiles even when there’s the sound of something being thrown at the door from that side.

Patton chooses not to hear it because he’s a good friend and an even more stubborn houseguest.

The door a little bit down the hall opens up with the usual fanfare of someone who is running late to a night class-- which of course is the charm of Roman Prince. He looks nice, as usual, and Patton even thinks that if he hadn’t been wearing two different colored shoes, no one would even know that he had probably just woken up from a nap. The music of his room blares out into the hall with a rap song Patton thinks is Hip With the Kids these days, but Patton himself can’t make out any of the actual words.

All the much better because he’s pretty sure it’s Remus’s music and Remus likes his songs like he likes just about everything else: dirty, scandalous, and offensive. Not that Patton is good friends with either of the Prince siblings, but he’s heard the rumors floating around about both. Roman smiles at him, with glittering white teeth and dimples and soft warm brown eyes that could have been made of melted chocolate.

“Oh! What a spectre!” Roman says, seeming to forget that he’s on the way to a class at the sight of Patton standing at Virgil’s door. “Tell me, angel, what brings a glorious sight such as you to our dorm buildings on this amazing day?”

Virgil’s door swings back open before Patton can answer and Virgil hisses from the darkness, the way he’s usually prone to do whenever Roman or Remus or their blatant disregard for the rules about music volume at two AM is brought up.

He looks not much better from the glimpse Patton got before the door was closed in his face earlier: he’s still pale to the point of looking sickly and dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, with his eye shadow smeared and his hair not brushed at all. There’s a red imprint on the side of his face that Patton thinks matches a crease in his blankets or pillows from where he probably tried to suffocate himself on and off all day between anxiously texting Patton all about “the absolute worst day of my entire life and no I’m not even exaggerating this time Pat”.

“Hi Virgil!” Patton says, as Virgil reaches forward and to take a thermos and the tupperware from his arms and glare unbidenedly at Roman. “I brought dinner!”

“I hate you,” Virgil says, and does not mean because he loves Patton’s Broccoli Cheddar Cheer Up Soup and he’s been in need of cheering up since Patton had seen his messages at noon on his way to his second class of the day.

Roman gasps like he’s offended on behalf of Patton who is not offended as much as endeared to his best friend of several years. “Virgil! How could you act so callus towards a beautiful muse such as this?”

“Get lost, Princey,” Virgil tells him firmly, grumpily, Virgil-ly. “He came here specifically to make a pun about my pain.”

“I do it with love,” Patton adds. “And I brought cookies to make up for it.”

Roman looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information and Virgil doesn’t give him time to find out because he kinda hates Roman-- although Patton always tells him that “hate” is a strong word and Virgil always says he means it anyway. Patton supposes that if he, too, had hallmates that played music louder than life up to the early hours of the mornings during Finals Week, and then cranked it higher when he knocked on the door to ask them to stop, he might also strongly dislike them.

Virgil ushers Patton into the dark room and then kicks the door closed while Patton is waving goodbye at Roman.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light level: Virgil was certainly making use of those thick blackout curtains! It made the whole room look like it was three AM, rather than six PM! There are blobs of stuff all around the room, piles of clothes and blankets that Virgil prefers to have on the floor rather than put somewhere where he’s not going to trip over it in the middle of the night, but Patton supposes that’s just how Virgil’s always been.

“If someone breaks in, they’re gonna trip over this shit and I will be out of here long before they can get back up,” Virgil had said the first time Patton had suggested maybe, possibly cleaning something until they found the floor.

The desk where Virgil did his school work is empty and the textbooks and computer that normally covered it are all on the ground like a massacre from what Patton can make out. Virgil shuffles through the room and ends up turning on the purple lava lamp that Patton got him three years ago so that they could at least see each other and the faux-floor, and even then he doesn’t look happy at needing that much. The elevated bed had the blankets ripped up from it and turned into a nest with Virgil’s phone light peeking out from the depths like some underwater cave with a sea monster in it waiting for an unsuspecting diver.

“Remind me, how you got into this building?” Virgil says, tiredly as he pries open the cookie container. “It requires a key and last time I checked, you don’t have one of those, Pat.”

“As if a key would stop me from checking on you!” Patton replies. He plops himself on a pile of clothes and clears away another spot for Virgil to collapse next to him, so that Virgil can’t exactly escape. “Now, what is this about Logan again? You were being kinda vague and world-ending-y again. ”

Virgil lets out a moan around the cookie he shoved in his mouth and drops to the floor next to Patton, to munch angrily or just upsetly without actually offering an answer, because he’s Virgil and he’s allergic to talking about things that upset him. Patton sets down his other thermos, his laptop, and his own phone to make room for the game between them.

“Must we?” Virgil asks as Patton sets up the board with a practiced hand. Even in the near darkness of the room he knows exactly what he’s doing, and could probably figure it out with no light at all.

“Of course!” Patton says. “You sounded like you were in Trouble.”

“ Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s rather Risk -y of you to be self deprecating while within hugging distance.”

Virgil doesn’t say anything for a moment, just swallows the bite of his cookie and stares at the colored pieces in front of him. The board game is well worn and well loved-- one of the first ones Patton had ever gotten and one of the first ones he ever convinced Virgil to play with him. Although “convinced” is a strong word for how Patton had just been staring at the board numbly with red rimmed eyes when his father had asked Virgil to come over and try to coax him into eating something, anything, please .

They’d lost three pieces of the red team and one of the yellow and two of the green, but that’s okay because Patton generally played blue and Virgil had custom ordered four purple pieces for just the two of them a few years ago.

Carefully, placatingly, Virgil reaches a hand forward and pops the dice bubble for his number. He gets a four.

Patton gets a five.

“How many times have we played this one, Pat?” Virgil asks, in a voice much softer than before. In the faded purple light and the shadows, it’s hard to see the number on the die, and harder to see exactly what Virgil is thinking about with his eyes hidden like that. His nails are bitten down to the quick, ruining the black nail polish he spent an hour applying last weekend over their shared Biology notes.

Patton shrugs as he reaches forward to take his turn and pops the bubble. Honestly he didn’t think he could calculate the answer if Virgil pressed: this was their go-to game, this was his go-to pun, this is what they did even when the world was falling apart at the seams. It was easier to focus on moving playing pieces a couple pegs than it was to focus on the sound of a heart monitor or raspy breathing or bony pale fingers that shook when they tried to hold anything.

It was easier to find a way to win when the instructions were so clear, and the rules were so fair, and the consequences of losing were just having to put the game back in the box.

