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duskholland · 3 years

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Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

tom was having a really nice day until the metropolitan police decided to crash his date. or, when the law finally catches up to london’s most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war.

word count ↠ 15k. warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, alcohol, a car chase, extensive depictions of prison, violence (very minor injury detail), tattooing, pregnancy, bad language, smut! there are extended nsfw warnings below the cut but this is 18+ so minors please do not interact. a/n ↠ this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken 100% seriously! similarly to every other fic I’ve written about mob!tom, I don’t condone any of the actions shown in this story and all depictions of the mob and prison are entirely fictional. please do not date members of the mafia even if they are tom holland !!!!! + this fic was conceptualised before the release of cherry, and there are no purposeful links to the content of that film! the image from esquire that I’ve used is what led me down this path lmfao...esquire I love/hate you. ++ the biggest thank you ever to the wonderful @uglypastels for helping me with the initial brainstorm on this one, and for just generally being so supportive as I’ve struggled with writers block :’) I wouldn’t have ever been able to think this up let alone have the motivation to write this without you, so thank you and ily z <3 +++ there is a pov change halfway through this fic! it is intentional and you should be able to see it pretty easily but I’m just flagging it so you don’t think I lost it halfway through ahahha. enjoy!

nsfw warnings ↠ car sex, soft!dom!tom ft minor sir kink, oral and fingering (fem-receiving), multiple orgasms with brief refs to overstimulation, minor pregnancy kink, unprotected sex ft cumshot.

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

There’s something wrong with you, and Tom can’t quite put his finger on it.

He wonders if it’s the wine. He’d spent hours debating the type of grape and ideal bitterness, scouring his memory in search of the perfect blend to share with you on your date. Eventually, he’d settled on the same deep red that he’d shared with you the first time he’d visited your flat, back when your love was just a small spark. Three years have passed since then, the nerves of early romance melted away and replaced by knowing and love, but the wine has recurred each time one of you has decided to treat the other, so what better blend to bring along to the picnic that Tom had so meticulously planned?

You haven’t touched your glass, and Tom—for all his confidence and charm—is deeply unsettled by this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what feels like the tenth time, with brows furrowed so tightly his forehead aches. Tom reaches across the gingham blanket to join your fingers together, surprised to feel the clamminess of your skin as you gently squeeze his hand.

You hum. “I’m fine,” you say, voice devoid of any intense emotion. You sigh softly before bringing your eyes to meet Tom’s, and the man feels his heart constrict in his chest. You’re perfect, even with your hair messy from the light spring wind and the nerves that sit across your face. When you squeeze his hand again, and Tom glances down to see the engagement ring on your fourth finger, the ache in his heart sharpens.

He never knew love could be this fulfilling, nor so easy. Breathing is harder than it is to love you.

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you want to go home?”

You’ve been so quiet for the entire date, which is strange because usually, you match his energy effortlessly. Tom has been away for a few weeks doing business in Liverpool, and this date by the river is the first time you’ve been properly alone since he returned. He’d really expected you to enjoy the date—or, on a very basic level, at least look like you want to be here. With your quiet answers, avoidance, and nervous stares, he can’t confidently say that you do.

You shake your head. “No, no.” You fiddle with some of his rings before pulling your hand away from his. As you sit up a little straighter, you turn away from Tom to stare instead at the River Thames.

The river behind you is lit by the mid-afternoon sun and flooded with boats. It’s such a lovely day that Tom almost doesn’t notice the horrible brown tinge to the water. Lining the bank are small groups of people—families, friends, couples, tourists. They all stay clear of the two of you, undoubtedly wary of the security guards lingering near their boss. He rarely goes out so obviously like this, but you’ve always loved London, and he’d wanted to treat you. He’d wanted this to be a nice day.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he checks, voice catching slightly.

Your eyes snap up to his quickly. “Tom,” you say, voice wrapped endearingly around his name. Moving easily, you slip closer to him, carefully shifting around the food and the glasses until you’re close enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Tom’s teeth graze his lower lip as he feels you pad your thumb across his jaw. “I know,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. “I love you too.” He pauses for a few moments, savouring the closeness and the scent of your rosy spritz. He’d missed you so much that it almost hurts to have you so close again. “I know you have something on your mind, darling… Can you tell me what it is? I want to help you.”

“I…” A breathy exhalation follows. You bring your hand away from his cheek and rest it on the red silk material covering his shoulder. He’s in a loose designer shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and showing off the silver-linked chain he has hanging from his neck. “Tom, I just…”

“What?”

A small smile twitches at your lips. “Not here,” you seem to decide, voice a little stronger. “I have something I need to show you.”

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

Tom feels the weight rolls from his shoulders. It’s fine—everything is fine. You want to let him in, want to trust him with the cause of your anxieties. You still want him.

“Let’s go, then,” he decides, knowing he’s far too impatient to spend another hour laying by the river. Tom offers you a hand, and you take it. He tugs you away from the picnic setup with ease. He doesn’t need to bother with putting the things away—someone else will do it. Just one of the perks of his job.

“I missed you,” you say, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand as you walk together towards the car. “It gets lonely without you in the house. Our bed is ridiculously huge without two people in it.”

Tom chuckles. “Good job I’m back now then, eh?”

The noise you release is stacked full of so much relief it makes Tom feel guilty for ever leaving to begin with. As he watches the bright, genuine smile flow across your face when you meet his eyes, he resolves to never leave for business again. Never. Not without you.

“A very good job,” you clarify. When you reach the car together, Tom holds the door open for you, ushering you in dramatically until you’re laughing and making fun of him for fussing. The only way he can stop you from your jovial whines is by leaning across the dashboard and pressing his lips to yours, so really he can’t complain. “This car is stupid, too,” you decide.

“Oh, that’s too fucking far,” Tom murmurs, glancing in the rear mirror as he peels away from the pavement. He’s glad the air between you has lightened. You seem happier now you’ve decided to spill your secrets. He rests his hand on the back of your headrest as he twists in his seat, eyes on the road as he reverses. “This car is a beauty.”

“This car is confusing,” you say, and Tom feels you staring at the flex of his bicep. “I tried driving it when you were gone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm. Couldn’t even get it up the drive.”

“Well, not to be rude, darling, but it’s hardly fair to blame my beautiful car for the fact that you’re an atrocious driver.”

If looks could kill, Tom knows he’d be six feet under.

“Fuck you, Tom,” you seethe, but your voice is charged with laughter. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all. Go back to Liverpool, see if I care.”

Tom cackles. “Maybe I will,” he teases, “just to see how long it takes you to start begging for me to come back again.”

You grumble something incoherent at that, then the words between you lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, you shift your palm to rest on his thigh, your hand gentle, warm. Your fingertips trace tiny love hearts over his slacks.

“Don’t,” you say eventually, voice quieter. “Stay this time.”

Tom risks a quick glance to you, growing breathless in the depths of your eyes. “Of course,” he says, voice thick. Tom returns his gaze to the road, his chest feeling tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I mean, you can leave sometimes if you want—”

“No. Never.” Tom’s cheeks ache. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“Alright, Tom.” You sigh lightly, feigning exasperation. “I guess there are worse things than being stuck with you.”

“I’m charmed, darling. So relieved you like spending time with your fiancé.”

You shift in your seat at that, and Tom doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re flustered. You’re always shyer around him when he mentions the fact that your futures are intertwined, almost unbelieving that he’d slipped that ring onto your finger. It doesn’t matter how many times Tom tells you that he cherishes you—you never quite make peace with the fact that he wants to chase the moon with you. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling you, though. You hang the stars in his sky.

“I love spending time with you, Tom,” you mumble. “And I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Wait— what?” Tom scrunches the tip of his nose up as he squints in your direction. “Y/N, what—” He pauses, concentrating on keeping his voice level. “Angel, nothing you could ever do would change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

You smile quietly. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add, almost sensing his unease. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Perfect.” Tom sits a little straighter in his seat. “Then there’s nothing to worry about—”

Sirens cut into his words. Tom startles, glancing in the mirror to see a police car with a whirring blue siren perched atop the grimy vehicle.

“Tom,” you say slowly, voice filling with dread. Your tone sends shivers down his spine. “Did you do something?”

Tom bites his lip.

He’s been trying his best to stay above the law recently, but… Liverpool had been messy. Very messy. He hadn’t intended on things going quite as terribly as they had, but one thing had led to another, and he’d had to fuck a few things up. The crime is nothing as intense as he’s been booked for in the past, but he’d had to write a few irregularities into his taxes and business agreements to smooth over the waters. It’s not as bad as murder, but it’s tax fraud nonetheless.

Tom had thought he’d been fine. Apparently not. He’s been a hot target for the Metropolitan Police for years, and they’ve consistently unearthed every tiny discrepancy he’s tried to get away with. He should’ve been more fucking careful.

“Shit,” Tom mutters. As he brings his eyes back to the road in front of him, he realises the police car behind you has been joined by another two, closing in from side streets and boxing him in amongst the traffic. He swallows thickly. “I messed up.”

You curse. “Idiot,” you mutter. You sit forwards in the seat and start to point to a gap in the traffic, right across the square. “Go there,” you say, voice pitching higher. “If you go fast, you’ll make it.”

He could book it. Tom’s run away before, in situations of peril where the alternative had been the law and escaping would give him the chance to alter some books and clear his name. It would be easy to slam his foot on the accelerator and dive down side streets, dodging the thick London traffic.

“Tom!” you say again, voice stressed with desperation. “Tom, go!”

The gap in the traffic is narrowly closing, the window of time Tom has to zoom through and get to safety shrinking before his very eyes. If he was alone, he’d do it without a second thought, but you’re here.

You’re here, and that means he can’t be selfish. Tom couldn’t ever risk you, not with such a treacherous manoeuvre like the one that you’re suggesting, nor with the repercussions you’d face if he books it. You’d either have to come on the run with him, or you’d end up captured and grilled by the Met, and neither of those options is the types of things he’d ever bring willingly upon you. You would never deserve that, and he refuses to make it a possibility.

Tom slows down the car.

“Tom,” you say, shock filling your voice. “What are you doing? They’ll get you.”

He nods. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully,” he says quickly.

“But—”

“—Darling, please. Please.” Tom stops the car abruptly. He calculates he has mere seconds before the officers ditch their vehicles and start storming across the traffic to haul him from his seat. “Don’t say anything to them. They want me, not you.” He turns off the engine and grabs your hands, holding them close as he stares into your eyes. “Call Harrison. Whatever shit they’re bringing me in for won’t hold up for long. They’ve— they’ve done this before. They never win. We have backup plans for this crap.”

“Tom,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears, “but they—”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” He presses quick kisses to your knuckles, clinging so tightly to your fingers it’s like he’ll drift away without your touch. “I’m sorry. I am so bloody sorry. I love you so much.”

His throat hurts. The sight of the pain in your eyes makes him hate himself for ever bringing you into this faithless way of life. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s destined for a cell—Tom cares that he’s hurt you.

“I love you too,” you say. You lean closer, undoing your seatbelt and popping his too as you reach up to cup Tom’s cheeks in your shaky hands. “It’ll be okay,” you stress. “I’ll get you out of there, baby.”

You lean in closer to kiss him, and Tom aches. The scent of your perfume is overwhelming, and he feels fragile beneath the hold you have on his face. The kindness in your eyes makes it hurt even more. It’d be easier if you’d let fury consume you and spend these last sacred moments denouncing him instead of loving him, but of course, you’re not like that.

The car door opens, and Tom is hauled from the car the moment his lips touch yours. Before he can process it, he’s being pushed up against his car, stiff arms keeping him pinned in place. He closes his eyes, firming up his face and shoving down his feelings as he forces himself to dry up, become stoic. He won’t show weakness now he’s outside.

Tom hears you exit the vehicle a few moments later, the crash of the door coupled with a few scuffles. He drowns out the words of the officers whilst they reel off a list of fabricated crimes, smugness evident in their voices. Good for fucking them.

When they eventually release him, he’s cuffed and weaponless, his spirit bent in two. The metal of his car had hurt his face, but nothing breaks Tom’s heart more than the sight of you being held back by two officers, tears streaming down your face. You bring your hands into the shaky outline of a heart, and it’s the last thing he sees before he’s pushed into the back of a van.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

It’s clear that everyone at the station has been waiting for him to fuck up. He’s met with sly smiles and teasing comments as he’s reacquainted with some of his most despised wardens and guards. He’s held in a temporary cell for almost a day and quizzed on the shreds of ‘evidence’ they’d procured from his house during a raid, and though Tom declines to answer every single question they throw at him, their smugness never fades.

He walks into the trial already knowing he’s going to be locked up, and not even the sight of you beside Harrison and Harry on the benches soothes him.

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

Now, Tom isn’t worried. He knows he won’t actually be held in a cell for that long. He’s already had correspondence with Harrison, who’s assured him that he’s working on it, and there’s really nothing much to worry about. Tom has been in this situation twice before, and on both occasions, he’d been released in less than a month. The connections he’s built from his years heading up the mob are reliant and unwavering, and he knows he won’t have to serve even a fifth of his sentence.

The only difference between the times before and now is you, and Tom can only fucking pray that you don’t despise him for dirtying your name with his crimes. You’d been normal before him—a waitress, aspiring painter, an innocent. Despite your insistence that you love him with all strings attached, his guilt weighs him down. He doesn’t give a fuck about the law and whatever twisted loopholes the jury had bought, but he does care about you and what you think of him. That’s the hardest part.

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

Prison isn’t that bad for Tom. He’s pretty fucking lucky, all things considered. He has friends here—blokes he’d met around town, most of whom are willing to welcome him in. A few of his old guys are locked behind bars with him, unwavering in their loyalty and more than happy to absorb him as members of their group. Those who don’t know Tom know of him. His reputation as a murderous, cold-hearted killer follows him inside, regardless of its falsity. Tom hasn’t taken a life in three years, but these men don’t need to know that.

“Holland! Get the fuck up. You’re in the gym.”

Tom glances up. He’s lying on top of his bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a book. He isn’t an avid reader like you, but you’d sent him a copy of your favourite book with scribbled annotations in the margins, and he’s been spending every hour since its arrival clinging to the pages.

He sighs as he puts the book down and stands from the lower bunk. He’s in with a young lad, Ollie, booked on a minor drugs charge. Why they’d paired someone on such a minimal sentence with a member of the mob, Tom will never understand, but the fear in the lad’s eyes every time he looks at him is enough to keep his wavering ego bobbing just above the waterline.

“Step away from the door.”

Tom does as instructed. A moment later, there’s a loud buzzer followed by the swinging of the heavy metal door.

In walks Luther, Tom’s archnemesis. If the inmates fear him, the guards despise him, and to be fair, Tom understands why. He’s a bit of a dick when he’s behind bars. Usually, when he’s free, he operates with a level of poise and charm that comes with his position as leader. He speaks to his men with a firm but kind hand, respects everyone he deems his equal and commands supreme authority without becoming a tyrant. However, when he has his freedom stripped away, and he has to bend to fit the system’s will, his attitude becomes… problematic.

“Holland,” Luther barks. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, coughing loudly, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. He snarls at Tom, his voice like jagged glass. “Come on.”

“You alright, mate?” Tom asks. “You sound fucking terrible.” He looks it, too, with a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes. He looks ill.

Luther’s features sharpen. “Get over here now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom swaggers to the door and dodges a little as Luther cuffs him, the man digging the metal into his skin with extra ferocity. They start to march down the long, grey corridor towards the fitness suite, Luther prodding Tom forward with a hand digging into his back.

“How’s your wife?” Tom tries, tired of the echoing footsteps.

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

The guard tuts. “Does she like having a criminal for a husband?”

“Does yours like being married to such a wanker— hey!”

Luther pushes him down the corridor with haste. “Quiet, Holland,” he mutters. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Well, then it’s too bad you’re stuck with me,” Tom replies. “Did you know that if me being here annoys you so much, you could always let me go? That would sort out your problem.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah? Let London’s most wanted convict escape?”

Tom raises a brow. “London’s most wanted?” he echoes. “Wow.” Pride seeps into his voice. “That’s an accomplishment.”

“Not a positive one. Self-absorbed bastard.”

It’s easy to laugh. Letting the comments bounce off his back is easier than admitting the jibe about you has irked him. Do you like having a criminal for a partner? Even Tom, for all the world has jaded him, knows no sane person would rest well with the knowledge that their significant other has lied, stolen, and killed. It doesn’t lie well with him, and he was born into this.

They reach the gym.

Tom sticks to the same workout regime he has at home. He does his cardio for twenty minutes on the wobbling treadmill, then sits around on the bench press and does curls with a few of the guys. He keeps quiet, his mind loud, only adding a few comments when necessary. His sullenness adds to his image, and he’s busy with thoughts of you. By the time he’s finished, he feels arguably worse than before. The endorphins from his workout are overshadowed by the guilt Tom feels, clawing at his heart, heavy and persistent in its certainty that he’s a lousy partner.

He can handle being a bad guy, but a bad man? A bad brother, bad friend, or bad lover? The opinions of the guards mean nothing to him, and neither does the law, but when it comes to the people he cares about, their opinions mean everything. Tom has let Luther get into his head, and whilst he knows that was the guard’s intention, the seed of doubt has been planted. As he pumps iron, he feels it grow, taking root, blooming taller.

“Holland. Time to go.”

He grunts as he stands. Sweaty and sore, Tom hobbles to the doorway, feeling considerably smaller than he had when he’d left his cell. The cuffs hurt his wrists as his hands are clasped back together, and the walk back feels even longer than before.

“You had a parcel delivered,” Luther says, breaking the silence. “It arrived last week.”

Tom’s eyebrows pull together. “Last week?”

“I thought I should hold it back until you’d settled in,” comes the patronising response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new experiences, Thomas. Not that being in here is anything out of the ordinary for you, though.”

He feels his jaw twitch. He flexes his hand, knuckles burning for movement. Not yet, not yet. He has to wait, has to play the long game.

“You’re a dick,” Tom decides. He doesn’t care that he gets thrown roughly into the cell. He trips over the floor and barely manages to scrape himself to his feet, but he throws out a smirking “fuck you,” before the door slams shut. He’d follow it up with more snide remarks, but he becomes distracted by the sight of the parcel sitting on his bed.

It’s neat, despite the obvious intrusion into its contents by the guards. He flops onto his lower bunk, glad his cellmate is absent as it allows him to drop the ruse. Lips sagging into a frown, Tom rips open the package.

He releases a fragile sound as the contents pour across his duvet. Polaroids fall across the sheets, glistening slightly, neat and pristine. A lump comes to the back of his throat as he shuffles through them, finding images of you, Harry, Sam, Tess… The list carries on. For every person he can think of, there’s an image captured perfectly in time. He even appears in a few of them, with his hand around Haz’s shoulder or his lips pressed to your temple.

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

Tom, I thought you’d want some reminders of home while you’re away. We’re all looking forward until the day you can come home to us. Love you forever, Y/N <3

As Tom traces the edge of his nail along the outline of your face, his eyes well with hot tears. You always know what he needs, even when he doesn’t. You know him, inside out, and you’re continuing to support him, despite it all. He is indebted to you, and he knows already that as soon as he’s let out, he’ll spend every second of his life trying to repay that.

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks later, Tom finally gets to see you again.

The prison visiting room is fucking grim. Toned in sludgy shades of grey and brown, it’s about as ugly as it could be. There are window slits pressed high into the walls, but the primary source of light is from the musky bulbs set above each table. The chairs are uncomfortable, and the decor lacks inspiration. Tom often wonders if the room was designed to be as revolting as possible.

Despite this, as Tom shuffles into the room that smells suspiciously of plasticine, he couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t matter that his wrists ache from the cuffs, nor that the garish shade of orange clashes horrendously against his skin: you’re here, and that makes everything better.

You’re sitting at the table in the corner of the room, drumming your fingers pensively over the surface. His eyes catch on the glinting ring wrapped around your fourth finger, and the sense of longing that had settled in the hollowness of his chest is quickly burnt away. Sensing his movements, you glance up, and when your eyes meet with his, Tom feels his heart come home.

You raise a hand in greeting, smiling shyly, and he tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He knows the new buzzcut and the stupid get-up probably don’t help, but you don’t look at him like he’s any different.

As he draws nearer, Tom finds himself blinking a few times, questioning how long you’ve been separated. The version of you he has holed up in his memories pales in comparison to the woman that he sees before him now, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. You seem fuller somehow—vibrant, glowing, alive, your face doused in a heavenly glow and your skin bright with health. Your figure has changed slightly, and Tom can’t stop himself from running his eyes all over you, trying to memorise every tiny detail his memory had blurred away. You look so beautiful, every single part of your form enhanced and bright, and your chest—

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

“Y/N,” he exhales the moment he’s been pushed into his seat. His guard unclasps his cuffs, and Tom immediately reaches out across the table, almost moaning from relief when you wrap your fingers around his. Your skin is so warm.

“Tom,” you whisper. Emotion seeps into your voice, and he feels his chest crack as tears pool in your eyes. “Are you okay? I— I missed you.”

He hums, biting his lip. “I’m fine, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”

You nod quickly. “I’m okay too,” you say. “Things are strange without you, but we’re working around the clock to get you out of here.” You drop your voice slightly. “I think we’re near a breakthrough.”

Tom’s teeth brush his lower lip. “Good, good,” he says. “How’s Tess? And Harry, and the others? Are they looking out for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. You squeeze Tom’s hands tightly. “They’re all okay. Mainly just worried about you.”

He shrugs, trying to lessen the furrow in your brow. “‘M all good, darling,” he promises. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your eyes skate across his face. “I like your hair,” you say gently. For a moment, Tom thinks you’re going to try and reach out to touch the buzzed fuzz, but you seem to remember that anything beyond handholding is prohibited. You have to settle for a slightly suggestive smile. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, lovie.”

Your smile is sad but it’s still hopeful. Whatever emotions you’re feeling, it’s clear that you’re trying to smooth them away and keep them to yourself. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” you say, easing into the words with difficulty. Tom watches as you look away, doubt casting across your face.

“What is it?” Vaguely, Tom remembers how skittish you’d been the day he’d been taken away, the memory distorted from the noise of everything else that had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You bite your lower lip. “Uh, just first… how are you holding up in here? Like, actually. Don’t bullshit me and play the tough guy.” Your eyes are wide and persistent. “How are you actually doing?”

Tom blinks a few times. “Fine,” he shoots immediately. He clenches your fingers tightly in his, clinging on for a moment until he exhales. “I wish I could be here for you properly, though. It worries me that I don’t know what’s happening on the outside…” He hates being left out in the dark, but it isn’t your fault. It’s his. “I wish I could be a better boyfriend to you.”

“Fiancé,” you correct, the word soft like it’d left your mouth without thought. “You’re already a good boyfriend, Tom. I knew what I was signing up for. I wanted this back then, and I still do now.”

“Still,” he grumbles. He tries to even out the heaviness of the conversation with a smile. “I think about you all the time, baby. And the others too, but… mostly you. I just hate that I’m missing out on our life together.” He has to stop for a moment as he recollects his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I did this to us, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

You crack a wry smile. “You can’t change the past, Tom. You can only affect the future.” You pause, your expression hardening. “I need to know that you’ll go slower when you get out. I know this is your life, but some things need to change. We— I need you to stay out of trouble. Do you understand?”

He nods his head immediately. “Of course, of course. I don’t ever want to get arrested again, darling.”

You drop your voice. “I’m not saying you need to quit everything, just… get better safeguards and be smarter. I love who you are, Tom, but this…” You break off to gesture around, pointing vaguely at his cuffs, the jumpsuit, and the guards. “This isn’t good for you or for me. And I love you, but I won’t stay if you don’t try.”

It’s hard to hear, but he knows it’s what he deserves to hear. He knows you deserve to stand your ground.

“I know,” Tom says gently. “I’ll get clean when I’m out, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be a good man by you.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter. “You already are,” you promise, “and I love you so much, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Thank you, darling.” Tom tilts his head to the side. “What was it you wanted to say?”

Conflict briefly colours your face, manifesting itself in the arch of your eyebrow and the biting of your lower lip. You inhale sharply, only to exhale again a moment later.

“I’ll tell you when you’re out,” you say softly.

Tom scowls. There’s no anger there, just confusion. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I… Pretend I never said anything,” you say. You follow it up with a quick, “if I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t want to push it, so Tom lets the topic slip away. You sit together silently for a few minutes. It’s hard to talk, difficult to express how much he misses you, how much he’s sorry. He knows that you understand—you always do, and you have similar tears wobbling across your eyes. Talking can come afterwards when he’s out and he’s free. All he needs now is the feeling of your hand back in his.

The visit is over far too soon.

Leaving you is difficult. Tom isn’t allowed to hug you or go any nearer than the linked hands on the table, but you tug at his fingers until he feels the imprint of your engagement ring rubbing against his skin. He even manages to kiss your knuckles a few times before he’s pulled up from the table and cuffed again.

“Be on your best behaviour,” you say, soft with your parting words. “The lawyer says the better you are, the easier it’ll be to get you out early.”

Tom has a bit of his spark back. Even as he’s pulled back, he manages a devious smirk. “When am I ever not on my best behaviour, darling?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

To be fair, it isn’t really his fault. He’s pushed to the very verge of insanity, prodded at and provoked beyond the point of return.

It happens when he’s in the barber, huddled in the back corner of the room as he gets a new tattoo. Tom is used to the pain of the burning needles as he already has a few pieces on his arms and his hands, so he’s able to take the fresh marks to his knuckles as the ink stains black against his skin. However, he’s a bit on edge from the sharp buzzing, which is perhaps why he responds so negatively to the taunting he starts to receive. It comes from Toni and the rest of his snivelling gang. They’re all members of the East London mob, ruled over by Tom’s nemesis Gordy. Most of the time, they stick to their side and Tom sticks to his, but they’ve caught him in a vulnerable position, and Toni never seems to know how to pick his timing.

It’s basic teasing, instilled with a brutal hard edge that would phase him if Tom cared enough about their opinions of him. It doesn’t hurt him when people attack his character or his honour—Tom knows the truth about his life, and he couldn’t give two shits about an outsider’s opinion of him. However, he finds it a lot harder to grin and bear it when the man changes angle.

“Word is, a couple of our guys saw your missus out with Haz the other day,” Toni taunts. “He said they were getting real close if you know what I mean.”

Tom’s jaw flexes. The action is minute, but it doesn’t go undetected. Toni smirks.

“Eh, you don’t like that, do you?” The man steps a little closer and Tom tries to ignore him by looking down at the needle pressing into his fingers. “Don’t like the idea of your best friend hanging around your wife. Can you even trust them?” He breaks off, laughing coolly. “They think you’re so stupid, did you know that? You’ll get out of here, and they’ll have cut you out of everything—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom murmurs. He flexes his right hand, shaking out his knuckles. With every passing day, he’s felt tetchier. He can feel his anger burning, churning deep within his stomach, growing brighter, harder. He knows he shouldn’t lean into it, but… He wants to. He craves that rush of the fight, selfishly so.

“But she’s not your wife, is she? You aren’t actually married. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s just using you? Maybe they all are? Look at you, Tom.” Toni breaks off to throw a disdainful hand in Tom’s direction. “You are so weak in here… How are any of your guys going to respect you when their leader can’t even stay out the slammer?”

The guy tattooing Tom’s hand finally pulls away, glancing up at him with knowing in his eyes. “You’re done,” he says. “Don’t do anything with that hand, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

Tom stands up, Toni mirroring him. The man looms in front of him, 6’2 and stocky. He’s larger than Tom in every respect, but he’ll never be the bigger man.

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

“Make me, twat.” Toni smirks. “Or are you too much of a pussy to follow through on that as well?”

Tom sees red. Acting on the edge of adrenaline, he pounces, rushing the man and jumping with so much unexpected force that the larger man goes tumbling to the floor. Tom hears the shouts of the guards, but they pale in comparison to his need to straddle the man’s chest and make him pay. With each meeting of his fist with Toni’s face, Tom feels better. He’s never been an excessively violent person, but old habits die hard, and it’s so, so, so fucking easy to pummel the guy who dared breath an uncomplimentary word in his family’s direction. Tom would put the whole city six feet under if they so much as breathed wrong around his loved ones, so really, Toni had it coming.

The prison guards don’t agree.

He ends up in solitary, and when he’s put back into the normal population, Tom is given restrictions. He isn’t allowed visitors for a fortnight, and his calls are reduced to once a week. All other privileges he’d had are taken away again, and he’s relegated to the very bottom of the pecking order.

