#need to make a decision on a name soon though my ao3 link should be coming any day now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

novaiya · 3 years

Text

Simple Twist of Fate - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: In a saloon in Rhodes, you see a man with virility and vigor so strong it attracts you like a moth to the flame. You watch as he downs a shot of whiskey and licks his lips, not letting even a drop go to waste. You're gathering your courage, ready to approach him and see where it takes you. Will the fate allow the two of you to meet?

Words: 2,422

Tags: Smut, Oral (male and female receiving), F!Reader

A/N: I was brushing my teeth, and Bob Dylan’s Simple Twist of Fate came to my mind. The song made me think of a possible “missed connection” type of scenario between Arthur and you. Bittersweet. Blame it on a simple twist of fate. Link to AO3

Rhodes was the type of town to crash in, get drunk, wake up the next morning and never think of again. With just one saloon, that also operated as a bathhouse and a hotel, there wasn’t much to do except for gambling and drinking, the latter of which you were engaging in at the moment. You were leaning on the bar stock and picking on the label of your beer bottle when you saw, out of the corner of your eyes, a man join you at the other end of the bar.

“Can I get whiskey, please?” you heard him say.

The rough, yet warm sound of his voice called out to you, and you turned your head to get a look at him. With his broad shoulders, chiseled jawline and a full head of dark blonde hair, he stood out like a sore thumb among the rest of the patrons of the saloon. He was attractive, plain and simple, something that couldn’t be said about the other men in this town, with their receding hairlines or their red complexions from all the years of drinking or working out in the sun. You watched as he straightened out when the barman handed him his drink. The shot glass looked comically small in his comparatively giant hand. Your eyes never left him as you watched him bring the glass to his lips and drink the whole shot in one ago, his Adam’s apple going up and down as he swallowed the drink.

As if he could feel you staring at him, he turned his head towards you and gave you a polite smile. You smiled back before quickly turning your head back towards the beer bottle in your hand, once again digging your nails into the sticker that you have almost peeled.

He was even more handsome when you got a straight look at him. His smile seemed inviting, and you wondered if you should approach him. It’s not every day that you see men as attractive as he was and what’s the worst that could happen? If he turns you down, you could just take your beer to your room, sleep till the next morning, and leave the town the next day, along with the thoughts of the attractive stranger

The decision, however, was made for you when the object of your thoughts came to stand next to you.

“Hey there,” he said, leaning against the bar.

“Hi,” you said, instantly abandoning the beer bottle in your hand and turning your attention to the man.

He introduced himself, saying his name, and you did the same back.

“Can I get you a drink?” he said, looking at the empty beer bottle next to you.

You accepted and he called the bartender, asking for two shots of whiskey. The two of you fell into a comfortable conversation that only two people who didn’t know each other and didn’t plan on could. You asked him what he was doing here, and he said he was just passing through. By the guns on his hip and the scars across his face and hands, you could tell he was lying, but you didn’t pry. You too had secrets that you weren’t planning on sharing with strangers, even as beautiful and captivating as him.

The conversation flowed as easily as the whiskey, and you didn’t realize how much time had passed until you looked around yourself, noticing that the saloon was completely empty, save for a few drunks sleeping at the tables and a couple of working girls chatting among themselves. A slight panic shot through you. Has your time with the mystical cowboy come to an end? You weren’t ready to bid him farewell just yet, so with a boldness that you rarely showed, turned around and said, “The night is still young. I got a room upstairs, we can continue our conversation there.” Your pronunciation of the word ‘conversation’ made the man smirk and with a southern drawl that you came to love after just a few hours of conversation, he said, “I can’t see why not.”

The walk to your room was silent, and you were afraid that in it your wild heartbeat could be heard, getting quicker and quicker with each step that brought you closer to your destination.

You barely had the time to close the door before he pushed you against it. His mouth was on yours in an instant, his hands on your hips and in your hair. Your hands reached towards his shirt on their own, haphazardly undoing the buttons and pushing off his suspenders. He helped you rid himself of his shirt, pushing it off and dropping it on the ground. Breaking the kiss, you had a chance, for a brief moment, to look him over. Your imagination did not do him justice, you thought, as your eyes roamed over his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and toned chest covered in light, short hair. You couldn’t believe all of that was hidden underneath a flimsy cotton shirt.

He noticed you looking and smirked. He reached out with his hand, running it down your check before placing his thumb on your lips. You parted them without thinking, letting him push his thumb inside and sucked on it. He could feel his face grow hot as you ran your tongue over his thumb, keeping your eyes on him. With his free hand he went toward the fly of his pants, popping open the button and pulling out his cock. He started stroking it slowly, keeping his eyes on you as you sucked on his thumb.

Noticing what he was doing, you took his hand in yours and pushed his thumb out of your mouth. He groaned, but his tone quickly changed when you went down on your knees, your face inches away from his cock. You pushed his hand away, replacing it with your own and started stroking him. You couldn’t believe what you were doing, especially with a man you knew only for a couple of hours, but something about him made you unable to think about anything except the pleasure he was going to bring you.

He moaned your name at the feeling of your hand on him, one of his own holding onto the door in front of him, the other in your hair. You started leaving open mouth kisses all over his dick, lubricating him with your spit before finally taking the head of his cock in your mouth, gently sucking on it.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, “knew you’d be good with that mouth as soon as I saw you wrap them pretty lips on that beer bottle.”

The sound of his voice, twisted with desire, moaning because of what you were doing was like nothing else you’ve ever heard, and you went to work, taking him deeper, wanting, no, needing to hear him again.

He started to move his hips, pushing more of his length in your mouth. He was big, bigger than anyone you had before, and you were having a hard time fitting all of him in your mouth, though you still tried.

Suddenly, after a few moments, he pulled back, a string of salvia connecting your lips and his cock for a brief second.

You pouted at the sudden loss, already missing the weight of his cock on your tongue. He must’ve sensed your disappointment and said, “Sorry darlin’, don’t want the night to end too quickly.” He extended his hand, helping you up to your feet before crashing his lips against yours once again, not minding the taste of himself on your lips. He turned you around and started pushing you towards the bed. The mattress gave out a soft squeak as the two of you fell on it.

“Let me return the favor,” he said, licking his lips and eyeing you like a predator.

He paved his way to your center with feather light touches, kissing and nipping on your exposed skin as soon he pushed your blouse off. You helped him pull down your pants, and they, together with your soaked drawers, went flying to the floor.

“Look at you,” he said as soon as he saw how soaked you were. “All from sucking cock?”

You bit your lip, slightly embarrassed, and turned your head to the side, hiding from his intense gaze. He smirked to himself, amused by your sudden shyness.

He ran a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness, before slowly, agonizingly so, pushing in. Long and thick, his finger alone was already too much for your needy body, yet you wanted more. You gyrated your hips, trying to get him to move or add another finger.

He bit his lip as he watched you squirm under him, the sight of your body, needy and burning making him wet his lip. He added a second finger, not moving his eyes from your face, watching for every sigh that escaped your lips, for every flutter of lashes. He picked up the pace, pushing his thick fingers in and out of your wet entrance, reveling in the way you twisted and turned under him, moaning his name.

Your lids were half closed as you took in the pleasures he was giving you. Each push of his fingers was driving you closer and closer to your desired destination. You were panting and sighing until you felt the warm envelope of his lips on your clit. Your murmur turned into a long moan, spurring the man to alternate between sucking on your clit and flicking it with his tongue. It only took a few more moments until your hold gave out, and you let the waves of orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave of the ocean, consuming you until all you could focus on was the man between your legs.

The sight of you overcome by such passion made the man want nothing more than to feel it too, and once your orgasm subsided, he crawled up your body, seeking your mouth once again. The kiss was passionate, rough and messy, your mouths devouring each other as if each was the much needed drink of water in the hot deserted desert. He took himself in his hand, and pushed into your sensitive, overstimulated heat. You winced at first, not used to his girth, but soon enough the slight pain gave away to ways of pleasure, and you circled your legs around his waist, motioning him to let go and find his own pleasures through your body.

His pace, calculated and deliberate, was slowly making you mad. The pull and push of his cock hit all the right places within you, and you wondered how you were going to be satisfied with anyone else after this.

After a while, his pace picked up, and you could feel that he was nearing his own release. His hand found your clit, and as he circled it, he said, “Let go for me, one more time.” His lips were on your neck, kissing down your throat, and after a few seconds all you saw was white as you came with a shout of his name.

You clawed at his back, feeling the need to hold on to something or else you would float away on the pleasures you were feeling. The feeling of your walls spasming around him did it for him and not a moment later he-

“Miss, miss,” the bartender waved his hand in front of your face, pulling you out of your daydream.

You shook your head, as if the reverie you engaged yourself in was a cloud you could shake off, and said, “Yes, I’m sorry?”

The bartender said, “Another beer?” and looked at the empty bottle in your hand.

“Ah,” you said and instantly went for the money in your pocket and said, “Yes, please.” The man took your change and your empty beer bottle, and came back with a new one not a minute later. You thanked him and instantly went for the beer, downing almost half of it right away, trying to calm the blazing heat inside of you. You tried to, nonchalantly, see if the man of your dreams was still there. You turned your head, looking as if you were fixing your hair, and noticed that yes, he was still here, still nursing a shot of whiskey in front of him.

You felt your face flush as you stole a glance over him; tall, handsome, strong. From his dark blonde locks to muscular ass, everything about him radiated vigor. For a moment, you felt bad for making the unsuspicious man a part of your sexual fantasy, but how could you not when just by standing there he was making you drench your drawers?

You decided, that there was no use standing around and blushing like a schoolgirl, and was about to approach the man (this time, for real), when the doors of the saloon opened and in went a man that just like the one near you, didn’t look like he belonged in this town. For a moment, he stood near the entrance and looked around the bar, as if searching for somebody, only for his gaze to settle on the blonde man at the bar.

“There you are, Arthur,” he said as he clapped his hand on the blonde man’s shoulder (Arthur, right?) “Come on, let’s get going, Bill is waiting outside.”

Without awaiting Arthur’s answer, the man with a dark black mustache went back out. Arthur didn’t follow the man right away, instead settling on finishing the drink in front of him. He placed the glass near his lips, and in one go, downed the rest of it. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, collecting a drop or two of whiskey that escaped the glass. He straightened out, and as he turned around to leave, gave you a polite smile and a nod. The act caught you by surprise, but you quickly collected yourself and shot him an equally friendly smile, nodding your head in return, trying to hide the blush that overtook your natural skin color. The whole act lasted no more than five seconds, but you found yourself replaying it in your head countless times as you leaned against the bar stock, fumbling with the beer bottle in your hand.

“Arthur,” you said under your breath, pronouncing each syllable with intention and care. You could now adjust your fantasy to include his name, you thought.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #Red Dead Redemption #rdr2 #red dead redemption fanfics #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfics #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 x y/n #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption imagines

220 notes · View notes

caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years

Text

patton and the no-good day

5.9k words | AO3 link | warnings: angst, alcohol, swearing, arguing, lashing out, minor injury, crying, fire, repetition.

“Patton wants to know what it’s like to make the right choices, so he tries...And tries. And tries and tries andtriesandtries-

(aka: a time loop fic where patton manages to revisit the day of svs, this time with the goal of making everyone happy. he quickly discovers that he's bitten off more than he can chew.)”

________________________________

Patton was unhappy. And he was unhappy because everyone else was unhappy. After the wedding, he had become so intimately aware of every mistake he had made. From Logan’s quiet dismissal when he tried to talk to him, to Virgil’s obvious avoidance of everyone, to Roman’s complete shutdown.