Virgil doesn’t say anything more and Patton doesn’t force him to, although he desperately wants to. He wants to reach out and catch Virgil’s hands in his own, he wants to give him a squeeze, he wants to wipe away the tear tracks in his makeup and he wants to tell Virgil that whatever it is, Patton will be there for him.

He wants Virgil to look at a game for once and have fun.

But the only sound in the room is the popper when they roll the die back and forth.

Patton gets the six first. He moves his second leftmost piece to the start and hits it again for a three.

Virgil stares his blue piece on the board for a long moment, without blinking. His hands lie limply in his lap and the tub of cookies sits at his knee. The purple light makes his eyes glisten sweetly, wetly, sadly, with a resignation that Patton knows and wishes he doesn’t. The lump in his throat swells up.

“Virgil?”

Virgil blinks. And then blinks again.

“Why should I even bother at this point?” he asks. He runs a hand up to his hair and tugs at the locks.

“Virgil, this is the opening of the game,” Patton says. “You can’t give up alrea--”

“But it’s not like I’m going to win,” Virgil says and Patton sucks in a breath sharply.

Oh. It was one of those days.

Patton thinks that he should have been expecting this; it had been a decent amount of time since Virgil last had refused to finish a game, and Patton had almost thought that maybe they had kicked those thoughts for good! That through sheer willpower and perseverance and proof to the contrary, they might have managed to rework how Virgil approached a challenge. That at one point Virgil might laugh and smile even when he wasn’t in the lead--

And yet, Patton’s sitting with one piece three spaces ahead of Virgil and Virgil is ready to call it quits. The game had just started. Patton had only been sitting in the room for a total of five minutes. Virgil hadn’t talked for more than a couple sentences.

It’s one of those days, except that Patton doesn’t think that it’s ever been this bad before, because usually they at least made it to the one piece around the board in Trouble , through to one check in Chess , through to one hotel being built in Monopoly , or one train ticket completed in Ticket to Ride .

“This is a sign, isn’t it?” Virgil continues. “I’m just being stupid even considering it. Of course I am. I always am. Nevermind, I don’t want to do this today Pat. Thanks for the soup and the cookies and I’m sorry that I made you walk all the way--”

Patton reaches out and snags Virgil’s arm before he can get all the way off the ground. The board nudges to the side dislodging several pieces into the surrounding void, but Patton thinks that he can replace a hundred playing pieces.

He cannot replace his best friend.

Virgil’s skin is cold, even though the room was comfortably warm, and he’s soft to the touch-- which is never what Patton expects when he gets those lightning quick hugs, when Virgil rests his head on his shoulder during movie nights, when they go shopping and there are crowds that make Virgil want to run for the hills and only Patton’s hand in his keeps him grounded there. Virgil is soft despite the jagged persona he puts on to drive away other people, and he hasn’t gotten any sort of touch in a while because he shuts up the moment that Patton’s own warmth floods over him.

The room holds the silence for an eternity: Virgil frozen halfway up from the ground, and Patton latching on to him like he can pluck all the reasons Virgil is upset out of his mind through osmosis. The lava lamp makes him look unreal, makes the silence ring louder, makes the lump in Patton’s throat grow larger.

“Virgil,” Patton says, “please.”

Please tell me what I can do. Please allow me to help. Please let me in.

“It’s stupid,” Virgil says.

Patton wants to laugh, because nothing that ever hurts Virgil has ever been stupid. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”

Virgil bites his lip and inhales with all of his chest.

“You didn’t go to any classes today. You’ve been crying. You’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes.” Patton says. “Something happened. And it can’t possibly be stupid because nothing that affects you like this is can be anything less than something huge.”

Patton feels Virgil’s hand curl into a fist like he can hide his shaking when Patton is right there .

“Do you remember Logan Ackroyd,” Virgil says. “The senior a year older than us who I had Sociology with last year?”

The same Logan who took extra notes for when Virgil missed class and emailed them to him. The same Logan who offered Virgil a granola bar when he overheard that Virgil had missed lunch. The same Logan who helped Virgil break into the auditorium after school hours to search for his missing earbuds.

The same Logan who has eyes more knowledgeable than the entire galaxy, who wears a tie to class, who smells like coffee beans and pen ink and looks like he’d give really good, safe hugs.

The same Logan who Patton has never once met, but feels like he knows intimately thanks to Virgil’s starstruck rambles.

Logan must be something great and amazing. Patton has known that for a year now, from watching the months slip away and suddenly the ghost of Logan joins them on every outing, summoned by the blush over Virgil’s ears and the soft smile on his lips and the way that Virgil steadfastly won’t meet Patton’s eyes like it will prevent Patton from noticing the way that the senior is always on Virgil’s mind. Logan is kind. Logan is smart. Logan has a new book every day. Logan has a voice like the ocean waves.

Logan, Patton thinks, should have been more careful if he caused Virgil this much distress. Because there are things that Patton would do for Virgil that not even a cold blooded killer would consider doing.

“Yeah,” Patton says, with a smile soft and dumb and innocent. “You guys have Analytical Science together this year, right?”

Virgil lets go of his lip, and breathes out a breath that sounds like more relief than Patton is supposed to hear. “Yeah. Yeah. He, uh… yeah.” Virgil shifts back down, shifts so that he’s on his knees and Patton is right next to him, and they’re still touching and that warmth is stronger than the shadows made by the blobs in the lava lamp.

“Janus… Janus asked him out yesterday,” Virgil says, using his other hand to pluck at a thread in his jeans.

Oh. Patton doesn’t think cookies and soup were enough.

And golly, Patton doesn’t think Logan is as smart as Virgil is always saying he is either, because if he said yes in front of Virgil, he must have been the stupidest person on the planet.

Virgil is quiet, dismissible, a shadow in his own skin even on his best days. But he is not un-noticeable.

He carries an aura around himself that storms and thunders and promises danger to those that get too close. His laughter is a threat first and a comfort second. His smile is a knife blade that even Patton sometimes wonders if he might find in his back one day. Virgil was someone that you noticed and you stayed the fudge away from.

Unless you were Patton, who hadn’t been afraid of Death from the moment he watched his mother cough up blood over the cards to CandyLand, watched his mother turn into a real-life game of Operation, watched her breathing get ragged and her fingers struggle to hold playing cards between them.

Logan hadn’t been scared away by Virgil’s thunder, and somehow he had weathered the storm that Virgil put up to protect himself and lived securely in the eye of the hurricane. And somehow he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared, had taken advantage of Virgil’s softening heart just to shatter it.

“He didn’t…” Virgil says. “Janus… he didn’t really mean it. I don’t think. It might have been a joke because they’re friends but Logan told everyone that he would only consider dating someone who could… could…”

“Could what?”