It’s still worth it.

When he’s finally allowed visitors again, Tom is surprised to learn that his next meeting isn’t with you or his lawyer. Things only make sense when he shuffles into the meeting room and sees his right-hand man settled in the corner, and if Tom had found the room drab before, it appears even more depressing with the addition of the blond man sitting in it. Harrison sucks the life from the room, any hints of happiness at being reunited with his friend overshadowed by the pinched expression on his face.

The guards don’t let Tom take off his cuffs. He has to sidle into the chair, falling into the heavy silence as he places his hands on the table. Metal links click, and Harrison just stares. He stares, and stares, and stares, his blue eyes almost black.

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

Harrison’s jaw twitches. He brings his hands to rest on the top of the table, flexing them as he takes a moment to find the right words. “Tom,” he says, speaking very slowly. “You are a twat.”

He blinks. “Wow,” Tom mutters, chuckling slightly. “Okay. Good to see you too, mate.”

“Do you…” Harrison breaks off, groaning. His forehead develops angry ripples. “Do you understand how detrimental this has been to your case?”

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve been pushed to the bottom of the pile,” Harrison says, voice controlled but simmering with unspoken anger. “We were about to get your appeal passed for early release.” He sits back, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “There’s been a penalty applied due to your stint in solitary. Your case won’t be assessed until it’s lifted.”

Tom feels his stomach drop. “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not ideal.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Harrison sits forward, leaning on his hands. “You are a bloody idiot. Stop acting like a child… Why… Why did you even attack him? You must have known this would happen. Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t like the patronisation in his tone. Tom’s already beat himself up enough about this in solitary. He doesn’t need Harrison questioning his judgements, doesn’t appreciate his friend breathing down his neck so obviously.

“He deserved it,” Tom says firmly. “I would do it again.”

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Harrison.” There’s a stupid smirk on his lips now. Tom’s missed being a little shit to his friends. He knows it’s not the time, but he’s vibrating. The callous concoction of shame, anger and isolation make him volatile and abrasive. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually.”

The expression that mars Harrison’s face looks very out of place against his demeanour. The man is in a long black trench coat with a tight grey turtleneck layered beneath it. He has a few pendants hanging from his neck, the gold metal bringing out the warm tones in his curls, mussed in a way that screams of old charm and perfect romance. Harrison’s illusion of control falters only under the pressure of the anger that manifests itself so clearly on his face.

“Tom.” Harrison bangs his fist on the table. The ring wrapped around his pinky clangs against the wood. “You can’t keep this up. If you do, the case gets pushed further, and that is unacceptable.”

Tom scowls. “Well, Haz, last time I checked, I was the one who has to deal with the consequences of my actions. Not you.” He can’t stand the expression of condescension hanging over Harrison’s face. “If I want to throw a few punches, I bloody well will. You have no idea what it’s like in here. No idea at all.”

Harrison’s angered expression fades a little, but only for a moment. When Tom hardens the curve of his eyebrow, Harrison devolves into irritation again, almost snarling as he narrows his eyes. “Your actions affect everyone in your life,” he snaps. “Stop pretending you’re the only one paying for the things that you’ve done.”

“I’m the one with the cuffs, Harrison. I’d say I’m paying considerably more than anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah? Tell that to the men who had their property searched and their possessions seized. Tell that to your family, who continue to be pulled in for questioning. Tell that to Y/N, who—” he breaks off awfully quickly, cheeks flushing slightly. “Nevermind.”

Tom’s blood goes cold. “Y/N?” he repeats sharply. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

He sits up straighter. “What about Y/N, Harrison?”

“Nothing.”

Tom is angry now. “Tell me right now or god help me, I will find a way to kill you.”

Harrison rolls his eyes, then covers the movement with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t my place.” He seems regretful as he jumps in to add, “she’s fine. She just needs you. We all do.”

The guilt returns. It falls over Tom like a wet blanket, extinguishing his frustration and leaving him cold. “Does she… Does she hate me?” He’s looking down at his cuffs.

“What— no. No, Tom.” Harrison looks guilty for the first time, but at least he isn’t confirming Tom’s deepest insecurities. “Nothing like that at all. Just… Listen to me, alright? You need to behave. I know it’s hard in here, I know that, and I understand it must be frustrating. You just… You can’t let that rule you, Tom. You have to look at the bigger picture. You need to come home, and the sooner the better.”

It’s easier said than done, but he knows Harrison is earnest with it.

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

Harrison nods. “Thanks, mate,” he mutters. “We all miss you, myself included.” He glances up at him, eyes finally back to the cool blue tones Tom grew up beside. “It isn’t the same without you around.”

Tom manages a tight smile. “I miss you too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since Tom was taken away, and you are miserable.

Every day has been the same. You wake up, nauseous and alone, always on Tom’s side of the bed despite forcing yourself to fall asleep on your own. The mornings are a blur of paperwork and phone calls that follow you into the afternoon. You work around the clock, Harrison, Harry and Sam at your side as you go over Tom’s case, again and again, only stopping when night falls, and one of you throws in the towel.

You had been so close to springing him until he’d gone and got himself demoted to solitary, and there’s not a morning that you don’t think about that. You’d submitted the appeal, stacked full of so much evidence that there was no way the judge would deny him freedom, only for Tom to get into a fistfight the day before the hearing. Just like that, the floor had vanished from beneath your feet.

You’d taken it badly, the others too. Losing Tom to the judge’s gavel had been hard enough, but for his escape to be taken away by his own actions hurt a thousand times worse. You know it’s worse for him, being alone in a cell, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness seeping into your mouth every time you think about the lost chance. Harry and Sam had been incensed, their anger fuelled by the void of a missing brother, and you know Harrison’s frustration comes from similar veins.

Even now that Tom’s served his time in solitary, the frustration lingers on, manifesting itself in the way none of you could decide who should go and visit him first. Under normal conditions, you would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but… Things have been complicated, even without recent events, more so than they’d been when you’d visited two months ago. When Harrison had bitten the bullet and volunteered himself, all of you had been more than happy to let him go.

He’d left this morning, and the house has been quiet ever since.

You’re sitting up in one of the spare rooms as you wait for Harrison to return, your back aching and your mind spinning. You twirl the rings on your fingers as you think, taking turns alternating between your engagement ring and the silver signet rings you’d taken from Tom’s dresser. Keeping him close makes everything easier. You’d take any reminder of him you could get, be that his rings, his shirts, his cologne, or…

The baby.

You shift a hand down to sit on the swell of your belly. Tears prick your eyes as you let them close, a frustrated sigh tumbling past your lips.

You’re four months pregnant, and that throws a spanner in the works.

Sure, you would’ve tried equally as hard to get Tom released under normal conditions, but the biological countdown that has now been sprinkled into the mix has only given everything an air of desperation. Even if it isn’t you vocalising what everyone else is thinking, the fervour to get Tom out before it’s too late is there. You can see it in the way Harrison never lets you go anywhere unaccompanied, and Harry and Sam have been working nonstop to get their brother’s freedom. Everyone around you is aware of how vital Tom’s release is, even when the man himself remains oblivious.

Exhaling gently, you shift around on the cosy armchair. The nursery smells of fading paint, and as you move around, you glance at the messy borders of the walls. The sex of your baby is still a mystery to you, but a few days ago, the twins had freshened up the room with a shade of light green whilst you and Harrison were in court. Neither of them is particularly artistically inclined, but they’d done a pretty decent job, all things considered.

Tom’s family have all been good to you—very kind. You haven’t felt alone, even with half your heart locked away in the outskirts of London. It just hasn’t been the idyllic pregnancy you’d dreamt about with your fiancé.

Guilt falls across you as you look down at the rising swell of your belly.

It’s been hard trying to decide whether or not to tell Tom what you’d tried to come clean about three months ago, down by the Thames. You’d wanted to tell him when you’d gone to visit him, but you couldn’t find the heart to come clean and admit that he’s missing out on the one thing he’s waited for his entire life. Telling him would hurt him immensely, and he’s already hurting being away from you. You don’t want to tell him until he can be part of it, and with that uncertainty present, you’ve kept your lips sealed.

Visiting him today in place of Harrison is all you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re vulnerable and explosive, and you want to come clean to Tom when the situation is better. There would be nothing worse than storming into that dingy meeting room, flaunting your obvious pregnancy but being too distracted by your anger at your fiancé to explain everything else. You won’t hurt him like that by taunting him with the one thing he wants but can’t have. You refuse to.

All you can do is hope that he forgives you for holding the information back, pray that he understands your motivations, and, above all, hold onto the hope that he’s there when your child comes into the world.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Blinking yourself from your reverie, you look up through the open door.

“In here, Sam.”

A moment later, Tom’s younger brother appears in the doorway. The man looks as exhausted as you feel, deep shadows hanging beneath his hazel eyes. When he sees you, his mouth pulls into a small smile and he lifts his hand in greeting, and you can tell that he’s trying. You try to match him by sitting up a little straighter and smiling back.

“Hey,” he says. “I was just… bored, I guess. Thought I’d come and check on you.” Doubt briefly flickers across his face. “Is that okay? Are you busy?”

“I’m bored too,” you admit. You stand from the armchair and groan as you stretch your arms, your stiff back aching. “Do you want to do something?”

Sam grins. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “Can we try the mural?”

Wincing, you manage a smile. “Okay… But if it looks terrible, I will paint over it.”

“As if. I’m the artistic one here, Y/N. Just be glad Harry’s still away.”

“Did someone mention me?” Harry’s voice rings through the air, startling you. With a hand clutching your heart, you look to your side in time to see Sam’s twin taking his place at your side. Where Sam is in a shirt and tie, Harry is clad in a pair of deep denim dungarees. He offers you a rusty smile. “We’re just filling in these lines, yeah?”

Sam’s the one to nod. He gestures at the wall and you notice the faint outlines, scratched in pencil. “Be precise,” he informs, “it took me bloody ages sketching it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shooting you a silent smirk. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. “Anything you want, sir.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well,” he says, looking at you pointedly, “I hope you’re keeping a record of how many times Sam is swearing around the baby, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you pick up a paintbrush. “Why would I be doing that?”

The ginger grins. “Just betters my case for being the better uncle,” he says.

“Oh, what? Don’t you mean the boring uncle?” Sam chides, bristling beside you.

Harry laughs. “I will be the favourite uncle. I don’t care what you say, Sammy. Both of us know it.”

Rolling your eyes at the argument you’ve heard a thousand times before, you give them both a nudge. “Shh,” you plead. “Paint, don’t fight.”

Sam shoots you a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a smile lingering on your lips, you watch as Harry puts on one of his playlists, then relax as the three of you get to work. None of you say anything, but the air is full enough—tickled to life with Sam’s quiet whistling and the sound of paintbrushes thick against the wall. You concentrate on the intricate details of the mural, like the outlines of the clouds and the spirals of the grass, and marvel at how wonderful it is to be so content in silence. It’s indicative of how tight your bond has grown, you think.

No longer despising solitude, you’ve found a comfortable middle ground around the men. You and Tom’s inner circle have learned to work together well, stringing together complex case files as you’ve organised accounts. Nothing you’ve been doing recently is legal, but you would’ve left a long time ago if you genuinely cared about the law. You can stomach a few fixed accounts if it means Tom gets to walk free—you can stomach a whole lot more than that, actually, for Tom. You’d set the whole world on fire just to see him smile.

Like the splotchy mural covering the walls, your team has got the job done. Your case for the court is watertight, if a little messy, but you know it’ll be enough to spring Tom. It has to be. You need him, and your child needs him. Everyone in the house needs him.

“Guys? Where are you?” Harrison’s voice joins the mix just as you’re stretching up to flick a few rays of gold into the sun. Harry is at your feet, crouching on the balls of his feet as he tries to paint a few red flowers to the sprigs of grass.

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

A few moments later, Harrison joins you. You fail to meet his eyes as the focused man sweeps into the room, billowing coat swirling around his feet. His expression is terse as he jerks off his jacket and grabs a paintbrush, dipping the tip in a bit of sky blue paint before standing at the end. You don’t rush him. He’s vibrating with something, his face flushed and his eyes dark, so you give him space.

A few minutes pass, illustrated by Harry’s playlist and the colours of the rainbow. Just when you’re beginning to worry, Harrison speaks.

“Tom is an idiot,” he states, drawing a laugh from one of the twins.

You bite your lip. “Did you explain?” you ask.

Harrison nods. He glances at you, and you note the fleck of purple paint pressed into the pale arc of his cheek. “He said he wouldn’t do it again,” he tells you. “He was angry, though. I think he’s having a bad time.”

Harry hums. “It’s hard in there,” he mumbles. “Was he still himself?”

The blond nods. “Yeah,” he says. “As snarky as ever.”

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

“Good news, though,” Harrison adds. “I went to the courthouse on my way back.”

“Oh?” You look away from your cloud, your heart skipping a beat. “And?”

“And,” Harrison continues, a semblance of a smile twitching across his lips, “I submitted the appeal again. They said they’d probably process it next week. So, if things go according to plan this time, he might be out by next Friday.”

You almost drop your paintbrush. Eyes widening, you turn to face him properly. “Wait, really?”

Harrison’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He puts his paintbrush down, tugging yours from your fingers as if he can tell you’re close to dropping it. “He’s almost out, Y/N.”

Relief spills across you, uncontrollable and overwhelming. Closing your eyes before those easy tears can fall down your cheeks, you step closer and push your way into Harrison’s embrace. He’s ready and waiting for the action, eager to comfort his friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Harrison’s chest is warm, and though his hugs aren’t as good as Tom’s, you’ve come to rely on them. You’ve come to rely on all of them. “That’s amazing news.”

“Mhmm.” He squeezes you. “This nightmare is almost over.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry speaks up. You pull away from Harrison’s hold when you hear the quivering tones in his voice, quickly glancing to the man to find him glassy-eyed and flushed. Biting your lip, you extend a hand towards him.

A group hug unfolds, as it’s had the tendency to do since Tom was taken away. The first time had been stoic and cool, with frozen elbows and embarrassed shuffling, but slowly, each one of them has loosened. They’re tough men, burdened and hard, but love ties them to you, and at your request, you know they’d do anything for you. You also know that they all enjoy the physical comfort more than they’d ever let on.

It’s been hard without Tom, and you’d do anything to have him back, but if there’s anything his absence has taught you, it’s that his brothers have become your brothers as his best friend has become your own, and you’ve never really been alone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s release day comes quickly, hidden behind the retrial and the quick-paced days in court. It’s busy at the trial, and spaces are limited, so Harry and Sam attend in place of you and Harrison. You get them to take in a few letters for Tom and pass on your condolences for your absence, but you don’t allow yourself to get too hung up on it. When Tom’s release is announced, the weight that rolls from your shoulders is immediate.

As you wait outside the prison, you try to find solace in the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. It’s quiet in the car park, allowing you to ruminate in peace, and though you’re comfortable resting against the bonnet of Tom’s car, your thoughts are far from restful.

Anxiety weighs heavily in your chest, mixing with your excitement and creating a volatile concoction. You find yourself pacing, biting back your nerves as you try to reason with yourself. Draped around your shoulders is a long coat that obscures your bump, chosen as you’ve decided you don’t want to overwhelm Tom with too many things at once. You hope it does the job. The coat twitches in the wind as you walk, noisy and obnoxious.

Things around you are still until there’s a sudden, loud buzzing noise from the prison compound. You jerk your head around to see two men leaving the main building, small in the distance but gradually growing larger. They’re still enclosed in the fenced courtyard, but they’re on their way to the exit, and every rational thought you have flies from your mind as you see him. Tom. Your Tom.

He’s in the clothes he’d been arrested in—red shirt, black slacks, shiny shoes. Looped around his hands is his Rolex and his rings. Tom seems almost identical to how he’d been on that cursed day, just his head is buzzed and he looks a little smaller. He’s carrying himself with confidence, though, and when he looks fervently around the car park and spots you, his entire face swells with happiness. The sight of that large, lovely smile hanging from his lips brings immediate warmth to your eyes.

Every breath is easier now you have him in your sights. Overwhelming love gluts your insides, warm and emotive, choking you up. It takes everything in you to stay still as you wait for Tom to finish talking with his guard, a tall man you recognise from all of his stories, Luther. Tom’s smirking in a way that’s obviously infuriating, and the guard doesn’t hesitate to give him a light punch as your boyfriend saunters out of prison, leaving the compound with a swagger to his stride and a smile the size of Saturn.

The sight of Tom jogging towards you breaks you from your reverie, and you push yourself away from the car to meet him somewhere in the middle. Nothing matters until you’re colliding with his front, finding warmth in his arms, feeling his entire body shake as his tears fall into your hair. Nothing matters unless it’s him.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. Your grip on the back of Tom’s shirt is hard, a violent sprawling across your knuckles, but you won’t let go. You’re giddy with love. “Fuck, Tom, I missed you so, so much.”

You pull away from his chest and look into his eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you note the fresh tears on his face. You use your thumbs to brush beneath his cheeks, flicking away the tears as you clean up his handsomeness.

“I missed you so much more,” he promises. Tom brings a hand to rest on the back of your head, breath hitching as he meets your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, and it’s so intense you end up pressed against the side of the car. Tom moans with relief as he strokes his fingers over the side of your face, delicately reacquainting his lips with yours as they meet again and again. You keep your hands gliding over his back, his arms, his shoulders, letting your tongues come together as tears flow down your cheeks. The kiss is everything and nothing, familiar and new. The kiss says I missed you. It says I thought about you every day. It says I would wait a thousand dawns if it meant I got to wake up beside you again, but thank fucking god you’re here right now because I missed you more than I ever thought was possible.

“Baby,” Tom murmurs. He pulls away but keeps your foreheads pressed together, the cool tip of his nose brushing yours. “You’re so perfect. I missed you so much that it hurt me.”

He tries to move closer, but you become aware of the pressure to your belly, so bring a gentle hand to push his shoulder away. Hurt immediately floods to his eyes, his expression twitching as Tom takes a few steps back.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Tom’s jaw twitches. “What is it?” he whispers.

“A good thing,” you clarify. You reach up to wipe the residue of your tears away, then bring your hands down to the tie of your jacket. Biting your lip, you take a steadying breath. “I hope you aren’t angry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” you preface, “but I did it for you.”

Tom nods intensely. “Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. I’m… I’m here, okay? For anything. It’s me and you. Just… me and you forever.”

A smile flickers across your face. “Me and you, and…” You gently open the front of your coat, then reach out for Tom’s hands. Guiding them slowly, you bring the warmth of his palms to rest on the rise of your bump.

“Wait…” Tom shifts his hands around your belly before staring up at you, slack-jawed. He doesn’t try to hide the obvious tears in his eyes. “You’re…?”

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

“Oh god.” Tom sniffles. “What?” He immediately drops to his knees in front of you, his fancy dress trousers getting dirty in the dust. “How— how far along?”

“Almost five months,” you whisper. “I found out right before you got back from Liverpool. I was going to tell you when we went on that date, but…”

“But I fucked up.” Tom sounds wrecked, his aching eyes fixed on the curve of your belly. “I fucked everything up. I… I left you alone for this entire time, and you had to do this all without me.” He rests his forehead against your bump, very, very gently, and you see him close his eyes. “I am a terrible partner.”

Rolling your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you guide him up to look at you. It’s second nature as you roll a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to instil the action with love and reassurance.

“I’m not angry,” you tell him. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t get arrested on purpose. If anything, you should be angry at me for keeping this a secret.” Your teeth catch your lower lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought telling you would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, no. Don’t apologise.” He rests a hand on your leg, the other still on the curve of your front. “I’m sorry.” He drops his voice and looks at the bump. “And I’m sorry to you too, little one.” He nudges his mouth forward and deposits a soft kiss to your stomach. “I love you too.”

Digging one of your hands into your coat pocket, you pull out a photo. “Here,” you urge, handing it to your boyfriend. Tom takes it after a moment, his eyes slow to move away from your front.

He releases a noise somewhere between an exclamation and a choke, nimble fingers gripping the image from your ultrasound. His cheeks flush a brilliant rose.

“When was this?” he whispers.

“At three months,” you reply. You continue to run your hand over the top of his head, trying to soothe him as he absorbs so much information at once. “I went with my mum and Haz.”

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

Tom hums. He looks between the photo and your bump, then nudges forward to kiss the rise again. His lips are so warm you can feel them through the material of your dress. “Have they been looking after you well enough?”

A light laugh slips past your lips. “Yeah,” you promise. “They helped so much, Tom. It was hard at first… Really hard. Especially when we thought you’d be in there for five years, but… Things worked out.” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. “We converted one of the rooms into a nursery. There’s still stuff left to do, and we can do that together, of course, but… They were all really helpful.”

“Good.” Tom looks up at you, still kneeling, and your hand slips down to cup his face. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I wish I could’ve been here for all of this.”

Shrugging gently, you squeeze his face. “You can be here for the rest of it,” you promise. “And, I guess… If we have another one, you’ll be there for all of that, right?”

“Of course, darling.” You smile as Tom tilts his lips to knock against the side of your palm.

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Chuckling softly, you nod. “Yes,” you promise. “I love you, and I’m so happy this has happened for us, even if the timing was difficult.” Feeling yourself well up, you exhale slowly. “We’re going to be parents, Tom. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s brilliant.” Tom’s eyes sparkle. “I’m going to be a father.” He blinks. “What the fuck.”

Laughing, you move your hands to the crown of his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll get there,” he states. Tom returns his attention to the bump. “Hey, little one,” he coos, voice all silk and amber tones, “it’s going to be the biggest honour of my life being your dad.”

Tom spends a while at your feet, speaking softly to you and your bump, and you keep your hand resting on the back of his head. He’s weary when he finally climbs to his feet but regains some of that spark when you step forward to kiss him. You don’t mean to make it as heated as you do, but it hasn’t only been your heart that’s missed Tom. You’ve craved him, constantly, during every single lonely night, and now that he’s here, you’re willing to take everything you can get.

“I love you,” you say, hushed against his mouth.

Tom’s teeth brush over your lower lip, and you moan when he tugs. There’s a fervour to it, hot lust burning through sensitive emotions. He releases your lip and pulls back to stare at you, his eyes rippling darker.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. He brings his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love everything about you.”

Your mouths come back together, and it’s messier than before, your lips wettening as your kisses become wilder. Tongues dance and teeth clash as your body temperature starts to rise. Now you’ve moved through the emotional reunion, you’re left with an underlying pulse—a heat throbbing persistently between your legs. The fire builds as you hear Tom’s grunts and feel the desperation in his hands when they grab at your sides and jerk you closer, his mouth devouring yours until your lips are puffy and tender. You’re greedy, chasing more, desiring everything you’ve missed out on in the months you’ve been apart from your lover.

“Darling,” Tom murmurs, breaking the kiss to whisper hotly against your lips, “I missed you, but if you keep this up, we’re not going to get home.”

Desire takes hold of you. “Who said I wanted to go home?” You push in closer, shifting slightly until you’re able to feel the hardness of his crotch pressing up against your thigh. The familiarity of it all makes you inhale sharply. You drop your tone, trying to seem coy as you speak, “I don’t think you understand how badly I needed you whilst you were away, Tom. I missed you.”

The tips of his teeth glint as he arches his brows. “Well…” Tom mumbles. “I owe you about four months of lost opportunities.” He swallows, briefly breaking from the lust-filled headspace to look guilty. You smooth it away by reaching down to squeeze at his hands. “If my radiantly stunning fiancé decides she wants me to start repenting for that now, then who am I to stop her?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the car. “You’re a suck-up,” you taunt. You plant a light kiss to his lips. “C’mon,” you urge. “The car.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “The backseat?” he teases. “Shit, angel. You must be desperate.”

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

Tom smirks deviously. “It’s okay,” he soothes. He darts forward to open the car door for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you step forward. “I’m just as desperate as you, baby.”

“I hate you,” you murmur. Tom follows you into the car, shutting the door behind you both. You wait for him to sit before straddling his lap, your legs stretching until you have a shin planted on either side of his thighs. The position is comfortable, with enough space between your bump and his chest for you to breath, and you whimper as Tom bends nearer to ghost his lips over yours.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

You want to tease him, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re alright with too much adoration to even think about pressing it down.

“I really don’t,” you agree.

Tom makes a soft noise of vindication, the tip of his nose brushing yours for just a moment until he’s bearing down and bringing your lips together. You sigh, reaching up and urging him closer. His lips are lovely, and you enjoy kissing them for a while, but then you find yourself distracted by the open expanse of his neck. With his hair buzzed, you’re keenly aware of his throat, pale and sensitive, and if there’s one thing you remember about your boyfriend, it’s his affinity for lovebites.

You bring your lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling your mouth against the long, pale stretch of his throat. Smirking against his skin, you start to suckle deep hickeys against the side of his neck, revelling in the throaty gasps Tom deposits into the air in response.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom whines. He has a hand on your back, urging you closer. When you graze the tips of your teeth against his skin, he whimpers. “Shit. More.”

“More?” you tease. “Forgotten all your manners, Tom?”

He growls. The hand on your back shifts to the back of your head, and he jerks you ever closer. He’s still mindful, especially of the bump laying between you, but he knows just as well as you that you aren’t a piece of porcelain; you like being tugged around. You’ve missed it.

“Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll return the favour.” He says it like you’re oblivious to the desperation in his words. You decide to oblige him.

“Okay,” you murmur. You look up to meet his gaze, his honey-brown eyes full of appreciation. For a moment, it knocks you off balance. It’s so strange readjusting to having Tom back—almost overwhelming to be able to touch someone who had existed only in your memories for so many weeks. You drop your head and give him what he wants.

Tom’s skin tastes clean, and it smells distantly of pinecones. He groans, fisting at your hair and holding you close as you kiss and suck along his skin, drawing deep hues to the surface of his neck. He shifts in his seat, basking in the pain and whining every time you soothe a fresh mark with the warmth of your tongue. You keep your hand resting on his hair, the cropped length of his buzz prickly and coarse beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Oh god yeah,” he murmurs, voice mingling with the wet noises coming from your lips. “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby. I missed it.” Grunting, he brings a hand to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips hard. “I thought about you all the time in there.”

Tom releases his hold on your hair and begins to stroke his hands over your back. As you continue to mark his neck, he starts to tease you, gradually dropping the heat of his palms lower and lower. You can’t stop yourself from bucking down into his hold, moaning against his neck as he grabs handfuls of your ass.

“Tom,” you break off to whimper, panting softly. You feel dizzy on the taste of his skin. “You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “How am I being mean?” Tom squeezes the curves of your figure, his slender fingers warm against your skin. You’re in a dress, the material thin, and he doesn’t hesitate to curve his hands beneath the hem and bring them to rest over your panties. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here and get your hands all over me… I’m doing what you asked.” He breaks off, chuckling darkly. “That’s not how things usually work, though, is it?”

The air between you shifts.

You pull away from Tom’s neck, your mouth inflamed and throbbing. You have to dig your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your whimper when Tom brings a hand to the front of your legs, gently brushing two of his long fingers over the front of your panties. He’s teasing with it, eyes alight with deviousness, jaw set in a determined line.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Maybe I want to be in charge this time.”

Tom laughs gently. “Oh, yeah?” He rubs your cunt a little faster, causing you to suck in a sharp breath as you feel the delicate pressure on your clit. The contact makes your passage clench, growing wet enough to dampen the front of your panties. “So you don’t like this, hmm? You don’t want me to follow through on everything I have planned for you?”

“What have you got planned?”

He tuts. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you, angel. That’d be too easy. Either you want me to be in charge, or you decide to call the shots.” Tom smirks as he feels you buck down against his hand. Maybe if the circumstances were different, you’d find the strength to push back, but you don’t. It’s been so long, and your cunt is weeping already just from the husky tones in his voice.

“You’re in charge,” you whisper. The vindicated smirk he flashes in response is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Damn right, baby.” Tom moves his hands away, pressing them to your waist instead. “Can you lay down for me, please?”

You shuffle across the car seat as instructed, Tom shifting until he’s kneeling in the footwell of the backseats. It’s a good thing the car is obscenely huge, otherwise, the already-cramped fit would be unworkable.

Draping your legs over Tom’s shoulders, he pushes the hem of your dress up, bunching it just above your bump. The hungry fire in his eyes fades slightly.

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

“It’s fine,” you soothe. “Are you okay down there?”

Tom nods. The scruff of his buzzed head scratches against your inner thighs. “I’m bloody perfect,” he responds. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do.”