The only sides he could assume weren’t mad at him at the moment were Janus and Remus. And Remus was only a maybe, just based on how excited he’d been to hear that he had turned into a giant muscular frog alone.

Patton could only grimace upon recalling his breakdown. It was supposed to be the turning point for him, an indication of ‘Hey, I've come to realize that I’m deeply flawed but now I’m able to start fixing things!’. But of course, it didn’t turn out like that. Every day that passed only grew harder and harder with his mistakes staring him in the face. He was tired of waking up, dreading the insurmountable process of trying to make things right and failing, only to fall asleep and try again the next day.

It was like he was trapped in a loop of identical days, each one as ineffective as the last.

Patton could barely imagine the end of this tunnel, until one morning, he woke up and for once everything felt... different.

He ignored the feeling at first as got ready as usual, heading out towards the kitchen with the expectation of seeing empty chairs at empty tables once more. Except when he walked in this time, preparing to make a breakfast no one would eat, everyone was there already seated. It was just like how everything was before-- Janus and Remus were absent, but Logan, Virgil, Roman...all of the sides he considered his best friends were there, all togeher in one place for the first time in weeks.

He burst into tears on the spot and they collectively startled, immediately questioning what was wrong. It took a few minutes to convince them all that he was fine, that he just got emotional seeing them all because he loved them so much (which wasn't even a lie!), and in the end they accepted his explanation because sometimes that was just what Patton was like. As he sat down and tried to act as normal as possible, he couldn't help but stare at all of them, so carefree as they chatted and poked fun at each other. There wasn't a single furrowed brow, or a hidden frown, or a look of hurt. It was unfortunately because of that that he knew his gut feeling was right; there was something strange going on here.

Throughout the morning, Patton couldn’t put his finger on what was so familiar about this day until he felt a certain series of events occur: Thomas gets a call. He picks up the phone and talks with the casting agent for a famous director. He’s told that he got the callback for his audition and he’s terribly excited, so excited that his sides come out to celebrate with him and-

Oh. Oh! That was his cue, wasn’t it? Patton bit back a frown, rising up to share their excitement and then to remind them about the wedding that was scheduled for the same day. It was hauntingly familiar, seeing the way Thomas and Roman became dejected and knowing that this was only the start of an uphill battle.

And then Fauxgan came in- or rather Janus, disguised as Logan- and when Patton saw his new snakey friend, his chest swelled with excitement. This was his opportunity to change things! He knew that in the current script, Janus would soon reveal himself and begin pushing back against what Patton had said. So when that happened this time, he could simply agree and make it seem like he had been convinced to change his mind. That way, they could reach a different solution and everyone would be happy. Simple!

Patton watched and waited patiently as the others made comments back and forth; Virgil and Janus snarking each other as Janus made his case to be listened to.

“That...can not be where the bar is!” Virgil protested in disbelief once Thomas agreed to hear him out, based on his vague 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend' ideal.

“Well, the bar for skipping an important opportunity should be higher than a...social engagement.” Janus replied distastefully.

This was where he originally jumped in to disagree. Patton saw Roman grow shifty out of the corner of his eye and knew: this was it!

“Maybe Janus is right! This is a huge opportunity. We should try to figure out a way to make both events if we can, but this means a lot for Thomas so we shouldn’t just skip it.“ Patton said confidently, even though the argument felt strange coming out of his mouth. At least he knew this time around he was making the right choice by backing down.

But the others only looked at him strangely, with varying degrees of confusion across their faces.

“Who’s Janice-”

“You’re agreeing with him?! I knew you were acting weird-”

“How do you know my name-”

Patton’s eyes widened, realizing his subconscious mistake. He had gotten so used to referring to Deceit as Janus over the weeks that they’d been friends that his name just automatically slipped out. It was too late to take it back; the conversation was quickly derailed, with too many accusations coming out at once to even try geting back into the dilemma. At one point Janus wondered aloud if Remus had somehow gotten out and taken the form of Patton, which only raised more questions and ended with a sword pointed at his throat.

It was a disaster. They make the last-minute decision to go to the wedding out of spite for Janus and Patton.

________________________________

The next morning, Patton woke up with a start, looking around his room to find that it was exactly the way he had left it the day prior. Normally this wouldn’t be such a cause for alarm, but today it was because Patton was certain he had thrown a few things last night in childish frustration at himself for messing things up. Only soft items, because he couldn’t bear to accidentally destroy anything in his sentiment-filled room, but the fact remained that seeing his pillows lined up at the end of his bed again was a strange sign, one that had him suspicious about how this day was going to go.

To test his theory, he went down to the kitchen without bothering to change out of his pajamas, only to see the other three sides already sitting there in the exact same places as yesterday. He paused in the doorway, waiting for them to show recognition of the day prior-- for some kind of hostility or accusation. The only thing he received were snickers.

“Nice PJs, Pat.” Virgil smirked over his bowl of cereal before going back to scrolling on his phone.

Patton’s mind slowly processed this. It was as if the day had reset, back to the world he had woken up to yesterday. He sunk down into the last remaining chair and forced himself to make a joke about ‘having a PB&J sandwich to match this PJ day’, despite Logan’s protests that he would not be sharing the last jar of crofters (He always said this to deter them from eating his jam, but it was always a lie and he'd always let them have some in the end. Patton didn’t realize how much he missed that habit of his until he almost started crying again over Logan passing him the jam jar).

After a perfectly normal breakfast, he quickly returned back to his room to change and prepare for what was ahead of him. Now that he knew the day was definitely repeating and could recognise where he went wrong yesterday, he just needed to ensure he didn’t make such a silly mistake right off the bat again.

He went through the motions: Thomas getting a phone call, him reminding them of the wedding, and then the beginnings of debate.

“I agree with Deceit.” He said this time, smiling as he remembered to not use Janus’ name.

Despite his conscious effort, it doesn’t go over much better. Janus was surprised and suspicious of Patton’s sudden change of heart and Virgil immediately got on the defense. Once again, the argument quickly escalated.

“Why would you side with him?! He’s one of the others! You can’t trust him!” Virgil cried, hands tugging on his hoodie strings as he desperately tried to convince them. It was currently three against one. He must have felt cornered, having no one on his side, Patton realized belatedly.

“And how are you so sure of that?” Patton still responded back, feeling offended on behalf of his friend. He had promised himself he wouldn’t make things worse this time, but seeing Virgil get so angry at him hit a sore spot. As long as he was right about his theory, this day was already ruined the moment he sided with Janus, anyway.

“Because I was one of them!” Virgil yelled, and his expression quickly changed from frustrated to devastated to frightened. And then he sunk out, giving no one the chance to stop him.

The remaining sides stood in silence before Janus broke into hysterical laughter. Patton could hear it echo in his mind as the day reset for the third time.

________________________________

The next time, he didn’t bring up the wedding at all.

Patton didn’t want to kid himself; he was scared from seeing Virgil sink out so suddenly. After having Virgil’s anger directed at him twice and seeing him leave upset once, he figured that meant that outright siding with Janus was a risky thing to do if he wanted to make sure everyone was happy by the end of this.

So instead of trying to change his stance, he simply removed the confusing aspect out of the equation altogether and made sure no one remembered it or brought it up. This way for sure, he thought, everything would go a lot smoother.

...He was wrong.

Weeks passed after the phone call and everything was peaceful-- Patton didn’t experience any resets and he took this as a good sign, enjoying the time with his family which he had dearly been missing out on. The sides were excited for the opportunity, which only grew when the callback came and went and they aced it. It was like Patton had finally achieved the dream scenario, until one day later when Thomas summoned them with a horrified look on his face.

“I skipped Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding when I went to the callback.” Was all he said.

“...Huh? How is that possible?” Virgil asked, simultaneously looking like he was going to faint and/or run away. “That couldn’t have been yesterday, could it? I mean, the odds of that…”

“It was. However…” Logan spoke up, and everyone watched as he summoned his calendar, wearing baffled expressions when he pointed to yesterday’s date-- revealing that the wedding had never been written down at all. Thomas had somehow pushed it completely out of his mind.

“But...it was for a big opportunity! Surely they’ll understand if you explain why you had to miss the wedding.” Roman argued, glancing around at the panicking sides.

“That’s the thing, they’re upset that I didn’t tell them about it beforehand and they think I blew them off on purpose. Now all of our mutual friends think I only care about myself.” Thomas stressfully looked down at his phone as he got another text message- and not a very kindly-worded one at that. “I don’t know what to do to fix this!”

Patton paled. Surely that couldn’t be right. Could things really have gotten this bad, just because he hadn’t reminded them of the wedding?

“It looks like Thomas has become a social pariah.” A smooth voice cut in. “And I’m sure you all know who’s to blame.”

No-

________________________________

The next time, Patton woke up in tears, unable to get the image of Janus turning against him out of his mind.

This time he doesn’t try to avoid the debate. Debates were crucial; they were how they got through most of their problems! In retrospect it was silly to try and skip that part of the day altogether, but at least now he had a clearer idea of what to try next. The issue from the last attempt was that Lee and Mary Lee weren’t spoken to, so this time he’d back Roman up when he suggested communication.

When they were next able to arrange a meeting to talk, Thomas explained the situation to the couple; how he had gotten a last-minute once in a lifetime offer. They were excited for him and encouraged him to take the opportunity, but Patton saw it in their eyes, how they gave Thomas sad smiles and looked at each other with disappointment.

He panicked, and Thomas changed his tune, pretending to check his phone and coming to the ‘realization’ that he got the time wrong, that he could go after all.

Lee and Mary Lee were thrilled.

But the others hated him for it.

________________________________

The next time for sure, he thought he’d get the courage to do it right.

They talked to Lee and Mary Lee. Thomas explains the situation, and this time Patton doesn’t make him change his mind. They’re disappointed, but despite knowing this deep down Thomas stays firm and decides to go to callback anyway.

During the lead-up to the 13th of April, Roman keeps looking to him for guidance, asking if this was really alright. Patton tries to assure him, but even he doesn’t know. He feels like everything he’s doing is putting them on the right track, but after thinking he was doing the right thing and being wrong several times, he isn’t able to say for certain that they were making a good choice. Especially not with the unknown variable of Lee and Mary Lee's disappointment thrown into the mix.

Eventually Roman learns to stop coming to him with his fears, and when it comes to the callback he chokes during the performance. Thomas messes up and someone else gets the role.

They don’t get to go to the wedding or win the callback.

Roman ducks out the same day and Remus takes his place.

________________________________

The next time, Patton was overly aware of his lack of certainty. He hadn’t realized how close Roman had been to falling over the edge, so during his next attempt he can't help but keep it fresh in his mind.

Throughout the debate he makes sure to agree with the creative side. He didn’t oppose any of his arguments or call him out where he originally thought he was being selfish; he’s as kind and gentle as can be, haunted by what had happened one cycle ago.

It makes Janus upset. He knows Patton’s true stance and can’t understand why he’s silencing his voice so much for one side alone. He ends up pointing out how Patton is being underhanded by trying to use flattery to get things to go his way and then mentions how that must be how he's managed to keep everyone under his thumb for so long. Patton sees red.

It’s nice to get his steadily building frustration out. Perhaps Janus is an undeserving target of his anger, but the criticism just hit too close to home for him to accept lying down. He didn't want to be a manipulative person. He had been trying so hard to let others have their voices be heard and not seize control the narrative too much, but in the end wasn't that what he was doing now? Trying to manipulate everything, even if his motives were good? The realization had blood pumping in his ears, drowning out everything but his own voice.