Virgil’s eyes flick down to the Trouble game board, to the pieces lost in chaos of the floor, to the box they hadn’t needed except for transport. Patton feels his heart thud in his chest before he crawls up his throat and he tastes it in his mouth along with the remains of the raw cookie dough he licked off the spoon while cleaning up.

Virgil’s words come back to him in whispers. But it’s not like I’m going to win. This is a sign, isn’t it? I’m just being stupid even considering it.

“Someone who could….” Patton says, “beat him in a boardgame?”

Virgil yanks the thread on his jeans sharply and nods without meeting Patton’s eyes. “I told you it was stupid.”

“Virgil,” Patton says. “This is great! We’ve been playing games together for years! You can beat--”

“That’s the thing!” Virgil says with his shoulders curling up to his ears and burying him in layers of excess fabric. “Pat, I can’t even beat you in a board game and I know all your strategies!”

“I don’t think that Trouble actually has any strategies. It’s really luck of the roll--”

Virgil peeks out of his hood enough to give Patton a miserable glare. “When was the last time I won against you, Pat? Be honest.”

Patton purses his lips. “I don’t think that’s fair, kiddo. I’ve been playing games since I was able to understand the rules--”

“You don’t even remember, do you.”

“It was Dominos and you won by twenty points.”

“Nice try, but you purposely miscounted and you actually won by two.” Virgil reaches out for another cookie and offers it to Patton without making any move to pull his other hand from Patton’s hold.

“You would have a lot more wins if you didn’t insist on not finishing games sometimes!” Patton says. “You never know the ending of a game until you play it out!”

“I could tell you that Logan was going to beat Janus in Chess the moment the opening moves were made,” Virgil counters. “He won in twelve moves and then the next game in six.”

Patton opens his mouth, but Virgil shoves the cookie in before he can actually say anything.

“And God Rest Remy’s soul because Logan obliterated him in Trivia Pursuit.” Virgil continues, “He turned Roman to mincemeat over Scrabble, and not only beat Remus in Poker, but won one hundred dollars off him too. I also watched him win in Othello against some kid he tutored in Calc, a game of Mancala with an art kid who was doing it for clout, and Stratego which he won before I finished reading the fuuuuuudging rules and made his opponent cry over it.”

Patton swallows down a bite of cookie that he didn’t not chew well enough because he feels it tear up his esophagus as it goes. Virgil politely ignores him dying for a second and offers him his own thermos of soup to help it down, before remembering that he’s supposed to be brooding and staring at Patton for too long makes him soft.

“Not to make a pun here, but no dice; I legitimately cannot beat Logan,” Virgil says. “He’s just… so good. At everything. What is the point in humiliating myself with this? Even if I find a game so obscure that he’s never heard of it and doesn’t have a strategy built for it, just going up to him and putting the board between us is like-- that’s telling him that I’ve had this massive stupid crush on him for ages and what if he doesn’t even like me? What if I win and then he has to date me because he said so but he actually hates me? What if--”

Patton coughs so hard he thinks he might have dislodged his own lung, which is fine!! Because at least it got Virgil to snap back to him and table his panicky spiral for later.

“Weren’t you,” Patton croaks, “Weren’t you already going to confess to him? You bought the chocolate kisses and you sent me pictures of them in your bag right before class last week.”

Patton can’t see Virgil’s ears because of his hood but he knows that they’re glowing red from the way that Virgil can’t meet his eyes again.

“I just….I did but then he….” Virgil nudges a pile of questionably clean band t-shirts with his socked foot. “He said he wasn’t interested because class was starting and I still don’t know if he meant an actual kiss or a Hershey kiss because he had to leave class early to pick up his kid brother from his middle school because he was sick with a fever and then I was too mortified to bring it back up-- See Pat, I can’t even come up with a creative way to tell Logan that I wanna listen to him ramble about jellyfish immortality and play with his hair or tell him that I wanna know what the flavor of his chapstick is-- which, by the way, I did say to him and he told me was cake batter and that I could find it at the corner drugstore because he thought I was looking for recommendations-- There is no way to subtly tell him that I want to date him.”

“Then maybe… don’t be subtle?” Patton suggests, and then points at the game between them. “Boardgame?”

Virgil scowls at the game like it had personally offended him. “But I can’t beat him. And if I lose and by some miracle he still wants to be seen with me, then he’d be breaking the very rules he set up and everyone else who lost is going to be pissed at both of us and I can’t do that to Logan.”

Patton bites back the then don’t lose that he wants to say. It seems so obvious to him. He doesn’t really see why Virgil doesn’t think he can win one single game. There isn’t even a rule that says Virgil can’t come back and play again-- which isn’t that the point of games? That you can play them for a little while, pack them up, and then come back to them later? That you sit down with friends-maybe-more and you play and have fun ?

Not for the first time, and not for the last time, Patton wonders why Virgil ever played games with him at all. He knows the first time was pity because he found Patton sitting on the floor of his bedroom with Trouble on the ground in front of him and staring at it numbly because he had cried all the tears out of himself already at the hospital, at the funeral, at the everything that had come after that he couldn’t remember. The first time it had been to get Patton to react because he had been so lost, but every time after that Virgil had made the conscious decision to pick up the pieces.

Even if sometimes he had put them back down halfway through and Patton hadn’t figured out how to convince him that the point isn’t to win as much as it is to have fun.

Virgil twists his wrist loosely in Patton’s grip so that he’s holding Patton back, his cold fingers somehow feeling comforting rather than startling. Patton has always loved that about him, although he’s never sure how that works. The coolness of his touch is familiar, but the vulnerability of Virgil reaching out is something newer, something special, something fragile and Virgil holds onto him like he’s expecting Patton to let go at any moment and Patton steadfastly refuses to let him drift off. Patton squeezes his wrist gently, lightly, softly.

I’m here. I’m not leaving. We’re in this together.

“I think that Logan can make decisions for himself,” Patton says with words so featherlight they barely move the air. “Remember the dominos? Any player can choose to lose, whether it be miscounting or it be refusing to finish the game in the end. But if you never even offer to play with him… Logan can’t make that choice, Virgil.”

Virgil holds his gaze for a moment, two, three, and there’s something in his eyes that shies away from the glow of the light, something slippery and weak and scared. Something that Patton is afraid to put a name to, lest it disappear from him forever.

Something that causes Virgil to squeeze his wrist back.

Together. Us. We’ve got this.

“So what game do you want to play with Logan?” Patton asks. “We can go look at my collection if you want? I loaned out Backgammon to a girl in my Shakespearean class, but other than that I have the usuals with me.”