The tip of his nose nuzzles against your covered clit. “Perfect,” Tom purrs, his breath hot against your panties. “I think it’s time I remind you who owns this fucking pussy… As hot as it was when you were trying to tell me what to do, it’s not on.” He brings his mouth away from your core, and you whimper as his tongue laps gently across your thigh, the muscle deliciously slippery. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

You’re throbbing, every inch of you aching for his touch. The burn is visceral—pulsing, wet. “Yes, sir,” you return. Tom’s eyes snap to yours. “Do whatever you want.”

“Say please.”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you add, “please.”

“Good, baby. You sound so pretty begging for me.” Tom easily pulls your panties down your legs, returning to push your thighs further apart. He brings both of his thumbs to your sensitive lips, humming when you whimper. Using the pads of his fingers, he gently parts your centre, groaning softly at the sight. “Say it,” he murmurs, entranced by the paradise between your legs. “Tell how badly you want me.”

He’s incredibly infuriating, but you play right into his hand. “Please, Tom,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

He hums. “Of course, lovie,” he murmurs. He glances up at you. “All you had to do was ask.”

The first touch of his tongue against your slit makes your eyes roll back. A breathless whine slips past your lips as his mouth envelops your clit, the strong tip of his tongue nuzzling over your sensitive skin in a way you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve been able to get off in his absence, but nothing can simulate the sizzling heat of his mouth and his tongue, nor the scratching of his short hair against your fleshy inner thighs.

The way he unravels you is obscene, toned with the sounds of spit and lazy lips, the sensations of desperation. Tom devours you, using his elbows to push your thighs apart as he buries his face as close to your centre as possible. You can barely see him over the rise of your belly, but you can certainly feel him. When you start to grind down against his face, things only escalate, your eyes fluttering shut as your spine arches in response to his feverish movements.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, voice thick as it vibrates across you. “Missed this… Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Your high rolls over you suddenly and without warning, manifesting itself in a silent cry as your body goes rigid. You hear Tom hum in surprise, then feel his hands lock around your thighs, holding back your legs as they shake in the face of absolute pleasure.

“Sorry,” you pant, recovering gradually, “I didn’t know that was going to happen then.”

Tom runs his tongue over your slit, still sensitive and throbbing. “‘S okay, lovie,” he replies, voice warm. He nuzzles in closer and brings two slender fingers to push against your entrance. Your hole is hot and pulsing, pooled with your arousal. You hear it pucker as he gently presses against your cunt, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. “I’m not done making it up to you, though. Is that okay?”

Exhaling, you nod quickly. “Fuck yeah,” you say, struggling to think. “Oh.”

He slips two fingers into you, your eager walls parting and welcoming him in. Tom removes his mouth from your heat and replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, and when you release a loud noise of strangled enjoyment, he begins to crook his fingers into you. He strokes his digits against your walls with poise and elegance, nudging up against your g-spot and stroking, again and again, chasing the noises you release.

“So pretty,” he coos. “My pretty baby. Making all those beautiful noises.” Tom smiles almost proudly. His chin is wet with your arousal. “I love your cunt… Look at how well it's taking me.” To prove his point, he feeds a third finger alongside the others. “So greedy for me, eh? Greedy little pussy. So hot. So wet. God…”

Tom drops his head again, disappearing from your sight of vision. You moan, body jerking as you feel his tongue move around his fingers, catching the arousal that seeps from your pussy as he works you open. He releases an obscene moan before dragging his mouth to your clit, stimulating you with his hands and tongue in tandem.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper. You feel hot in the best way, your skin becoming sweaty as you writhe over the leather seat. “Feels so good, Tommy.” It feels like heaven—especially when he bends his fingers and the tips of them stroke up against your sensitive spot. “‘M gonna cum again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m so good at this,” he murmurs. “Go on, angel. Don’t hold back on my account… You’re so pretty when you cum.”

The tide breaks, and your climax rolls across you, legs trembling as Tom holds you in place. You writhe as you bask in the heat, your knuckles losing blood as you clench your hands into hard fists. The press of your nails against the soft flesh of your palms hurts, but you don’t care. It feels far too good to think about anything beyond Tom.

You ride it out, and Tom eventually draws his face away from your clit. He kisses along your inner thighs as you gasp for air, only removing his fingers when you start to whimper. As good as the climaxes have felt, panting for breath on the backseat, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough by far.

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

Tom chuckles as he appears from between your legs. He gives your thighs a little tap before he closes your legs, wriggling out of the footwell as you sit up. Easily, like you’ve done a thousand times before, you swing a leg over Tom’s lap, straddling him when he sits with his back against the car seat.

“Are you okay up there?” he checks, bringing his clean hand to rest on the curve of your stomach. When you nod, his brown eyes darken. “Perfect…” he hums. “Clean off my fingers, will you?”

You nod, opening your mouth expectantly and moaning as Tom slips three of his fingers between your lips. Fighting your smirk, you maintain eye contact with him, your pride swelling as you see his cheeks darken. He gently fucks his fingers into your mouth, making you moan at the movements and the taste of your heat as it spreads across your tongue. He’s messy with it, and you feel your lips and chin grow heavy from spittle.

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

Tom goes to move his fingers from your mouth, only for a detail to make you pause. Eyes straining, you reach up to catch his wrist, holding his hand in place just as his fingers pull away from your lips.

“What’s this?” you query, narrowing your eyes. You drag Tom’s left hand nearer your face, gasping softly as you take note of a new tattoo resting at the bottom of his ring finger.

“Oh.” Tom shifts around slightly, biting at his lower lip. “I got your initials tattooed… When we get married, the ring will cover them, but I wanted you with me—I want you with me—all the time, even without a bit of metal.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

You press a delicate kiss across the letters. “Yes,” you say. You feel shy as you meet the eyes of the man who loves you so immensely. “That’s really, really sweet, Tom.” You bite your lip as you look up at him. “Gone soft on me, baby?”

“‘M always soft on you,” he says gruffly, guiding a hand to your face. He brings you closer, encouraging you to lean higher on your knees. “Love of my life, angel. You know that… My wife.”

You shift on his lap, smiling bashfully. “I’m not your wife yet.”

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

Both of you come together, no words needing to be exchanged for you to know what to do. Tom loses his clothes as you sit up a little straighter, one of your hands curling around the headrest of a seat as Tom angles himself slightly. With the rise of your bump between you, you aren’t able to be flushed together like times before, but the man beneath you is quick to readjust so he’s laying further back, giving you plenty of room to move in a way that’s comfortable. He kisses over your knuckles as you run his hard cock through your slit, his interested eyes fixed firmly on the sight of his length as you finally begin to move down.

The moment the head of his cock pushes into you feels indescribable. The ache of the stretch falls away as relief pours over you, the closeness satisfying far more than just your arousal.

“Gentle, gentle,” Tom murmurs, hand resting on your belly. “Be careful.”

You chuckle, beginning to move but only slowly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “it won’t hurt them.” Your eyes roll back slightly as you bring your hand down to rest on Tom’s shoulder, moaning quietly. “You can move too… Please, move.”

“Okay, darling.” Tom gently starts to move his hips. He groans as he slumps back against the seat, beautiful face coloured light pink. You’d missed the expressions he makes, how emotive the slants of his features can be. His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses as you ride him, your cunt so wet the movements are almost effortless. “That feels… so good.” His voice is hollow, gutless. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about you. You, and your hot cunt.” He moans again, unable to sit around the words. Tom ruts into you a little harder, guiding you to move faster with the hand on your hip. “Taking me so well, darling. So fucking well. I’m not going to last at all.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t either.”

Tom manages a lazy smirk. He opens his eyes as he brings a hand to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his thumb. You jerk a little at the stimulation but start to ease into it, basking in the pleasure from the bud and Tom’s cock. He’s buried deep within you, pressing your walls apart, the curved tip of his head brushing deeper than you’ve felt in months.

“So tight,” he murmurs. Tom leans back, clearly enjoying the sight of you riding him. “My darling. You look so beautiful like this… I swear your tits are bigger, too.” The hand on your belly gently caresses the bump, Tom’s tongue briefly wandering out to wet his lower lip. “Look at how beautiful you are… I can’t wait to knock you up again.”

Stifling a moan, it takes everything in you to focus on your movements. “You feel so good, Tom,” you whimper, unable to hold back the praise he loves to hear. “I missed this so much.”

“I know, baby. I missed this too… Come on, now.” His voice hardens slightly. “I’m about to cum, but I don’t want to unless you’re right here beside me. So… will you be a good girl and finish with me? Please?”

Heat flushes through your system as you bounce your head quickly. Your eyes close, breath hitching as you feel your climax rise. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a coil pulling tighter and tighter until it bends and snaps, bursting wide and spilling pleasure across your body in warm waves of enjoyment. You cry out as you fall apart, holding Tom’s shoulder tightly as his hand clamps around your waist. You feel him mirror you, hear his loud groan as his cock pulses inside you, your movements unceasing as you ride it out together.

It ends, but you stay joined. Tom sits up, the distance put between you by your belly requiring him to stretch closer and seize your lips in a smouldering kiss. His hand returns to your cheek, yours to his, and the look in his eyes is dizzying.

“I love you so much,” he speaks, words soft like a promise. “Everything I do from here on out is for you, and…” He glances back at your stomach. “And our child.” Words thickening, you see Tom’s eyes well with tears again. He chuckles, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” he adds. “I get a bit choked up thinking about it.”

You stroke your fingers over the back of his hair, spiky strands smooth against your hand. “Don’t apologise for expressing your emotions, baby,” you whisper. “It’s been a very long day.”

Tom nods. “Love you,” he murmurs again. He nuzzles his head into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing.

“I love you too,” you say, words truer than they’ve ever been before. You bend down to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to go home now?”

He hums. “Y/N,” he whispers. Tom blinks up at you, eyes soft. He catches the palm of your hand with a few kisses as he sits up a little straighter. “I’m already home.”

Teeth grazing your lower lip, you hold back your smile as you marvel at how clichéd he’s become. You bend down and kiss him very gently. “Sap,” you murmur. “Love you, though.”

Tom pulls a face. He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice—only love. “Love you too,” he says. “Yes, though,” he adds, “I would love to go home.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

that’s probably a wrap on mob!tom ! i don’t have any more fic ideas for him :( that being said, this was a lot of fun to write, and i really, really hope you liked it :D ik the theme isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you read it all, i love you very very much

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland smut #y/n #self insert #smut #mob!tomfic

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

a bitch [one] // leigh shaw

summary: you're used to leigh's constant mood swings and unpredictability, but didn't expect she'd ever do something to hurt you like she did.

warning/s: cheating

author's note: an angsty leigh shaw imagine was requested, so here we are! there's one more part to this so enjoy 😊

part two | masterlist | wattpad

Leigh Shaw could be a very unpredictable woman.

Ever since the unfortunate death of her husband, Matt, she'd become very erratic. It was hard to remember what she was like before he died, but then she'd flash me a smile and say something adorable and I remembered. Other times though, she could be as explosive as they came. If you ever got swept up in her mood swings, you'd be screwed.

Despite this, I remained by her side. That's what best friends did. Even when she yelled at me or gave me the cold shoulder or treated me like dirt, I stayed because I knew that was what she needed.

One time, a few months after Matt's death, I was stopping by to see how she was. A prime example of the cold effect she could have on people.

I raised my hand to knock, but the door suddenly swung open, revealing a peeved Jules and a pissed Leigh further behind her in the hallway.

"Hey," I greeted her sister with a smile, but she moved past me moodily. I glanced at Leigh before catching Jules' arm, stopping her. "What happened?"

Jules smiled bitterly. "You know, you should reconsider where you put your care, Y/N. Some people just aren't worth it."

At that last part, she glared over my shoulder, no doubt at Leigh. I turned to look at Leigh, who merely stuck a middle finger up at her sister before storming towards to the kitchen.

"What a bitch," Jules mumbled, making me wince because it was such a horrible word.

Jules shook me off before marching to her car to leave. I sighed and turned around to let myself in to their house. Closing the door behind me, I followed after Leigh and found her making toast in the kitchen angrily.

"Hey," I began softly, not wanting to give her another reason to get pissed off. Sitting on a stool at the island, I asked, "What happened?"

She forced a smile as she grabbed her toast from the toaster and dropped it on a plate. "My sister can't respect my space is all."

I pursed my lips awkwardly, watching as she grabbed butter from the fridge. Noticing my silence, she glanced up at me through her eyelashes.

"What?" she deadpanned, pausing from her actions.

"I don't think Jules is trying to upset you," I began, knowing I'd probably regret it. "I'm sure she understands you want space, but she loves you. And when you see someone you love hurting, you feel like you have to do something."

A sour smile broke out on her face as she scoffed. "Wow. Could you have your head stuck any further up Jules' arse?"

"Leigh, that's not what I'm–"

"What the hell are you even doing here?" she snapped. "I didn't invite you, Y/N."

Tensing my jaw, I refrained from getting annoyed. "Believe it or not, I actually wanted to check on you."

She curled her lips into a frown. "Well, I'm fine."

As if to prove that she was, she continued to butter her toast, but when she set her knife down, it slipped off the edge of the table and clattered to the floor. Frustrated, she slammed a fist on the countertop.

"It's okay, I'll–"

"Just get out," she cut me off when I was making a move to help her. I paused, wondering if she meant it, then her deadly green glare settled on my face. "Leave."

Sighing with defeat, I nodded and wordlessly left.

—

Sometimes Leigh wouldn't apologise. She'd act like nothing had happened and we'd move on. Other times, she actually would, surprisingly recognising that she'd done something wrong.

There was this one time when I'd invited her over for the evening to eat dinner and watch some films. The dinner went perfectly fine – we talked, we laughed, we spent time together – but then when we settled in the living room to watch a film, things started to unravel.

I can't remember exactly what she'd said. One second we were choosing a film on Netflix, then she was trying to make plans with me on the weekend. Unfortunately, I already had plans with my girlfriend, Alex, and Leigh didn't seem to like this. She'd made a comment under her breath and though I don't remember it specifically, I knew it wasn't polite.

Before I knew it, we were screaming at each other, arguing over the dumbest things. It started off being about my girlfriend and then the most unrelated stuff was being brought up on both of our ends. Sometimes she could be so aggravating, managing to rile me up and bring the worst out in me. The argument lasted a few minutes before she left, leaving me seething and full of hurt.

It was the following day at work when she came to see me next. I owned a café a few doors down from her mother's dance studio and was working a shift when her sister came through the front door.

I smiled at her when she approached the counter dressed in gym gear, her usual getup when at work with her family.

"Hey, how're you doing, Jules?" I asked.

"I'm good," she greeted with a smile, before it faded. "Just a warning, Y/N, Leigh is incoming in one minute. She wants to apologise."

Eyes rolling with mild annoyance, I let out a sigh. As dreadful as our spat was last night, I knew I had to also apologise to her. I'd said some hurtful things that made me feel all icky inside. Going to sleep after a fight was never a nice feeling.

"I don't know how you've put up with her for this long," Jules commented, picking up a cupcake from the display. "She can be so horrible to you."

I frowned, not feeling comfortable talking badly of Leigh behind her back. "That's not fair, Jules. You know what she's going through."

Jules gave me a knowing look. "I do, but that doesn't give her a free pass to treat you like she does."

Shrugging, I busied myself with cleaning up the crumbs from Jules' cupcake and giving her a plate.

"I take it you're going to forgive her then," she stated, though she definitely knew the answer judging from her expression.

"We both said some things we shouldn't have," I tried to explain so it didn't seem like I was giving in so easily, which deep down, I definitely knew I was, but Leigh was worth it.

Jules chuckled. "Yep, you're forgiving her. Looks like it's Leigh's lucky day."

I didn't say anything as she picked up the plate, ready to take a seat at one of the tables. Just as she was about to leave, she paused thoughtfully.

"You know, if you didn't have a girlfriend already, I'd say you were whipped," she said casually.

Ignoring her words, I watched her take her a seat on one of the spare tables. She made jokes like that a lot, but the truth was that I would probably do anything for Leigh. We'd been best friends since university – that was way too long to simply throw away our friendship because she was going through a tough time. And yes, the girlfriend talk threw me off at times... by the time I'd realised I liked Leigh as more than a friend, she was engaged. And I got over it, but Jules continued with the jokes and I continued to dismiss it.

As Jules warned, Leigh entered the café and caught my eyes with a nervous smile. I returned it, just as nervous as she looked, before watching her approach the counter. She was dressed in gym gear, like her sister, but a fine layer of sweat coated her skin which made me think she may have just finished teaching a class.

"Hey," she said with a rare gentleness to her voice. Her hands rested on the counter, fumbling slightly, before she put them by her sides instead. "How are you?"

Uncomfortably, I played with a loose thread on my apron. "I've been better, not gonna lie."

She exhaled regretfully. "I want to apologise, Y/N. Last night... it wasn't fair what I did. Just snapping at you like that."

I didn't know what to say, so I stayed quiet and avoided her eyes.

"I just get so angry sometimes," she admitted, noticing I wouldn't speak. She sounded exhausted and I looked up to see her running a hand through her hair. "I can't explain it. My anger at you wasn't about Alex or the plans, it was just me."

"It's because you're still hurting," I told her what I'd observed, shoulders relaxing. "And you're not very good at expressing that."

She shook her head, eyes drifting to the till distractedly. "I should be because I keep hurting the people I love."

My heart ached at the devastation in her voice and I put my hand out, motioning for her to take it. Thankfully, she did and I squeezed hers gently.

"Look, let's just forget it happened," I said with a small smile. "I... I didn't exactly say the nicest of things either."

She grimaced, letting go of my hand. "No, I get why you said it. It wasn't fair of me to just start on you like that. You were just defending your girlfriend... God, I can be such a bitch sometimes."

I winced at the word, it grating my ears. "That's not true, Leigh."

"It is." She nodded slowly, rolling her eyes. "Everybody thinks it. Including you."

"I don't think that," I said with creased brows, meeting her saddened eyes. "You're not a bitch. I've never once thought that."

"Really?" She raised a brow, smiling with defeat. "Not even that time when I stole your doughnuts after that fight we had two weeks ago?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Not even when I snapped at you for no reason the other day when you tried to help me write my article?"

"Not even then."

Her expression softened with guilt. "Not even when I called you a selfish jerk last night for not wanting to spend time with me even though you have a life of your own?"

I rounded the counter and stopped before her, looking between her guilt-ridden eyes. "Especially not then, Leigh."

She breathed out quietly and I pulled her in for a hug, glad when I felt her relax beneath me. Her arms clasped around my waist and I was glad we were good again.

—

It was a year later when Leigh and I eventually got together as a couple. It was a long time after I broke up with my girlfriend and it was completely unexpected.

I'd invited Leigh to be my 'date' to my mum's birthday party, since the two had gotten on so well in the past. She was happy to oblige, but as soon as we arrived, her mood changed.

I was helping collect the pizzas from the delivery guy when he started to flirt with me. At the time, I didn't even realise, but I knew that Leigh had acted different since it happened. When I finally confronted her about her sudden mood swing, she proceeded to make out with me completely unexpectedly and then admitted she was in love with me.

I'm not gonna lie, it was a good time. Since breaking up with my girlfriend, I'd been single and falling for my best friend all over again. Leigh making the first move was all I'd needed to finally share how I felt, too.

That was six months ago, and since then, we'd been going strong. Of course, there were still times when she had her mood swings and took it out on me (and literally everyone else) without realising, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I was used to it, used to her. So much that I should have trusted her even when presented with conflicting evidence.

We were at her workplace, Basically News, where she wrote columns part-time. It was a work party she'd been invited to and she'd asked me to be her date, which of course I said yes to. At the moment, we may or may not have been a little tipsy as we stood in the corner, drinking from flutes of champagne.

"Thank you again for coming here tonight as my date," Leigh said with a grin, arms laced around my neck as she held me close.

Pressing a kiss to my lips briefly, she pulled away and left my head spinning, and not just because of the alcohol.

"Any excuse to not be on the closing shift at work is good enough for me," I said playfully, resting my hands behind her waist.

She gasped. "Oh? So it wasn't me who persuaded you to come tonight?"

I pulled a face, feigning forgetfulness. "Hmm, I'm not too sure. Maybe you'll have to remind me why I agreed to come."

She bit her lip to contain her grin, eyes flickering to my lips. Leaning in, her lips met mine and I closed my eyes, enjoying the way she combed her hand through my hair and tilted my head towards her so she could get better access. She was a really good kisser and she knew the effect she had on me as I felt her smirk into it, catching her breath, before chasing down my lips and nibbling on them temptingly.

Remembering where we were, I gently pushed her back and tried to contain my smile. "Make it PG, Leigh. You're at work."

She licked her lips and began to laugh, green eyes darting between mine. "You're just so cute."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "I don't want everyone here knowing how irresistible you are or they might try to steal you away."

Her laughter filled the air, making my stomach flip at the sound.

"Though I think they may already know that because of how sexy you look tonight," I added, eyes fluttering down her body to appreciate just how well she pulled off her fitted black dress.

She raised her brows with surprise, making me mirror her expression comically.

Leaning close to my ear, she said above a whisper, "D'you wanna know something not-so-sexy?"

Her breath tickled my ear and sent shivers down my spine, making me tense up slightly. Judging from the expression on her face, she was very much aware of what she was doing to me.

"What?" I asked with amusement.

"I really need to pee," she said, and I began to laugh because she did, too, and I knew she wasn't kidding. Pressing a kiss to my cheek, she added, "I'll be right back."

Letting go of me, she waved goodbye before going to the toilets. I busied myself with getting to know her colleagues whilst I waited, until five minutes had passed and I realised she still hadn't returned. Deciding to check on her, I headed in the direction of the toilets, only to freeze when I saw something I definitely wasn't expecting.

Leigh was kissing another girl outside of them.

It was her colleague, Abby, that was the first thing I noticed. But I didn't stay to make out anything more as I immediately turned around and walked away, trying to make my brain catch up to what I'd just seen.

Leigh was kissing somebody else. Somebody that wasn't me. Somebody who I had always suspected had a thing for her, but I never considered that maybe Leigh had a thing for her, too.

Definitely not tipsy anymore, I found the nearest table and took a seat, trying not to assume the worst. But how else could I perceive what I'd just seen? It could have been a mistake, though I was so shocked and hurt and angry that I couldn't imagine how. Maybe she'd explain herself to me. Or maybe she'd tell me what actually happened. Maybe.

Leigh returned not long after, finding me at the table. Smiling like nothing had happened, she pulled me up and led me to dance. Not once, for the remainder of the evening, did she suggest that anything was out of the ordinary, nor did she explain herself. And I couldn't help but wonder how I had the worst luck with women.

This one hurt way more than the last time because it wasn't just anyone – it was Leigh.

—

A year and a half ago:

"Danny mentioned the breakdown you had last week because they didn't have doughnuts, so I, er, brought you these just in case."

Leigh cracked a small smile in the passenger's seat before accepting the box I held out to her. I'd just parked up outside the place where she went to her grief counselling group, having offered to drop her off. It had only been a few months since Matt died, but sometimes, the old Leigh shone back through and it made me feel hopeful that she'd make it through this.

"Thank you," she said genuinely, fingers wavering on top of the box, before she lifted her gaze to meet mine. "And thanks for the ride. You didn't have to."

I shrugged, thumb tapping the steering wheel mindlessly. "I don't mind. I just wanna make sure you get here okay."

She sighed, shaking her head, though a ghost of a smile was on her lips.

"Text me when you're done and I'll be happy to pick you up, too," I added casually.

"Thanks," she repeated, though didn't make a move to leave my car just yet. I didn't rush her.

Sadly, the silence was broken when my phone began to ring and my girlfriend's name flashed on the screen in my car where my phone was connected to. Glancing at Leigh, I just about made out the eye-roll she did.

"Sorry," I apologised, before declining the call instantly.

"Why d'you do that? Could've been urgent," she said with a clipped tone.

Oh, no, I thought. Whenever she used that tone, it meant she was picking a fight.

"I'm here with you," I said like it was obvious, hoping that one thing didn't ruin the moment.

She tensed her jaw, looking down as her hair fell around her face. "Whatever."

Before I could think of a way to make her feel better, the screen lit up again and my ringtone echoed through the car. I winced at the glare Leigh sent to the screen. If looks could kill, my car would be toast.

Declining the call, I looked to her worriedly. "What's wrong, Leigh?"

Her glare fell to me. "Why the hell do you keep declining it? She's calling you for a reason."

I raised my eyebrows. "Because I'm here with you? Alex can wait. I'm taking you to grief group."

"Well, I'm here at grief group," she mocked, turning to face me with an unexplainable frustration.

I didn't understand why she was so touchy all of a sudden. The car ride here, she'd been fine. Just a moment ago, she'd been fine. But now... now she was acting unreasonable.

My phone buzzed in my pocket suddenly, followed by a tone that signalled I had a text. Leigh smiled bitterly, rolling her eyes.

"Let me guess," she muttered. "It's her."

Still very much unable to keep up with her mood swings, I didn't answer. Her gaze snapped to mine as she stared at me with disbelief.

"Why the fuck aren't you checking it?!"

I grimaced, my own exasperation slipping out when I blurted, "I'm a little confused to what you want from me right now, Leigh!" Breathing out slowly, I said, "I'm sorry if this is bothering you. I'll turn off my phone next time."

As if I'd deeply offended her, she raised a brow incredulously. "Are you kidding me? Why would this bother me?"

Okay, I was extremely confused now.

"I don't know," I admitted, bewildered.

"Is that what you think of me? Some clingy bitch who won't let you live your life?"

I widened my eyes. "What?! Leigh! I never said–"

"Sorry if taking me is such a task," she said abruptly, moving to put the box of doughnuts on the dashboard.

"I never said that," I told her sternly.

"You didn't have to. I know already. I'm just a burden on everyone."

She got out of the car and slammed the door shut behind her. Meanwhile, my confusion was still trying to make out what the hell just happened.

"Don't bother picking me up," she said through the open window of the passenger's door. A scowl was on her face as she added, "You should go spend time with Alex. She's probably missing you."

Breathing out, I leaned back into my seat and watched her walk away and to the entrance of the building. When she acted like this – so push and pull with her emotions – I was so conflicted. What could possibly be going on in her mind that she managed to flip everything that just happened? A complete 180?

Knowing she'd just need some time to cool off, I shook my head and focused on leaving. But then I remembered my phone went off and pulled it out to see what was so important. Aside from two missed calls from Alex, I saw I had a voicemail, too, not a text.

Grumbling fo myself, still disgruntled by Leigh's attitude, I raised the phone to my ear to have a listen, whilst hoping it wasn't actually anything life-threatening.

At first, all I could hear was some very faint laughing and vague noises, kind of like material rubbing together and breathing. I assumed Alex had left me a voicemail without even realising since I'd done that countless of times to other people, having dropped my phone in my bag without realising it was still on. But then the noises became more distinct and I made out words.

"Jake, stop messing about," a voice said, whom I instantly recognised as my girlfriend.

I furrowed my brows. Jake? Jake as in the guy she worked with Jake?

"If you stop teasing me then maybe I will," a gravelly yet devious voice responded.

My throat went dry when I heard more laughter before it went quiet. It didn't take a genius to understand what was happening, especially when the moans that followed echoed in my ear, begging me not to forget.

Unable to listen anymore, I hung up and threw my phone onto the passenger's seat. Tears welled in my eyes as I glanced over at it hesitantly, almost wishing it hadn't even existed. And as much as I didn't want to accept the glaring fact, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

She was cheating on me.

#leigh shaw #leigh shaw x you #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw imagine #sorry for your loss #sorry for your loss imagine #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine

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ghost-ghost-baby · 3 years

Text

We're Just Friends! (Omega!bakugo x alpha!reader x omega!Izuku) pt. 3/?

Pt. 1 / / pt. 2

A/n: cannot believe we made it to pt. 3 I’m sksksksksk,,,, they finally get together! Pt 4/5 will b them all together and adjusting and then it’ll b readers bday so 👀👀

Lore: Once an Alpha reaches 21 they get their first rut, they’d either already have their mates or the rut will act as a push for them to get together and bond.