Everyone becomes tense when he starts yelling and Janus only stares in shock, confused and oddly enough, hurt to be the focus of the usually happy pappy's wrath. Patton yells until his throat is hoarse, and then some more because he knows he can't damage his vocal chords here. He does it for Logan, who had been pushed aside almost every time they've done this. For Virgil, who had so many doubts and fears and was too afraid to share them until they become too much. For Roman, who was the most likely to get crushed whatever they did. For Janus, who was just trying to get a seat at the table. For Remus, who potentially never would.

For himself, who just couldn't get this right.

When he's done the room is so silent that they would have been able to hear a pin drop and he feels a weight off his chest. He's made his point, loud and clear.

Even though the others have no idea what he’s talking about.

________________________________

The next time, Patton wakes up feeling guilty for losing his temper, despite how cathartic it had been to let loose a little bit. He can’t look the others in the eye when he goes to breakfast, and instead spends the whole time in his head, trying to figure out what to try next.

This time he decides to soften his voice. He already knows it’s a mistake based on prior experience, but he doesn’t know what else to do-- doesn’t have the time to consider any other approach to take before Thomas is getting that phone call once again.

Throughout the debate, his statements fall short. He lacks conviction. He subtly tries to side with Janus and Roman, but not to the extent where it makes Virgil upset, and it only makes him look flakey. He’s flimsy; uncertain, and everyone can tell. He can practically feel Logan’s desperation to take his place from the back row.

In the end, Thomas is convinced that he’s a completely horrible and selfish person due to Patton’s lack of assertion otherwise and avoids both events out of a self-induced spiral of guilt and anxiety.

________________________________

The next time Patton is too firm. He keeps assuring Thomas that he’s not a bad person, and realizes too late that he fell back into his old habits.

Roman sentences them to the wedding again.

Patton summons a pillow to scream into in frustration.

________________________________

By the 50th loop, Patton had more or less given up. He starts the day by rolling out of bed and popping open the cork of a wine bottle right into his face. It’s in the moment he starts feeling a black eye form that he makes the formal decision: fuck it.

He skips breakfast to sip wine through a silly straw (because casual alcoholism doesn’t count when you make it fun. Or when you’re stuck in a figurative nightmare), and he changes into the most ‘dad on vacation’ clothes he owned; a gaudy hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. He forgoes shoes because decidedly this isn’t a shoes kind of day, and after 50 god-forsaken attempts at trying to get this right, he thinks he’s earned a little self-indulgence.

When the time rolls around to start the video, he belatedly rises up in the living room tispy and wearing his old 2015 new years novelty sunglasses. The others are immediately taken aback at his appearance while Thomas grimaces.

“Ah… So that’s why I’ve been thinking about cursing people out all day.”

“You should. It’d be funny.” Patton giggles.

“...Okay.” Virgil states, likely finding his behaviour too familiar for comfort. “What the fuck."

Janus doesn’t join them this time around; instead the real Logan shows up because suddenly everything had switched courses into a completely different problem. The four of them try to figure out what’s wrong with Patton, and he refuses to cooperate the entire time, just for the heck of it. Eventually he grows bored of watching them fuss and squabble, so he starts saying the first things to come to mind, the deepest opinions that were buried under all of his repression-- things he wouldn’t dare say if he were sober and free from this hell.

“I hate all of you sometimes.” He announces over their discussion without guilt, too far gone to care how hurt the faces that looked back at him were. He knew it wasn’t real anyway, at least it wouldn’t be when the next loop started.

“I hate how I can apologize forever and it’s still not enough. I hate how I have to accept the mistakes made against me, but you all get to sulk for weeks and not even let me try to make things right. When all I’ve ever wanted is to make you happy.”

“Patton-” Logan begins hesitantly. He looks like he wants to contradict him and Patton doesn't care for it.

“Stupid of me, right Logan?” He cuts him off with a laugh, dry and completely unlike himself. Logan closes his mouth, regret flashing across his face, and it just felt so good in that moment to be the bitter one for once. He’s never done it before; always having to take the high road while everyone else chose to be petty and self-absorbed in their own egos. No fault to them for that; he felt pretty amazing right now, going against the moral code he had built and adhered to for so long. It felt forbidden and like the sort of thing he’d regret later. (And heck, with all the mistakes he’d been accidentally making, perhaps doing something wrong on purpose was like taking that power back.)

“I’m doing all of this- going through this day again and again- for what?” He continues, glaring at them individually. “I’m doing my best here- just to make everything alright again, and- fuck.”

Patton ignores the shocked expression he gets when he swears. He’s getting too close to feeling bad again, so he summons another bottle of wine. He learns from his mistake and points it away from himself this time, and the cork doesn’t hit him in the face; instead it smashes into the tv screen. Roman and Virgil yelp. Thomas stares.

“...Patton, what are you talking about?” Thomas asks.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Patton giggles again after taking a long swig, sliding back against the blinds until he's on the floor. Away from the cameras, at last. “None of you will remember this anyway.”

And they don’t. (They never do)

________________________________

The next time, he wakes up without a black eye or a hangover and considers not leaving his bed today. He does anyway, just to make sure he hadn’t done something irreversible and ruined everything for real this time.

He goes to the kitchen to find everyone sitting like they always do, in the exact same positions at the exact same time with the exact same food, without fail. They acknowledge him the same way they always do as he enters the room and he can’t help but grind his teeth when it feels like mocking. So he walks over to the cupboard and starts pulling out plates to smash against the ground.

They’re surprised, worried, taken aback, and as he stands in a sea of broken china he doesn’t care about what they have to think about him. He already knows nothing he does right now will have later consequences, even if it means cutting up his feet like an idiot.

He’ll just have to do better next time.

________________________________

He doesn’t do better. Instead, he gives into the urge to stay in bed all day. No one comes for him and the discussion happens without him, which he knows because he resists the summons to go testify.

Maybe Logan got to be the lawyer this time. That’d be nice, he supposes. ________________________________

The next time he sets fire to his room, just to see what it would feel like to see everything he cares for burn.

(It doesn't feel much like anything, because he already knows it'll be back the next day. He hates it in unspeakable amounts when he's proven right.)

________________________________

The next, he goes over to the other half of the mindscape and steals Janus’ hat, feeling a bit more carefree as the side pursues him around the mindscape and the rest of the day is derailed.

________________________________

The next, he tries to make a cake to celebrate the callback and accidentally burns it. He feels like there's some sort of cosmic irony there.

________________________________

The next, he does nothing but make puns until the others cry in frustration.

________________________________

Next, he goes to the other half of the mindscape again and hangs out with Remus all day, just to check up on him after not seeing him since he took Roman’s place that one time.

Remus tries to attack him several times but Patton is past the point of being afraid of him. At one point he catches the shuriken Remus throws at his head and he finally manages to earn his favour.

They end up having a good time, talking until everything resets again.

________________________________

Next, he kisses everyone on the cheek and apologizes for getting drunk and being mean to them.

(Despite them being reseted versions of themselves and therefore not remembering any of it. He still does it anyway and it still makes him feel slightly better afterwards).

________________________________

Next, he finds the energy to make a genuine effort once again.

This time Logan ducks out. Patton spends the next few loops in mourning.

________________________________

By around the 75th loop, he’s finally had enough. There’s no more fun to be had messing around with these constantly-reseting sides, and he’s so so tired of trying to keep the peace and failing. Nothing he does was working-- in fact it seemed like he was just making things worse based on the amount of times one of the sides had broken down in front of them or tried to duck out or left with undealt with emotions. (There were so many things he had seen that would stick with him for a while, wondering just how close they were to having something similar happen in reality. He couldn't even rest anymore, kept awake by the questions.)

If he were a different side, one more accustomed to problem solving, perhaps he would’ve had a solution by now, but he just doesn’t. It's not how he was meant to operate. So instead of trying to figure it out, he goes to Virgil’s room after breakfast and starts blubbering in front of him until he’s led onto his bed where he's awkwardly consoled.

Virgil, without even knowing why he’s upset, places a comforting hand on his back anyway which sends Patton into even greater sobs. It had been so long since he'd let someone hug him or show him affection- so upset with himself for his failings that he stopped believing that he deserved any of it. This time he just lets it happen because he needs some comfort and if he doesn't get it he doesn't know how he'll be able to continue forward.

The two of them end up moving to a more neutral part of the mindscape as to not make his feelings worse, and he allows himself to indulge in just being held. He's aware of exactly how long they have until the start of the debate, so he milks his time with Virgil for all he's got, until eventually his crying evens out into sniffles, leaving him with tired eyes and a runny nose.

He knows Virgil wants to ask what’s wrong, but he breaks the silence first when he finally manages to calm down.

“Do you know how to get out of a loop?”

He can’t see Virgil’s face from where they’re hugging, but he can tell that he’s at odds with the question.

“You’re asking me, the MVP of spiralling, how to get out of a loop?” Virgil asked unbelievingly.

“Yeah, you’re right- It was stupid.” Patton begins, pulling away before Virgil stops him.

“I didn’t say that.” He says quickly, worriedly. Then he goes quiet in deliberate thought. “...You have to rely on the people around you to get out of it, I guess.”

When Patton makes a questioning noise, he continues.

“I mean… Sometimes it’s all you can do, y’know? You’re always gonna be biased when you’re living in your own head, and if you’re struggling to get through something yourself... the best thing to do is ask for help. Get a different viewpoint.”

"Sounds scary." Patton laughs wetly. Virgil joins him, sounding relieved.

"Yeah. It's definitely not as easy as it sounds. Being vunerable and reaching out to people, that is."

"...How do you manage?"

"Well..." Virgil pulls back a little. "I don't always. But you just have to trust that it'll be worth it in the end. And it usually is."

After a moment of thinking that over, Patton draws back fully and stares at him. Virgil meets his eyes with barely-veiled worry as he continues. “So… If you’re dealing with something, you can always tell us. You should know by now that you don't have to deal with everything alone, popstar.”

Patton can't meet his gaze any longer when his eyes heat up once more. "...I just want to be there for all of you," He finally admits in a small voice. "It's my one goal, and I feel like I only let you down. I can't expect you to carry my problems with you, on top of that."

Virgil's frown deepens. "It's not us carrying a burden for you, Pat. It's sharing the load equally so you don't fall under the pressure." His hand found Patton's back again, rubbing small circles. "If you feel like you have to be the one to fix everything all the time, then maybe we failed you as friends."

Once again, the dam broke, and Patton sincerely did not know what to say to that. Virgil pulled him back to his side, letting Patton rest his head on his shoulder as he let out his second round of tears for the day. They were spending too much time talking about his issues, he realized as the video started once more, but Virgil didn't make any move to leave his side, and for the nth time that day, he was incredibly greatful to him.

Something about their conversation clicked in his brain, and it was like he knew exactly what he needed to do. When he was finally ready to let go of this day, he gave Virgil one last hug and thanked him for his advice. He then sunk out back to his room and fell into bed, waiting for the cycle to start over again.

Perhaps he had known all along what he would have to do to end this, and Virgil had given him the final shove.

Either way, he so was ready for it to be over.

________________________________

On the final loop, Patton decided to follow Virgil’s advice.

He goes back to acting as normal-- eating breakfast, getting the call, rising up, reminding them about the wedding-- and this time he doesn’t do anything especially different.

Unlike his previous attempts where he tried to change his tune, tried to see through every possibility, tried to stop arguments before they started; he instead tries to do everything the same way the original debate had gone, to be the best of his memory.