Virgil takes a deep breath. “Can we…” He says. “Do it tomorrow? I don’t want…” He squeezes Patton’s wrist again and Patton can fill in the rest of the blanks with his own interpretations. He is, after all, fluent in Virgilese, as much as Virgil is fluent in Pattonish.

“Yeah, yeah,” Patton says and shifts through the piles of clothes that act as cushions so he’s right next to Virgil, pressing their shoulders together, leaning his head on Virgil’s collarbone, and reaching around him for another cookie. Virgil moves the tub between them and then pulls the Trouble game board in front of that.

He hesitates for another moment-- they’re missing two of Patton’s blue pieces to the floor, and one of Virgil’s purples to a pile of sweatshirts-- but the fact that Virgil drops forward and presses the bubble to roll the die makes Patton’s chest warm.

He gets a six, and then a four and that thing in his eyes seems to grow just a bit stronger.

That is, of course, when the rap music from next door starts up loud enough to shake the entire room and Patton wonders if Logan would still be up for playing a game with Virgil when he’s incarcerated for second degree murder.

Patton, at least, gets a hug out of it, when he tackles Virgil to the ground before he can get to the door, and he manages to coax Virgil back to their area, back to the floor, back to the game, and then later into the blanket-fort-and-movie-night that they watch with one earbud each and their foreheads pressed together late into the night.

***

Patton’s mother developed lung cancer when he was seven. He remembers it in vague flashes: the blood, the shakiness, her fall to the floor because they had never had any sign of it happening until it was too late to do much about it. He was told it was because his maternal grandparents both smoked a lot when she was growing up and she spent the weekends helping them around the house still.

The doctors said she had a year. She got eighteen months.

He barely remembers her face from his own memories anymore, all of them blurred and twisted by the passage of time that he almost got swept away in entirely. Her picture still hangs around the house, though, and he guesses he’s lucky in that regard. He liked how he could see her every time he passed by the stairs, even after his dad remarried and he had grown up and the telemarketers stopped calling the house to tell her that there was an interesting charge on the credit card she didn’t have anymore.

He still wakes up sometimes with his heart beating in his ears and his eyes blinded with tears and his lungs refusing to cooperate because of nightmares about forgetting her entirely, of seeing her stand up to call out to his dad, of seeing her cough out blood and then fall to the floor right in front of him as his dad is running down the stairs. He still wakes up and feels his heart aching where she might have once been if everything had gone just a little bit different. He still wakes up and wishes that he could go back to sleep because at least in his dreams she’s still there waiting with a deck of cards and a smile that says, “Alright, Buster, don’t think I’m going to go easy on you this time!”

Usually those types of days he labels as “Bad Ones”, and he finds it harder to crawl from under his blankets to do pretty much anything.

Virgil knows immediately when he sees Patton staring at his black laptop screen that it’s a Bad One.

Patton loves that he knows not to ask, hates that Virgil can read him so easily, wants to cry because it’s been so long and shouldn’t the edges of that pain have gone away by now? He wants to pull Virgil’s purple comforter back over them and drift back off into the blissful warmth while pretending that the idea of a game right now didn’t make his hands shake.

She hadn’t left Patton specifically a lot of things, but the things that she had left him had been boardgames. Things that she had collected over the years and kept on a shelf in the study for them to play after work and school: Candyland, Trouble, Snakes and Ladders. She had a whole shelf for him when he got to an age where he could understand more complex concepts: Ticket to Ride, Pandemic, Mysterium, Star Realms, Settlers of Catan.

After she was gone… Patton had stared at that shelf and wondered if she had ever thought that maybe she wouldn’t get a chance to play some of them with him.

He wonders how many of them he could have beat her at, how many of them she might let him win in, how many of them they would love to play together and how many of them they would both play through once and then wrinkle their noses at because it wasn’t what they thought it was going to be.

He wonders and maybe it’s a bit too much because he’s stomach is rolling nauseously and he thinks that if he has to look at a game he’ll actually throw up this time.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, even as he gets up and Patton remains buried under too many blankets and the alarm on his phone goes off again for his morning class. The darkness is safe and warm and Patton thinks he understands why Virgil likes it so much as he closes his eyes and tries not to think of a woman who is long gone and in the ground.

“Breakfast?” Virgil whispers at some point.

“Cookies,” Patton mumbles back.

Virgil had carted a hand through his curls and then the door to the room had opened closed and locked behind him. Patton thinks that was nice of him-- to lock the door like he was protecting anyone from coming in and stealing his valuables even though Patton was there. Or maybe since Patton was there? Patton presses his head into a pillow that smells vaguely like chocolate cherries and black licorice and other things that screamed Virgil, and thinks that Virgil might consider Patton a valuable that needs to be protected and kept safe.

Sometime later Patton wakes up with Virgil lying beside him, headphones on and typing on his computer with one hand while dragging fingers through Patton’s curls with the other. It’s impressive of him by itself, but not nearly as impressive as the fact that Virgil’s hood is down and the blackout curtains are parted enough to bring in a decent amount of light.

Virgil blinks at him and removes one earmuff. “I read that flowers need sunlight to grow,” he says in lieu of explaining the rays of light cascading into the room over the two of them.

Patton wants to laugh, and thinks he might if it were any other day and not this one. He settles for a somewhat bent smile and Virgil reaches to somewhere he can’t see and brings back a muffin from the Campus Cafe.

“Chocolate Chip,” he says. “Which is like a cookie, but better because it’s a muffin and I said so.”

Patton can’t really tell if the tears that prick in his eyes are from the lingering sadness or the softness of just a simple gesture from his best friend. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.

It’s a muffin, not something he should be crying over, and he repeats it even as he takes a bite from the top and Virgil pretends like he doesn’t see Patton scrubbing his cheeks as he chews. It’s a muffin, but Virgil got it just for him and Virgil came right back here and sat with him so he wouldn’t wake up alone and sad and and and--

And if Patton liked anyone romantically like that(™) he thinks he would have fallen straight into love with Virgil.

“Did you miss class?” Patton whispers.

Virgil shrugs. “Nothing important. I sent an email to my teachers saying that I wasn’t feeling too good and didn’t want to risk accidentally spreading anything to anyone, which already helps because I didn’t go to class yesterday and I’ve already turned in all my work for the week for most of my classes. Besides, you were here and I didn’t want to just leave you all alone-- what if Roman started playing his Disney compilations at 160 decibels again?”

“You like Disney, though.”

“I also like my hearing and my best friend,” Virgil says like it’s nothing, like it’s obvious, like it shouldn’t be making Patton tear up again because Virgil is just so nice.

“I’m sorry,” Patton whispers.