Summary: Reader and Katsuki have been friends for years, and everyone expects them to get together, until reader rescues an omega that lives in their building, and things get a touch more... complicated

Warnings: swearing, omegaverse, mad pining, Katsuki get exposed for going to therapy lmao, Izuku is kinda a shithead, Katsuki b mad insecure, reader is still dumb- everyone except for Izuku is bad at feelings

The two of you had gotten sidetracked, really quickly, it wasn’t even twenty minutes before you were putting a horror video on the tv. That was almost an hour ago, and you were about to doze off now, laying on your back with your head on the arm rest, Izuku right on top of you with his head tucked under your chin. You didn’t know how you got into this position, but you weren’t complaining, it was… nice. Perfect, almost, but something still felt like it was missi-

“Y/n- why the fuck are our stupid friends asking me about your new- Deku?” Katsuki burst through the door, already yelling, and his scent took on a burnt tinge that almost had you gagging when he slammed the door behind him.

“Kacchan! I didn’t realise you were Y/n’s roommate!” Izuku perked up almost immediately, sitting up so he was straddling you with his eyes fixed right on Katsuki.

“Wait, you two know each other-“ You tried to sit up, barely managing to turn your head to see Katsuki, Izuku was stronger than he looked, and he obviously didn’t want you moving-

“Yeah we go way back, childhood friends, right Kacchan?” Izuku’s tone was light, but you couldn’t see the feral look on his face from where you were trapped on the couch.

“Right… that doesn’t explain what the fuck you’re doing here, Deku.” Katsuki snarled, and Izuku giggled at the blonde. What the fuck kinda thing were you stuck in the middle of-

“What does it look like, Kacchan? We’re courting now! And Y/n’s already been such a good alpha, I’m surprised you didn’t ask them-“

“What does he mean you’re courting?” Katsuki’s tone was something you’d never heard before, and your heart twinged at it. “Get the fuck off of them Deku.” He walked closer to the couch, until he could grab onto your arm and haul you off, Izuku sliding back to the couch and pouting.

“He asked me on the way home and I accepted-“ Katsuki’s heart sank, he’d been too late? “I didn’t think you’d care, aren’t you courting Kiri?” Your scent was far too comforting, and the way it accompanied Izuku’s had Katsuki feeling something he definitely didn’t want to. Deku was a stalker! A creepy little nothing stalker! With great hair- no! And you looked so cute when you were confused like this-!

“Katsuki, are you okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face, and the blonde only let out another snarl. What if you found out about what he’d done to Deku, you’d never look at him the same, and from the way Deku was smirking the bastard knew it too.

“Whatever- I’m fucking going to bed.” Katsuki pushed past you, and you could only gawk as he disappeared down the hall and into his room.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, you were meant to be with him, it had been the two of you for years! Why were you such a fucking idiot! Katsuki was fuming even as he hugged the pillow he’d stolen from your room, how dare Deku come back and steal you! Still, the nagging thought that coming back to the two of you… had felt like home wouldn’t get out of his head and it was only making him angrier.

“Katsuki? Izuku went back to his apartment, do you have any requests for dinner?” Your voice floated through his door and Katsuki opened his mouth to respond on instinct. No, if you wanted to be with Deku so badly you clearly didn’t care about him, and so he would stop caring about you.

“Katsuki? Please come out, I don’t understand why you’re upset but I want to.” You tried to keep the desperate tone out of your voice. It didn’t work, and Katsuki was biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself crooning in an attempt to calm you down.

“Okay… I’ll uh, just be in my room if you want to talk.”

This was getting out of hand, it was like you were living with a ghost. It had been three days of Katsuki ignoring you, three days of no contact whatsoever, and even though you had Izuku, and he was just… amazing, it still felt like something was missing. You actually didn’t think you’d gone this long without talking to Katsuki in- well since the two of you had met. But, it was finally the weekend, you’d have to run into him at some point, and then you could finally talk, even if he didn’t feel like it.

You were pulled into Izuku’s apartment before you could even knock, the omega giving you a deep kiss before quickly tugging you into a hug and rubbing his cheek over your scent gland.

“I missed you, Y/n! What took so long?” Izuku only pulled away when he couldn’t smell anything except you, and pride filled him when he saw you were wearing his sweater.

“Sorry Bub, I was trying to get Katsuki to talk to me but he’s still giving me the silent treatment.” You shrugged as he walked you over to the couch, something already playing in the background, and Izuku pushed you down without hesitation. You let the omega position you how he wanted, wasting no time wrapping your arms around him once Izuku settled down next to you with his head on your chest and your legs tangled together.

“You know… it does seem like he likes you, maybe you could suggest a triad? I know I wouldn’t object.” Izuku’s tone was so nonchalant you’d expected him to ask what you wanted to watch, not suggest bringing Katsuki into the relationship.

“You’d be okay with that? Really?” You hadn’t even considered that, you felt kinda stupid, honestly. Why hadn’t you- oh, right.

“I think he’s courting someone else, actually, I’m sure that’s why he’s being so weird.” You pushed any hope you had down when you remembered how much time Katsuki actually spent with Kirishima, and how close they seemed to be.

“If you say so, but I wouldn’t write the idea off, Kacchan’s always been good with surprises.” Izuku shifted to press a kiss to your scent gland, before he grabbed the remote and returned his attention to putting on a show.

It was Sunday, you hadn’t seen your roommate all weekend, this really wasn’t going how you planned. A sigh left you as you pushed open the door to your apartment, you’d been with Izuku for most of the day, and you were so, so ready to just go to sleep. You’d been exhausted for the last few days, and Denki kept commenting about how snappy you were and asking why your scent was ‘so weird man’ when the three of you had met for lunch. It was sweet how much they cared, but annoying as fuck nonetheless. You were wide awake outside your door though, almost missing the sweet caramel smell that leaked out until you had your hand on the handle. Your room didn’t usually smell like that, not unless-

“Katsuki-? What’s going on?” You pushed open the door to a very, very startled Katsuki, like a deer in headlights, really, and your confusion only grew when he was holding onto an armful of your clothes. “You could have just asked if you wanted something for your nest, but isn’t Kiri helping with that?” You closed the door behind you, and Katsuki’s eyes darted from you to the door. Fuck, you weren’t supposed to be home for another twenty minutes, you’d usually spend at least two hours at Deku’s place, why the fuck had you come back so early? Katsuki clutched the clothes tighter against his chest as neither of you spoke, you really still thought he was with shitty hair when all he really wanted was you?

“Katsuki? This is ridiculous- what’s going on with you? Why won’t you talk to me?” You stepped forward and Katsuki growled when you got within a foot of him, the sound setting you on edge and making you release a growl of your own on instinct.

“We’re gonna talk about this, I’m not letting you ignore me anymore, it sucks! It feels like there’s a piece of me missing-!” You stepped forward with every word, flinching at yourself when you heard your voice crack at the end.

“What does any of that matter? You have Deku now, the two of you are perfect together, you don’t need me anymore!” Katsuki yelled back, everything that happened the last day and the confused puddle that the state his feelings were in finally bubbling over. It was too much, he’d barely seen you and now here you were, reeking of Deku of all people, and accusing him of liking someone else.

“How could you say that? I need you, Katsuki-! I always need you! These last few days have been hell without you! It’s bad enough I have to deal with you courting Kiri, but now you don’t even talk to me and I don’t understand what’s going on!” Tears kept welling up in your eyes, and Katsuki dropped the pile of clothes on the floor, his hands balling into fists by his side.

“Because I don’t know- I don’t know what the fuck I’m feeling!” Katsuki’s voice broke, and you barely had time to open your mouth before he continued. “I thought that we- that we were set in stone, and then I come back to you and fucking Deku on the couch and fuck that hurt! But it fucking- it fucking felt like home, and all I wanted to do was join you and I don’t understand why!” He turned around to wipe his eyes, and your jaw hit the floor as you tried to process. He wasn’t… courting Kiri…?

“You’re such an idiot- you couldn’t just tell me this?” Exasperated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt.

“How could I say anything? I was horrible to Deku in school because I couldn’t deal with my feelings, why would either of you want to be with me after how awful I’ve been?” There was no anger in Katsuki’s tone anymore, and the guilty scent he was putting out was just putting you on edge.

“You regret it though, don’t you? And I know you’ve worked really hard to be better, and you even go to therapy now-“ Katsuki snarled at the last part, he hated whenever you brought up therapy, but at least you weren’t yelling.

“We actually talked it over and… Izuku and I both like the idea of a triad with- well with you, if you wanted.” You reached out to grab Katsuki’s shoulder, though he refused to look you in the eye when you turned him to face you. You had to be lying, you had to, you couldn’t mean that and he didn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing.

“Katsuki, you gotta talk to me, I can’t read your mind.” Your cards were all out on the table now, and your anxious scent was a dead giveaway to your feelings. What if you’d ruined everything? What if you’d gotten everything wrong- you were never good at guessing-

“You’re being serious? This isn’t some kind of payback?” Red eyes finally met yours and you could only nod, you still got caught of guard by how pretty he was. “Okay, I’ll join your shitty fucking triad.”

Taglist (pls lemme know if any of em r wrong)

@pasteldaze @hopeless-ro-simptic @ntngann @somerandominternetgirl-blog @ianem005 @lalaluvzen @antisocial-minnie @rogueofbullshit @hakunamatatayqueen @so-uncute @therealwalmartjesus @unlightedfool @all-the-kings-reblogs @cth-l

#omegaverse #bnha #bnha x reader #yandere x reader #yandere bnha x reader #omegaverse x reader #alpha reader #omega izuku #omega bakugou #bnha omegaverse #izuku x reader #yandere izuku x reader #yandere bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #poly #poly imagine

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realcube · 3 years

Text

jealous haikyuu!! boys

summary: the haikyuu!! boys getting jealous over you talking to a boy but as it turns out, that boy is in fact your relative

characters: third year gym squad (lev, hinata, bokuto, kuroo, tsukishima & akaashi)

thank you to anon for this sweet request! 💖

(y/n) = your name

(b/n) = brother’s name

tw// sexual references, swearing

Lev Haiba

he was already in a sour mood from practise bc kenma, kuroo & yaku had all ganged up on him so he was getting beat left, right & centre

so he was feeling extra confrontational when he laid eyes on you laughing and chatting with some other guy, in the spot where you usually stand and wait for him after practise

he was so mad >:(

like he just had a shitty day at school and now some punk was trying to flirt with you- and you didn’t seem to be uncomfortable either

DOES HIS SUFFERING KNOW NO END?! 😩😭

grrr like he had spent 90% of the day looking forward to seeing you and now you were talking to some other guy like he didn’t even exist :(

a part of him knew that he was being overdramatic but the other part of him was like ‘all feelings are valid, lev. 💕💖💗’

like he literally worked so hard to be the best boyfriend possible and this guy thought he could just swoop in and steal your heart??? without even letting you braid his hair yet???

yeah, lev had spent too much money on cat keychains to lose you this far into the game

also he loves you pls don’t leave him rn (y/n) 😭

so he marched up to you with a frown, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on the back just like he usually does as a greeting, ‘hi, babe.’ he murmured.

your attention immediately shifted onto your boyfriend and you automatically pouted upon seeing his glum expression, ‘hiya. are you okay, hun? rough day at scho--’

he held your hand by his lips and muttered from behind your knuckles, ‘who’s this?’ he inquired, vaguely gesturing to your brother

‘oh, lev! this is my brother! i don’t think y’all have met yet.’

lev blinked rapidly at what you just said, ‘brother? like- male sibling.’

you nodded while simultaneously quirking an eyebrow at his need for clarification at the simplest piece of information, ‘yes. my male sibling.’

lev let out a heavy sigh of relief as his lips curled into a smile, softening his grip on your hand, allowing you to pull it away, ‘ah, okay.’

then he turned to your brother and stuck out his hand, ‘nice to mee-- you don’t look anything like (y/n).’ he chirped, all trances of sadness leaving his face - it was kinda creepy how quickly he was able to do that

model tingz

your brother shrugged, ‘yeah.’ he hastily took lev’s hand, giving it a firm shake before turning on his heels, ‘i should really get going now, bye!’ he called out before rushing off, quite intimidated by the fact you had a skyscraper for a boyfriend

lev turned to you, a warm smile now gracing his features

‘uh, where did all your gloom go? you looked miserable just a few seconds ago!’ you inquired, playfully poking his cheek

lev shrugged, poking your forehead in retaliation, ‘i don’t know. i’m here with you now so i guess i don’t have a reason to be sad.’ he said nonchalantly, forgetting the fact he had gotten the results for his midterms today and he had failed maths horribly

but who need maths when you’re a model yk?

Shōyō Hinata

bruh- hinata didn’t even notice you were talking to someone UIEFGBVFE

once practise was over he literally just ran up and threw himself at you

he has selective vision, he only sees the things he wants to see and rn, all he wants to see you under the moonlight 🥺

so he wraps you in a hug and peppers your face in kisses just like he usually does when he greets you after practise

then he noticed that there was some guy standing next to you, aggressively tapping your shoulder to request your attention even though hinata was clearly trying to tell you about his day at practise

he unintentionally scowled at the boy before cocking his head to the side and asking, ‘who are you?’

although this tone of voice didn’t seem too nasty; given the context - accompanied by the sour look on his face - the question seemed to have threatening undertones

you’re brother blinked rapidly before uttering, ‘i’m (b/n).’

he continued to stare daggers at the guy, ‘what do you want from (y/n)?’

‘the maths homework answers.’ your brother chuckled, continuing to playfully poke your shoulder until hinata swatted his hand away

‘she doesn’t owe you an--’

you were extremely confused as to why hinata took up such a serious demeanour but then you realised that he had never met your brother before, so hinata probably thought there was just some creepy harassing you for the homework answers

although you were charmed by your boyfriend’s attempts to be ‘scary’ for you, you still felt the need to intervene

‘oh, shōyō. that’s my brother, by the way.’ you hummed, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck

both your brother and your boyfriend slowly turned their heads to look at you, sharing the same dumbfounded look

‘your brother?!’ hinata exclaimed while your brother now looked rather offended, ‘you didn’t tell your boyfriend about me- rude!’

to be fair, your one year anniversary with shōyō was approaching so you feel foolish about not telling him about your brother sooner- it’s just that it never really crossed your mind

‘i’m fucking leaving.’ (b/n) spat, turning on his heels; trying to make it seem like he was storming out because he was upset that you hadn’t mentioned him to your boyfriend but in reality, he was just getting tired of prying at you for the homework answers

‘i’m fucking leaving too!’ hinata hissed, imitating your brother’s actions until he got the gate of the school, then he turned back around and shuffled back over to you

he pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder and squeezing your waist tight as he whispered into your ear, ‘do you have any other secret siblings that you want to tell me about?’

you giggled, pressing a gentle kiss onto his collarbone ‘i don’t think so.’

Kōtarō Bokuto

mans thought you were leaving him 🥺

like why would you talk to another guy when you had a cool ace bf already? (˘･_･˘)

in bokuto’s mind, that could only mean one thing;

YOU WERE GOING TO LEAVE HIM FOR AN EVEN COOLER ACE BOYFRIEND!! ヽ(*。>Д<)o゜

and the fact your brother was wearing a jersey didn’t help either

like, he doesn’t often get jealous when you talk to other guys but this one was wearing a JERSEY FFS!!! that meant he must be cool >:(((

also, you were laughing!

yeah, you sometimes laugh when you talk to akaashi or boys in your class but this time it was different

the guy looked familiar but bokuto couldn’t put a finger on who he was - but he knew that the guy wasn’t from Fukurōdani as the colors of his jersey were a fruity teal and white - and this made him feel even more uneasy

bokuto knew what he had to do

he had to win you back by being thE COOLEST ACE BOYFRIEND!!

he ran a hand through his hair to it was extra spiky before swaggering up to you; chin up, back straight and chest puffed out

‘sup, doll.’ he said with a wink, forcing his voice to deepen

you sighed, upon hearing this unusual nickname, it didn’t take you long to figure out what was going on

bokuto didn’t even let you reply as he dropped to one knee and gently took you hand - making both you and your brother’s breath hitch in unison, thinking that you were about to witness a proposal and knowing bokuto, that didn’t seem completely impossible

however, instead of pulling out a ring; he pressed a tender kiss against you knuckles before pulling the pair of earbuds you had left at his house yesterday, out of his pocket and lowering his head as he held them out for you

‘i humbly offer these to thee.’

‘how did you go from a pimp to prince in 3 seconds?’ you inquired, snatching your earbuds from him while shooting him a disapproving look

(b/n) couldn’t help but snicker at your boyfriends little performance, ‘i see he’s not changed a bit.’

bokuto hummed, looking over to meet eyes with your brother

(b/n) smiled shot him a warm smile, ‘hi, bokut--’

‘do i know you?’

you instinctively gasped while your brother just laughed, ‘i’m (b/n); (y/n)’s brother. we met once after one of your games, remember?’

bokuto did not remember - at all - but he trusted that it did happen as that’d explain why he seemed so familiar

to avoid appearing any more ignorant, bokuto just nodded in agreement, ‘oh, yeah! it’s all coming back to me now.’ he chuckled awkwardly while getting up from his knee, ‘you just look so different with your jersey on, man.’

you rolled your eyes at how poor bokuto’s lying skills were but perhaps you should be more disappointed in your brother as he actually fell for it

‘oh, for real?’ (b/n) asked, looking down at his chest while wondering if jersey really did the trick

needless to say, bokuto never forgot your brother’s face ever again lmao

Tetsurō Kuroo

upon exiting the building (after practise) and seeing you conversing with some guy by the school gates, he wasted no time in ripping his shirt off and parading over to you

he mentally reassured himself that he had no need to be jealous bc there was no way you’d leave his fine-ass for some average guy that made you laugh by the school gate-- WAIT YOU WERE LAUGHING!?!? ◉_◉

i mean, kuroo had made you laugh before- but you were just being so nice to this guy who he’d never seen around the school before which stressed him

plus, the guy looked like he was in college so kuroo was extremely worried that you might leave him for an older guy bc he had heard from yaku that some ppl like older men 😭😭

he could not let this happen ✋

his shirt now served as a scarf hanging around his neck as he strutted up to you, placing his hand on your shoulder to grab your attention

he wasn’t sure whether to go for the intimidation tactic or perhaps redirect your attention off of the guy and back onto your dearest boyfriend; so he went with both

‘(y/n)?’ he spoke, lowering his voice so it was more raspy - like his morning voice which he knew you were obsessed with

although kuroo is not ‘chemistry nerd’ smart, he definitely knows how to play his cards right IEFBERGLIEABVR

you hummed in response, swiftly turning to look at him before letting out a cackle upon seeing your half-naked boyfriend standing behind you

‘hey! don’t laugh at me!’ kuroo whined, his mask of confidence quickly shattering

‘put your shirt back on, tetsurō!’ you panted through guffaws, clutching your chest to prevent your heart from beating out of your chest

honestly, it was quite hot but ofc you’d never admit that so you just had to hide your desire behind laughs

while you were laughing, kuroo turned to look at your brother, trying to form a glare but it looked more like a squint tbh

‘and you are?’

(b/n) wore a stunned look at how quickly your boyfriend’s attitude changed, temporarily unable to think up a reaction but then blurted out, ‘(b/n). you?’

(b/n) cocked his head to the side while backing up slightly, ready to make a run for it as soon as kuroo replied

kuroo didn’t intimidate (b/n), per se, it’s just that (b/n) wanted to get as far away from this interaction as possible as it generally made him feel uneasy

‘i’m (y/n)’s boyfriend.’ he said lowly with a menacing smile

‘cool.’ (b/n) voice cracked as he adjusted the strap of his bag before launching off into the horizon on his heels

a smug expression was plastered on his face as he gazed proudly at his work - he had managed to scare off an upperclassman with sheer manliness

by now, your laughing fit had died down and your lips formed a frown as you watched your brother bolt over to his car, hop in and drive away - presumably, back to your home

‘hey.’ you moaned, watching until his car turned a corner and left your vision, ‘he was my ride home!’

kuroo’s soul almost left his body upon hearing you say that, ‘you shouldn’t be getting in cars with crusty, older men anyway!’

you rolled your eyes, ‘he’s my brother, dumbass!’

IEHFBEVJEAU kuroo shut tf up immediately 😶

‘oops- my bad.’ he snickered before jogging out the school gates, ‘have fun walking, babe!’ he threw up a piece sign before disappearing round a corner in a similar way that your brother did

Kei Tsukishima

tsukishima had just finished practise, he walked out the gym to notice that you were talking to some guy next to the vending machine

he literally almost had a heart-attack bc he thought it was kageyama

but no

IT WAS WORSE

tsukishima never really got jealous when you talked to other guys bc he knew they really had nothing in comparison to him lol

i mean, tsukishima knew he was a catch: he’s lanky, bitchy, tall, rude, emotionally-distant, tall, untrusting, tall, insecure, surly, a horrible cook- did i mention he’s tall?

ok so maybe he wasn’t as much of a catch as he originally thought but the fact he is tall is really the thing that’s holding together his façade of arrogance

so imagine his shock when he sees you happily chatting away to a guy that’s 6″4 !!!!!!

for clarification, tsukishima is 6″2

tsukishima passed away on the spot 💀⚰

he had already logged onto Instagram and removed the ‘Taken 🔒’ out of his bio

there’s no way he’s gonna be able to win you back now ✌😔

he’s had his time has your tall bf- it’s time to resign

BUT HE WASN’T GONNA GIVE UP THAT EASILY

not before he indulged in some bitchery ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

he practised the scene 10 times in his head before executing it, starting by striding up to you and slipping an arm round your waist, pulling you against his chest

his eyes held a penetrating stare on your brother from above the edge of his glasses, he snickered mockingly as his index finger pushed the frames further up the bridge of his nose

honestly, tsukki tried his best to hide it but he was genuinely quite nervous not only bc he actually had to look up slightly to hold eye contact with the guy - which is something he’s obviously not used to - but also due to the fact he simply could not come up with a good insult for this guy; even though he was usually quite good at spotting people’s insecurities ‘:(

hence, all he could to was produce a deriding chuckle which was aimed towards the guy in hopes that it was make him feel half as insecure as tsukishima was feeling rn

‘what’s so funny?’ you asked, clueless to your boyfriend having an internal breakout while standing right beside you

tsukishima rolled his eyes, realising that the guy seemed unfazed by his dirty looks so it seemed as thought tsukki would have to crack up the pettiness

‘who’s this chump, (y/n)?’ tsukishima leaned in to semi-whisper in your ear, but loud enough so your brother could still hear

‘tsukki!’ you gasped at your boyfriend’s choice of words before scolding him further, ‘that’s my brother- he’s a 3rd year!’

tsukishima paled

he bowed to the point where he was basically a right angle ‘m-, uh, my apologies, sir. i ha-, um, i had no idea you were related to (y/n).’

he was sO EMBARASSED AAAAAAAAAAA

your brother reassured him it was fine but tsukki was apologising for another 5 minutes after that

he promised himself never to get jealous again after that (ಥ _ ಥ) it only leads to trouble

no matter how tall the guy is either-

he swore that if he ever saw a 9″ guy talking to you and it upset him, he’d just close his eyes 😑

he probably should’ve promised to stop running his mouth too bc that’d probably result in a lot less trouble but- baby steps, y’all LMAO

Keiji Akaashi

i can’t really imagine akaashi as the type to get jealous tbh

and if he does, he deals with it pretty well

like if sees you talking with a guy in a way that bothers him, he’s definitely not confrontational enough to deal with it right there so he’d wait until y’all are alone at home or sumn

but you had been acting especially distant lately

so when he spots you hanging with some random guy next to the water fountain, he kinda snaps

he stalked up to you so he could take your hand in his own, asking if he could borrow just a moment of you time so he could talk to you

you accept, of course, wondering what this could possibly be about

he explains how he’s been feeling and you feel quite bad tbh

you weren’t aware that you were detaching yourself from him but you had to blame your schoolwork tbh

once you expressed how schoolwork along with the stress of your job had really been getting you down lately so you asked you brother for assistance, he immediately pulled you into a hug

the last thing he wanted was or it to seem like he was desperate for your attention bc although it was nice, he respected how you had to prioritize other things/people

in fact, he only brought this issue up bc it was beginning to eat him from the inside out - his insecurities telling him that you had lost interest in him and like anyone else, he desired a bit of comfort

you reassured him that you hadn’t ‘lost interest’ in him and you separation as well as you current closeness with you brother was all to do with your workload and hopefully, sometime in the near future, you’ll be able to sit down, relax and just watch a movie with akaashi

that was all fair and lovely but there was still one thing that continued to bother him

‘who’s that guy you were talking to?’ he inquired, gesturing to your brother who was awkwardly standing alone by the fountain

‘my brother.’

‘oh-’

539 notes · View notes

cthulhuliet · 3 years

Note

Hi hi ~~ big fan of your Lawlight work * chef kiss * So, if it serves to inspire you I got this little idea! NSFW A huge hc of mine is that Light loves L reading for him with that hot British accent of his, like come on, L`s dubbed voice with a brit accent??*agressive chef kiss* SOO imagine Light resting his head on L`s lap while L is reading to him and things get lewd in the novel :D maybe things coul get lewd in reality too 👀👀 oh, and another hc of mine is that Light rides D like a pro so ... maybe something with both? if you'd like 👉👈 No pressure at all tho!

Thank you so much for your kind words :') I am a fan of your Lawlight work as well, and even though it took a two weeks or so (my bad) I really hope you enjoy! (it also, as always, turned out to be a lot longer than I meant it).

close your eyes and imagine it

3.1k words | AO3 Link | warnings: explicit content, general kink, you know the drill

Most of the dreams were incomprehensible nonsense, and L had just about given up on the month of April when he saw a long entry that made him pause. His eyes widened at the contents. “Huh.”

Light shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable, eyes only half open, “Hmm? Find something interesting?”

“I am in this one. Did you frequently dream about me?”

There was a beat, and Light responded coolly, “I cannot remember specifics. Hence, the journal.”

L hummed, a small smirk Light could not see grew on his face, “Well then, I will read this one out loud for your benefit.

The one where Light discovers a dream journal he had written during the Kira investigation and can't help but be embarrassed by L's role in his fantasies. L, of course, does not mind. -

“A dream journal?” L questioned. He closed his laptop and Light smirked, raising an eyebrow, holding the notebook in his hands. L crossed the room and took the journal from Light, “Where did you find this?”

Light shrugged, “On my bookshelf with a lot of my other textbooks and such.”

“How old is this?”

“Was in my late teens, I suspect.”

L flipped through the book idly, Light’s neat handwriting was pleasant and clean compared to L’s own scrawled and messy penmanship. The pages slightly stuck together, as the old notebook seemed to have not been touched in years. L stopped at a page and briefly read the contents and looked at the date, before his own eyes widened.

“Hang on, this is during-”

“The Kira investigation? Yeah.” Light’s slight smirk turned into a large cheshire. “I figured you might be interested in reading what I wrote.”

L bit his bottom lip, looking up at Light, one eyebrow raised, “Does the Death Note still give you nightmares to this day?”

Shrugging, Light came up to L and looked over his shoulder at the notebook, “I mean, sometimes? But I also believe that having nightmares is just a part of being a person.”

“Or you have become so numb to your own murderous tendencies the nightmares do not affect you that much anymore.” L muttered, just loud enough for Light to hear.

He did hear him, of course, and he retaliated by shoving L hard enough for him to fall backwards onto their bed. Light socked L on the arm when he flopped down onto his back as well as L went to read Light’s journal to himself.

“Leave me alone, Light, can’t you see I am busy?” L teased, which earned him another hit on his arm, “You are being bothersome.”

Light crossed his arms, now sitting next to L laying down on the bed, “Those are my dreams, you are not reading without me, obviously.”

“Well then lie down so I can read them to you.” Light was the most frustrating man that L had ever been with. He wouldn’t have him any other way.

L sat up and rested his back against the headboard. Light assumed his usual position and rested his head on L’s lap. L idly put his hands through Light soft brown locks, twirling his soft hair through his fingers.

This was not an unusual position to find the pair in. Light often requests that L read to him, the other man finding the restrained but smooth baritone of L’s voice to be incredibly attractive, but also incredibly calming to listen to. It is not the first time his voice has been complimented, and it certainly will not be the last. Sayu has told L multiple times that he should become a voice over actor. He politely declined. The rest of the people do not matter, really. The only praise he needs is when Light humbly hands him a book he reads before bed, and falls asleep to L’s voice quicker than any amount reading on his own.

“‘ April 1st, 2004: I was present for class at To-Oh university, however we were all forced to give a presentation about when we believe all of our classmates will die and why. This was a horribly dark and drab lecture hall, and I had forgotten my cue cards about why Sakurano Mari was going to die due to dementia .’ This is not exactly a fun read.”