He didn’t falter when he said things he now knew to be insensitive, he didn’t hold back on disagreeing with the others, or insert himself into problems that weren’t his to help with yet. He watched as the cracks formed between each side, watched the gavel swing down, watched every other side sink out after shooing Janus away.

And he knew it would be just fine.

He looked into Thomas’ eyes and felt nothing but pride. Just like the real thing, this one looked uncertain, but was briefly relieved by the conclusion they came to, putting his trust in Patton as he reassured him in his decision. He knew that by choosing this route he was accepting the heartbreak that would come later, but he accepted that. He understood now that hiding in fantasies of getting everything perfect was counterproductive and unrealistic. He knew it was time to go back.

As he sunk out to his room for the final time, he realized that if this exercise taught him anything, it was that above making the right choices, above having the right things to say to fix everyone’s problems, all he needed, all along…

Was patience.

________________________________

Patton opened his eyes to the sight of dim spotlights overhead. With a loud dad grunt he was glad no one else was around to hear, he rolled over to sit on the edge of the stage, looking out to the seat in the crowd he had once been impersonated at.

He took in the room once last time before the lights continued to dim, which he instinctually knew to be the mind’s way of telling him to leave. He was ready for it; so he did.

Hopping off of the stage, he walked between the aisles towards the exit, pushing the doors open to be greeted with the familiar space of the mindscape. He stood there for a second, letting his eyes adjust from the darkness of the theatre as his memory slowly returned to him-- compressing the months he had just gone through until he could remember why he had come here in the first place.

“So.” He heard a familiar voice come from next to him as he regained his bearings. “Are you satisfied with what you found?”

“...Yeah.” Patton said softly, turning to smile at the figure.

“And?”

“I didn’t need to change anything in the end.”

There was a sharp exhale, barely a scoff. “Well, I could’ve told you that, and it would’ve saved you a lot of hassle.”

“You could have.” Patton agreed. “...But it was helpful seeing all the way things could have been different, too.”

His eyes fell to the ground, recalling the different outcomes that were wildly different and much much worse than their current situation. It made him grateful for the way everything had turned out-- imperfect but not broken-- and made everything seem so much less bleak than how he first thought it to be. When he was so lost that he had chosen to relive that day for the sake of getting peace.

“Oh? And what exactly happened in there?”

“A lot. One time I stole your hat. You got so mad that you started hissing.” Patton’s smile widened at one of the better memories, even more so when his friend grumbled.

“Wow. I’m so glad the hour I spent out here waiting was used productively.” Janus sighed, pulling his hat down subconsciously. “...I am glad that it helped, though.”

“I am too.” Patton hummed. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Janus finally returned his smile and Patton brightened up. They weren't yet confident that they could fix everything that had happened between the sides, they didn’t even know if it was possible for them to do so alone, but they were at least willing to take that step forward and offer a helping hand.

And that's all that matters, right? No matter how many times they were let down or faced an obstacle, they just kept getting up to try to be better. It didn't matter if things weren't alright again right away; sometimes earning forgiveness meant trusting the other person to come back to you eventually. Waiting for that opportunity to glue back the pieces together.

And if Patton was certain about anything, it was that he was more than prepared to wait.

________________________________

Tags: @nasatshirts @quinnthequeer @mayflowers07 @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @foxxsong @omnicrex @nadiestar @mistythegirlfluxmess @greenninjagal-blog @hit-or-mish @slytherin-halfblood @i-need-a-life-8903 @lemonlinelights @logicaemetus @bluestarfan10 @marshmallow-fluffy @enby-phoenix @arrestjellyfish @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @impatentpending @killjoy-3000 @nonasficcollection @mhep24601 @atomic-cat-dragon @puffydove @qrowdraws-notforyouthough @randommuffinyt @bubblycricket @theactual-devil @viana-dascolli @modsnow

#my writing #sanders sides #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #platonic drlamp #patton and the no-good day #patton angst #OOF IT'S DONE

804 notes · View notes

blanknamed · 3 years

Text

trial and error [senku x reader]

I wrote this on AO3 a few months ago and just wanted to link it on to my Tumblr. Part 2 is already out right now, but I just did this quickly during one of my lectures lol. Hope you guys like this.

SHIPPING: SENKU X READER

PREMISE: [Name] had always known Senku was a little bit of an oddball but that's what made him so interesting to her as children. Now in the Stone World, he's only even more interesting what with his claims about shooting up to a million years worth of technology back, but some things never change with him; specifically on the concept of love. As a way to get him to think about it as something other than "disgusting feelings" she proposes for him to think of it differently, though it seems to be going in a direction she never expected.

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE

{--*--}

CHAPTER ONE: A SUGGESTION

Senku was completely lost at the moment. It wasn’t stuck with his most latest creation, no. It was those three sisters. They haven’t stopped staring at him for the past three hours and it was starting to get on his last nerves. Usually he was able to just ignore them and go on with his day, but what can he right now? He had spent the previous night working his ass off on planning for the next project so the working effort on his end was a little slow (well, slow in his terms at least; [Name] had already told him a few times to slow down for the sake of their non-modernized companions). At the moment, he was having a lunchbreak, sitting hunched over his blueprints trying to figure out what was happening.

Keyword: trying.

“Your head looks like its going explode.” [Name] said softly as she sat next to him, bowl of ramen in her hand. Her eyes scanned over to his spiky hair. “Well, it already looks that way, actually.”

“Shaddup.” Senku replied gruffly, but [Name] didn’t take his rudness to heart. She had known Senku since they were children. She had used to follow him around like some sort of duck. At first Senku had found her a bit of a nuisance, constantly teasing her and calling her names in hopes of making her go away, but it seemed it hadn’t worked on her. Apparently having an older brother meant immunity to any other insults being thrown at you.

Soon, Senku had started realizing she was better off as an asset for him, running errands for him like Taiju so he’d end up having to leave his little lab less. Most of the time, though, [Name] was cleaning up the messes that were created when Senku and Taiju were too exhausted to do it themselves. [Name] had also cooked food for all three of them so they wouldn’t starve when they were working on Senku’s space projects.

Byakuya liked to joke around about it, saying a then ten year old [Name] would already be one of Japan’s top chef from all the cooking she had done and Senku probably wouldn’t have survived as far as he did if it hadn’t been for [Name]’s constant reminders for him to eat.

Though, like most childhood friendships, it had seemed then it had come to an end. [Name] was two years younger than Senku so once he had entered middle school, it was a little harder visiting him. The hobbies they both took a liking to were completely different, Senku’s leaning more toward an academic side with science, while [Name] had started to develop a liking to painting. So even if they had gone to the same middle and high school, their chances of being in the same clubs were 0.

Who knew being petrified for over 3,700 years and a threat to our lives would bring us closer together? [Name] thought to herself mindlessly as she slurped on her ramen, internally cringing at how nasty it tasted.

She had been the de-petrified right after Yuzuriha by Senku’s miracle formula since they weren’t that far from one another, though she wasn’t exactly sure why she had been chosen, given that they hadn’t exactly spoken in so long. [Name] never bothered asking Senku either due Tsukasa’s unwavering need for him to have Senku killed. When he had been supposedly “killed” and then revived, it had dawned on her that she still had a feeling there were times he was going to get himself actually killed if one of them wasn’t going to be around, causing her to make the decision to stay with him while Taiju and Yuzuriha went back to Tsukasa,

From then on, it seemed Senku and [Name]’s old dynamic had started to come back. He would create trouble with Chrome and Kohaku while [Name] would sit back with Suika and remind them to not overexert themselves. Sometimes, [Name] would even try to cook the old food she used to make if the resources allowed her to. Most times, however, it was just her picking up the catastrophes he left behind late at night.

“You better clean that up or else you’re going to have a mustache drawn on you tonight.” [Name] stated, giving her friend a pointed look as if the emphasize that she was being serious. Senku didn’t answer, only staring at the same spot of the blueprint. A telltale sign that he was thinking about something else. Slapping his arm gently, she pulled him out of his rapid thoughts. “What are you thinking about this time, huh? Big brain finally distracted from his genius moments? Could it be love? Must be the end of the world.”

Senku’s mouth quirked into a tiny smirk at the mention of the last statement, causing some odd fluttery feeling in [Name]’s stomach. It immediately went away when Senku flicked her forehead, a habit he developed when [Name] was annoying him. “Love is just a construct of emotions I’m incapable of.” He stated smartly.

[Name] rolled her eyes. “Your big words don’t work on me, big brain. Now tell me what’s really bothering you.”

[Eye color] met crimsons ones, telling him to tell her in the manner only they knew how to work well with: silence. His eyes darted to the side, making [Name] glance over at the three girls staring intently at him. [Name] could only snort out a laugh.

“So it is about love. Well I’ll see you in the next life then Senku--ouch!” [Name] pressed her palms to her forehead, glaring at her friend. “What was that for?”

“You’re being a nuisance.” He said dismissively as he slurped some of his own ramen. “And so are those three with their staring.”

“Could you blame them, oh great village chief?” [Name] asked redundantly. “Good-looking stranger shows up out of the blue, pretty much causes a village to turn itself upside down and inside out in less than a year. That’s pretty exciting for some village girls; some might even say romantic.”

Senku’s face pinched in itself in revulsion. “Disgusting.”

“You say that like you have any experience at love.” [Name] replied with a laugh.

“And you do? You’re only 14.” Senku stated.

“I’m 15.”

“Whatever.” Senku replied. “The point is, neither of us have experienced it and we shouldn’t talk about it.”

“Why not?” [Name] challenged. “Think of it like a science experiment; love is a construct of emotions right? You said it was something you couldn’t attain, but I beg to differ. Test it out on someone. Take one of those three out on a date; or you can do all three if you’re so bold.”

Senku, who had been squinting at her the entire time she was talking, suddenly changed had some type of look on his face. He never really thought of love like that; most likely because he never really thought of love at all. Maybe he should put it to the test, but the only problem was--

“I don’t really wanna use those three as my test subject.” Senku stated simply.

“What?” [Name] asked, followed by three other voices. Both of them looked up to see that the three sisters had ended up inching closer to listen in on their conversation.

In hindsight, we shouldn’t have kepy glancing their way or at least talked quieter. [Name] thought, embarrassment seeping through her.

“Why not, though?” Ruby asked, eyes bulging wide, clearly not caring that she was going to be a possible test subject. From the looks of it, her sisters didn’t care either. They really want to go on a date with him, no matter what situation it is. What a bunch of si--

“Because I want to go on a date with [Name].” Senku replied simply, pinky in his ear.

HUH?!

NEXT PART

#dr stone senku #dr. stone #ishigami senku x reader #ishigami senku #senku #senku fanfiction #dr. stone fanfic #ishigami senku fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 work #arielle's fics #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader

189 notes · View notes

bnhayyy · 2 years

Text

Remorseful Conflict (1)

Wordcount: 9.6k

Series Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Notes: And our third narrator is revealed! I went ahead and decided to make this a two-shot because it's going to be long and splits into two parts pretty easily. To anyone who's jumping in without having read the previous fics, welcome! This may not be the best place to dive it, but it also definitely isn't the worst, so I hope that you enjoy and aren't too confused. The first part of this fic is basically Painful Truths from Pieck's PoV and the second part will be Fragmented Memories from Pieck's PoV. In places where it looks like I kind of skimmed over some of the dialogue, it is because I already have the full scene written out in Reiner's PoV in one of the previously mentioned fics. Finally, thank you Jules for betaing!