Virgil moves his computer and jostles around on the bed until they’re lying side-by-side even though the bed was definitely not made for two persons. He presses his head to Patton’s, and he’s cool and soft and safe.

Together. We got this.

“Your mom?” He asks.

Patton nods, with a lump in his throat that makes all the words he wants to say crumble to ashes on his tongue. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Pat,” Virgil says.

“But… Logan…”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Virgil says. “And, full offense, but no boy is going to be more important to me than you regardless of how fuuuuuuunkily hot he is. Funkily, yeah, sure, that’s a word that I definitely was going to say right there.”

Patton feels the laugh build up in his chest, against all the odds in the world, and it tastes like chocolate when it rolls out of his mouth.

Virgil bumps his shoulder, and grins. “Look, I’m trying here. Cursing is in my nature!”

“Thank you,” Patton says. For everything.

“No prob, Bob,” Virgil says. I would do it all all over again and never change a thing.

“I’m not Bob! I’m Pat!”

Virgil’s laugh is like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm, like a rainbow cascading through the sky, like being caught after a fall. Patton gets the energy to smile back when he hears it and that alone nearly makes him want to cry again.

Patton twists the blanket under him between his fingers and takes a deep breath. “Did you…” He says before pausing to swallow back the taste of his own stomach acids he’s not sure is entirely imaginary. “Did you pick a game? For Logan?”

Virgil’s nose twitches, which means the answer is a sound no. “It’s not that important right now. You’re not feeling up to--”

“ Vir -gil,” Patton says and Virgil’s nose twitches again.

They share a look for another minute, two, three, before Virgil exhales and looks away.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I didn’t pick out a game yet. I actually saw him in the Cafe earlier with Janus and he waved, though, which was awesome until I waved back and forgot to look where I was going and walked straight into a glass door. At this point it’s going to be a miracle if Logan doesn’t laugh in my face when I ask him to play anything with me.”

“He won’t laugh at you,” Patton says and Virgil slides his arms up and crosses them so he can bury his chin in them like he doesn’t believe Patton at all. “From what you’ve told me, Logan is really nice isn’t he? And the other day didn’t you say that he went on a rant about Pluto being a planet? I think that’s just as silly as you walking into a door.”

Virgil hums to show he’s listening, even if he isn’t taking the words to heart as much as letting them filter through his ears. Patton licks the last of the chocolate muffin from his fingertips and blinks away the urge to hide away from the rest of the world when he spies the box for Trouble on the ground next to Virgil’s desk trash can.

Virgil follows his gaze to the box and he purses his lips, although Patton isn’t sure if its from the fact that he’s remembering that neither of them won last night, or if he’s thinking about odds of beating Logan again or if he, too, is thinking about ghostly fingers trying so hard to move playing pieces that they can no longer touch.

Patton rolls over and stares at Virgil’s ceiling instead, counting his breaths until he feels like the static between his ears isn’t going to overwhelm him.

“What game do you want to play?” Patton asks.

“I won’t win.”

“I didn’t ask what game you wanted to win,” Patton points out. “What game do you want to play against Logan?”

Virgil is quiet, but he sighs so heavily that Patton can see his bangs flutter out of the corner of his eyes.

“This is going to sound stupid,” Virgil says, and again Patton remembers that nothing Virgil ever says has ever once been stupid. “But I don’t want to play against him at all.”

Patton frowns, rolling his head to the side to take in Virgil’s gaze that is already looking at him. His dark eyes are there and the something in them that Patton doesn’t want to put a name to is there again, shining just like the rays of light between Virgil’s blinds.

“I mean I want to play a game with Logan, just not against Logan. It’s stupid, okay? I was just thinking about the cooperative games back at your house that we used to play with your dad and step mom-- you know like the Unlock , Escape-room-in-a-box games? Or maybe Flashpoint? Or Forbidden Island? I was just thinking how shit I am at making my own decisions in Pandemic and Logan is really good at strategy so I bet that working together we’d be able to beat any game.”

Patton breathes deeply, sharply, and tries to ignore the piercing pain in his chest at the mention of the games. Virgil winces like he wants to take the words right back out of the air and hide them somewhere where neither of them have to face them at all.

“I don’t…” Virgil says, “I don’t want to play against him and lose. I’d rather play with him and win. Again: it’s stupid.”

Patton closes his eyes, and sees the shelf his mom left him full of boardgames she picked out long before he was past chewing on building blocks, of him at eleven years old finally getting the courage to drag a kitchen chair to the case and pick out a game while Virgil stood by to make sure he didn’t fall and to remind him that it was okay if he didn’t didn’t feel strong enough to try, of the two of them sitting at the kitchen table with the game directions between them that don’t really make any sense because it there’s no directions on how to attack each other when his dad comes home early and freezes at the sight

He might not remember his mother’s face outside of photographs he doesn’t remember being taken, but he remembers clearly the softness of his father’s expression when he dropped into the seat next to them and asked if they knew how to play this one yet.

“It’s a cooperative game,” his dad said, with a voice shaking and eyes wet. “That means we all work together to get to the goal at the end. Each player is going to have a different superpower-ability-thing that they can do that will make it easier for us to win as a team.”

So no, Patton doesn’t think that it’s stupid at all. It’s hard to do things by themselves, it’s scary, it’s difficult, it’s frustrating. That’s why when Virgil is texting him that the world is ending because of a boy, Patton will always show up at his dorm with soup and cookies and a game for them to play together instead of telling him that he’s being dramatic and silly. That’s why when Patton is missing a woman who hasn’t been in his life for twelve years now, Virgil will always stay with him to remind him that he’s going to get through it, instead of telling him to suck it up.

It’s much easier to win when they’re on the same side.

And Virgil has only ever had fun when playing games that he wins, hasn’t he?

“Why don’t you?” Patton asks suddenly.

Virgil must have nodded off because he jerks suddenly when Patton speaks up, “huh?”

“Why don’t you play a cooperative game?” Patton asks. “What did Logan say specifically about the whole dating thing?”

Virgil rubs an eye and squints at him tiredly. “I told you, he said he would only date someone who beats him at a game. I don’t--”

“Did he say beats him, or beats the game with him?”

“Neither?” Virgil says. “He literally said to Janus very loudly, “I will only consider someone a viable romantic partner if they can win in a game with me.””

“In a game with me,” Patton repeats. “ In a game with me. Not in a game against me!”

It takes Virgil a long, breathless moment to comprehend it, but it’s clear the moment it hits him. Virgil jerks so hard that he tumbles off the bed entirely and to the ground in a fumbling of long limbs, blankets, dubiously cleaned clothes, and his computer-headphones combo. Patton yelps and leans over to check on him but Virgil doesn’t even look like he noticed.