“It was not exactly fun to think about either.”

“I am going to find a different one.”

L used one hand to run his fingers through Light’s hair and the other to flip through the journal, skimming through the contents. Most of the recounts were incomprehensible nonsense, though there is no judgement to be had there. Whenever L does sleep, most of his dreams are disconnected fragments of stories -- feelings and emotions rather than a complete narrative.

L had just about given up on the month of April when he saw a long entry that made him pause. His eyes widened at the contents.

“Huh.”

Light shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable, eyes only half open, “Hmm? Find something interesting?”

“I am in this one.”

“Are you?”

“Did you frequently dream about me?”

There was a beat, and Light responded coolly, “I cannot remember specifics. Hence, the journal.”

L hummed, a small smirk Light could not see grew on his face, “Well then, I will read this one out loud for your benefit:

“‘ Damn that Ryuzaki. He is plaguing my thoughts not only during the day, but I cannot even escape the damn bastard in my dreams’, I love you too, dearest ,” L sardonically snided. Light pinched his thigh , “ ‘Last night's events were particularly egregious, as this is not the first time something like this has happened, but I feel mortified even writing this down. Though, maybe if I recount what happened (like with the nightmares) these dreams will go down in their numbers.

“‘Ryuzaki and myself were in the library studying next to one another. I was eating a biscotti with tea. As it was in my mouth, Ryuzaki came up and bit off the end of my biscotti and just chuckled at me. I wasn’t sure what to do or say, but I just know I felt really hot an -’”

“L…” Light gripped his thigh dangerously, “What are you doing.” It was phrased as a question, but Light said it as a command. He ignored him. Light was never the one to give out commands anyway.

“‘ I cannot remember much but the next moment Ryuzaki’s lips were on my neck. Everything was fuzzy, but I could feel him biting marks into me and was teasing me by grinding against my di- ’”

Light growled, “I’m taking this away from you. Now.” He moved to sit up, but L’s hand was still in his hair. L gripped his roots harshly and shoved him back down. Light whined at the action, swallowing hard.

“You are not going anywhere.” That was a command, and Light took it as such.

“This is mortifying…” Light muttered against the mattress, his speech breathy.

L hummed and pulled Light’s hair up, forcing him to look at him, “I disagree.” He lied. “You are going to be good and listen to me read this whole thing.”

Light laughed, cocky, though his eyes were glassy with flushed cheeks, “Oh yeah? Or what?”

“Or how about I get to come and you don’t, hmm?” Light opened his mouth and closed it again, face flushed with shame. L let go of his hair and Light buried his head in L’s lap. L smirked and chuckled, “You are so adorable, all blushy and embarrassed…” Light whined at that, running his fingernail down the inside of L’s thigh.

“‘ This is not the first time this has happened, though I have to admit, it was the best incident. Even hazy, I had never felt that sensitive and stimulated. I just wanted to stay like that forever.’” L had one hand on the book, the other held a distracted, but firm, grip in Light’s hair, who was presently biting his lip and running soft strokes over L’s cock. “‘It was even better when I got to put my mouth on Ryuzaki. I have never sucked a dick before, so my brain could only supply what it imagines it feels like, but it was not even that that made it so good. Ryuzaki would hold my hair tight and look down at me while I was on my knees. He kept telling me that I was a slut, but that I was doing such a good job for him. Even before this I thought Ryuzaki had such a nice voice, I wish I could hear him more…’ You think my voice is nice, huh?” L asked, keeping his voice level, as Light’s feather touches became firm palming.

He groaned again, “Tch, shut up.”

“No.” L pulled him by his hair, forcing Light to look him in the eye, “I think it is time you shut up.” In only a few seconds, L manhandled Light and dropped him to his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed. L sat at the end, grabbing the journal with one hand and undoing his jeans with the other. “How many times have you sucked dick since writing this? Hundreds?” Light finished the job of removing L’s pants and underwear, his cock standing erect in front of him, “C’mon cock-slut, show me what you got.”

Light eagerly took L in his mouth, expertly utilizing his tongue on his head. L closed his eyes and tried to not become overwhelmed by the sensation. He opened his eyes to see Light’s cocky doe-eyes staring back up at him.

“What was it that you dreamed of? My hand tight in your hair, fucking your mouth, telling you you’re being a good slut, right?” L asked, rhetorically as he returned his hand to harshly grip Light’s locks. He slowly moved Light’s head up and down, spit dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. Light’s face was blood red with humiliation and lust, it was perfect.

L bit his lip as Light took him all the way down his throat, refusing to be the one to break first. He picked up the journal again, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the work in front of him. “‘ Ryuzaki kept calling me good boy, telling me I was taking him so well, and never had anyone ever made him feel as good as I was. I felt so overwhelmed. I had never felt such extreme desire for anyone, but I think at that moment I would do anything for him.’ Do you still want to hear all that? Still want me to call you a good boy, and tell you you are taking me so well?”

Light groaned around L’s cock, the vibrations from his throat sent a shiver up his spine and L suppressed a needy whine on his end. After years of doing this, Light knows exactly how to push him to the very edge-- to give him so much and yet not enough.

“‘ My memory gets a little fuzzy here, but Ryuzaki laid down on the desk, and he grabbed me by the thighs so hard I think I would have had bruises in reality. I grabbed him by the throat and rode him on the desk. A part of me was worried, because the conference room in the library was all glass, but also my head was so hazy and it felt so good.’” L pressed a thumb against his lips, “Had Light fucked himself on toys at this point?”

He pulled off of L, slowly stroking him as he thought about it, “I think at that time I had. I only realized I was not straight shortly after high school, and my sexual drive moved pretty fast after that.”

“‘Shortly after high school’, shortly after meeting me, right?” L smirked. Light opened his mouth to attempt a retort, but just narrowed his eyes.

“Such an egomaniac you are,” Light scoffed, “Not everything is about you.”

“No, not everything. But this is.” L reached under their bed and pulled out a box of toys and lube. He casually tossed the bottle and a large blue dildo in front of Light, “Stretch yourself open with that. I want to see you.”

“You don’t want to do it yourself?”

“Like you have earned that privilege yet.” L leaned forward (careful to not fall off the edge) and grabbed Light by the chin, forcing him to look L in the eye, “You’re going to open yourself up on that cock, and when your slutty hole is ready for me, you can ride me like in your fantasies.”

He could almost see the blood rushing to Light’s ears-- being literally talked down to-- condescended and scolded like a child. And yet, his pupils were blown all the way out, L barely seeing the amber color of Light’s eyes, and his jeans and underwear were, of course, already halfway to his ankles.

Light took the tip of the toy and fucked his mouth in and out with it, eyes never leaving L’s. He was already 3 fingers deep inside of himself, lewdly moaning around the cock very intentionally.

“This is a good look for you,” L remarked, breathily, slowly stroking his own cock.

Light suctioned the dick to the hardwood, and hovered over it, teasing his hole with the tip, “Well, if you are going to keep calling me a slut- fuck… I might as well lean into it.” Light bottomed out on the toy, one hand running through his hair, another sucking on two fingers as he slowly moved. Light, flushed and fucked out and using himself, was the pinnacle of sex and desire-- L began to question his decision about who exactly this was a punishment for.

“Ngh, this cock is so big , L… But it doesn’t feel nearly as good as yours.” Light dragged his teeth across the bottom of his lip, pointed looking at L’s cock, now leaking precum. Light knew he was getting to L. He knew exactly how he looked and exactly what L was thinking.

Fucker. Two can play at that.

L slowed down his own movements, raising an eyebrow at Light, “A common whore like yourself would be satisfied with any cock inside of him. You want mine so bad? Close your eyes, think…” L held the book open with one hand, “‘ I feel like I am going crazy. I am supposed to want this stupid bastard dead. And yet all I want right now are my hands on him and his on mine-’” Light groaned, finally touching his neglected aching cock, “‘-and it is so hard to focus on bringing him down, when the entire time I am dreaming about Ryuzaki’s voice in my ear, and my hands around his throat, and his tongue and mouth on me everywhere . I may just have to take care of him so I stop feeling this way... ’ My my, Kira... ” Light groaned at the name, “I thought you would be a bit more careful than to let your inner thoughts so out in the open like this. What would have happened if someone had gotten a hold of this?”

“I- Fuck- Academic rivalries are not uncommon....”

“I wanted to sentence you to death and you still could not stop thinking about me inside of you-”

“Oh shit L…”

“-or my hands on your cock or my fingers stretching you wide open. You still want me to whisper in your ear and moan , telling you what a good boy you are, right?”

“Yes… yes I want that L…”

L tutted, “And yet you aren’t a good boy. Desperate and begging… Writing down naughty thoughts and fantasies about someone who you wanted to die?” L shook his head, casually tossing the book aside. He reached for his own cock again, slowly stroking it watching Light fall apart, giving himself dual sensations, “Kira needs to make up his mind about what he wants. Because I don’t think he is good at all.”

“ L please…”

“Please, what?”

“Please let me on your cock.”

“Why would I allow that?”

Light stopped his movements on the dildo, only slowly stroking his cock at the same speed as L was his own, “I am not a good boy, I am a cock-slut for you, and only ever you. Fuck me please,” Light begged, broken and desperate.

L stood up and grabbed Light’s hands, pulling him off of the toy. He brushed the hair out of Light’s eyes and pulled Light on top of him, “So good, Kira. You don’t have to be a good boy for me, you can just be my good slut.”

He kissed L, hard, biting his bottom lip as he lined himself up on L’s dick and sunk down on him.

“ Fuck, you feel so much better than that cheap plastic,” Light straddled L properly, pressing his hands against L’s chest as he rode him, not wasting anytime picking up speed.

“Such a good whore for me, Kira,” L said, kissing his wrist, “You really do ride cock like you get paid to do it.”

“I know,” Light said, breathy and fucked.

L huffed, “A bit cocky, aren-”

“Now it’s your turn to shut up,” Light said, pressing down on L’s pressure points, his fingertips pushing hard enough into his throat it will surely leave marks against his pale skin.

L’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and Light moved his hips faster, L snapping back up to meet his thrusts, which quickly became sloppy as black dots began dancing in the corners of his eyes and his lungs started burning. His eyes welled up with tears and his entire body was on fire, his limbs going limp. He felt the white, hot edge so close and tangible. Every thrust felt like a rattle of electricity hitting every nerve and every part of his consciousness so closely and he just needed more -- Light relented, moving his hands away from his throat. L eyes snapped open wide and he coughed, taking heavy breaths. Tears fell from the corners of his eyes, and he dug his fingertips into Light’s waist, harshly grabbing him by the hips.

“L? I’m sorry, you told me you would tap out if-”

“Kira, more-- again-- now.” L commanded, and Light did not hesitate. He grabbed him by the throat and put his fingers in L’s mouth for good measure. Light was riding him with expert pace and precision, his lower body strength and years of running paying off. L’s legs trembled, and he used the last bit of his unfucked mind to dig his nails into Light’s hips and rock him faster and faster on his cock, reaching that beautiful and terrible and intense edge.

“ Ah- L! ” Light comes only a few seconds before L himself, moaning around Light’s fingers as he loosened his grip, but still only letting a fraction of the air healthy for the human brain into his head.

Light did not move himself off of L immediately. He moved his hand away from his throat, but kept small pressure on his neck with one of his thumbs.

“What are you doing?” L muttered. Light said nothing. L opened his eyes, tapping him. “Light?”

Light blinked, looking back, “Sorry, was feeling your pulse.”

“Why?”

“Wanted to make sure I didn’t kill you.”

L smiled softly, “Don’t want me dead anymore?”

“Sometimes. Certainly not like this, it’s too personal.”

“What, killing me while my cock is in your ass is too close for comfort?”

“Something like.” Light smirked and pressed a soft kiss against L’s lips.

After cleaning up, Light told L he wanted to burn the dream journal to prevent further embarrassment.

“Over my dead body.” L said, holding the notebook just out of reach.

Light smirked, “I have no problem arranging that.”

#my writing #lawlight #light yagami #l lawliet #death note #prompt fills #asks #bored-bitch-stuff #more writing to come!#also I apologize that this is so long and it took so long to write ;-;#but either way!!#enjoy!!

56 notes · View notes

ghost-party · 3 years

Note

Hi! I absolutely love your writing, so I want to try requesting for the Valentine's Day event: Gojo + f!reader: "kissing someone’s forehead" (+ totally optional additional: Gojo is on the receiving end of said kiss from the person he's been pining for). <3 Thanks for doing these, I am having a blast reading everything them.

Thank you so much! I’m really happy to hear that. 😊❤️ I hope you’re having a great weekend!

A/N: A female reader was requested. This went through two extensive revisions, so hopefully it turned out okay.

• • •

Gojo + “kissing someone’s forehead”

For the past few years, you and Gojo have spent Valentine’s Day together for one very specific reason: couples’ menus.

It all started when his favorite café advertised a special, one-day-only offering of delicious, sugary treats.

“Pleeeease, Y/N,” he begged. He was dramatically sprawled across two chairs in your office, making puppy-dog eyes while you tried to focus on lesson planning.

“Think of the red velvet pancakes! The strawberry tartlets! The chocolate-covered cherry macarons!”

“Let me get this straight,” you sighed, finally looking up at him. “You want to pretend we’re dating... just so you can get some sweets?”

Gojo scrambled into a seated position, leaning forward eagerly. “Yes! But not just any sweets — super-special, couples-only ones!” He slapped his palm on your desk, doing his best to look serious. (It didn’t work.) “Help me beat the system. It would be a triumph for singles everywhere!”

In the end, it was the promise of tasty desserts paid for by the world’s strongest sorcerer that sealed the deal.

Now, three years later, your strange tradition is still going strong. But something about today feels... different.

Maybe it’s the gentle way Gojo reaches for your hand as you both approach the café, or how he pulls your chair out for you without his usual, over-the-top adulation. (”Here you go, darling... I’ll have the best view in the whole place, sitting across from you.”)

Or it might be how you catch him gazing at you instead of the menu, or the hint of pink in his cheeks when you lovingly stroke his arm while placing your order.

You’re puzzled, because this has all been fine in the past, both of you doing your best to act the part of the sickeningly-sweet couple, so utterly devoted to one another that no one could possibly question your love. Gojo had practically scripted the entire thing, and he always seemed happy to play this game with you.

But something has changed. You can feel it as he sits across from you at the small corner table, seeming lost in thought.

“Hey.” You nudge his foot with yours, and he pauses, forkful of chocolate lava cake halfway to his mouth. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” His response is too quick, his smile overly bright. “Never better. Everything tastes great.”

“You just seem... I don’t know. Nervous?”

“Me? Nervous? Nah, I’m cool as a cucumber, sweetheart.”

Noticing a smudge of chocolate at the corner of his lips, you reach out and use your thumb to wipe it away. “That wasn’t nearly as convincing as you think it was.”

As if to further emphasize your point, an obvious blush creeps across Gojo’s cheeks, his eyes fixed on your retreating hand. You’ve never seen him look genuinely flustered, and it stuns you.

“I, er...” he stammers, then laughs softly. “It’s really inconvenient, you know, how you always just... see right through me.” He reaches out and takes hold of your hand beneath the table, and your touch seems to calm him.

“Satoru,” you murmur. “This doesn’t feel like pretending anymore.”

He gives you a hesitant smile. “What if I said I don’t want it to be?” Leaning in closer, he asks, “What if I told you I want this every day? Not just once a year.”

“But I...” You blink at him, surprised by his words. “How long have you —”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. It took me a while to realize, and by then... Well, I guess I was smitten. Maybe from the moment we met, as clichéd as that sounds.”

He had been the first person you met when you began teaching at Jujutstu Tech, even before Yaga. You quickly learned that he was rarely punctual, usually arriving late to meetings, carrying a box of doughnuts like a peace offering. He made a habit of crashing your office hours to talk about everything from his students to his top five mochi flavors (which changed almost daily) to memes he had seen on Twitter. And he had a horrible habit of napping in the most inconvenient places, including your classroom.

Without you really noticing, you began spending more and more time together, to the point where you couldn’t imagine what your days would look like without him. Boring, to say the least.

“I thought you were interesting, and that’s unusual for me.” He removes his sunglasses and looks at you, the sincerity in his gaze making you feel warm all over. “But you’re not like anybody else. You never have been.”

“What am I like?” you softly ask.

He speaks without hesitation. “Perfect. Stop, don’t give me that look, like you’re going to argue with me!” Your lips tingle slightly as he presses a finger to them. “I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s felt impossible not to love you more and more all the time.”

His hand shifts to your cheek, and when you gently lean into his touch, he visibly relaxes, his relief palpable. “When I first suggested this —” he gestures around at the red and pink streamers, the glittery hearts, the lush floral arrangements “— I’ll admit, I was curious. I wanted to see what it might be like, being your boyfriend. Even if it wasn’t real.”

“Did it live up to your expectations?”

He teasingly squeezes your cheek. “What do you think, pumpkin?”

“In that case...” You pull away and reach into your bag, retrieving a small, carefully-wrapped box of homemade chocolates. “I guess it’s a good thing I made these.”

You had gone back and forth about it, knowing chocolates might betray your growing feelings that, in recent months, had become impossible to ignore. But all of the planning, the time and effort you put into perfecting your recipe, the late nights spent hunched over your kitchen counter... You know it was all worth it when you see the astounded joy on his face.

As he reaches for the box, you lean across the table and press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Satoru.”

At that moment, the waitress walks over, smiling pleasantly. “How is everything?”

“Perfect,” you reply, settling back in your seat. “But I think my boyfriend’s eyes were a little bigger than his stomach. Can we have a to-go box?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gojo staring at you, and you’re fairly certain that if his eyes could turn into hearts, they would.

It isn’t until you’re standing on the sidewalk, holding a pink box full of leftover sweets, that Gojo says, “It has a nice ring to it... Boyfriend.” When you look up at him, he’s grinning. He slides an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. “And that means you’re my girlfriend.”

“Yep. No take-backs. You’re stuck with me.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, reminiscent of the one you gave him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#valentine's day event #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs

#paul sevier #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier x female reader #midnight special #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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averykedavra · 3 years

Text

A Conversation I Overheard (1/5)

It’s been a while since one of these, hasn’t it? A little one-shot turned out not-so-little and I figured it was about time to give multi-chapter fics another shot. This self-indulgent little beast is courtesy of a prompt by the lovely @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, which you can find here! The title and plot are entirely their creation. @sleepless-in-starbucks encouraged me to write this awhile back (read: months and months ago, because I’m slow at writing) and here I am! Finally! Better late than never. So...commence fic!

Update schedule is to be determined. This fic is on Ao3 here!

Pairings: romantic LAMP

Warnings: insecurity and self-hatred, anxiety, depressive symptoms, spiraling, a crap-ton of miscommunication, and mentions of kissing

Summary: When Roman eavesdrops on a family meeting post-wedding, he hears the last thing he expected--the sides confessing their feelings for each other. Which is lovely for them, but it means Roman is stuck as the fourth wheel. Helpful, quiet, and doing his best to keep them from remembering that they're still mad at Roman.

And doing his best to keep himself from dwelling on the heartbreak. Because of course they don’t love him. Why would they?

(or: the four times the sides tried to tell Roman they loved him, and the one time he finally believed them.)

Chapter One: Denial

First. Next. Masterlist.

Roman knew it was petty. He knew it was a petty, selfish, unchivalrous thing to do. He should treat his fellow Sides with more respect. He should own up to his mistakes. He should make like the fabulous prince he was and lead the discussion, fix everything, listen to the people who knew him best.

Roman knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t force himself to answer the door.

“Kiddo?” Patton asked for the third time. “Did you hear me? I said we’re all going to have a--family meeting. To talk about what happened. I think it would be a good idea for us all to...get things off our chest.”

Roman clutched at his sash and stared at the ceiling. If he called out, Patton wouldn’t hear him. He’d have to walk over to the door and open it. That was one excuse to stay still. That was one excuse to keep quiet.

“I know you’re upset,” Patton said. “It’s okay. We want to hear you out. Maybe we can help you work through some things.”

Roman would cry if he tried to work through things. He would start blubbering in front of everyone he knew. That was one excuse to keep the door locked.

“You don’t have to.” Patton sounded upset. He always sounded upset these days--maybe it was the door muffling his voice, or just because he was talking to Roman. “You really don’t have to, kiddo, it’s okay. I get it. You’re--perfectly within rights not to come. I don’t want to pressure you.”

They didn’t want him there. Roman would ruin the whole thing, say something cruel and hurtful as he always did, and leave the situation worse than it started. That was one excuse to stay away.

“I get it,” Patton said, his voice barely making it through the door. “Janus won’t be there, and it will be calm, and we’ll talk things out. I get your hesitation, kiddo. It’s okay. I’d just--love if you gave us a chance.”

Would they give Roman a chance? How many chances were left until Roman ran out? What were the conditions of this chance--did he need to look better, act better, be better? He’d barely managed to put on makeup this morning. That was one excuse to stay inside.

“I guess that’s all I have to say.” Patton laughed a bit. “Maybe you’re asleep, and I’m just talking to myself. That’d be pretty silly of me, wouldn’t it?”

Roman was tired. He’d been tired for weeks. He was always tired. That was one excuse to avoid the meeting.

He had so, so many excuses.

They were probably the only things he was creative at.

“Well...goodbye, I guess?” Patton hesitated. Roman could see his shadow under the door. “Talk to you later, kiddo. My invitation stands.”

The shadow flickered and vanished. Roman didn’t move from his bed, splayed on the red-and-white quilt, staring at the ceiling.

They’d be arranged on the couch when the meeting started. He could picture it well enough. Logan in the armchair, Patton on the couch, Virgil on the arm of the couch--or, if he was stressed, the top of it. He probably would be stressed. They all would be. Patton would be worrying the sleeves of his hoodie, and Virgil would be chewing on his nails, and Logan would be shifting his thermos between his hands or drumming his fingers on his knee. Maybe they’d invite Thomas. Maybe Patton would double back and invite Janus after all.

It didn’t matter, though, because Roman wasn’t going.

Patton would start the family meeting. He always read the minutes, as it was, and thanked everyone for coming. Virgil usually bristled at the gratitude. Logan always returned it. Roman always bowed with a little twirl of his hand--ridiculously dramatic--and if Thomas was there, he’d smile with his nervous smile. It was a combination of Patton’s optimism and Virgil’s anxiety. Roman could always see them in Thomas, because he knew them so well, he knew where every jagged edge fit together.

Roman remembered how the family meetings always went. A problem, a discussion, a solution. It wasn’t like it was in videos. Videos were for Thomas issues. Family meetings were for family issues. There was often overlap, which made it common to pregame a video with a quick discussion, or to pile onto the couches when a video was concluded. In Roman’s memory, which was often wrong, this meeting was almost two weeks after the disastrous wedding. Two weeks was the longest time between a video and a meeting that Roman could remember. Two weeks was far too long, and yet, not long enough.

He’d known this was coming. He’d prepared himself. He’d even rehearsed apologies, perfectly crafted to gain sympathy--and what kind of manipulative person did that? Who tried that hard for affection? He couldn’t be truly accepted, truly loved, unless they knew the truth about Roman.

Except Roman couldn’t bear to let his walls down. He couldn’t bear to see the looks on their faces, if they knew everything--how much he failed, how much he wasn’t who they needed, how much he felt for them.

He couldn’t even imagine apologizing without his stomach flipping.

He wondered what they would talk about. He knew how the meetings usually went, but he wondered what would fit into the format, what would make Patton wince or Virgil shift on the couch. He wondered what solution they would find. They always found a solution. Sometimes it took several hours, but they did. Roman was usually the largest obstacle.

Maybe they would solve things easier, if he wasn’t there.

Or would they? If Roman was the problem, could they really find a solution without talking to him? Would they pass judgment on him while he sat in his room, alone, or would they dance around the issue? Pretend they weren’t missing anyone? Pretend everything was fine?

Roman glanced at his closed door. Patton would be downstairs. The meeting would be starting. He could picture the way they’d tug each other into a group hug at the end, or the way Virgil curled into himself when anxious, or the cute way Logan always bit his lip when thinking--he knew them so well, but he could see a million ways for the conversation to go. There were too many blank spaces between lines. Too many ways for the story to end.

Would they knock on his door later? Tell him what happened? Tell him--tell him they’d decided, that Roman needed to leave, that he was better off on the other side of the Mindscape? That they’d made a mistake in trying to be his friend?

Roman ran his hands down his arms and pressed his fingers into his skin. Chin up. Act like a prince. He wasn’t in the mood to cry again, although if everyone was busy downstairs, he had the least odds of being heard.

He felt greasy. Maybe it was because of the clothes he’d slept in for three days, or his unshowered and unbrushed hair, or the distinct lack of vegetables in his recent diet. He’d avoided eating with the others. He’d avoided the others in general.

He had no idea what they were talking about downstairs. What was so unimportant--so important--that Roman didn’t need to attend? Perhaps they were simply nice enough to leave him be, but he could hardly believe there wouldn’t be another shoe to fall.

Something would happen. Roman just couldn’t decide on what.

Curiosity gnawed at his empty stomach.

He didn’t want to be unprepared. He should get ready, should prepare an apology, should pack his things--his room was teetering with cushions and lace, and he winced at the prospect of cleaning it out. If he knew what they were planning, if he knew who he would face, he’d be ready.

Patton would be painfully nice. Roman could talk him out of banishment if he tried--a horrible thought. An evil thought. Roman could never manipulate Patton like that, could never take advantage of his trusting nature or the guilt he was sure to feel. So he’d stay silent. He’d let Patton stumble through platitudes before saying “sorry, Roman, but you have to go.”

Roman would smile and nod. He’d let Patton hug him, if Patton wanted, if that made Patton feel better. Or maybe Patton wouldn’t touch him. He certainly hadn’t in weeks.

Roman rubbed his arms.

Logan would be painfully clinical. If Logan decided something, it was almost impossible to change his mind--see every argument Roman had with him ever. He’d share his evidence, if Roman asked, if Roman was brave enough to ask. Maybe he’d even let Roman argue a point or two. But it wouldn’t change anything. It never did.

Roman would bite back his retorts. He’d avoid saying goodbye. If he did, he’d get choked up. Crying in front of anyone would be humiliating, and Logan would be more so.

Roman swallowed.

Virgil would--he could barely imagine a scenario where Virgil would have the courage to kick him out alone. But maybe Virgil wanted to do it himself. Maybe Virgil would shuffle his feet on the carpet, hands deep in his pockets. Maybe he’d chew his lip. Roman would reassure him, calm him down, coax a relieved smile out of him--and then he’d tell Roman to leave.

It was more likely that Virgil would have backup. Maybe Logan and Virgil, since Logan always calmed Virgil down--or Patton and Logan? Patton might want that logical reassurance. Or Patton and Virgil, if they wanted to be as emotional as possible. Or all three.

Roman didn’t know. It could be any of them, and Roman wasn’t ready.

If only he knew what to expect.

Roman glanced at the door.

The hallway was quiet. Roman slid on his socks past the doors, and paused at the stairs to gather information and courage. He could hear murmured conversation below--stops and starts, sounding hesitant. How long had it been since they started? He’d forgotten to check the time. All he could make out were singular vowels. Nothing concrete.

Roman inched closer to the top of the stairs, trying to stay out of sight. If he could get to the kitchen, he’d be hidden, but how could he get past--

Oh. Roman almost laughed at his stupidity. The next second, he appeared in the kitchen.

To avoid being spotted, he’d decided to sit on the floor, leaning against the counter. The kitchen tiles were cold under his feet. He wrapped his arms around his chest. With bated breath, he waited, but nobody entered the kitchen. Nobody said his name. The living room was silent.

Roman let out a long breath. He was already regretting this. What prince eavesdropped on his companions? If he was caught, he’d get an earful. Or worse--a disappointed look from Patton. Roman shuddered at the thought. Patton was exceedingly good at the disappointed look.

He didn’t want to move, or he might alert them. That was enough of an excuse to stay still and listen.

“...can’t keep putting this off,” Patton was saying when Roman tuned in. “I’ve given you all time, and I get that you need it, but we can’t just glare at each other forever! We have to actually talk about this.”

“Not now,” Virgil argued. “Roman’s not even here.”

“Roman--needs space.”

“So Roman gets space, but I don’t?” Virgil didn’t sound angry, at least to Roman. He just sounded upset. “How’s that fair?”