Summary: Pieck didn't expect Reiner Braun, the Marleyan boy who had bullied her as a child, to join the warriors partway through the Paradis operation. She also didn't anticipate the profound effect that an arrogant boy named Jean Kirstein would have on her. Between the two of them, plans go awry quickly.

Or; Pieck Finger, from the fall of Wall Maria to graduation.

Marcel pushed her out of the way.

All four of them had been stupid, settling down for the evening without checking the area thoroughly enough, without thinking to check the ground itself, but none of them had been as foolish as Pieck. She had forgotten about the mission for a moment and expressed her desire to get out of her titan to spend time with her friends. Marcel said that it was fine if she got out for a little while, and she - foolish, hopeful, naive - had allowed him to convince her.

Then the titan rose out of the ground beneath their feet. They moved to run, but Pieck's legs gave out beneath her, the titan reached for her, and Marcel made the decision that would cost him his life.

If he were there with her, Marcel would say that it wasn't Pieck's fault. He would say that he made his decision because he didn't want her to die.

He would have been wrong. It was her fault, no matter how she tried to spin in. Because she had been the one to shift out of her titan, just for one reckless, ignorant moment. Because her legs had been the ones to give out.

Because Marcel pushed her out of the way.

***

Annie wanted to go home. Bertolt nodded along as she made her case, a focused expression on his face. Probably growing more convinced with every passing second. Meanwhile, Pieck felt helpless in the face of reality, a reality that her comrades seemed to be forgetting. She didn't want to be the one to tell them and force them forward, but... if not her, who? It still felt like she should stand by and wait until Marcel took the lead, but Marcel was dead.

Marcel was dead because of her, and if she didn't do something soon, then Bertolt and Annie would follow him.

"We need to continue the mission," Pieck said. The words made a cold numbness spread through her, from the tips of her fingers, through her head and chest, right down to her treacherous legs. It reminded her that they would all be a lot safer when she got back into her titan. It was harder to speak in titan form though, and right now, she needed to be able to speak, to make her comrades see reason.

She'd just have to be quick about it.

"How?" Annie demanded. Her expression, normally so closed off, was open and vulnerable for once, highlighted by blue eyes that were wide and bright with fear. "How can we do this without Marcel? He was the one who was supposed to-"

"-I can destroy the inner gate," Pieck interrupted. "If it's anything like the diagrams, it won't be easy, but my titan's dexterous enough to take it down. Other than that, we just follow the original plan."

Bertolt would kick a hole in the outer gate, Annie would summon titans for the attack, and Pieck would do what she could to fill the hole she had made in their group by creating a hole in Wall Maria itself. They could do it. They had to do it.

"...Are you sure?" Bertolt asked. He took a hesitant step closer to Pieck, feet dragging heavily across the grass beneath them as he moved.

"She isn't," Annie said, refusing to tear her eyes away from Pieck. "She can't be. We weren't meant to change the plan, and she has no way to know that none of us will die trying to take down the wall, or during what comes after. I don't..." The words got caught in Annie's throat as tears started to glimmer in her eyes. "I don't want to die here, Pieck. I want... I need to see my father again."

Pieck's chest ached. She wanted to tell Annie that she understood, that she would give just about anything to see her own father again. At another time, she would have done exactly that and stood back while Marcel did the hard work of convincing her. But Marcel was gone, and unless someone stepped up right now, it would mean the end for all of them.

Pieck hesitated. She wanted to be kind, but if she stopped to comfort her friend, if she allowed herself to be too sympathetic, her strength of will might falter. If her strength of will faltered, it would give Annie the window that she needed to turn them around and lead them all to their friends.

Reality was cruel. Marcel would have been able to find a way to open their eyes without being cruel, but Pieck wasn't Marcel. She had no clue how to temper their harsh world into something kinder, how to bring it to light in a gentle fashion.

Pieck didn't want to be cruel.

But Annie and Bertolt would die if they didn't face reality.

She would rather be cruel to her friends and see them survive than kill them with her kindness.

"So you'd rather turn back and die in Marley?" Pieck demanded, voice dropping into something low and cold.

Annie frowned. "Our terms only just started. We still have-"

"-That's not what I meant," Pieck cut in. "If we go back now, we'll have lost the Jaw titan and accomplished nothing, Marley will replace us faster than we can blink."

Annie took a step back, her hands balling into fists by her sides. "You don't know that," she argued. Her voice sounded so solid, but her eyes betrayed her, glistening fiercely as she glanced over at Bertolt, who stood perfectly still, horror plastered onto his face. She only looked at him for a moment before turning her attention back to Pieck and continuing, "It would be wasteful, and they'd need other candidates to replace us with. Right now, there's only Porco."

"You think they couldn't come up with replacements quickly?" Pieck countered. "There are plenty of Eldians who would step up and take our place. They might not be as well trained as us, but they might prefer to deal with that over keeping failures around. Or maybe they'll keep us locked up underground until they've brought our replacements up to speed. Either way, we are expendable, and we won't be forgiven if we turn back down."

Annie opened her mouth. When no words came out, she took a slow step forward and raised her fists.

Pieck forced herself to step forward as well. "I don't want to fight you, Annie. But if I need to to keep you alive, I will."

"No one needs to fight!" Bertolt exclaimed, drawing a step closer. "We can just talk this out and-"

"And go with her plan?" Annie snarled. "And hope that Pieck can step in for Marcel, pray that we won't get eaten and might get to see our families again?"

"Yes," Pieck said, finally allowing her voice to drop into something softer. "We knew from the start that we might not get out of this alive, Annie. But if we continue the mission, there's a chance that you'll get to see your father again, to stay with him. If we go home now, you'll be lucky to spend a few minutes with him before they pass on your titan. And I don't want to lose another friend."

The world felt still as Pieck and Annie stared each other down. Finally, after a moment that felt like an eternity, Annie lowered her fists.

Pieck nodded. "We need to keep moving," she said, staring up and forward, at the glimmer that she thought she could see on the horizon. "I'll shift and stay in my titan until we've taken down my wall. You two, climb on my back and stay there."

Bertolt shifted uneasily. "You make it sound like..."

"If we're going to do this, there's no point in dragging it out," Annie muttered.

Pieck nodded. "We're making a straight break for the walls."

***

In the end, it was easy to destroy Wall Maria.

Bertolt created a hole in the outer wall. Pieck waited for the titans to spread throughout the devil's city, spreading chaos and devastation in their wake, before beginning her charge. She ran straight at the inner gate, her momentum giving her extra force as she bodyslammed into it. The gate trembled beneath her weight for only one second before giving in and collapsing completely. From there, she began grappling at the edges of the hole, grasping great chunks of stone and tearing them free as fast as she possibly could. By the time she backed off, pieces of rubble were falling out on their home and the hole was big enough for even the largest of titans to crawl through.

The entire process of destroying the inner gate took no more than three minutes.

It was easy to destroy Wall Maria.

It was not easy to watch what came after.

***

All around her, people were suffering. People taken from their idyllic lives and thrust into the depths of poverty. Refugees desperate for any means of survival left out to starve because the walls simply could not afford to feed them. Children separated from their parents through one means or the other. Death and destruction as far as the eye could see.

Pieck had known that this was going to happen. It was the same thing that always happened when Marley decided to move against an enemy. The only real difference here was that instead of blaming the country that was at fault, the oblivious people of the walls placed it on her and Bertolt. The Colossal and the Cart, or as the people of the walls called in, the Mule Titan.

She had known what was going to happen and had chosen to see it through anyway. None of the events playing out around her were a surprise. It wasn't even that different from some of the things she had seen while serving Marley prior to coming to Paradis. Yet it was different. There was a difference between walking away after fulfilling her mission and actually hiding amongst the people who she had hurt.

People, not devils. Pieck had never been completely convinced by Marley's propaganda, but she never questioned it too strongly either. But as she hid among the refugees of Wall Rose, she was forced to see the gaunt, haunted face of her victims, desperately desiring to rest, yet forcing themselves to persist in the face of despair. Human. Parents who already had so little going with even less so that their children could eat. Human. Total strangers offering a smile, a kind word, or a spare coin or piece of bread to a trio of children tucked in with the refugees. Human.

It was within the first few weeks after the fall of Wall Maria that doubt began to creep in. However, it was later on that something truly shifted within her.

The announcement spread like wildfire through the town they were staying in. All able-bodied adult refugees were to report to the Survey Corps to participate in an operation to reclaim Wall Maria.

That night, as she, Bertolt, and Annie sat between their cots in their hostel, Pieck whispered, "It's a population cull. There's no way that they can take Wall Maria back, and they know it. The crown's just getting rid of the mouths they can't feed."

"Obviously," Annie murmured. "I'm surprised that something like this didn't happen sooner."

Cold discomfort draped itself over Pieck's shoulder. She tried not to let it show. Bertolt wasn't as successful, wrapping the blanket wrapped around his shoulder tighter and staring down at his feet. "I suppose it makes sense that Paradisians would do something like this to their own people," he murmured.

Something twisted in Pieck's stomach, compelling her to say the words that she knew were better kept to herself. Words that Marley would loathe to hear from her lips. Marley wasn't there though - only the friends she trusted with her life. As such, she allowed herself to say, "This isn't because they're Paradisian."

Bertolt glanced up at her while Annie narrowed her eyes. "It isn't?" she prompted.

"No," Pieck said. "So many people to feed when they had just lost so many resources... If Marley ever faced a disaster of this scale, I'm sure they'd do something similar. Maybe even worse."

"Maybe," Annie admitted. "But when you say it like that, it sounds a lot like you're sympathetic for the devils."

Pieck smiled weakly. "Maybe I am. But am I supposed to think that you aren't, after seeing all this?"

"...I also want to see my father again," Annie said.

"Me too," Bertolt whispered.

"I know," Pieck said. "I'm not saying that we should abandon the plan. For now, we just need to keep going." They were making progress in their plan to learn more about the Paradisian royal family. If they just kept on with that plan, their path would surely become true.

"You aren't saying it yet," Annie said, something shadowed and painful hiding in her eyes. No - not just painful. Angry.

Pieck swallowed heavily. That was right - Annie had wanted to give up on the plan before Wall Maria even fell. Before anyone died. Seeing Pieck falter now, after they'd all gotten so much more red on their ledger, must have felt like salt in a wound. It must have hurt.

You had to be alive to hurt.

"We would have died if we went back to Marley," Pieck said. "You're right; I don't want to hurt anyone else. But I also won't stop the plan unless you both agree. I won't let this be for nothing."

Annie nodded slowly. "But if we all agree... you will let us stop?"

Pieck stared at Annie for a long moment before glancing at Bertolt. He was staring at her with a fraught mix of hope and fear.

"I will," Pieck finally said, turning her gaze back to Annie's. "But we still won't be able to go back to Marley. If we stop, we'll need to figure out another plan if you ever want to see your father again."

Assuming Marley didn't take their inaction as a sign of treachery and preemptively dismiss them as traitors. Pieck's stomach wrenched at the thought, her mind turning to her own father.

Annie looked away. "I want to continue the mission," she said.

Pieck nodded, her heart catching onto the words that Annie hadn't been able to bring herself to say.

For now.

***

There was no stopping the passage of time. Little changed in the time that the warriors spent among the refugees. Little, and yet so very much. They kept to the shadows as they scuttled around the walls. They followed the right people, made sure they were at the right places at the right times, and eventually learned that the true ruler of Paradis was not the king of the walls, but a family called Reiss.

The information they gleaned in the darkness was vital to the mission. However, it was what they witnessed in the light of day that had the potential to change the mission.