“Holy Shit,” He says, “holy shit, Pat.”

“Language.”

“ HOLY SHIT!” Virgil yells, and then he laughs and covers his mouth like he’s trying to bottle up the sound. “Patton! Patton! He didn’t say against!”

Virgil’s eyes sparkle, the light through the window makes his dark hair shine and just looking at him Patton thinks he’s never once seen him so happy before, so delighted, so excited.

So full of hope.

The next thing he knows is that he’s sitting up and Virgil is wrapped around him in a hug so tight, so soft, so cool and wonderful that those pesky tears come right back to his eyes. Virgil hugs like he’s unafraid of anything for just this endless moment, like he’s never been unsure of physical touch before, like he’s done it a million times before and Patton shouldn’t feel his breath catch in his lungs lest he shatter this dream with an exhale.

He’s standing at the eye of the storm that is Virgil, and he’s never felt so safe before in his life.

“Thank you,” Virgil whispers, “I, uh, I’m sorry for the sudden hug--”

And then, of course, Remus’s music comes back with a vengeance that rattles the ceiling tiles overhead and makes Virgil hiss and break the hug. Patton thinks that he could forgive it, if it weren’t for the unmistakable sound Disney’s Mulan soundtrack also ringing in the air, like it was trying to be heard over the rap music. Dust sprinkles from the tiles overhead.

“I’m going to kill them both,” Virgil vows, but Patton is quicker. He lunges forward before he even knows what he’s doing and coils around Virgil as tightly as he can, and just hugs him, his best friend, the guy who’s always been there for him, and who deserved all the happiness that he could get.

“Pat?” Virgil says.

“If Logan doesn’t treat you right I’m going to make sure no one finds his body,” Patton says.

And Virgil’s laughter makes it sound like he doesn’t quite believe Patton, but that’s okay. Virgil is still looking for reasons to play a game if not to win, and Patton is still trying to find a game that makes him smile, and together they’re going to figure out how to get Virgil to win with Logan.

But for now the hug is good, and the company is nice, and they have the game Trouble packed away ready for the next time they want to play.

#sanders sides #board gaming #platonic moxiety #Analogical #Logan is the hottest side confirmed #Because everyone wants to date him #(Except Pat)#Me the author: what the fuck is hurt comfort #tw: cancer #I just like board games okay #maybe a little too much #I kNew YoU WeRe TrOuBlE WhEn YoU wAlKeD IN #virgil is a disaster gay #Patton really awesome #Hugs? Hugs.

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dekus-afro-pic · 3 years

Text

The Girl that fell From the Sky

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Summary: You fell from the sky. Literally

Warnings::: Profanity, abusive mother, throwing of glass bottles, cigar burns

You closed the door to your moms beat down apartment. The scent of booze and smoke thick in the air. You quietly made your way to your room hoping that your mother was not in the living room. But to your dismay, there she was, hunched over with a cigarette in her hand.

“Y/n” She spoke. “Look at what you’ve done to me”

You rolled your eyes and tried to escape before she could continue. But with a grip to your arm, you were stopped.

“Let me go” you struggled.

“You’re the reason your father left me. 16 years later and your still here instead of him. I should’ve aborted you” The middle-aged woman spat.

“He left because your batshit crazy”you cried as you tried to loosen her grip on your arm.

She inhaled her cigarette and presses it against your arm. You hiss in response to the burn. You finally tug your arm away and quickly walked to your room. Ignoring the insults your mother spewed.

“Same shit” you huffed closing your room door “different day”.

You inhaled the aroma of vanilla that heavily scented your room. Your plugin air freshener doing the job it was intended to do. Which is to keep the smell of your mother out.

You made your way to your bed, which is covered in unfinished manga books. You absentmindedly picked up the closest one to you and start reading. You smiled at the illustration of All Might and Midoriya. Your smile dropped into a confused frown as the illustration started glowing a bright light.

You run your fingers against the glow, only to make the light shine brighter.

“What the hell?” You cursed. You watched as the light spread throughout the pieces of paper. Your sight blurred as the light shun brighter. And then everything went black.

You woke up to a bright light shining in your eyes. You rapidly blinked and held your hand up to shield yourself from its rays.

“Good” a voice spoke. “You’re awake”

You sat up on the bed you were in and rubbed at your eyes.

Where were you? And what happened to the book?

“Can I please have your first and last name” the voice spoke again.

You turned to see where the voice was coming from. You were met with an old lady. Not just a normal old lady. THE Recovery Girl. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water. You were speechless!

How could this be? Were you transported into their world? Are you dreaming?

“Um miss? Your name?” Recovery Girl asked again.

“Oh shit” you mumbled. “My apologies. I’m Y/N L/N”

The woman nodded her head and typed away on her computer. “Well Ms. L/N. There’s no record of you existing anywhere Japan.”

“Well you see” you started. “I’m not even sure how I got to Japan ma’am.”

“She came from a reality rip. Of course she’s not in the system” another voice spoke.

You turned to see Principal Nezu on an irritated looking Aizawa Sensei’s shoulders. Your eyes widened at the two and you were speechless for the second time today.

Wait. Did he just say reality rip?

“We must keep her here in case she manifested a quirk on her trip down.” The principal spoke again. He then turned to you and smiled. “I’m Principal Nezu. And this is Shouta Aizawa. He will be your sensei”

“I-I’m Y-Y-Y/N L/N” you struggled to get out. “I’m sorry did you say reality rip?”

“Yes. A rip was seen in the sky yesterday” the middle aged hero spoke “Then we saw you fall from it. It’s a good thing that Todoroki saw you and acted fast. Otherwise..”

“I’d be dead” you finished. “Well it’s an Honor to finally meet you Aizawa Sensei”

“What do you mean ‘Finally’?”

———

“Class this is L/N Y/N. She will be staying with us for while as her quirk manifests.” Aizawa introduced. You stood at his side as you looked around the common area.

“Sensei, is this the girl that fell out of the sky” Yaoyorozu asked, raising her hand slightly.

The class looked at Todoroki as the man nodded his head.

“Dude. You saved her life” Denki exclaimed.

“That’s so manly” Kirishima whispered.

“Oi stop fangirling over icy hot” Bakugo yelled at his best friend.

“Silence” the teacher yelled while activating his quirk. “I think L/N has something to say”

It was your turn to be stared at by the famous class 1-A. You nervously smiled at the hero. “Well um... first, you can call me Y/N. Second, Thank you Todoroki-kun for saving me.”

The boy nodded in your direction as if telling you “you’re welcome”.

“Also” you started again. “I think I should tell you why I was falling out of the sky to begin with. I’m sure some of you were wondering.”