“You agreed to be here,” Patton said, with patience. “If you want to leave at any time, you can--”

“Cool--”

“But I think it would be a good idea for you to stay. If you want.”

“This is highly confusing,” Logan said. Roman tried not to overanalyze the entire situation, but Logan’s voice was clipped, strained in the wrong ways.

“Look,” Patton said with a sigh, “I’m trying to find a compromise. This isn’t easy and I’m pretty sure I’m messing some part of it up, but even an imperfect conversation is still a conversation. And we need one of those, guys. We really do.”

Roman heard the sound of a zipper. Virgil was probably pulling at the zippers on his sleeves.

“You’re doing fine,” Logan said. Reassuring and reluctant and quiet.

“Thanks,” Patton said. Reluctant and quiet.

“What now?” Virgil asked. Quiet.

It was just quiet for a long time, long enough for Roman’s knees to start aching. He didn’t move. He didn’t want to break the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Patton said.

Both Logan and Virgil started to say something, but their words jumbled together and they both went quiet.

“I’ve messed up a lot,” Patton continued, chuckling a bit. “Gosh, it’s been a lot. And that’s hurt you guys, and I’m sorry. So--maybe I’m going about this all wrong. I know you don’t really want to be here, but...I want to listen to you more. All of you. I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

Virgil mumbled something that Roman didn’t catch. It must have been something self-deprecating, because Patton clucked at him, and Logan murmured something back.

“So I’m giving you the floor. Even though it’s Thomas’.” Patton chuckled more at his own joke. Roman caught a snicker from Virgil as well. “Just...say what’s on your mind, okay?”

Another long moment of silence.

“Uh, who goes first?” Virgil asked. “Do we like, pick straws, or--”

“You can go first,” Logan said quickly.

“Dude! Don’t feed me to the wolves!”

“No wolves,” Patton reassured them. “You can go in any order you want.”

Virgil huffed. “Shouldn’t Princey be here?”

“If Roman doesn’t want to be here, we can’t make him,” Logan said with a touch of irritation. “I’d rather have a calm conversation with three people than an argument with four.”

Roman curled a bit further into a ball on the kitchen floor.

“Jury’s still out on calm,” Virgil muttered. “Yeah. So--me?”

“You don’t have to,” Logan said.

“But go for it,” Patton added.

“Yeah. Okay.” Virgil took a deep breath. If Roman listened closely, he could hear the faint rasp of an echo in his voice. “So--the wedding, huh? That was something. That happened.”

“Yes,” Logan said, when Virgil didn’t continue. “It did happen.”

“Yeah, I--ugh.” Virgil groaned. “I don’t know where to start. What to talk about, or whatever. Don’t you guys have any specific questions?”

“Uh--” Patton made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t wanna limit you, Virge.”

“I could use some limitations right about now.”

“Alright.” Roman could picture what Patton was doing--gesturing at Virgil like he was handing over his words on a platter. “How did the wedding make you feel?”

“Bad,” Virgil said.

“Good start,” Patton encouraged. “And?”

“It was like--” Virgil sucked in a breath and let it out. “Like I didn’t want to get involved, right after, ‘cause you guys seemed pretty busy and all. I was just trying not to freak out. Logan let me in his room, which was nice--”

Logan made a small noise. Maybe of surprise.

“--and that helped, but he was also talking to you guys so I couldn’t really avoid the whole thing, and then--” Virgil paused. Roman could just make out a muttered four-seven-eight, maybe from Patton, maybe from Logan. “And it was. Not fun. I wanted to help out, Pat, you seemed so upset and I really did want to--and--and Roman was upset, and Logan was telling me he could handle it--”

“That was…” Logan paused, but Virgil didn’t say anything else. “A bit of an error on my part.”

“Not your fault you got impersonated, L.”

Patton made a small noise. “I am really sorry about that, Logan.”

“Not your fault he got impersonated, either.”

“I could have noticed,” Patton said unconvincingly. “And I did press the skip button.”

“You did,” Logan said.

Silence fell.

“Uh--is it still my turn?” Virgil asked. “Did I--am I done?”

“I don’t--” Patton sighed. “This isn’t working either, is it.”

Nobody argued with him.

“Have we ever found a conversation tactic that does work?” Logan pointed out, sounding uncharacteristically glum. “Have we ever managed to fix every problem at hand, without simultaneously exacerbating several others?”

“I don’t think so,” Virgil said.

“It was rhetorical.” Logan sighed. “My point is that we’re stuck in a loop. We do this every time, and we’ve never managed to successfully communicate the root issues.”

“We’ve gotten better,” Patton said.

“Have we?”

Quiet again. Roman was beginning to stiffen in his position, and one of his feet was falling asleep. Roman shifted it as quietly as possible. It tingled.

“And I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist,” Virgil teased. It fell flat. “Look, L, I don’t think we should scrap the whole thing just because it doesn’t fix everything flat out--”

“But there has to be something we’re missing.” Patton’s voice was determined. “Logan’s right. There’s stuff at play deep down here, and we’ve never talked about it, because--because we don’t know how to get those real answers. Because we don’t know what questions to ask. So we need answers to the questions that we don’t know need answers.”

“You lost me,” Virgil said.

“He’s saying we should try to cut to the figurative heart of the issue.” Logan paused. “I agree, in theory.”

“Oh.” Virgil paused. “Stop--lying?”

Roman gripped his knees tightly.

“Lying has a place and time,” Patton said. “But--you know, there’s a reason why I didn’t invite Janus, right? He’s a good friend and an important part of Thomas. But he’s not--you guys. You guys are different. And--and I don’t think we can have true love if our relationship isn’t based on truth.”

“True love,” Virgil repeated with a snicker. “We’re not each other’s Disney princes, Pat.”

Logan snickered too. “I’m sure Roman would disagree.”

“We love each other!” Patton protested. “I--I love you guys, at least. I love you.”

“I know,” Virgil said after a moment, his voice bittersweet. “I know, Pat. You’re a good friend.”

A very long pause.

“We ought to do something about that,” Logan said, “shouldn’t we?”

“Do something--” Virgil laughed. “What are you--”

“Patton said we ought to be honest,” Logan said. Pointedly. “I also think it would be a good idea. For both of you.”

“What?” Patton sounded confused, but it was only the sound of confusion, not the real thing. “What’s up, Lo?”

“Yeah, L,” Virgil said, both an invitation and a warning. “What are you saying?”

A brief pause. Roman pictured Logan fiddling with his glasses and almost smiled.

“I have to admit this is not my area of expertise,” Logan said, his voice quiet. “However, I think observations have painted a clear picture of the situation. Our--issues with each other are myriad, and stem from a variety of sources, but it is as Patton said. We need to be honest. I believe there’s a very clear culprit for some of our communication issues, and I think you know what it is.”

Silence. Roman’s stomach was slowly dropping to the floor. He bit his lip and tried to stop himself from sinking out. He still needed to hear what they decided--although, the more the conversation continued, the more he felt like he was intruding. Things were getting personal. This wasn’t his place.

As if he heard Roman’s thoughts, Virgil blurted out “Should we really talk about this right now? While Roman’s--”

“We can think about that later,” Logan said. “I think the three of us need to admit a few things.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Patton giggled weakly. “We can’t all keep up with you and your brain, Lo.”

Logan paused for too long to be natural. He was worried. Roman wondered what worried him--he should sink out now, before things got personal, but his feet were rooted to the kitchen floor--

“We aren’t friends,” Logan said.

“Uh, dude,” Virgil began, “you might wanna--”

“We aren’t just friends.” Logan let out a breath. “You know that.”

Roman needed to go. He wasn’t meant to hear this part. His breath was already catching in his throat. How dare he ruin this moment, how dare he toss himself into a private conversation, how dare his legs refuse to move--

“What are you talking about?” Virgil’s voice was harsh. Too harsh, not only for the conversation, but for Virgil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Logan said. “You know there are other things at play, it’s foolish to deny--”

“I’m not denying anything!”

“We’re not just friends!” Logan almost yelled. “The evidence is practically a mountain--we have sleepovers every weekend! We eat breakfast together!”

“Yeah, we’re friends!” Virgil fired back. “That’s normal friend stuff!”

“We’re family,” Patton amended, the first time he’d spoken. His voice was hollow. “Besides, it’s always just been us, of course we’re different.”

“We’re different,” Logan agreed. “Virgil falls asleep on your shoulder. You give us forehead kisses. We cuddle. That isn’t platonic.”

“And what’s your evidence, wise guy?” Virgil’s voice pitched upwards. “Platonic is weird! Romantic is weird! How are you supposed to instantly tell the difference?”

“I’m simply stating that there could be something else at play!”

“You’re my only friends!” Virgil burst out. “I don’t have anything else to compare it to--it’s normal. All of it. How I feel--it’s normal.”

Logan’s voice suddenly quieted. “And how do you feel?”

“Normal,” Virgil said.

Patton still hadn’t said anything else. Roman would have peeked around to see if he was okay, if he could remember how to move, how to think.

“Normal,” Virgil repeated. “It’s--we’re friends. We love each other. It’s normal.”

Logan hummed. “You were friends with Deceit, correct?”

“Janus,” Patton said faintly. Nobody acknowledged him.

“No,” Virgil said. “Yes. Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“Would you ever be comfortable with cuddling him?”

“I hate him.”

“We’re working under the assumption that you do not.”

“Look, I--it’s complicated.” Virgil huffed. “I wouldn’t be, but that’s because I hate him, and I’ve always been way more comfortable with you guys anyway, ‘cause I don’t have to act--mean, or whatever. You guys are different than him. Always have been.”

“Different,” Logan said.

“Yeah, because I literally hate him--” Virgil groaned. “Look, L, don’t make patterns where there aren’t any. It’s fine. We’re--we’re friends.”

“Logan has a point.” Patton’s words came out in a rush, like he’d been bottling them up. “He has a point.”

Logan made a surprised noise. “I do?”

“Et tu, Brute?” Virgil’s voice softened. “You think so?”

“Janus is really nice,” Patton said. “We’ve been talking for a while now, ever since--well, everything. I’ve appreciated his support. He makes me laugh. And--and he’s not like you guys. Not just because he’s a newer friend. You’re all different.” His voice dipped. “You’ve always been different to me.”

A long, long silence. Roman couldn’t feel his legs, or his lungs, or his heart.

“This isn’t my area of expertise,” Logan said. Quietly, quietly. “I suppose there really isn’t any way to tell, objectively, what we--are to each other. All I can say is, to me, you are a lot. Not everything--I don’t believe anyone could be everything--but...more than on average. More than I’ve admitted to myself.”

“You’re kidding,” Virgil blurted out, an edge of hysterical laughter in his voice. “You’re--that’s not it, that can’t be it, you can’t--”

“Doesn’t it make sense?” Patton pleaded, his words all in a rush again. “It--it doesn’t have to, gosh, I know it doesn’t have to, but if you could give it a chance--”

“A chance?” Virgil repeated incredulously. “We’re not--we’re not--”

“I’m sorry,” Patton said. Quietly. Roman was so tired of quiet. “I’m really sorry, Virgil.”

“You’re--you’re serious.” Virgil sounded inches from a panic attack. “You’re--”

“We can all take a moment to think,” Logan suggested, sounding inches from his own. “We can--we can take time to process, it’s fine, we don’t have to work this out right now--we can forget this ever happened--”

“It’ll be okay,” Patton said. Maybe to Virgil. Maybe to Logan. Maybe to himself. “We’ll handle this. We always do.”

“You’re--” Virgil’s voice broke. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Virge,” Patton said. Quietly, quietly, too quietly for Roman to sneak away. “You’re the coolest emo around.”

“No.” Virgil’s voice pitched frantic again. “No, no--I love you guys, don’t I? I--you’ve always been there for me, and you always looked after me, and Logan always calms me down and Pat, you always make me smile, and--”

“You don’t have to do this,” Logan murmured. “I understand that I miscalculated, you don’t need to--”

“No!” Virgil might have laughed. Or sobbed, it was hard to tell. “No, L, you genius, you got it exactly right.”

Roman swallowed and realized his mouth was dry.

“I love you!” Virgil said, triumphantly, like he’d solved everything. Like everything made sense. Maybe it did. “I love you, I love you so much--what am I even saying, this is so stupid--I love you, I was an idiot, I didn’t--”

“I--” Patton laughed breathlessly. “Virgil--”

“Do you--” Virgil’s voice dipped. “Do you--”

“I love you too,” Patton said, as if it was the first time he’d ever said it. Maybe it was.

“I--” Logan coughed awkwardly. “Not to seem obtuse, but can we clarify if--”

“If you’re included in the ‘you’?” Virgil laughed. “L, obviously, it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Ah.” Was Logan blushing? He sounded like it. Roman would be ecstatic to witness a flustered Logan, if he was not currently frozen and terrified. “That--ah. I...likewise, I hold an amount of affection towards you that is commonly considered romantic. So to speak.”

“Aww!” Patton cooed. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Logan said. “I think we’ve established that we all love each other! I think that’s clear!”

“Always has been, I’m just an idiot.” Was Virgil smiling? He sounded like it. Oh, if only Roman was able to appreciate it. “Y’know, it’s been...an understood thing.”

“Yeah,” Patton said. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Silence.

“This doesn’t solve anything,” Logan said, as if he was obligated to point out the flaws. As if he couldn’t let himself enjoy the moment yet. “We still have much to discuss, not least--”

“I know, I know.” Patton was smiling, Roman could hear it, and it made Roman’s chest hurt. “But it’ll help, that we were honest--and aren’t you guys happy? That we can--”

“Do what?” Virgil asked, when Patton petered out.

“Be...together,” Patton finished. “If you want.”

Roman’s stomach twisted in Celtic knots. He shook his foot, almost hoping that they’d hear him and stop talking--and then he could distract them, remind them of him and why they’d started this meeting in the first place, ruin their moment like always--

“I’d like that,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Me too.”

And then it was entirely the wrong kind of quiet. A movement or two, then quiet--and Roman could come to all sorts of conclusions, imagine them clearly in his head, but he settled on the obvious one. He cursed his mind for supplying him with a clear mental picture. Oh, so he couldn’t think of a video idea in a week, but now his imagination worked?

The quiet stretched on longer. Too long. Too long and Roman was itching at the seams, thumbing at his sash, regretting ever stepping foot out of his room.

But it was fine. It was fine. He’d just leave now.

If they were doing what he thought they were, they probably wouldn’t notice.

Roman steeled himself, pushed himself onto his knees, and stood up. As quickly as possible. Raise his hand. Teleport. It was easy--like reaching out and plucking a string, tensing a muscle, lighting a fire. A flourish of the hand, and the kitchen slipped out of reach, and he didn’t want to see the others, but he did--Patton beaming, and Virgil covering his smile with his hand, and Logan tilting his head forward and then Roman closed his eyes because he didn’t want to see, he didn’t--

But, well, he could imagine.

His room was empty. When he flopped into the same position he’d started the day in, and covered his head with his blanket, he could almost pretend he hadn’t left. That he’d dreamed the whole thing. That they weren’t downstairs, right now, holding hands, cupping cheeks and--

Roman yelled something inaudible into his pillow.

He should be happy for them. He should be happy--and he was! He was happy for them. They deserved each other. They were his best friends--his friends--his--

They were...something, that was for sure.

They deserved each other.

Roman should be happy.

It would be good for the family, now that they were no longer on bad terms. Roman couldn’t count the number of awkward glances they’d had over the years. Maybe this had finally helped to clear the air. That was one excuse to be happy for them.

Roman thrived off romance. He could hardly turn down the opportunity to support such a cute couple, especially when they were so adorably awkward in their confessions. That was another excuse to be happy for them.

It would take the pressure off him. They seemed to have entirely forgotten their meeting’s goal, which included deciding whether Roman deserved to stay. Maybe they’d keep forgetting. Maybe the beauty of love would soften their hearts towards him, and Roman could scrape by on table scraps and glancing smiles, surviving on the edges once again. They’d tolerate him. They’d forget he existed, because they’d be enamored with each other, exactly as they deserved.

That was another excuse to be happy.

And they wanted this. They’d clearly pined for so long, and now they had what they wanted, they had each other--Roman was thrilled for them, ecstatic, over the moon. It felt right, somehow, to see them all together. The perfect fairytale ending. If this was their happy ending, who was Roman to stand in their way?

Did he want to be more of a villain?

No. He couldn’t ruin yet another perfect thing. He just had to suck it up and be chivalrous. He wasn’t their hero, wasn’t their friend, wasn’t their--wasn’t theirs. He was nothing but a fourth wheel.

We love you.

Right.

Roman pressed his hands to his eyes to stop the tears. There was no reason to cry. This was fine. He should be happy. He’d faked happy for years and years, why was this what he couldn’t handle? What had he expected? He didn’t get a consolation prize after what he’d done. He didn’t rescue the dashing princes. He hadn’t earned his happy ending, and now he was alone in his room, while the three most important people in his life found solace in each other.

And it was fine.

They were happy.

So Roman would be happy, too. Roman would be everything they needed him to be. Roman would make the most of this, and he would be a good friend and a good person, even if it killed him. No bitterness. No jealousy. No longing for something he knew he didn’t deserve.

No excuses.

They were in love. They were happy. And that was enough.

If Roman truly loved them, he would let that be enough.

But, well, Roman didn’t truly do much of anything. And he spent most of the day in a pile on his pillows, ignoring the knocks on his door, and getting absolutely nothing done. He was out of ideas and out of passion. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could imagine was being shoved out his door, and the soft look in his best friends’ eyes as they kissed each other on the living room couch.

But it was fine, Roman was fine, and everything was fine.

Princes didn’t complain. Princes moved on. Princes were gracious and helpful in the face of true love.

Princes got true love.

Roman wasn’t much of a prince, though. And it was fine. He was fine.

Everything was so incredibly fine.

When Roman finally fell asleep, his last thought was worry--that he’d summoned Janus with all his lying. But Janus didn’t appear. It was just Roman, slipping into dreams on his rumpled quilt, glad of an excuse to stop thinking.

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years

Text

marriage story

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5,641

summary: Fake marrying Bucky was only supposed to be a means to an end.

prompt: college au, fake marriage au, and enemies to lovers

warnings: swearing, talk of past sexual abuse

a/n: This was written for @broadwayandnetflix for @bucky-smiles‘s Secret Santa! SURPRISE!!!! I’m so sorry I’m a day late, I just wanted to make sure it was as good as I could make it!! I really hope you enjoy!!!

You weren’t sure how you ended up staring at divorce papers.

Hell, you’d just graduated college three weeks ago and had miraculously landed your first job that was conducive to your career.

And now, you were a divorcée at the age of twenty-one.

Granted, your marriage had lasted much longer than a lot of those that happened when the two people were teenagers.

It had also been fake, but that’s beside the point.

You read over the divorce papers for the eightieth time since they’d arrived. Both of you took your individual things, no need for lawyers…

It had all seemed so simple when it first began. A means to an end.

You were eighteen and stupid. Desperate. You had no idea what the consequences would be.

You had no idea that you’d actually fall in love with your husband.

He’d needed to live off campus since he couldn’t afford the on campus housing. At a minimum of seven thousand dollars a school year, it was ridiculous. You couldn’t really afford it either, but the school had a rule that you couldn’t live off campus until your junior year, and the two of you were still second semester freshmen.

Then there was the issue with your FAFSA. You weren’t exactly on good terms with your parents. And by not on good terms, you meant that you didn’t speak to them. At all. Getting their tax information wasn’t going to happen, and it wasn’t like they were helping you pay for college.

But FAFSA wouldn’t let you fill it out as an independent student until you were twenty-one. Apparently, being cut off from your parents wasn’t enough of a ‘special circumstance’ to allow it.

But, there was one little thing that could fix all that.

Matrimony.

If you were married, you’d have to file independently. No questions asked about parents.

And the university would allow you to live off campus, too.

It was a perfect solution. A quick little trip to the courthouse.

Living together had seemed logical. A little two bedroom apartment was much cheaper than seven thousand dollars for nine months in a dorm room you had to share.

Plus, you had to keep up the illusion to the school and the government that you were married.

Outside of living together though, there wasn’t much needed. Each of you wore a fake ring when you went to your meetings with your advisor and your classes. It kept the rabid frat boys away from you, at least.

And then there were the scholarships. Turns out, there are scholarships specifically for married college kids, and your advisor thought you were just perfect for it because she’d never met such a wonderful couple.

It was all perfect. Until it wasn’t.

First off, you and Bucky didn’t even really like each other when all of this started. You only knew each other because you were best friends with Natasha, who was his best friend’s girlfriend. It had actually been the two of them that had gotten the idea in the first place.

“So, I’m sure you’re wondering why we gathered you here today,” Steve said, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Steve, this is my room.”

This was not how you wanted to spend your Saturday night. You’d worked a double that day, from eight in the morning to ten that night.

The perks of working at a bar that did Mimosa Mornings on the weekends. The worst part was that you weren’t even allowed to take a shot or two to help you get through it since you were eighteen.

Stupid fucking law. If you could work in a bar, you should be able to drink to deal with the customers. Because fuck, they’re horrible.

But you made more than you’d be making at Buffalo Wild Wings, that’s for sure.

“Can we just get whatever this is over with?” Bucky asked from across the room. He definitely wasn’t keen to be stuck in a room with you for any longer than necessary. “I have work in the morning.”

“Same here,” you added, narrowing your eyes at the two who sat in front of you.

Natasha was your best friend and your roommate, but fuck were you ready to put out a ‘New Friends Wanted’ sign. You could take applications.

Requirement number one: Must not be dating the best friend of the most annoying prick in the world AKA Bucky Barnes.

Requirement number two: Must not be waiting to ambush you in your own dorm room with said prick.

“So, both of you are having issues with the university,” Nat said as she took out a bunch of papers. “The dorms are crazy expensive and you’re not allowed to live off campus. Also, FAFSA is ridiculous.”

“And we have a solution,” Steve said, a grin on his face. He was such a giver. He loved his friends more than anything in the world and would literally give anything for them. Seriously. You’d once watched him actually give the shirt off his back to Bucky when the latter had gotten drunk at a party and puked all over his.

He’d also gotten it on your shoes, and Bucky had just burped and said, “They look better now.”

The disgusting asshole.

“Well, spit it out,” you said, rubbing your temples. You were still in your uniform, a pair of cut off jean shorts and a tank top. Your hair smelled like cigarette smoke and someone’s beer that they spilled on you. “I’d like to go to sleep before sunrise, please.”

“You two could get married.”

Both you and Bucky stared at them like they’d grown two heads.

“I’m sorry… What the fuck did you just say?” You asked, standing up.

Natasha rushed to continue, still grinning. “If you two get married, the university will let you live off campus, and FAFSA will let you file as independent!”

“And it’s cheap! A marriage license only costs like… fifty bucks? Something like that!” Steve said.

Well… It wasn’t… a horrible idea, even if you and Bucky might end up killing each other before then.

“I don’t know...,” you said, the whole idea making you nervous. Marriage? Come on.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I really don’t want to be married to her. We’d kill each other before we hit our six month anniversary,” he mocked, shooting a glare your way.

“It would only be until you graduate!” Natasha said. “And then, you two get divorced and it becomes a funny story to tell at parties!”

You shared a look across the room with the brunette. It would solve your problems…

“Fine.”

Turns out, getting married was a lot easier than you thought it would be. All four of you went to the courthouse that next Tuesday when all of you had a break in between classes.

You wore a sweatshirt and leggings, your ratty sneakers that were covered in mud along the bottom. Bucky wore jeans and a university hoodie.

Not exactly usual wedding attire.

Natasha, ever the optimist ever since she met Steve, had shoved a daisy she’d picked in your hair.

And an hour later, you’d walked out as Mrs. Barnes.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stood up from the couch and walked around the little place you’d called home since you were eighteen.

It had been quiet the first few months. You signed a lease on an apartment a few blocks from campus and had moved in right at the end of the school year, but he went home with Steve to Brooklyn, New York.

You were alone the entire summer except for the few weekends that Natasha managed to come visit. The only time you and Bucky spoke was when he texted you to let you know when he was moving in.

And that’s when the fighting had started.

As you stared at a picture of the two of you on the wall, you couldn’t help but laugh. In the photo, you two were sitting on the couch, holding a cake that Natasha and Steve had gotten you as a joke. HAPPY 2ND ANNIVERSARY! was written across it in bright blue icing.

It was a far cry from when you two had first moved in. Everything was an issue. You didn’t do this, he did that, the both of you wanted to watch different movies and he had brought the television but you’d brought the DVD player. Everything. Hell, you’d sleep on the bean bag in Natasha’s dorm some nights because even being in the same apartment as him was too much.

Eventually, there was compromise. An understanding grew between you and with that, a truce. You couldn’t keep living like you were.

You were pretty sure the war had finally, silently ended one late night in October. It was the weekend before Halloween, and you’d had the worst shift of your life.

Your keys clanged as you unlocked the front door, trying to open it as quietly as possible. Even from where you stood, you could see the clock above the stove that read 1:42 AM. You were supposed to be off at ten, but that clearly hadn’t happened. One of the other girls working had gotten sick and you were forced to cover the few hours she was supposed to work alone until close.

And to add onto that, you made less the entire weekend than you had last Friday night. You’d been hit on, groped, yelled at. Fuck. You just wanted to collapse in your bed.

“You’re home late.”

“Fuck!” You jumped in shock, your heart pounding in your chest. God. Your anxiety had just spiked and the exhaustion you’d been feeling was replaced with your fight or flight instinct.

Bucky was standing in the hallway entrance, brows furrowed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He had on those gray sweats that he looked so good in…

No! Down girl! Bad!

It didn’t matter that he was hot. He was a total dick.

Though, lately he’d be rather kind. Nice. There’d been less fights in the past few weeks.

You cleared your throat, looking away from him. “Yeah, Wanda got sick, so I had to close.”

“There’s dinner in the microwave,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Oh. Thank you.”

He nodded, before disappearing down the hall. It surprised you when you heard the bath start, but whatever. Whether or not he took baths was none of your business.

You were surprised to find a huge bowl of vegetable soup in the microwave. Huh. You’d just been talking to Natasha about how much you missed your mom’s homemade version.

Whatever. It wasn’t like you’d ever be having that again.

You let your head rest on the counter as you waited for the soup to heat up. Fuck. Your entire body ached.

“Hey, do you want epsom salt?” Bucky called out from the bathroom.

“Uh, what?” You said as you raised your head. Even just moving that little made your head pound.

He poked his head out of the doorway, his long hair pulled back in a bun. “For your bath? Do you want epsom salt?”

“My bath? What the hell are you talking about?” You asked as the microwave beeped.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe. “The bath that I’m currently running you. Do. You. Want. Epsom. Salts?”

There was a long pause as the two of you stared at each other. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice coming out a lot smaller than you expected. “That would be nice.”

Once he’d disappeared back into the bathroom, you pulled out your phone and texted Nat.

To: Tasha

Why is Barnes acting weird?

From: Tasha

Which one of you?

Get it?

Cause you’re married?

To: Tasha

Yeah

I got it.

But he’s being fucking weird.

From: Tasha

How so?

To: Tasha

He made me dinner? At least, he poured vegetable soup from a can into a bowl and left it in the microwave.

And he’s running me a bath???

V V strange.

If I don’t text you tomorrow

It’s probably because he killed me

From: Tasha

Oh that

To: Tasha

What do you mean

“Oh that”????

NATASHA

ANSWER YOUR PHONE

From: Tasha

Sorry, was talking to Steve

He mentioned you’d been working a lot and how tired you were so I told him he should do something nice.

And I may have told him that you missed your mom’s vegetable soup.

So that probably explains that.

“Hey, it’s ready,” Bucky said as he came into the kitchen. “I’ve got some towels in the dryer going, so they’ll be all warm when you’re ready to get out.” He seemed so… laissez-faire about it. Like you two didn’t fight on a daily basis usually. He watched as you took a bite of the soup, his blue eyes zeroed in on you. “Do you like it?” He asked. “I tried following my ma’s recipe. Don’t know how well it went.”

You couldn’t help but moan around the spoon as the warm soup went down. Even reheated, it was amazing. “This is your mom’s recipe? It’s amazing.”

His cheeks flushed as he tried to hide a grin. “Thanks. I’ve missed her cooking.”

It was silent as you finished up the soup, the only sound being the spoon clanging against the bowl. It wasn’t until you set your dishes in the sink to wash the next day that he spoke again.

“Oh, I got you this,” he said as he pulled out a box. “I saw my advisor and he knows that we’re married and he mentioned that we still don’t have rings, so I just went and grabbed a ring from a thrift store.”