Just as everything stayed the same for the warriors, so did things stagnate for those refugees who hadn't been made to sacrifice their lives in the vain attempt to reclaim Wall Maria. Some managed to get back on their feet and start their lives anew, the wealthy and the lucky, but for every one individual who experienced such fortune, there were ten left to wallow. They lived in the same hostels that they had resided in since the farm, subsided on what meager portions they were given, and spent hours upon end working in fields and doing other manual labor.

It was nothing that they hadn't seen before, but there was something to be said for exposure. Every day, the hopeless faces of the people trying so desperately to find something to hold onto wore Pieck down a little more. Every day, she saw the last flickers of resolve in her companion's eyes grow further and further away.

***

As far as sleeping assignments went, Pieck was lucky. Her cot was right next to a window. Annie's was right next to it and got to reap some of the benefits, but she got most of the direct light. Pieck was curled up at the top of her cot, sitting on top of her pillow, and utilizing the day's last fading rays of light to read the newspaper when Annie and Bertolt approached her. The matching expressions on their faces - somber and trying hard to hide fright - immediately gave her an idea of what this may be about. Even so, Pieck turned her gaze back to her paper after a quick glance at her companions.

This was their choice. If they wanted to have the conversation that she suspected they did, she would leave it up to them to initiate it.

Several minutes passed by. Pieck finished reading the page that she was on and carefully flicked to the next one. She got halfway through it before Annie whispered, voice firm, but with the distinct sense that she was inches away from faltering, "I'm not giving up on seeing my father again."

Pieck folded her newspaper up and bent down to push to tuck it under her bed. She had borrowed it from a kindly old woman she'd befriended; it wouldn't do to leave it and risk getting it damaged. Once it was safe and sound, she straightened back up and looked Annie in the eyes. "I never thought that you would," she said.

Annie opened her mouth. Closed it. It was as she was pursing her lips that Bertolt reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. She didn't spare it so much as a passing glance, but it did seem to give her the second wind that she needed, for she went on to whisper, "We don't want to destroy another wall. If there's another way to find the Founding Titan, we want to find it."

Warmth rushed through Pieck's chest. Relief, joy, pride. She wanted nothing more than to lean into the feeling, to grab Annie and Bertolt in her arms and hold them tight, to tell them how proud she was of them for making such a decision. But she couldn't. She was the leader of their group, and that meant that she had to make sure that they understood the implications of what they were saying, the risks and consequences that they may end up facing.

Marcel would have found a way to phrase it more kindly than she was going to, but that was from her perspective. In that moment, she wondered. Did Marcel ever feel like he was being cruel? Like he had to be in for their own good?

"What if we can't find the Founding Titan without destroying another wall?" Pieck whispered.

Annie frowned. However, it was Bertolt who spoke up this time. "Y-You don't know that it will turn out like that."

"You're right, I don't," Pieck acquiesced. "But if we take too long, Marley will assume something's happened. They'll either think we've died or turned traitor, and once that happens, we won't have an easy way home."

Annie looked at the ground. She didn't move as she said, "Then let them think we're dead. As long as we keep our heads low and don't shift, they'll have no reason to think we betrayed them."

Pieck nodded. "That's-"

"It doesn't mean that I'm giving up," Annie added, her voice taking on a sharp, bitter tone. She looked up to meet her eyes, and the intensity of the piercing blue left Pieck with no choice but to assume that she was telling the truth. "I will see my father again, no matter what it takes. But I'm not going to destroy another wall."

"Me either," Bertolt added. "This was... everything we've seen..." He glanced downward and began wringing his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible despite how close he stood. "These people aren't devils. I don't want to hurt them like that again."

Pieck didn't point out that they would still be hurting them if they returned the Founding Titan to Marley. Succeeding in the mission would likely mean guaranteeing the island's annihilation, but something told her that they already knew that. Even if they didn't want to consciously acknowledge it, they knew. It was probably why they were willing to entertain the concept of failing to find the Founding Titan and spending the rest of their lives playing dead on Paradis - or in Annie's case, scrambling to get back to her father when she was supposed to be dead.

Of course, Annie wouldn't be the only one separated from her family. Pieck allowed herself to think of her own father for an instant, to let grief wash over her and her heart to sink inside her chest. If they didn't find the Founding Titan, she would probably never see her father again. The only father she had would be lost to her. But... maybe that wouldn't be so bad. As long as Marley didn't think that they had actively betrayed them, that was a significant chance that he would continue to reap the benefits from having a warrior for a daughter. He would hurt, but surely it was a hurt that he had already prepared himself for. She would hurt, but after everything she had done, she had more than earned a little pain by now.

The refugees? The haunted and hurting faces around her, the ones who pressed on in the midst of hopelessness and despair? They hadn't earned the pain that had been inflicted on them. They didn't deserve to have to go through it again.

Pieck's eyes stung. She blinked a few times to eradicate the sensation before tears could form and offered Annie and Bertolt a small, fragile smile. "Alright," she whispered. "We can come up with another plan."

Annie shrugged Bertolt's hand off her shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't think we should abandon the old plan completely. We still want to find the Founding Titan, right?"

Bertolt nodded. "Joining the Military Police will get us closer to the royal family," he said.

"Right," Annie said. "Although... one of us should check out the Survey Corps and see what they're up to. And even if we don't find the Founder..." She paused for half a second as she glanced off to the side. "I don't want to live in squalor the entire time I'm here."

Pieck nodded. "Makes sense," she said, even though it didn't. With their constant expeditions and pursuit of knowledge, there was a faint chance that the Survey Corps would know something about that Founding Titan. However, if Annie's secondary goal was truly to secure a better life for herself, then there was little to no reason for her to bring up the possibility of joining the most dangerous and least celebrated branch of the military.

But if she wanted to atone and soothe her guilty conscience? Then joining the Survey Corps made perfect sense.

"Alright," Pieck said, just for the relief of saying it. "We'll join the Training Corps, but no more attacks on the walls."

"Thank you," Bertolt whispered.

Pieck smiled faintly. "Thank you."

***

And so, the warriors changed their plan.

Then Reiner showed up.

***

Reiner Braun was a member of the Marleyan Junior military. He was an entitled, prejudiced, oblivious brat who had carelessly bullied them throughout their training. He shouldn't have been on Paradis.

Yet there he was. Pieck didn't know what to make of it. All she knew was that his presence couldn't mean anything good and it was her job to make sure that it didn't turn into anything worse. When Annie knocked him to the ground and pressed an arm to his throat, Pieck called her off and led them somewhere they could sort this out without making a scene.

As she hunted down a large enough closet, Pieck found herself thinking about her history with her newest problem.

Growing up, everyone had handled Reiner differently. Porco fought back, at least, as much as the circumstances allowed him to. Annie had grit her teeth and bore it, even as visible hurt and resentment began to build under her skin with every cruel, thoughtless barb. Bertolt fluctuated between trying to be friendly with him and just staying out of his way. Marcel, too kind for his own good, had actually tried to befriend him, claiming that he saw something good in him.

Out of all the candidates, Pieck had had the least direct interaction with him. She'd tried to make herself seem weird and uninteresting, not worth paying attention to, and watched him from afar. It had worked for the most part. However, 'for the most part' only meant so much with someone like Reiner. He had still called her 'devil' time and time again and looked at her like she was a bug beneath his foot.

The way he treated her was the easy part of it. Pieck had been helpless to do anything but watch as he poked and prodded at her friends, content in the knowledge that his status as a Marleyan would be enough to prevent any retaliation. Even when he started to shoot Marcel warm looks when he thought no one was looking, he never let up on the others. He had made Annie and Bertolt feel worse about themselves, cost Porco his shot at a titan, tricked Marcel into wasting his time and energy on someone who would never change.

Pieck didn't hate Marleyans as a whole. Reiner was another matter, a personal one. She knew that Marcel would be disappointed in her for it, but it wouldn't be a lie to say that she loathed him. Maybe even hated him.

It was hard not to let that loathing show on her face when she closed them into the closet, especially when Reiner had the gall to play dumb in the face of Annie's questions. However, it got a little easier when he said something that sparked her curiosity.

"I'm not Marleyan."

It felt like a shockwave traveled through the group. Pieck shrugged it off with ease, driven by the need to figure out exactly what was going on. Because the Reiner she knew, overwhelmingly nationalistic and proud of his heritage, would never deny his status as a Marleyan. She canted her head to the side and took a step forward. "Is that so?" she asked.

Did Reiner know how much he looked like a cornered animal right then? She doubted it. If he did, he would probably be putting on some sort of bluster to counteract it. Instead, there was only wild desperation. He stammered for a moment, doubtlessly too caught up in whatever was going on in his head to get his words out, before saying something impossible.

"I'm the inheritor of the Armored Titan; Marley sent me to help you in your mission following the loss of the Jaw."

Pieck felt her eyes widen. She had sent word of Marcel's demise and their success at Shiganshina back to Marley. Once they were settled in Wall Rose, she'd convinced Bertolt and Annie to let her set out for one of the checkpoints beyond Wall Maria, where she had left a letter. The whole thing had taken no more than a week. She hadn't known for sure that her letter would actually reach Marley, let alone expected anything to come of it. She certainly hadn't expected them to send backup.

Past a certain point, she hadn't wanted them to send backup. And now...

...Now wasn't the time to think about that. Reiner, a Marleyan, had just claimed that he was the new Armored Titan. That was impossible. It should have been impossible. However, Reiner seemed to be caught in the throes of visceral, all-consuming terror. Fear on that level just couldn't be faked. More than that, when Annie called him out on what should have been his impossible lie, he pretended that he didn't know them.

Did he truly think they were that stupid?

No, that was desperation in his voice, not derision. He didn't expect them not to be able to remember him, he wanted them to.

Something was very wrong here. But what?

Then Reiner said something that made it click.

"Marleyans can't be titans."

Pieck blinked as all the pieces came together. She then smiled as she said. "You're right; Marleyans can't be titans. Don't worry, Reiner. You don't have to do anything like that; I believe you."

She said it because it was the truth. Marleyans couldn't be titans, except for when they were only Marleyan in name. She had heard of Eldian families escaping from Liberio, faking their information, and pretending to be Marleyan before.

Except that didn't feel quite right. His parents never would have let him join the military if they were living a lie on that scale. More to the point, Reiner might have known that he was Eldian, and there was no way that he had been faking his disgust for her race. For their race. However, there was another possibility, one that suddenly seemed very possible when remembered that Reiner had never mentioned his father.

A Marleyan couldn't become a titan, but they could if they were half Eldian. It was also possible that his mother wouldn't have considered that a blood test could reveal his parentage, thus explaining his military involvement. And that military training would explain why he was on Paradis now. Officially, interbreeding would result in the execution of both families involved, but if Marley was desperate for someone to inherit the Armored Titan, someone in Reiner's position could serve as the perfect tool. Become a warrior, do right by Marley, or you and your whole family will be killed. Reiner would have no room to do anything but what they told him.

...There was no way that he would waver from the mission. He was going to try to see that Paradis was destroyed, and if he caught them wavering, he would tell Marley that they were all traitors.

Fury rose up inside Pieck. She forced herself to swallow it down as she guided Annie and Bertolt to follow her lead, to pretend that they bought Reiner's claim of being someone else.

It made her feel wretched to do. If this vile situation had any silver lining, it was in the fact that the boy who had tormented them was one of the very people he'd called devils. It was karma at its finest, an opportunity for them to get back at him for everything they had experienced. Bertolt was too kind to do anything, but Annie deserved to be able to tear into him as much as she wanted.