The class all mumbled in response. You looked at Aizawa Sensei, who only nodded his head for you to continue.

“I came from a reality rip. Meaning, I’m not from this time”

“So you’re a time traveler” Denki asked.

“No Kaminari. Not quiet. Where I’m from, there’s no quirks. They’re fictional” You stated. “Just like you all”

The class was both shocked and confused. They were flabbergasted. What did you mean they were fictional?

“Hey dumbass what do you mean that we’re fictional?” Bakugo screamed.

“Well dumbass” you mocked the blonde. “I mean that you are all characters in a manga I read. Well a manga I read before being teleported into it.”

“Wow. That’s so cool. And kind of disturbing” Midoriya stuttered.

“Since we’re ‘characters’ in your world” Shoji spoke “does that mean you know our backgrounds, favorite food, and all of that stuff?”

Your face flushed at the question. If you told them yes then you’d look like a stalker.

“Well um... kinda?” You winced. You groaned and squeezed your cheeks together out of habit. Your anxiety was reaching its peak and you felt like you were going to burst into tears at any moment.

“The book goes into detail about a lot of things I’m sure you guys don’t want anyone to know” you glanced at Midoriya and Bakugo. Both had a shocked expression on their face.

They know you knew about OFA.

“Fuck” you mumbled “ I’m sorry that makes me sound like a weirdo. I have no ill intentions to use the information I know against you guys in a negative way. I only know ABOUT you. I don’t necessarily KNOW you.”

The students faces were unreadable. Besides Midoriya who was shaking like a salt shaker in his spot on the couch.

“Well since your quirk is bound to manifest at some point.” Todoroki spoke for the first time today. “I can help you adjust to the new environment”

“Yea me too” Uraraka joined in with a smile.

“As will I” Iida chopped through the air.

One by one, the class vowed to help you adjust to your new life and you couldn’t be more happier. You looked up at Aizawa with teary eyes.

He put his hand on your head and said “you’ll fit in kid”

——————————————

After sleeping in a bed that wasn’t decades old, you woke up to the sound of knocking on your room door. You straighten the pajamas yaoyomomo lent you and your hair before opening the door.

“Goodmorning Aizawa Sensei. Is something wrong?” You asked sleepily.

“No. Here are your uniforms, bath necessities, and some extra clothes. Class begins in 30” He responded. He handed you your items and rolled away in his sleeping bag.

“Never gonna get tired of seeing that” you laughed to yourself. You made your way to the women’s shower to prepare your self for the day. The center of your forehead throbbed but you chose to ignore it.

“Goodmorning y/n-Chan” Mina squealed “you look so cute in your pajamas”

“Thank you Mina” you smiled.

You did your morning routine witch consisted of showering, brushing your teeth, and talking to the girls.

You smoothed the skirt to your uniform as you walked behind the group of girls...struggled with tying your tie. You’ve never worn one before so of course you didn’t know how to tie it! In the midst of throwing a tantrum, you bump into something hard. Before you could fall backwards, you felt arms wrap around your back stopping you from hitting the ground.

“I’m so sorry. I was trying to tie this damn tie. Are you alright?” You rambled. You look up at the stranger and was met with a dual colored stare.

“I can help you with that if you’d like” he suggested.

“Yes please” you sighed.

You watched as his large fingers worked at the tie. He held a focused expression as he finished tying the piece of fabric.

“Too tight?”

“No. Thank you Todoroki.” You smiled as the two of walked into home room together.

You spot your assigned desk, which was covered in cards and balloons, and made your way to it. You sat in between Midoriya and Mineta, who was unsurprisingly checking you out. You turned to face him with a faux smile. “You know it’s really ugly being a pervert. Everyone in my reality hates you”

The grape boy’s face fell. His eyes followed the buttons on your jacket and fell on your breast. You flicked the perverted boy’s forehead out of disgust. You faced foreword in your desk and listened to whatever Aizawa had to say.

“Today you’ll be sparring against eachother. Quirks are allowed. Y/N will be monitoring you and adding necessary comments” The hero instructed. “Go get changed and meet in gym gamma. You too Y/N”

——————

You stood in the middle of the gym with a clipboard in your hands. It was the latch match of class and it was the most anticipated one of the day.

Todoroki V. Bakugo.

“DIE HALF AND HALF” The blonde screamed.

You watched in horror as Todoroki’s right side slowly covered in frost.

“DAMN ICYHOT. USE YOUR LEFT SIDE DAMNIT”

“Bakugo” the poor boy huffed a puff of cold air from his lungs.

“I’m gonna call it” you told the middle aged man beside you.

“No. Let them fight”

“But his right side-”

“Just watch”

Todoroki trapped Bakugo in another sheet of ice, which the blonde blasted out of. Without hesitation, the young Todoroki set his left fist aflame and punched the angry teenager.

“Oh damn” you gasped.

“Todoroki wins. Now Y/n” Aizawa called looking down on you. “Spar with Todoroki”

Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets. He wants you to do what? You don’t even have a quirk! The teacher pried the clipboard out of your hand and nudged you towards the mat.

“No quirks obviously”

“nO qUiRkS oBvIouSlY” you mimicked as you walk towards the center of the mat. Todoroki looked at you with a shit eating smirk, which faded into a focused stare.

“Ready?” Aizawa yelled. “Start”

The boy charged at you with his fist cocked back. You dodged left and jabbed him in the chest. Todoroki stumbled back at the hit with his eyes widened. “You’re strong”

“Now you don’t have to go easy on me” you smirked.

The two of you exchanged a number of hits before the match was over. The match ended with Todoroki sending a kick to your side, which caused you to fall to the mat.

“Todoroki wins”

“Fucking shit” you huffed. Todoroki offered you a hand, which you graciously took.

“You’re a better sparring partner than Bakugo” the dual hair colored boy spoke.

“I heard that you bastard” the blonde yelled behind you. “You. I want to spar with you after school”

“Yes sir Mr. Boom boom man” you salute. He growled at the nickname and stormed off. You turned on your heel with your arms crossed and walked to the locker rooms.

—————-——————»

You sat in the common area while everybody else were either in their room or out training. Everyone except Todoroki, who was currently sitting in front of you with a bowl of cold soba, starring right at you.

“Can I help you Todo?” You asked looking up from the book you were reading.

“I find you fascinating. You fell from the sky and you’re adjusting well” He stated. Slurping on his noodles.

“This is a better life than my old one. So I’m satisfied” you shrugged.

Todoroki scrunched his eyebrows together. Confusion visible on his face. “What do you mean a better life?”