It was then that you noticed the simple silver band on his left ring finger, glinting in the low light.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said as you took the box. But your breath was stolen from your lungs as you opened it, revealing a gorgeous diamond engagement ring with a matching diamond wedding band. “It’s… It’s beautiful… Thank you…”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, you go ahead and get in the bath. I’ll bring you the towels when they’re done.”

As you sat in the bath, you couldn’t help but stare at the rings that now resided on your left hand. They glinted in the low light of the candles that had been placed in various places around the bathroom, most likely lit with Bucky’s lighter from the local smoke shop.

They were absolutely stunning.

Maybe… just maybe… this marriage wouldn’t be as bad as you first thought it would be.

You glanced over at the table as your phone buzzed, running to it. Maybe it’s Bucky…

But your hope was dashed as you realized it was Natasha calling you.

You hadn’t realized you’d been crying until a drop of water fell on the screen. Wiping your eyes, you brought it up to your ear. “Hey, Tasha! What’s up?” You couldn’t help but wince. You sounded like a fucking real estate agent. Perfect and peppy and… not you.

“Hey, I just wanted to call and see how you’re doing,” she whispered, as though she was trying to keep someone else from hearing. “Bucky got the divorce papers today and I figured that meant you did, too.”

Ah, another thing. He’d been staying at Steve and Natasha’s place since all of you had graduated, and the time had come for the divorce. He’d gotten all of his things out within two days, except for the hoodie you were currently cocooned in and your wedding rings.

“I know how much you love this place,” he’d said with a wry smile. “So you can have it in the divorce settlement.”

It had been a joke. The divorce settlement. Like you two had actually been in love and things just hadn’t worked out.

“You aren’t gonna change the Netflix password on me, right?” You asked as you stood in the doorway of Bucky’s room, arms crossed over your chest. “Because I’m still paying for half of it.”

Buck grinned at you as he taped the last box shut. “I don’t know… Might change it up on you. Have it all to myself. Then my suggested movies and shows won’t be so fucked up,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, glaring at him. But there was no heat behind it. “We have separate profiles on there, you dumbass. So if Gossip Girl is on your suggested, that’s your fault.”

The laugh that erupted from his mouth made him throw his head back, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Seeing Bucky Barnes laugh was one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It was better than the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Taj Mahal, and the Great Wall of China all rolled into one.

“We’re still gonna have Thursday night movies, right?” You asked, trying to ignore the way your voice cracked.

In the three years since you’d gotten married, Thursday night had become your sort of fake Date Night. You two would order takeout and watch movies until the both of you passed out of the couch. You both changed your availability at your jobs to let them know that you couldn’t work Thursdays. Not even Natasha and Steve were allowed to intrude. It was just your special night to hang out.

“I’ll bring the food. Do you want Thai or Mexican?” He asked, his features a little softer.

“I’ll text you what I want,” you said. Biting your lip, you toyed with the rings on your left hand. “I guess I should give you these back, huh?” You started to slip them off, but he stopped you.

“They’re yours,” he said, his hand closing over yours. His blue eyes shimmered in the light as you swallowed. “Keep them… as a reminder of your former husband.” The corner of his mouth twitched, but you couldn’t tell if he was going to smile or frown.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said, suddenly surging forward to hug him. “Even though you’re super annoying.”

Bucky laughed as he wrapped his arms around you just as tight. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

“How’s he doing?” You asked as you moved to what had formerly been Bucky’s room. It was now completely bare, except for a single gum wrapper on the floor. You sank down against the wall as you stared at it. Extra wintermint gum. Because he absolutely hated spearmint.

“About as well as you, I imagine,” she said slowly, choosing her words ever so carefully. “I don’t know. He went out for a walk a few minutes ago. But he locked himself in the guest room for hours after getting the papers.”

You let your head fall back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to stop another onslaught of tears. “This is what we wanted,” you said, your voice cracking.

A pause. You could feel the tension even through the phone, a can of worms Natasha was about to open. “Is it? Is this what you wanted?”

“This was always the plan!” You retorted, the tears coming in a wave now. “We’d stay married until after we graduated and then we’d divorce. No drama, no court, no lawyers. Just a means to an end.”

You could hear her whispering to someone that you knew was Steve on the other end for a few seconds, the sound muffled. She’d probably covered the speaker. “Do you want me to come over?” She finally asked.

“No,” you said with a sigh, rubbing the hell of your palm against your eyes. “I just wanna… curl up in bed and watch cheesy movies and never come out.”

You didn’t understand. Why did this hurt so bad? He was just a friend. You two had never even kissed, for crying out loud. This wasn’t some fanfiction where you two fell into bed one drunken night and then woke up with feelings. This wasn’t an ‘Oh no, there’s only one bed’ type of deal with 100K+ words on AO3. You two were just friends. Really. There was no happy ending for the two of you waiting.

“Are you still gonna go to the Barnes’s Fourth of July party?” Natasha asked, her voice softer.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on your knee caps. “There’s no point. We’re not married anymore.”

“Sweetheart,” she chided. “You know he’d want you there. So would his family. You’re still a Barnes, even if you change your last name back.”

“I don’t know,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip. “I like the last name Barnes better. It’s not like I have any connection to my old last name. Maybe…” You swallowed. “Maybe I should keep it. It costs money to change it back, after all. It’s on my license now.”

Ah, yes. Because your license had expired while you were married and you’d had to get a new one.

“You’re a Barnes now and forever, hon,” she teased. You could hear her smile through the phone. “And you know Winifred would be pissed as hell if you didn’t go. You’re her daughter now just as much as Bucky is her son.”

God, the tears came on like a tsunami when you remembered the Barneses. George, Winifred, Becca, all of them. Especially Winifred. Sweet, sweet Winnie that had become your mom in the years since you’d met her.

“Bucky, I don’t know about this,” you said as you walked up the steps to his place. Or, rather, his parents’ place. “I should just go home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed as he searched for the right key. “I’m not letting you drive the way back just to spend Christmas alone.”

Truthfully, it was stupid to even suggest. Your apartment that you shared with him now was over eight hours away, and it was two days before Christmas Eve.

God, how the hell did you end up here? You’d been planning on spending it alone, just like you had Thanksgiving.

But when Bucky had come back from the break and realized that you hadn’t gone anywhere, it’d prompted him to ask why, which had then resulted in him insisting on you accompanying him to New York City for Christmas with his family.

“What if they don’t like me?” You asked, barely audible. In truth, you were terrified. This was your first holiday season that you were away from your parents. Thanksgiving had been strange, and you had certain it wasn’t going to get any better up until a few weeks ago.

Bucky stopped suddenly, looking at you with big blue eyes. “Sweetheart, they’re going to adore you,” he said, more sincere than he’d been since the two of you had gotten married. “How could they not?”

“You didn’t!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t like me either. And then we got to know each other.”

He had a point.

You grumbled, staring down at your boots. They were still covered in snow.

“And besides, Ma hasn’t shut up about meeting you ever since she found out about you,” he muttered as he finally found the right key. “Dad said she’s been obsessively cleaning the house since she found out you were coming.”

As soon as the opened the door, you were hit with a wall of sound. A woman with the same shade of hair as Bucky rushed forward, trapping the six foot man in a hug. “YOU’RE HOME!”

“Winnie, come on, don’t suffocate the boy.” A man with Bucky’s eyes appeared, his hands shoved in his pockets. He was trying to appear nonchalant, but the second he was free of his mother’s grasp, he was dragging him into another hug. “I’ve missed you, son.”

“And you must be his wife!” Winifred Barnes said, suddenly turning on you.

“Ma, she has a name.”

“I know that!”

“Winnie–”

You were pulled into a hug, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with feelings. Maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t hugged your own mother in so long, or maybe it was just because Winifred was that lovely of a person. Either way, you were tearing up as she hugged you tightly. You gave her your name as she pulled back, looking over your face.

“Oh, you’re even prettier than Jamie said!”

Your cheeks flushed as Bucky grumbled out a quiet “Ma…”

It was then that you were swept into the apartment, finding it bustling with people. You were then introduced to the rest of his family: his younger sister, Becca, who was going to be a senior in high school and was SO grateful to have a new sister, his aunts, his uncles, his parents. The entire apartment was bursting with people even days before the actual holiday.

It wasn’t until after dinner (which was absolutely delicious) that you were able to capture a quiet moment in the kitchen, helping Winifred wash dishes.

“Thank you for having me over,” you said, to break the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, surprisingly, you just felt like you needed to vocalize your thanks for what was probably the third time. “It means a lot.”

“Any friend of Jamie’s is a friend of ours,” she said as she rinsed off a plate. “And we’re so grateful for what you’re doing. He mentioned that it helps you, too, but… Our family can’t afford to pay for his housing. We can barely make his tuition.” She looked at you with crystal clear eyes that seemed to bore into your soul. “We’re so happy to have you.” She then paused, glancing over at the side of the sink, where you’d set your wedding rings just to make sure they didn’t slip off in the water. “You know, I was so happy when he asked for my ring. He’s always dreamed of giving it to a girl.”

“What?” You asked, looking at her in shock.

Winifred paused, her brows furrowed in a way that really reminded you of your husband. “Did he not tell you? The engagement ring is mine. But he saved up over the summer to buy a matching band for it.”

Your heart raced in your chest as you stared at the rings. Bucky had gotten his ma’s ring for you? But… why? You two were barely friends at this point.

“I would’ve been spending Christmas alone if it wasn’t for him inviting me,” you said, breaking her stare to look down at your soapy hands. “He found out I spent Thanksgiving at home and almost shit a brick.” You rushed to cover your mouth, to apologize, but she just snorted.

An easy smile tugged at her lips. “Holidays are a big thing for our family, and I guess we passed that down to Jamie. Everyone comes to town for about a week and we spend it drinking and shooting the shit, baking. We can’t afford much, so our gifts are usually just spending time together,” she said.

“It sounds nice,” you whispered as you scrubbed absentmindedly at a pan. “My family… even when I still talked to them, we were never big on holidays.” Winifred had gone quiet beside you. “It was always just us. We’d eat dinner together and sometimes I’d get a present, but mostly it was just spent like any other day.”

She took a deep breath, setting a plate on the drying rack. “What… happened? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I… confronted my parents about the sexual abuse I went through as a kid,” you said slowly, swallowing around the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. “My cousin… He, uh… He’s only a year and a half older than me. From the time I was… four or five, I think, to about twelve, he would… you know.” The kitchen felt deadly silent, and you were so glad that the rest of the Barnses, including Bucky, were in the living room. Even though he knew the basics of what had happened, you never told him details. “And my parents would punish me for it when he got caught. They blamed me. They’d ground me or spank me or… whatever.” You let out a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “They didn’t really take it well. It doesn’t matter though. I’m fine.”

You were shocked when you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug. Winifred’s arms formed a cocoon around you and you could feel her tears on your face. She was only an inch or two taller than you. “That was not your fault,” she gasped out, holding you to her. “That was not your fault.”

Before you realized what was happening, you were clutching onto her as hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

You didn’t know how long she’d held you before she leaned back, wiping away your tears. Or at least, trying to before they were replaced with more. “You are not what he did to you, you hear me?” She asked, wiping at her own face. “You are always welcome here. We’re your family now.”

“What’s going on here?”

The both of you turned to see Bucky in the doorway, his sea blue eyes wide. He was holding a few extra plates that had been left behind.

“Nothing,” she said with a watery grin. “Just… talking.”

“Here,” he said as he walked over and put the dishes inside the sink filled with soapy water. “I’ll finish up with my wifey here, and you go clean up before dad freaks out because you’re crying.”

She barked out a laugh, nodding. “Fine. Fine. You know how he gets if I’m upset,” she said, kissing your forehead before leaving.

“So… You actually okay?” Bucky asked as he took over rinsing the dishes you washed.

The smile that found its way onto your lips was real, surprisingly, as you said, “Everything’s great, Jamie.”

And even though he let out a groan, he was smiling, too.

It was after that trip that you’d started calling him Jamie. It just… felt better rolling off your tongue than Bucky ever did. It was also when holidays in Brooklyn became a permanent thing. Anytime Bucky went home, so did you.

They were your family.

But now… Now what? Did you lose them like you lost your parents?

Granted, losing your parents wasn’t exactly the worst thing.

“Sweetheart? You there?” Natasha asked, bringing you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you said, shaking your head to clear out the cloudiness of your memories. “Yeah, I’m–” You broke off as you heard a knock at the door, a frown tugging at your lips. “Hold on, Tasha, I’ll call you back…” You hung onto your phone as you walked to the front door, peeking through the peephole.

Bucky?... What the fuck was he doing here?

You opened the door wide, shocked to find him crying. His eyes were puffy and red, his nose running. “Jamie? What’s wrong?” You reached forward to touch his shoulder, shoving your phone in your back pocket.

“Don’t sign those papers.”

“Wait… What?” Now you were even more confused. Your brows furrowed as you pushed his hair back from his face. God, he needed a haircut. Maybe you could… No. Not the focus right now.

He stepped toward, half inside the apartment that had been his, too, just two weeks before. His large, calloused hand caressed your face. “I don’t want to not be your husband,” he said, his voice cracking.

Your heart thundered inside your chest and you were half sure this was some kind of trick of your mind to soothe its aching. “What do you mean?”

“I want to make this work,” he said as he cupped your face in his hands. “I… I want to actually have Thursday night Date Nights and take you out and when we go home for the holidays, I want to kiss you under the mistletoe my ma always hangs up, and I want you to wear my ma’s ring. I want to be your husband. Please.”

You didn’t realize you were crying–yet again, fucking damn it–until he wiped them away. “I don’t want to not be your wife, either,” you said, your voice shaking. “I love you, I love you so much.”

His lips met yours in a blazing kiss, holding you closer than you thought possible. “I love you more,” he whispered against your lips. “I’m never letting you go.”

You dragged him inside, shutting the door before kissing him again. “You’re staying here. None of this bullshit of you staying with Tasha and Steve.”

“Gladly,” he chuckled, holding onto your waist. “But only if I get to sleep in your bed.”

“Only if we can shred those divorce papers.”

The moment was interrupted by his phone ringing, and you couldn’t help but giggle when you saw it was Winifred. He shot you an apologetic look as he answered it. “Hey, ma.”

She was speaking so loudly you could hear her clearly. “Well?! How did it go?! Did you ask her?!”

“Yes, I asked her,” he said slowly, squeezing your side. “She said yes. I’m with her now.”

Both of you flinched away as she screamed in excitement. “GIVE HER THE PHONE! GIVE HER THE PHONE!”

You smiled as you pressed it to your ear. “Hi, mom.”

“BABY! I’M SO HAPPY! NOW WE CAN HAVE A REAL WEDDING!” She was speaking at a hundred miles an hour. “Do you want a summer or fall wedding? I think it might be too late to do summer, but I’m sure we could scrounge something together!”

You giggled as Bucky stole kisses from you while she was speaking, distracting you.

“Sweetheart? You there?”

“A late summer wedding sounds perfect,” you said, unable to wipe the grin from your face. “Absolutely perfect.”

#cmmsecretsanta #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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brutal-nemesis · 3 years

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Saltwater Day 2021: Dinner Date with an Eel 💕

Feel that ocean breeze, baby! Cries in lives in a very landlocked area I hope y’all are having some fun in the salty spray ✨Today we finally get to see a Castys misadventure that I’ve talked about in the tags before: the big boy drowning incident! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the agony <3

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: drowning, animal attack, self harm to escape danger, sort of self amputation, gore, broken bones, suicide for convenience (immortal)

Castys had jumped off of higher cliffs before. Granted, he had done it because he was too lazy to walk to the bottom, and he’d landed on solid rock, and it had been very painful for all of two seconds, so this didn’t make him any less terrified of being shoved off of this one. And yes, that’s right, he was going to be shoved off of this one, into the crashing waves below, which was certainly how he’d planned on spending the morning. Nothing better to start the day than a pointless execution!

Oh, but why are you being executed, Castys, you’re so good and noble and also immortal so this isn’t going to work is it. No, no it’s not going to work. And Castys was being “executed” because, well...turns out people don’t take too kindly to finding out you’re the dreaded Pirate King Ragnarok. As usual, he’d fought and tried to get away, and as usual he’d failed miserably. So here he was, wrists chained together behind his back, ankles chained to a stupidly large rock, and a cloth tied tightly around his mouth.

He tried not to think about having to deal with this arrangement once he was underwater, which was something he was less than excited for. There was already quite a large crowd gathered so, hey, at least he was popular. Actually, scratch that, based on the looks he was getting, he was definitely unpopular. He shifted a bit, causing the men gripping his arms to tighten their grasp. He huffed, wishing he had the ability to tell them to chill the fuck out.

“People of Meruna, we are gathered her today for the execution of the notorious-“ oh my FUCK nevermind just push him off already this whole thing was already bad enough without a speech about all his crimes and whatever. Not that he didn’t love hearing about his exploits, because fuck if he regretted any of it, but the sun was hot and he was tired of standing. That water was going to feel so good...until it was filling his lungs ugh nope don’t think about it like that he was just going for a nice swim that’s all. He was going to be in the nice, cool water without any of these assholes glaring at him, and he’d get out of these chains somehow and come back in ten years and release all their goats and that would show them.

All of a sudden, the hands on him started to push him towards the edge of the cliff, a third guard rolling the rock he was chained to along using her foot. Fuck, fuck the speech was over they were doing it he was going over the edge he’d just been joking earlier he really didn’t want to even if the water would feel good he’d rather stand out here all day because that sure as hell was better than drowning over and over and over the edge the air was rushing by the top of the cliff was getting farther and farther away any second now he-

Castys screamed into the gag as he slammed into the cold water, wasting his last breath of air like an idiot before he started to sink beneath the crashing waves, pulled down by the boulder attached to his ankles. He could only squirm uselessly as he sank deeper and deeper, the soaked-through gag filling his mouth with the taste of saltwater, just to make things even more unpleasant. His arms were killing him, and, you know what, they took the brunt of the impact with the water, so they were probably fucking broken, weren’t they? At least they would heal after...after he drowned for the first time. Already his lungs were starting to burn, but thankfully the rock had finally hit the bottom, so he wouldn’t sink any further and therefore the painful pressure on his ears wasn’t going to get any worse, at the very least.

Positives, positives, since he was probably going to be here for a while...it wasn’t so stupidly hot anymore, instead it was stupidly cold, and already his fingers were starting to go numb-nope, nope, not a positive, let’s try again. It was rather pretty down here, despite the fact that black spots were starting to cloud his vision, and also things were starting to get kinda...woozy, a little bit, a little, hell-o and goodbye, wasn’t it time now? Yeah, yes, the burning was too much it hurt hurt hurt everything was black and black was good bec-

He didn’t bother counting how many times he drowned. Maybe it would have helped pass the time or something, but, let’s be real, there were better things to focus on than how many times he’d experienced the horrible burning in his lungs and that awful lightheadedness. His broken arms had healed up, so that was something, but they were still very much shackled behind his back. If they were free he could at least get that stupid gag out of his mouth and try to fuck with the chain connecting his ankles to that dumb rock. He settled for looking around the underwater landscape surrounding him, glad that sunset was still a ways off. As far as he could tell.

When he could see and think clearly, it was kind of cool to be down here, circumstances aside. All sorts of fish, many of them varieties that he knew what they tasted like, swam around between the wavy water plants. There was even a really big lookin’ boy off in the distance that he’d seen out of the corner of his eye a few times, though it was coming closer now, and he was just starting to be able to make out...wait-was that a-great. Absolutely fantastic, just what he needed. A fucking shreilian eel. How dare he drown over and over in peace, no, no let’s add a vicious man-eating monster to the mix! At least he wasn’t bleeding, so the creature wouldn’t be immediately drawn to him. He’d get to keep his limbs intact for a little longer-wait wait wait. Okay that was absolutely crazy and sounds entirely unfun, but...it might just work.

Castys mustered as much strength as he could, ignoring the ever-present burning of his lungs, and began to clumsily bash himself against the nearby wall of stone. It was coated in barnacles and the like, but their sharp edges were just what he was looking for. Soon enough, he felt the awful sting of saltwater in the many small cuts that were now littering his arm. Fuck, that was nowhere near enough blood to get that eel over here, and his vision was starting to go dark. If he didn’t get that damn thing over here now he’d die and heal and have to do this bullshit all over again no no no get over here you stupid thing fuck yeah that feels like a nice gash it burns to high hell but so does everything and look at all that bloody water or maybe it’s just getting too dark because it is dark and...so...hurt…

When he came back to life, there was a small cloud of blood swirling in the water around him, but it was dissipating more and more by the second. He couldn’t see the eel anywhere, and if that bastard disappeared on him after all that...Instinctively, he tried to take a deep breath and ended up sucking a bunch of water up his nose like an absolute idiot, his nostrils now burning just as much as his even more waterlogged lungs. His body tried to cough, but it was just painful and useless like everything else he’d done while stuck down here, and he just ended up thrashing around like an injured fish.

Just what the eel had been waiting for.

It felt like he’d suddenly been hit by a mace, slamming him into the rocks, his arm lighting up with the pain of a thousand hot spikes, almost too intense for him to even process, the salty water magnifying every little agony tenfold. Castys was certain he would have been screaming if he had the air, and as much as this was absolutely fucking terrible, he hoped the eel would do it again. It had bitten off a good chunk of his arm as far as he could tell, but not enough to completely sever it and free him from the restraints. And for once, his horrid luck regarding avoiding pain paid off. The eel rammed into him again, ripping off more of his arm with its razor-sharp teeth and causing the bones of his forearm to crack.

Sensing his chance, Castys grabbed the manacled wrist of his shredded arm with his good hand, bit down on the gag, and pulled. He couldn’t give up, couldn’t stop, not after enduring this much, he could feel his flesh tearing, sending out sparks of agony unlike anything he’d ever known, and he had to keep pulling, pulling and jerking and tearing and twisting and praying, praying that he could rip it off before he drowned again, which, hey, kind of a weird thing to want, not that he hadn’t had to amputate his own limbs before, but weird that it was happening again, and honestly, this hurt way more than the other times, but wasn’t that always the case-and fuck there was no way he was going to be able to just snap his bones like this, and he needed it to be completely severed, and there was no time, wedge it against the rocks and pull pull pull until there was a snap and a burst of unholy agony, so intense it almost smothered the relief, so fierce it made him forget he was drowning up until the moment his oxygen-starved brain lost consciousness.

Castys’s arms were free. Well, one was free, and the other one was still manacled, attached to...what was left over after all that. He ripped the gag out of his mouth, resisting the urge to suck in mouthfuls of air that were absolutely not there. Looking down at his ankles, he wasn’t sure if-his body exploded with pain as the eel rammed into him again, taking a chunk of flesh from his side, which was definitely not where he wanted to be bitten. Gritting his teeth against the anguish that almost consumed him, he grabbed the wrist of his severed arm and clumsily smeared blood around his ankles, hoping it would entice the monster to attack them and help set him free.

It worked, and it didn’t. The eel attacked him again and again, no longer pausing in between bites to circle him. Castys wasn’t even sure where it was biting him anymore, he just knew that everything hurt, the saltwater in his wounds magnifying the pain so much that there was no discernible source. He didn’t try to fight the eel off, hoping it would just do enough damage to his legs that he could get free, but he wasn’t sure if he could have even tried to get it away from him if he wanted to. Things were getting so dizzy so fast, all of a sudden, there was nothing to do but wait and die and hurt…

When he came back to life, Castys was disappointed to find that he was not floating to the surface. In fact, one of his ankles felt kind of weird, like it wasn’t shackled anymore, but still...for fuck’s sake. One of his ankles had been freed, torn enough to shreds before he’d died that the manacle had come off, but the other one was...well the manacle wasn’t around his ankle so much as it was…in his ankle. How the fuck that had happened, he had no clue. He just knew he had to deal with it. Looking around, the eel wasn’t anywhere to be seen, probably full to bursting after its meal, and though his heart sank a little at the thought that he couldn’t rely on it anymore, he was also slightly relieved, because that thing had been vicious. It had, however, left a parting gift. He swam downwards and grabbed the smooth fang off of the sandy ocean bottom, gripping it tightly. Just a little bit more.

He had endured so much already, felt pain more intense, experienced sensations more gruesome, but this...this was more active than everything else that had happened down here. More visible. He had to make every stab and slice deliberately, had to watch the tooth do its damage, it wasn’t mindless bashing or praying he’d get bitten in the right places, but an active choice to cut his flesh away, inviting burning seawater into a wound once again, and it was difficult. Part of him wanted to stop, take a break, please, I don’t want to have to do this anymore, I want to let go, just for a little bit, please, but he knew he couldn’t, because he had to get this done before he drowned again or he’d have to start the whole damn thing over.

Relief like he’d never known washed over him as he finally managed to worm the manacle out of his shredded ankle and he felt himself start to rise. The lightheadedness was getting worse, and he wasn’t sure if he’d make it in time, so he wormed his finger into the pouch around his neck and let the death stone’s magic take him before the lack of air could. He was still rising when he came back to, and he propelled himself towards the surface with renewed strength, despite the pain of his ears popping and the odd ache in his joints.

Finally, blessedly, he made it to the surface, and air had never tasted so fucking good. Not that it wasn’t salty, but it wasn’t as salty as saltwater, and he sucked as much of it as he could into his waterlogged lungs. He looked up at the cliff towering over him, now painted with the orange of sunset instead of the gold of sunrise. He...he had been down there all day just...downing. And getting eaten. Kinda fucked. Seeing a nearby rock, he swam over to it and scampered on top, collapsing on its damp surface as he coughed up far too much fucking seawater. Fuck, his head was spinning and his joints hurt, like they probably would have if he could grow old. Well, nothing that one last death can’t fix, now that he was finally on land again.

Castys opened his eyes and sat up, feeling perfectly fine besides the awful, salty taste in his mouth. He looked over at the cliff smugly. Those bastards had tried to get rid of him for good, and they’d failed miserably. He folded down his middle fingers and placed his thumbs over them, a rude gesture in this part of the world. Seeing the remnant of his arm dangling from the manacle still attached to his left wrist, he had a devilishly gruesome idea.

The next morning, the whole town was awoken by the screams of a young couple who had gone out for a stroll.

Right there, in the middle of the town square, was part of a crudely severed arm, its fingers frozen in an obscene gesture, its skin slimy and already starting to slip off. A manacle was clamped around its wrist, attached by a short chain to the other one, which had been broken open.

The execution had failed, and that heinous pirate had escaped.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hearse-song @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump @starnight-whump @his-unspoken-words

#i wrote something #castys #animal attack cw #drowning cw #self amputation #self harm to escape danger #suicide for convenience #gore #hooray yall finally get his big drowning incident #sorry that it's not super drowning focused i still am not a drowning fan #it's not gory and the application of the pain is more indirect so thats why im indifferent to it #actually writing this has made me realize both how fucking batshit castys is and also that he's really determined #i was always aware that getting a sea monster to bite off his limbs so he could get out of the chains was nuts but like damn. it's very nuts #and when he was ripping off his arm like holy shit dude #you might be a rat bastard but you don't give up. stubborn stubborn man #he's like a fucking weed #castys calls kelp a plant but it's not a plant he does not have access to our biological classification scheme #that's his excuse but i will not support the spread of misinformation #yes the eel is based off the shrieking eels from princess bride #aka one of the greatest movies of all time #i dont accept criticism on this #i didnt want to use a real animal because then i would have to research behavior and shit #and i dont want people showing up like ''ACTUALLY that shark doesn't behave that way uwu''#im just very lazy and i want to bitey monster to do what i want it to do without spening hours reading behavorial articles #not that this didnt make me look at eel life cycles because EEL LARVA ARE SO FUNNY LOOKING LOOK THEM UP #THEYRE JUST BIG FLAT GLASS WIGGLES THAT GO :v #that said i did try to base the eel off of shark hunting behaviors i vaguely remember from shark week #he gets decompression sickness a bit there at the end that's why his joints hurt #saltwater day #saltwater day 2021

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moonctzeny · 4 years

Text

The Bet

au+trope+prompt game: coffee shop!au Mark + enemies to lovers + is that the best you can do?

pairing: mark lee + fem!reader

other members as background characters: lucas

genre: fluff (only some suggestive stuff)

word count: 3,796

warnings: slight objectification of reader, suggestive stuff, heavy making out, a boner, i guess a stockings kink

summary: “When you took that part time job as a barista at your local café, you only cared about grabbing your check while doing the least work possible. But when your supervisor, Mark Lee, keeps getting praised and winning ‘Employee Of The Month’, you offer a bet, to prove him that he’s no better than you. The outcome? Your relationship changing forever.”

a/n: hbd baby <3

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It started off as just a little part time job.