But they couldn't. Working with Reiner would be hard enough even without acknowledging the elephant in the room. If they did, it might well become impossible. There was also a chance that it would lead to trouble with Marley, which wasn't a chance that she was willing to take. Perhaps letting him rest with his lie was the cowardly way out, but with everything falling apart around them, Pieck was willing to be a bit of a coward.

Funny. For a coward, she was doomed to get an awful lot of blood on her hands. All three of them were.

As Pieck went on to explain the plan - the terrible, cruel, heartless plan that they had officially forsaken only a few weeks ago - she decided.

She hated Reiner Braun.

***

Reiner was going to try to get his sleeping arrangements altered so that he was closer to Bertolt, Pieck, and Annie. For the time being, however, he was still on the other side of the hostel. That meant that when it grew late into the night, he had to leave, finally giving everyone else a chance to talk.

They huddled in between her and Annie's cots, just like they had been before the intruder arrived. There, Pieck and Bertolt gave each other a long, strained look. It seemed clear to her that Bertolt knew what he wanted to say, but didn't know how to say it. If she had to guess, she would go as far as to say that he was struggling with the very same realization as her. They all were.

Of course, just because you realized something didn't mean that you accepted it. And one of them was going to have a harder time accepting their new reality than the other two.

"What does this mean for the mission?" Annie demanded.

Bertolt looked down at his lap and Pieck swallowed heavily. I'm sorry, Annie.

"It means that we have to go back to the original plan," Pieck whispered. "Find the Founding Titan at any cost."

Annie stared at Pieck with piercing, desperate, disbelieving blue eyes. Pieck met her gaze head-on, sorrowful but unyielding. Finally, Annie slowly shook her head.

"Not any cost," she said. "We aren't going to destroy another wall. Pieck, we agreed."

Pieck's eyes began to sting. She closed them long enough to shove the sensation away before opening them back up and saying, "I know, and I'm sorry, but Reiner can never know about that. If it reaches a point where it looks like that's what we'll have to do, then... That's what we'll have to do."

Annie's lips parted. She began to raise a shaking hand, but lowered it before Pieck could get an idea of what she intended to do with it.

Meanwhile, Bertolt had turned to look at Annie. He kept his gaze on her as he hesitantly suggested, "Maybe we can get him to go along with us. Reiner was... he wasn't nice, but he wasn't entirely awful either. Once he realizes that he would be killing people..."

Pieck and Annie responded at the same time.

"You think that he thinks of anyone here as a person?" Annie spat. Her voice pitched upwards as she spoke, not enough to put them at risk of being overheard, but enough to make her disgust plain as day. The heartbreak in her expression faded away in favor of cold fury.

Pieck's response was more subdued. She shook her head and murmured, "Reiner is extremely loyal to Marley. All we would be doing is giving him the opportunity to report us as traitors."

A bead of sweat slipped down Bertolt's brow. He began to wring his hands together as he stammered, "Th-that was then. Things might be different now that he's..."

"A devil?" Annie suggested, voice dropping into something dark and condemning.

"...One of us," Bertolt continued. "I don't know what happened to him, but it couldn't have been good, and going from Marleyan to Eldian must be... He might not be as loyal to Marley after that. He might... he might be more willing to think about other people's feelings."

Annie grit her jaw, but otherwise didn't comment. She didn't need to - Pieck could all but feel the disbelief radiating from her. Pieck was inclined to agree with it. After all, this was Reiner they were talking about. The idea that this horrible, entitled, prejudiced, mindlessly dogmatic boy could possibly get better was beyond ridiculous. Whatever he had experienced might be enough to humble other people, but him? He would probably come up with some reason why they were still all terrible devils and he was the exception.

Those were Pieck's feelings though, and she couldn't risk making her calls based on her feelings. Not when the facts were so much more damning.

"That's exactly why we can't risk it," Pieck said. "Annie, Bertolt. You both agree that Reiner really thought he was Marleyan, right?"

"Yes," Bertolt murmured. "He always seemed very... confident."

Meanwhile, Annie nodded, her expression growing a shade darker.

Pieck gave a single sharp nod of her own. "That means that he's either half-Marleyan or his entire family was lying about being Marleyan the whole time. Both of those things are very illegal. It's surprising that he wasn't just sent to paradise, honestly."

"He would have made a good titan," Annie muttered.

"Annie," Bertolt whispered, a hint of dismay in his voice.

"He's good at hurting things," Annie shot back.

The memory of Bertolt flinching at the sound of Reiner's voice flashed through her mind. A younger, smaller Annie looking like she was struggling to hold back tears after being asked about her horns. Porco cradling a broken arm. Yes, Reiner was certainly very good at breaking things. In that way, perhaps it was actually fitting that he had been made the Armored Titan rather than another mindless beast to roam paradise. After all, there was no telling how much pain and suffering he may inflict upon the world now.

They were getting off-topic.

Pieck cleared her throat before continuing, "What I'm saying is that he's going to be on an even tighter leash than we are. I'm willing to bet that this isn't an opportunity for him, it's a second chance. For him and his family. If he fails, they'll probably all be executed for his crimes. You can't negotiate with that."

Annie's expression cleared into something pristine and emotionless as she looked Pieck in the eyes and said, "Maybe we don't have to negotiate with him."

...She was right. There were so many things that could kill someone on Paradis - even a titan shifter. Reiner had only just found them. If he disappeared now, Marley would never need to know that he had found them in the first place. All they would have to do was kill one more person.

Reiner.

Pieck's throat constricted. "What are you saying?" she asked. Because she had to ask.

Annie didn't so much as blink. "Don't play dumb."

No, this really wasn't the time to play dumb, was it? It wasn't a good look on her anyway.

Pieck looked down at her lap. She had to face the facts. Reiner may have been a shifter now, but no matter what training he had been put through while they were gone, he couldn't hope to stand a chance against the three of them put together. It would be murder, but it would be a murder that could stand to save untold lives. She would be killing someone she knew, but certainly not someone she'd miss. When she put it like that, then maybe...

"Wait a minute," Bertolt cut in. His voice was shaken, and when Pieck looked up, an undercurrent of horror was plastered across his expression. "You aren't talking about killing him, are you?"

"It would be for the best," Annie said, unrepentant.

Bertolt shook his head. "It would be murder. I mean... I know we're already murderers, but I mean..." He wrapped his arms around himself as he paused. "It's Reiner."

Annie scowled. "All the more reason to do it."

Bertolt shook his head again, this time a little more fiercely. "It isn't what Marcel would have wanted."

Silence. Pieck and Annie exchanged a glance, after which Annie looked to the side while Pieck gently asked, "What do you mean, Bertolt?"

Now that he had been put on the spot, Bertolt seemed a lot more sure of himself. He ran a hand across his forehead, grimacing when it came away sweaty. He held that hand in his lap and stared down at it for several heartbeats before finally raising his gaze to meet Pieck's. "Marcel always thought that there was good in Reiner. He would have wanted us to give him a chance. And Reiner... Reiner was always a lot nicer to Marcel than the rest of us, so maybe he was right. Besides... if his family is in that much trouble, don't you think there's a chance that they'll be killed if he disappears as well? It's not their fault that he acted the way he did."

Pieck looked down at her hands - hands that had already caused so much death and despair. What was one more life, the life of someone she hated, when it could prevent even greater misery? And yet...

She disagreed with Bertolt about Reiner's family. Seeing as they were the people who raised him, it went to reason that the way he treated them was absolutely their fault. They were also either a group of Eldians who were so ashamed of their heritage that they had lied or a bunch of Marleyans who had raised a half-Eldian child to hate his own kind. Maybe she could understand them if she knew their full story, but as it stood, she couldn't bring herself to feel any true sympathy for them. But Marcel?

Marcel would be disappointed in them if he knew what they were thinking about doing. No, worse than disappointed. He would be angry. Back when Reiner first started hanging around them, she had thought that he was being nice to him out of some sort of strategic value. When she realized that he wasn't, she had been kind of hurt, even though she never actually said anything. She never understood what Marcel saw in Reiner or thought that he deserved his kindness. But he had seen something. Perhaps it was something that wasn't really there, but she knew that Marcel would have vouched for him if he were there now.

...If Marcel were able to vouch for Reiner, then Pieck wouldn't be there to act against him. Because Pieck was only alive because Marcel had pushed her out of the way.

"...Alright," Pieck said. "You're right. We'll let him live."

Annie wrapped her arms around herself. Pieck began to reach out to her, but pulled her hand back at the last second.

There was a very real chance that they were making a mistake, but she owed it to Marcel to make that gamble, even if she was gambling on Reiner. She had to trust in his judgment one last time. But how could she explain that to Annie in a way that could even hope to provide some solace to what she must be feeling right now?

She couldn't. So they just had to move on.

"We'll need to be careful about how we act around him," Pieck said. "He clearly doesn't want to acknowledge our past together, so I say that we go with it and pretend that he's someone else."

"Why?" Annie asked, still refusing to look at her. "He doesn't deserve to get to avoid his situation."

Pieck sighed. She didn't doubt that Reiner was supposed to keep whatever truth laid behind his heritage a secret, but it was also ridiculous to expect that they wouldn't remember him. Back in the closet, she may have implied that they were pretending he was a different person because Marley wanted them to, but that was nothing more than a convenient lie. Reiner wanted them to forget who he was because it made things easier for him. But in a warped, disgusting way, it also made things easier for them.

"We need to work with him. That will be easier if we avoid conflict, and the best way to avoid conflict is to pretend that we've never met. It'll also be easier if we let him think he's in charge, since Marley probably sent him to make sure we're continuing the mission and get us back in line if need be," Pieck said, the gears in her head turning even if she spoke.

"But you're our leader," Bertolt said, voice hesitant.

A wry smile twisted at Pieck's lips. "But he doesn't need to know that. He'll probably be easier to handle if he doesn't."

Looking back at Reiner's history of ignorance, she could all too easily see how he could be led to think that he was making all the major decisions when that wasn't the case at all.

"It sounds like you're planning something sick," Annie muttered.

"I'm not planning anything," Pieck said. "I'm just trying to find a way to get us through this."

All of them, whether she liked it or not. If it just so happened that by being especially careful with how she treated Reiner, she might eventually find a way to minimize Paradisian casualties... well, she would just have to wait and see what happened.

***

It was several hours until sunrise by the time they all went to bed.

Pieck still didn't get any sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind was invaded by memories of the fall of Wall Maria and visions of the terrors that might be yet to come. When the sun finally rose to peek through the windows, she wanted nothing more than to melt back into her cot and block the rest of the world out.

But that wasn't an option.

It looked like she wasn't the only one who hadn't gotten any sleep that night. Annie and Bertolt both looked tired. Yet Reiner managed to outdo them all when he found them lurking outside the entrance to the hostel that morning. He approached them slowly with heavy shoulders, red-rimmed eyes with dark bags beneath, and an expression that was even more laden with exhaustion than Pieck’s own.

While Pieck leaned against the cold stone wall of the hostel and Annie glowered at Reiner, but otherwise remained perfectly still, Bertolt took a step forward. "Are - are you alright, Reiner?" he asked. "You look kind of..."

Reiner grinned. It was strained and didn't come anywhere close to hiding how drained it was, but Pieck supposed it was a decent attempt. "Just a little tired," he said.

There was nothing about Bertolt that looked convinced, but that didn't stop him from nodding. "A-alright. I was wondering, how long have you been in the area?"

"About three days," Reiner said. "Why?"

Bertolt hesitated for a moment before taking another step forward. "We've been here since the wall fell. Would you like me to show you around?"