You sighed as you closed the hard covered book. “Well, my life before any of this happened was complete–excuse my language– shit”

The boy nodded his head as you spoke.

“My father left right after I was born. He’s the lucky one in this story” you joked. A small smile formed on Todoroki’s face. “He left because when I was born my mom got abusive. She drank and drank and took out all of her anger on us. Cigarette burns here and there. Beer bottles thrown, wine bottles on a good day. My whole life story is bull”

“Wow. And I thought my dad was a dick” He laughed. You chuckled at his joke. “I’m sure you already know...”

“Like I said before, I know about your story. You’ve never told me”. You made your way to his side of sofa as he placed the empty bowl on the table in front of you.

“Well it’s really no different from what you’ve probably read. The way he used to breed my mother like she was some show dog.” His face scrunched in disgust. “The way he drove her crazy. It’s really a shitshow. I barely see either of my siblings anymore due to the fact that the thought of them resenting me plagues my mind.”

You looked into eachother eyes as he spoke. The trauma and anger that his bicolored eyes held as he spoke tempted you to hug him right then and there. You arms hesitantly wrapped around his neck.

You felt his tense shoulders relax in your hold as his arms wrap around your waist. He buried his face in between your neck and your shoulder.

“It’s always that one parent who has to be a bitch. That’s why son’s of bitches are a thing” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. Todoroki’s shoulders jumped as he laughed at your corny joke.

You pulled away from the boy and smiled. The two of you wished eachother a goodnight and went your separate ways. On your way to your room you see Midoriya and Bakugo outside of your door, waiting.

“Um…hi guys?” You smiled nervously.

“So you know?” Deku hesitated. His hands visibly shook with anxiety.

“I guess I do. I won’t tell anyone. I know you’ll get in a whole lot of shit if I do”

“Like hell you won’t” Bakugo growled “I’ll blow your ass into oblivion”

“That’s a big word for a asshat like you. I just said I’m not going to tell anyone” you growled back playfully crossing your arms with a smirk. You turned back to the baby broccoli with a smile “Your secret is safe with me. Have a goodnight. Both of you”

You walked into your room and fell backwards onto your bed. You moaned at how good it felt to finally lay down and go to sleep.

————————————————

Todoroki was woken out of his sleep by light knocks on his door. He rubbed the sleep away from his eyes as he opened the door to reveal a h/c haired girl with an unreadable expression.

“Y/n? It’s 4 in the morning. Why are you-“ his question was cut off by you grabbing his hand and dragging his half asleep body towards your room.

“Ask questions after I show you” you said. Expression still unreadable. Once you entered your room and made sure the door was locked, you pushed the heterochromatic eyed boy down on your bed.

He looked at you with worry. We’re you hurt? Should he take you to see Aizawa? Or recovery girl? His thoughts went blank as he watched you closed your eyes as a third one opened in the middle of your forehead. He watched in awe as you created a void of darkness in the space between your two hands. Everything in your room began to float as the void got bigger. Even the bed Todoroki was sitting on. His eyes widened as you then ball your fists which caused everything to remain still while they were still afloat. You dropped everything back to their original placements by clapping your hands together with a toothy smile plastered on your face.

“Look Todoroki. I manifested a quirk.” You squealed happily. The boy smiled at how excited you were about your quirk. He’s only known you 2 days but he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl that fell out of the sky and her smile.

“That was really cool y/n” he clapped. You jumped into his arms causing the both of you to fall backwards on the bed. The position you two landed in had both of your faces beet red.

“Uh...sorry. I got a little too excited” you laughed nervously. You stood again brushing off you pajama bottoms with a smile.

“It’s fine. I’d be excited too if I’d just manifest my quirk” he chuckled. “What’s your hero name going to be?”

“I have no idea” you yawned. “We should probably go back to sleep”

“Goodnight Y/n”

“Goodnight Todoroki” You watched as he closed your door silently not wanting to wake up your classmates.

The teenage boy smiled hard on the other side of the door. His thoughts swarmed with vivid pictures of you as he walked back to his room. Maybe Midoriya was right. Maybe he did have a crush on the girl that fell from the sky.

————————

You skipped into the common area mentally preparing yourself for your “presentation”. It was Saturday evening meaning that almost everybody would be there.

“Hey y/n-chan. You look happier than usual” Denki chirped, causing everyone to look in your direction. They watched as you walked into the middle of the room with a toothy smile.

“I am. I want to show you guys something” Everybody watched as you closed your eyes. They didn’t expect a third one to open in the middle of your forehead. They all gasped as everything around them covered in black goo and began to float. Everybody except Todoroki. He was just as happy as you were.

Once you disabled your quirk everyone screamed in joy.

“WHEN DID IT MANIFEST!?” Mina asked

“WHAT DO YOU CALL IT?” Izuku chimed in.

“Guys give her some space” Todoroki sighed pushing through the crowd. “You’re going to be an awesome hero y/n”

———————————————————

You held the bouquet of red and white roses tightly as Aizawa walked you down the aisle. All of your friends were fawning over how beautiful you looked. Even Bakugo was speechless.

When you reached the alter, you hugged Aizawa and whispered a faint “Thank you”. When you pulled away the man wiped a stray tear that had fallen on your cheek.

“Does Y/n have her family’s blessing to marry Shoto?” The officiant spoke.

“Yes. Yes she does” Aizawa smiled. He took his seat in the front row as the ceremony continued.

You wiped at the stray tears that fell from your eyes and smiled at your soon to be husband.

“The couple will now recite their written vows”

Shoto looked you deeply in your eyes and spoke. “Y/n ever since you fell from the sky 5 years ago you’ve always found your way into my thoughts. From the smile you sent me on your first day to the tears you shed when Aizawa adopted you I’ve always been star struck by your beauty. You fought by my side during all my battles. Mentally and physically. I’m no good at words but I mean it when I say I love you”

You didn’t even bother to wipe the tears that were flowing. You just smiled at the man before you. You tried to compose when it was your turn to recite your vows.

“Shoto” you said softly “it’s no secret that I’m not from here. But you and all of our friends made me feel at home. I cherish every last memory we have made. From our late night talks in each other’s rooms to teaching me how to make your cold soba. I can’t wait to make more.”

The both of you were teary eyed as you both slipped each other’s rings on your fingers.

“ I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now-“

Todoroki’s lips were on yours before the officiant had the chance to finish. Everybody cheered and threw flower petals your way.

“Y/n Todoroki” Shoto smiled at you.

“I love the sound of that”

#mha #mha fanfiction #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha x y/n #my hero academia #shoto x reader #shoto torodoki #todoroki shoto fanfiction #todoroki headcanons #bnha todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki

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