College life was not easy to cope with financially, and eating instant noodles for a week straight could only save you so much money. So when you saw the ‘Barista Wanted’ sign at the cafe that was just a block away from your house, you didn’t miss your chance for a few extra bucks. And that’s all that job would be for you. Doing the least work possible for the minimum wage you were given, if it wasn’t for him. Mark Lee.

Mark was sweet, honestly. He greeted you with a smile when you first came in and showed you around. He was a bit shy when he awkwardly stated that he was kind of like a supervisor there. But the way that the boss would go on and on about how great he was, every Monday morning, was starting to get annoying. So was his ability to always save your ass whenever you made a mess in front of your boss. So was his picture hanging in the “Employee Of The Month” frame right from across the bar. That kid won that title every.single.month. And no overtimes, sweeping or mopping from your part seemed to change your boss’s mind.

It all began when you and Lucas, another part-time worker whose shift started right after yours, were talking about whether you would make rent this month. Mark was sitting next to you, occupied with organizing some cups by size, but decided to chip in.

“Well”, he sighed “guess we’re just gonna have to eat the rich. Or take that pole dancing class you mentioned, Lucas.”

The taller boy found it funny, letting out his signature giggle and you would too, if Mark’s damn “Employee of the Month” picture wasn’t staring right into your soul, mocking you.

You rolled your eyes. “Not all of us are lucky enough to get that sweet I-love-kissing-the-boss’s-ass bonus every month, Lee”. Lucas whistled at your comment, used to your bickering but still very entertained.

“Careful how you speak to your supervisor, y/n or you’ll never get to be employee of the month”.

“Oh please”, you scoff “having extra keys to the back exit and cleaning the coffee machine twice a week? That’s wayyy too much responsibility”.

Sarcasm was dripping from your voice, but you were only half lying. You didn’t give a flying fuck for the position. You just wanted it because he had it. And that certain “he” was starting to get a little tired from your constant degradation. Mark smirked at you, but anger was evident on his expression.

“You should be thanking me, you know. At least you get to mooch off of my tips”.

Lucas yelled a drawn out “ooohhh” but you could barely hear him. Your eyes were piercing Mark’s, too busy keeping yourself from blurting out every profanity that came to your head in that moment. Instead, you took a deep breath.

“You think you make more tips than me?”, you asked calmly. Cockier than ever, the boy instantly replies with a “I know I do”, never breaking eye contact. This was your chance, you thought. The chance to prove yourself and shut him up for good.

“How about we make a little bet?”

Mark raised his bow-shaped brows, focusing his attention solely on you.

“Let’s put separate tip jars next to the cashing machine for the rest of the week. If I make more, you’ll convince the boss to remove that horrible frame for good”. He followed your eyes to his picture on the wall, and nodded.

“And when I win?”, he asked curiously and you chose to ignore his little play on words. You furrowed your brows, trying to think of a good motivation for him, as if his competitive nature wasn’t enough.

“OH! OH!” Lucas interrupted, “she can go on a date with that creepy friend of yours that always comes to the cafe to see her!”

Mark’s eyes instantly lit up at the idea. He handed out his pinky, looking to seal the deal with you.

“Bet’s on”, he said, with a seriousness that looked foreign on his cute features, and motioned to his pinky with his eyes, urging you to intertwine it with yours.

You sighed and walked away, muttering a “God, you are so lame”, but the next morning you came to work with a jar with your name written all pretty on it.

You didn’t really have a strategy per se. In fact, you had completely forgotten about the bet, too busy preparing orders and running around. You were cleaning up for Lucas to take your place in the shift, when you felt Mark looking down at you from the other side of the counter that usually separated you from the costumers. “May I be of help, sir?”, you asked him mockingly, not bothering to spare him a glance.

“You should wear those white thigh highs. You look cute in them.”

“Huh? What?”, you ask in confusion, still cleaning the surface carefully.

“In your date with Jason”, he explained with a teasing tone in his voice, Jason being his ‘creepy friend’ as Lucas calls him. Why did he have to piss you off right when you were ready to go home?

You continued to ignore him, only muttering a “I’m not going on that date”, when you hear a clinging sound and finally look up at Mark.

“You sure?”

He was holding the two tip jars, swinging them around. To your horror, Mark’s had more than twice the money than yours.

“WHAT??” you let out and immediately regretted it when some costumers looked at you like you were crazy. You continued with a whispered yell, “How the fuck did that happen??”

Mark grinned at you and lifted his shoulders innocently, before walking away. He must have cheated by slipping in coins when you weren’t looking, that sly motherfucker.

That’s it, you decided, on Wednesday you were going to spy on his every move.

After watching him intently for the whole morning, you came to the conclusion that Mark had a way of making everybody like him. Whether it was him memorizing the regulars and their orders, or asking them if they knew some random Will Smith song about Miami, he was always the textbook example of an eager, smiley and pleasant barista. Even you smiled at the sight of him fumbling with the pen when two pretty girls gave him their names to write on the coffee cups. He flashed them a smile and mumbled an apology, and you watched as they cooed at him and left a very generous tip. You were almost convinced by his adorable act, when he turned around and winked your way.

Ugh, you hated Mark Lee.

You decided that making a better connection with the customers was the way to go. You weren’t the type to start a conversation about the weather out of the blue, nor did you know any Will Smith songs, so you decided on drawing a little doodle on the cup next to their names with every order. The younger ones thought it was a nice addition to their snapchat story, the older ones found you cute. And as they came back for a coffee refill, your jar started filling up as well. It wasn’t much but you were getting closer to reaching the 3/4 of Mark’s tips, so you were pretty happy with yourself.

You were drawing a little heart for a latte when you smelled his cologne. You felt his breath pushing away at the hairs that were sticking out from your ponytail at the nape of your neck. You hated how it sent a shiver to your spine, how it made your hands a little shaky and how the heart drawing turned out a little wonky.

Mark was your “enemy” and your supervisor and Mr. Annoyingly Perfect but Mark was also hot. You would never admit it, but you even had a little crush on him when you started working there. You might pull a disgusted face every time Lucas tells you that the solution to your constant bickering was to “just fuck already”, but you wondered whether it was his oblivion to your crush that made your little hatred towards him grow. And you’d be lying if you said that you never stared at his cute ass sticking out of his apron a second too long, or that it didn’t turn you on when he got pissed at the ice getting stuck in the blender.

So now that he was almost pressing against you from behind, closer than ever, you wouldn’t mind at all. That is if he didn’t open his god damn mouth.

“Really?”, he scoffed “Is that the best you can do?”

His tone was so condescending that it made you furious, pressing your nails in the paper cup, and you were surprised that the liquid didn’t spill everywhere. He gave you a victorious smirk from getting that reaction out of you, and you wanted to punch it right off of his face.

Oh, that meant war.

On Thursday morning, you walked in looking the best you’ve ever looked for a morning shift. You had your hair in pigtails, hair bands matching the color of your lowcut dress. Your lengthened the straps of your apron, your cleavage not leaving much to the imagination.

It was ridiculous, you thought, how many tips a push up bra can get you. It only took a couple customers for the word to spread and the horny men to line up at the cafe. You batted your eyelashes at them, the “Good morning, I’m here to serve you, how can I help you sir?”driving them nuts. You had to say it every time, shop’s policy, but now it sounded more suggestive than ever. You were disgusted by their gawking eyes and terrible attempts at flirting, but you had a goal.

And hell were you winning. You weren’t sure if it was your jar that was filling up at an amazing rate or your outfit, but that was the first time you ever saw Mark make a mistake in his orders. You swore you felt his gaze following you around all day, murmuring something to himself every time a customer asked him if the pretty girl could serve them instead.

It was the end of the shift, and you were happily chatting with Lucas as you were cleaning up the counter. He was doing a terrible job at keeping his eyes away from your chest, but when it came to someone as good looking as him, you really didn’t mind the attention. You took your apron off and started folding it neatly when Mark took your wrist and dragged you into the storage room.

He held a bunch of wrinkly paper towels in his hands. You noticed something was written with a pen messily on each of them.

“This is the seventh phone number that a dude has given me today”, he told you as he stared into your eyes, careful not to move his gaze any more south. It was your turn to mess with him.

“Well good for you”, you said with a smile, “Didn’t know you were so popular with men, Mark”

He closed his eyes, trying to control his temper, and shoved the towels towards you.

“They’re for you. They asked me to pass them to you. After the third guy I forgot what their names were but you can figure them out yourself”. You took them from him with a quiet “oh, thanks” and he sighed.

“You can’t come in here looking like that. This is a workplace.”

You looked at him with wide eyes and fake innocence. “Like what? What’s wrong with my outfit?”. His patience was running short.

“Why don’t you ask Lucas” he replied, with a tone that started to piss you off.

“If you can’t control your hormones like you’re some teenage boys, that’s not my prob-“ you start but he cuts you off. You had never seen him act so stern.

“We have a dress code. Maybe the boss can remind you, if you want”.

It was the first time Mark had actually pulled the supervisor card on you and you felt a little hurt by the coldness of his voice. You swear you saw a bit of instant regret in his eyes but you decided to leave the matter alone, and left the storage room after ostentatiously throwing the phone numbers in the bin next to the door.

Friday was the last day of the bet. You didn’t show up with a flashy outfit, because 1) you didn’t want to risk losing your job for a stupid bet and 2) because straight men were annoying and so were their pickup lines that you didn’t want to deal with. You did wear the white thigh highs Mark mentioned though, with a skirt whose length followed the dress code, just to tease him a little bit. You had never worn them in work before, but when you ran across Mark one day on your way home from a girls’ night out, both a little drunk and disoriented, he didn’t hide his admiration towards them.

He noticed right away when you walked in the café this afternoon. Fridays were the only days when you took the later shift instead of the morning one. You hated it because that meant having to work with Mark until closing, and due to his perfectionism you’d always be staying with him overtime, cleaning every inch of the place, and never participating in any Friday parties that your friends hosted.

You were a little worried that things would be awkward between you after your little argument yesterday, but when he pointed at your stockings and asked if you were “dressed up for the date already”, you knew he didn’t keep any hard feelings and neither did you. What you didn’t expect was his jar to be as full as yours, if not more.

You panicked, and took Lucas to the side, making him promise that he would tell you if he had cheated while you were gone or not. He shrugged.

“Sorry, pretty, no cheating. A high school visited the park across the street as a field trip. The girls went crazy over him. Pretty sure they spent all their allowance here”.

At that you dropped your shoulders in defeat and worked your shift with a pout on your face. You wouldn’t take the humiliation of losing the bet, especially after the little stunt you pulled on Thursday. The hours went by agonizingly slow, and the moment you were dreading finally came.

You turned the “Sorry, we’re closed” sign at the glass entrance door, as you were mopping the floor. All the costumers were gone, and your boss had left the keys to you and Mark, asking you to lock up instead as he had ‘an errand to run’. You wished that your coworker would somehow forget about your bet and spare you the embarrassment, but instead, he gave you a devilish side smirk and motioned you to come closer.

He emptied his jar first, and started counting out loud in front of you, insisting that you do it out together so as not to pull any “funny business”.

40 bucks. It wasn’t bad, it was good actually, and you groaned, now feeling more nervous than ever.

Mark on the other hand, relaxed his shoulders and happily started counting your tips this time. His smile started to wear off, though, as you did much better that he thought. You were neck-to-neck, figuratively and almost literally, as your heads nearly bumped together in deep concentration.

“37,38,39,40…41,42,43” he whispered out and you couldn’t believe your eyes.

You won. You actually won. You never had to see that stupid “Employee Of The Month” frame ever again and most importantly, you were finally better than Mark at something.

You let out a high-pitched squeal, jumping up and down excitedly on your spot, strikingly different that the boy next to you, who was frozen in place.

“I woooon” you teased him with a sing-song voice “and you looooost, loserrr”

It was an understatement to say that Mark was fuming.

“It’s not fair!” he yelled and pointed an accusing finger towards you. You rolled your eyes and walked further back, next to the counter with the coffee machines, happily swinging your hips.

“Don’t be a sore loser Mark, I won fair and square”

“I’m not a sore loser!”, he whines, “I was at a disadvantage!”

You raise an eyebrow and turn towards him, to see that he had taken a few steps at your direction. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”

“You’re hot!”, he groans and rubs his hands over his face. “Hell, I would die from a caffeine overdose if it meant seeing you with your little pigtails and that top and that smile, ready to ‘serve me, sir’”

You could feel your ears and cheeks turning on fire and you’d blame it on the flattery, but his horrible high-pitched impression of your voice was what made you too angry to fully process what he said.

You grabbed a syrup bottle from the counter behind you and pointed it towards his face.

“Ugh, Mark! You’re so annoying! Why do you always need to be the best at everything!”

You barged into him, squeezing the bottle over his face. With his quick reflexes he swiftly grabbed your hand, successfully immobilizing you, but you had already managed to get a big, fat line of syrup right across his lips.

In a moment of clarity, you stopped resisting and became aware of the position you and Mark were in. You had moved backwards as a result of your fight, the countertop digging in your lower back. His one hand was grabbing at your lifted arm by the wrist, the other resting on the marbled surface behind you in an effort to detain you. To top it all off, you stared at the mess you made on his lips, coupled by the unreadable look on his eyes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought. This is your supervisory/n! You know, the guy in charge when the boss is gone? The guy that you basically jumped because of a stupid bet? That you actually won? But will still get you fired?

You were getting ready to move away and profusely apologize to Mark, your eyes frantically moving from his eyes, to his lips, to his “Employee Of The Month” picture from across the room. He, however, stayed still, only releasing your wrist to now place his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Clean this mess”, he demanded, in a tone you would have never expected from Mark, “immediately”

In the seconds that followed his demand, the tension between you two was thicker than the drizzle that still decorated his mouth. He came even closer, your noses only a centimeter apart, his fingers pressing on your face lightly.

You were worried whether you read the room wrong or not, because if you did, your next move would most certainly get you fired.

He could barely hear your whispered “here to serve you” before you finally closed the distance between you.

You pulled his bottom lip between your lips, your tongue shyly sweeping across it, collecting the syrup that was starting to dry into a sugary paste. He was soft like a cloud and tasted like caramel. You repeated the motion for his top lip when you felt him melt into your kiss. The moment was sweet like the taste in your mouth, but it changed as soon as you felt him grab the back of your thighs, lifting you on the top of the counter.

You matched his hunger by sucking on his bottom lip this time, determined to clean him up as best as you could. He moaned your name into the kiss, his fingertips digging in the inside of his favorite thigh highs. Your skirt had well ridden up, allowing him to pinch the fabric of one of them.

“These” he started, his lips now sucking on your neck, “almost cost me my supervisor’s position with all the messing up they made me do”

He let the elastic snap against your thigh, earning a small gasp from you and you decided to tease him a little.

“Is that so huh? Because I’m so hot? With my boobs and my pigtails and my willingness to serve?” you ask with a laugh, and you feel him smile against his deep kiss over your pulse, grabbing your legs to scoot your ass and pull you closer.

“Because you’ve been driving me crazy ever since you got this job. And because you look so fucking sexy when you’re mad”

His boldness made you desperate as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him back up into a passionate kiss. It was sticky and hot and full of tongue, and you felt something poking on the inside of your thigh before a loud noise made you snap and pull away from each other in shock.

You looked at the floor to see a, thankfully not broken, but dismantled blender, that you must have pushed off the counter in the heat of the moment. You stare down at Mark as you both laugh at the situation, his hair messy and lips swollen and you know you definitely mirrored his look.

He cleared his throat. “Uhh, not that I don’t enjoy this, cause I really do, but if we keep at it Lucas is going to be the next Employee Of The Month, and not only is that ridiculous, but we would both basically lose our little bet”

You laughed at his comment and let your feet dangle awkwardly, your cheeks heating at the thought of what might have happened if you two had kept going.

“I’m sorry for being such a bitch about your framed picture” you said with a small voice, avoiding his gaze “you don’t have to take it down”

He smiled at your attempt at peace as he picked up the blender pieces and skillfully riveted them in place. Your eyes suddenly widened before adding, “I will NOT go on a date with your creepy friend though”

Mark giggled at that and shook his head before returning his eyes back at you. His cheeks were flushed a crimson red, deep in thought.

“How about me?” he blurted, “I mean, how about going on a date with me instead?”

You nodded your head, reaching a hand out to fix the messy locks out of his eyes.

“Yes. I think I’d love that”

#mark lee scenarios #nct scenarios #mark lee #mark lee fluff #nct fluff #mark lee birthday #nct au #nct 127 #superm

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doodleimprovement · 3 years

Text

CSAU :: Moonie Jericho and the Mysterious Case of the Moon-Jumper Mask - Alternate Ending

Or: “The extremely self indulgent 7 page fic were Nell gets to be more helpful and has some actual characterization”

Yeahhhh this isn’t canon to the fic, but I wanted to write it because I can, at LAST give ya’ll Nell’s backstory for how they came to live in Subcon in the CSAU

Per usual, the “Coffee Shop AU” belongs to the ever wonderful @doodledrawsthings

Also, note: Both MJ and Nell use “they/them” pronouns, with MJ being “He/They” and Nell being “She/They” To keep things from getting too confusing, Nell will be “They” and MJ will be “He”

Enjoy!

Nell was honestly a bit surprised when MJ came to their home the morning after Halloween, sheepishly stating that the mask seemed ... stuck.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Huh.. Come on in then. I’ll get some tea going and see about helping you out, hm?”

He walked into their house, taking a moment to actually look about the place- as he didn’t get much of a chance before- and took a seat in their small living room.

The ambiance of the outside followed inside, with the walls painted chestnut brown with warm yet bright pops of color on the windowsill and the various picture frames full of people he didn’t know. The curtain over the wide window was patterned with little pumpkins, which he found cute, and hanging from a few ceiling hooks were what Clover would call “Low-maintenance” plants. The dark colors match well with the room, making it feel a bit comfier than it otherwise might.

The couch he sat on was across from an armchair, and both were colored a warm orange, with an espresso-colored coffee table. On said table were some envelopes and a copy of “Better Homes and Gardens”

Huh, he didn’t peg them as a reader of those types of magazines. Then again, Clover was the one that knew Nell, not him.

They came back with two mugs - one was purple with the “Snatcher” face on it, and the other had a little grumpy ghost on it, with “I’m spooky before my coffee” written above the drawing.

They handed him the Snatcher mug

“Can I ask where you get all of this Snatcher merch?”

“My best friend is an Etsy fiend. Despite him living all the way in Nyakoto, he ships me Snatcher merch whenever he finds something fun. He’s a real character” they chuckled.

“Huh” MJ acknowledged as Nell walked around the coffee table and sat next to him

“Do you feel the mask?”

He nodded, his hand up at the edge, right where he felt it “When I pull, it just… doesn’t move”

“Hm..” they sipped. “When you try to take it off, how does it feel?”

“Like… it’s like a thousand little… things? Pulling at my face, I think?” MJ pulled up their mug and sipped the tea.

“Like… string? Thread?”

MJ nodded. “I think that's the right word, thread”

Nell puts down the mug as MJ takes another sip. “Let me see” they scooted closer to him, and he put his mug down and turned his head.

Their hands seemed to glow green as they raised it “There we go…” They muttered, hand immediately finding the mask’s edge, and seeing what he was talking about “... Huh, the threads… well, that's the right word. They’re… criss-crossed…”

Before he could ask if they could remove them, he felt a slight burning at the edge of his face and jumped

“Ah!”

“Sorry, sorry, but, that did work… Though, it means you might be here a while” they admit “I’ll need you to stay still, okay?”

“Oh.. okay”

It was... Not Okay.

A few minutes into Nell’s attempt at getting the mask off, they let out a huff.

“You can’t keep squirming”

“I- I’m sorry” He muttered “It's just, you know, hard to stay still”

“I understand that, but I don’t want to mess this up. I’d like to see your actual eyes” They muttered.

“I know, it just.. Weird feeling” He tried to explain.

“Moon” They pressed, but sighed “... You seem still enough when I’m talking to you, need a distraction?”

“I mean, I guess…?”

Nell sighed “Hm… How about I tell you how I came to live in Subcon? That’s a long-ass story”

“Oh uh, if you’re okay with sharing!” MJ tried to be polite. He knew that even Clover wasn’t completely sure why Nell came to live in the town, she just knew that “something happened” back at the coast where they were from.

“Nah. It’s been 5 years. That’s more than long enough” The nurse stayed focused on the magic threads, their magic seeming to thrum in his ears- sounding almost like the hum of a fan in the dead heat of summer..

There was a pause, before they took in a breath.

“When I was 19, I took a job in Nyakoto, and left my hometown as fast as the train could take me. I had a scholarship to a little nursing school there, and before my 21st birthday, I’d gotten a nice, decent paying job as an ER nurse for a hospital in the East Side” They started “The hospitals were all interconnected, so I ended up meeting different doctors and nurses while I worked, and sometimes was called to assist in other hospitals.

“I was.. 25, when I met him” They recalled, something in their voice seeming heavy. “We’ll call him Chris

“He was in residency at a hospital down in the Wesservale neighborhood. We met at a medical appreciation gala… He had something about him I couldn't place. . . A charisma, almost. A kindness. He seemed so eager for the future, so excited for what the next day might bring him. I’d never been like that. His optimism drew me in.

“We started dating the year after. Like with most relationships, everything seemed great. He was funny, kind, thoughtful, all of that stuff. He even went with me to pride stuff, which was pretty cool at the time.”

“Pride?” MJ chimed in. Nell couldn’t hide a chuckle.

“Yes. You’ve heard of the Nyakoto Annual Pride Bonanza, haven’t you? One of the biggest in the country”

“I have, yes”

“Good. Back to the story” Nell redirected “When I was 27, about a year and a half into the relationship, I realized, quite unhappily, that we weren’t actually very different, and didn’t really get along as well as we thought.. It's not that we argued, but.. We didn’t really… talk. I never spoke to him about my problems, I didn’t feel like I could, and that really made me realize that we weren’t actually all that comfortable around each other. So, when he came over to my place that night for dinner, I spoke to him, and tried to tell him that we weren’t compatible, and that I thought perhaps we’d be better off as friends.

“He convinced me that we just needed work, going on and on about all these plans he had for us. Trips, dates, things to look forward to, always looking toward the future, Chris did”

Nell paused again

“.. I really should have noticed how little he cared about happiness in the present.” They commented “Not a traditional red flag, but it was a warning nonetheless”

“Well, I mean, that’s not so bad”

“In a way, no” Nell replied “But when you think about the future so much, you forget the present, you forget to live, and your past just.. Ends up a horrible haze. Even the happy stuff is hard to recall”

MJ hadn’t thought of it like that

“But hindsight is 2020, and in the moment, I believed him. I wanted to believe those bright dreams of the future, and I let go of the fact that I did not even like to talk to him very much.

“... I tried to break up with him 4 more times in the 8 years we were together.”

Okay, MJ hadn’t been expecting that much time passing.

“By the time I was 34, we were living together, but barely seeing each other. From the outside it must have seemed perfect to everyone else. I think only Daph knew about my.. Issues, with Chris. I still never talked to him about anything that wasn’t the future, or how the day was, or.. Just, absolute nonsense.

“One night, after one more attempt to break up, I’d gone to bed defeated, and woke up at 3 in the morning while he was on the night shift in Wesservale.. I came to this… realization

“If I didn’t leave right then and there, I’d marry him…. and I’d …. I’d be stuck. He’d have me, and I’d be stuck for the rest of my life..

“So I grabbed everything I had in the apartment, sent a resignation email to the East side hospital I still worked at, left him a note telling him I was leaving, took my car and just… started driving”

“.. Did he call you?”

“I blocked his number.” They answered curtly. “Drove for days until I came across Subcon.”

MJ didn’t comment.

“I stayed at the Alpine Motel for a few nights, and when I was at the diner, overheard that there was an open position for the school nurse at the elementary” They continued. “I applied for it, and 3 months later cashed in my savings to put a down payment on this little place” They made a motion with their hand briefly “The rest is history”

“Well… If it's any consolation, I think that's a good reason to get out of the city”

Nell couldn’t hold back a laugh. There was something a little… sad, in it, but the laugh was genuine.

“Yeah, then again, every reason is a good one to get out of the city” They commented, and MJ had only just realized that their hands were now on the other side of his face. Nell worked quickly, it seemed. “Hm.. okay. On the count of three, I'm going to try to take it off, alright?”

“Oh, uh, wow, okay!” He replied eagerly, closing his eyes.

“One…” They slowly started, both hands on either side, their nails right at the edge of the mask.

“Three!”

MJ startled as Nell pulled, and a cold, sharp feeling spread over his body before it abruptly ended. When he opened his eyes. He looked at Nell, who had, in their hands, that damned mask.

His hands went up to his face, and he let out a relieved laugh as he felt his skin, glasses and hair “hah! Hahah! I’m human again! No more magic!” He raised his hands and leaned back on the couch “Sweet relief”

Nell let out a chuckle, putting the mask down gently “Finish your tea, I’m gonna grab you a damp towel. You have… paint? On your face”

His brow was furrowed, but he reached for the still-warm mug anyway as Nell got up and went down a short hallway.

He took the few moments that Nell was done to think over the story he’d been told, the exhaustion in the nurse’s voice as she told it. Was he really the first one to learn? It gave him a weird feeling right in his chest.

When Nell returned, she offered a small, damp towel… that had the “Snatcher” smile on it

“... How many of these do you have?” He almost laughed again, and they just answered with an amused smile and grabbed their own coffee cup.

MJ cleaned his face, seeing a candy-red color coming off on the purple towel. “Hm..”

“What?”

“Well uh, the color looks like the magic strings I was able to summon”

Nell Blinked “... Well uh, bring that up with Tim when he’s back in town. That’s a little out of my wheelhouse”

“Noted”

The two fell into silence, sipping their warm drinks and giving them some time to unwind

“Will you need a ride home?” they asked him, putting their mug down.

He hadn’t actually thought of that.

“Oh, uh, it’s fine”

They raised an eyebrow at him

“You live 20 minutes away and Luka isn’t here to … fly you home, per se” They laid out “I’ve got a car, I’ll drive you home”

He turned a little red to the ears “Oh.. Thank you”

“No problem, Moon” They smiled back at him. “I’m going to change real quick, then we’ll leave”

And with that, they left back into the short hallway, to what Moon assumed was their bedroom.

Nell returned a few minutes later, dressed in a loose blouse and skirt that went down to their ankles, a far cry from the tank top and sweatpants that he’d seen them in before. He supposed that it was more so not wanting to go out in Pajamas than anything else. She picked up the mask, wrapping it in a handkerchief before holding it out to him

“It’s chosen you. You have to keep it”

He just nodded, and gingerly took the troublesome thing into his hands.

The two got in their truck (Nell owned a truck??) and drove into town.

MJ took in a breath as they turned onto a main street, passing The Horizon. “So uh, Nell..”

“Hm?”

“About your uh, the story you told me.. I won’t tell anyone”

“I don’t mind if you do” they answered, eyes on the road

“What, really?”

“Like I said before. Five years feels long enough”

MJ’s brow furrowed “I’m still not going to say anything.. That’s a personal story. It’s not mine to tell”

Nell glanced over at him with an unreadable expression, before moving to turn on the radio. Lo-fi started, and it seemed they were right in the middle of a Billie Eilish song.

“.. Thank you” They ended up responding as the song picked up

”I know supposedly I'm lonely now.

Know I’m supposed to be unhappy without someone.

But aren’t I someone?”

MJ didn’t say much of anything else once until they got to his apartment building

“Thank you, Nell. For everything”

“Don’t mention it” They gave him a small, but sincere smile “Get some rest, hm? The bags under your eyes are aging you”

MJ just laughed “I will. Don’t be a stranger, Mx. Buonacci”

The nurse gave him a lazy salute with a soft smile, before the window rolled up, and they drove off

Exhaling, he looked down at the covered mask, wrapped in a…. Snatcher-patterned handkerchief.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

#ahit #ahit coffee shop au #coffee shop au #moonjumper #ahit moonjumper #ahit oc #nell #ahit nell #backstory #antonia writes #this was fun

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eskalations · 3 years

Text

"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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