Reiner's countenance brightened slightly. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble."

Too much trouble. How funny - Reiner had never cared whether he was troubling them before. Pieck looked down to hide the onset of an expression that could have been a scowl or a smirk. Somehow, the feeling of her lips twisting wasn't enough to tell her which.

"Not at all," Bertolt said. He turned around to face Pieck and Annie as he added, "do you guys want to-"

Pieck stepped swiftly to the side and grabbed Annie's upper arm. "Actually, Annie and I were going to see if we can grab some extra shifts in the fields."

She didn't dare shoot Annie a pleading look, no matter how much she wanted to. As such, it was a relief when her fellow warrior nodded. "We could use the extra money," she muttered.

"They'll pay you?" Reiner asked, puzzlement clear in his voice. Pieck and Annie both snapped their gazes toward him at the same time. He didn't falter when he met Pieck's eyes, but when he looked over at Annie, he swallowed heavily and took a nearly imperceptible step backward. Pieck resisted the urge to grin.

"I - I thought refugees were expected to work and only received their rations," Reiner added.

"Normally. Sometimes they'll pay you if you do more than your share. It's not much, but it's better than nothing," Pieck provided.

"Especially now that we have another mouth to feed," Annie muttered.

Reiner nodded. "Right. I could... help, if you wanted."

Something sad shifted across Bertolt's expression while something angry fluttered in Pieck's chest. "You don't have to do that," he said.

No, Reiner did not have to do anything other than what Marley had told them to, and Marley wouldn't have told him to perform extra manual labor within the walls. That prompted the question, was his offer some weak attempt to make amends when he was too cowardly to directly address their past? Or did he truly think them so stupid that he believed that they didn't recognize him, and this was him trying to start off on the right foot?

Either way, she wanted some space from him right now, and Annie probably needed it.

Pieck plastered a grin to her face and said, "Maybe later. Just focus on getting used to the area for now."

With that, she walked away, off to find the closest volunteer station. Annie followed close behind. The glower on her face said that even though she found her company more tolerable than Reiner, she still wasn't happy about the decisions that had been made. Pieck offered her a weak smile and didn't say anything to try and make her think differently.

If she was Annie, she would be angry at her too.

***

And so the tone was set. Pieck avoided Reiner aside from when the warriors came together to discuss their mission. She was relieved to find that he didn't seem to think much of it - likely recalling the aloof, distant girl from their training days.

Annie was a little more complicated. The damage between her and Pieck was done and she didn't know if there was any undoing it. However, her fellow warrior still followed her lead and kept her distance from Reiner for the most part. The only prominent exceptions were when the urge to lash out at him grew too great and Annie approached him with some sort of barb or reminder of her shared past. It was the opposite of helpful, yet Pieck couldn't bring herself to make her stop. Maybe it was because she hadn't done anything to bring an end to this game of ignorance they were playing. Perhaps it was because she also enjoyed seeing Reiner squirm. Either way, although Reiner didn't quite roll over when faced with Annie, he also didn't do anything to defend herself from her subtle but scathing attacks.

Bertolt was another matter entirely. He tried to be friendly with Reiner, tried to make friends with him. Pieck understood his actions on a logical level. Reiner was their teammate now - befriending him would probably be beneficial. A fractured group could only be bad for them in the long run. Yet when she considered trying to follow his lead, bitter, not-so-old memories drifted to the surface of her mind, putting a stop to that idea before she could even truly consider it.

Fractured or not, their group held together for the next few weeks, and when it was time to join the training corps, their existing dynamic gave Pieck an idea.

All four of them wrote that they were from the same hometown. However, among the rest of the cadets, they would pretend that most of them were no more than casual acquaintances. Bertolt and Reiner would stick together, but Pieck and Annie would both go their own ways. It kept them from drifting too far apart while ensuring that they wouldn't all immediately be implicated if one of them was discovered.

It meant that the only one who had to spend a lot of time around Reiner was the one who could actually tolerate him.

***

Pieck anticipated that training would be a lonely time. It had to be, since she wasn't supposed to be too close to Annie or Bertolt and she couldn't risk getting attached to any of the Paradisians.

Then, only two days into training, she met them.

Pieck had planned on staying in the dining hall until curfew. She may not be able to let herself get close to the other cadets, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to know them. Only two days in, everyone's dynamics were still being established, but there was certainly a lot to know about the individuals.

There was the trio of cadets who hailed from Shiganshina. The loud-mouthed one, Eren, was easy to read, the unspeakable nightmares he had faced clearly propelling him forward in his hopeless dream to destroy all the titans. It was the other two who were more interesting. Armin, the quiet boy who always looked like he was thinking, and Mikasa, the stoic girl who was always at the loudmouth's side. However, they were also far more difficult to read. So was the freckled girl, Ymir, who had quickly taken to shadowing the sweet blonde, Krista.

They were outliers though. Out of the others, she had quickly realized that the potato girl, Sasha, spoke a little too precisely and politely for it to be her real manner of speech. The boy who had saluted incorrectly, Connie, was clearly from the country and seemed to have minimal idea of what being in the military actually entailed. The same could probably be said about the ambitious, overconfident blowhard, Jean, as well as the overly earnest Marco.

Those were just the ones who immediately came to mind when she thought of her new classmates. She had noticed plenty of little details about the others as well, yet all of it probably still paled in comparison to what Reiner had learned, given how oddly comfortable he already seemed among the "islands devils".

He was probably off socializing in the boy's barracks while she lingered in the dining hall. Unfortunately, he was also probably being more productive by doing so. Only a few pockets of people remained still lingered in the dimly lit room around her, all of whom were engaged in quiet conversation with one or two partners. It was too quiet for her to overhear what any of them were saying, and if she wasn't careful, she would end up looking like she was trying to eavesdrop. Assuming that she didn't already.

Pieck stood up, only for her foot to get caught on the table leg when she moved to walk away. The next thing she knew, she was careening toward the ground. In the mere instant that she had to act, she flung her arms out in front of herself and winced, bracing for impact-

- but it never came. Instead, two warm hands grabbed her shoulders tight and pulled her upright. The next thing she knew, she was staring at the face of the blowhard himself, Jean Kirstein.

For a moment, all they did was stare at each other. Then Jean frowned and said, "Geeze. Think you might be a little clumsy for the military?"

How rude, she thought. At the same instant, another voice cried, "Jean!" Over his shoulder, she spotted Marco Bodt scrambling out of his seat and hurrying toward them.

Pieck grinned. "Maybe I was just testing your reflexes."

"My reflexes?" Jean parroted, a hint of confusion washing over his features. It was more endearing than it had any right to be, given how obnoxious his personality seemed so far.

Still, he had saved her from her fall. That had to be worth something.

"Is everything alright?" Marco asked, coming to a stop by Jean's side.

Pieck shifted to face Marco. "Everything's fine, Marco. It's just like I was telling Jean here." She paused to wink at the unfortunate young man in question. "Isn't a gentleman supposed to catch a lady when she falls?"

Jean sputtered. "That's not-" He abruptly let go of her arms, a blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. "That has nothing to do with it! I just didn't want to stand there and let you hurt yourself."

"You moved really fast," Marco observed, a note of approval and admiration in his voice.

"He did. And it was very noble of him," Pieck said. Jean's face started to turn a little redder, so she made the extremely magnanimous decision to let out a gentle laugh. "I'm just teasing, Jean."

"You're not very funny," he muttered.

"Ah, I disagree," Pieck said, grin stretching a little wider.

Jean opened his mouth, but before he could get another word out, Marco cut in. "You remembered our names?"

"Sure did," Pieck said. She rocked back onto her heels before adding, "Don't tell me you've forgotten mine?"

Now it was Marco's turn to blush. Of course, that just made Jean protest, "Why would we? Shadis didn't stop to chew you out!"

"That's no excuse," Pieck chided. "What if we were in the middle of an emergency and you need to call out to me? We could-"

"Pieck," Jean interrupted.

She blinked. "What?"

Jean stood up a little straighter and grinned smugly. "I just remembered. Your name is Pieck Finger." He sounded far too pleased with himself for someone who had done something as simple as remembering his comrade's name. It was a stupid thing to be so happy about. Yet his happiness was infectious, and Pieck found herself fighting back a laugh.

"You've got me," Pieck said. "The question is, will you remember it next time you see me?"

"Of course!" Jean said. The arrogant boy had the nerve to look a little affronted that she even had to ask.

"I'll try to remember as well!" Marco proclaimed.

This time, Pieck couldn't hold back her chuckle. "We'll see." She took a step backward and to the side - carefully avoiding the table - before saying, "I'm heading to bed. Marco, it was nice to meet you. Jean... thank you for saving my clumsy self."

Jean rubbed the back of his head and looked to the side. "You're welcome, I guess."

"Goodnight, Pieck!" Marco warmly proclaimed.

Pieck let out one last laugh before turning around to stride toward the girl's barracks.

She wasn't supposed to get attached to any of the cadets, yet there was a tiny part of her that couldn't help but acknowledge that this felt like the start of something.

If she was honest with herself, she might say that it felt like the beginning of the end.

#attack on titan #snk #pieck finger #reiner braun #jean kirstein #bertolt hoover #annie leonhardt #Annie Leonhart #Marco Bodt #marco bott #jeanpiku #fingerstein #horsecart #snk fic #unchanging destinations #my fic #my writing

11 notes · View notes

metalbvcky · 4 years

Photo

Back in May, I made my first Stucky Ficrec post and months later, I’ve decided to make another since this fandom is hella talented. There’s a little over two dozen fics down below ranging from 10k-100k+ and everything’s categorized.

Do note that lot of these are Modern AU’s (I love those) and most of them are smutty. (yes hello, an asexual here who enjoys smut so very much) Also heed the tags once you click the link(s). Other than that, enjoy!!!

Key: ♥ = My personal favorites, S = Smut, DS = Dom/Sub

a) CANON UNIVERSE

If You're Reading This, Steve Rogers by fallendarlings Words: 39,273 | Post/Canon Divergence 2012 Avengers/TWS, Recovery, Slow Burn

Nobody tells Steve it's okay to cry.

Nobody touches him.

Nobody remembers Steve Rogers is a person under the mantle. It's okay. He hasn't felt like a person since he watched Bucky fall.

don't threaten me with a good time ♥ by canistakahari - Words 10,106 | Post-TWS, Sick!Fic, Sick!Bucky, Cabin Fic

Steve's taken him on vacation to a cabin in Canada in the middle of winter, so it's obviously the perfect time for his body to go haywire. Bucky is determined to stick it out, though, partly because he's a stubborn bastard, but mostly because he feels some kinda way about Steve.

Higher Ground by EmilianaDarling - Words: 13,002 | Post-TWS, S, DS (undertones), Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

“S’okay,” Bucky murmurs quietly, and Steve sucks in a sharp breath at the brush of Bucky’s lips against his ear, his breath hot against the side of Steve’s neck. There’s a hint of a grin in Bucky’s voice; amused affection and confidence and something heated beneath it all, a familiar tone from so long ago that makes Steve’s heart clench and his cock twitch helplessly in his jeans.

“S’okay, Stevie,” he says again, and Steve can feel the curl of Bucky’s lips against his throat when he smiles. His metal thumb is rubbing circles on Steve’s shoulder. “M’gonna take care of you.”

A year and a half after the events of The Winter Soldier, Steve's been acting recklessly. Bucky deals with it as best he can.

The Simple Life ♥ from The Simple Life Series by howler32557038 - Words: 114,329 (Series Total: 337,273 + ongoing) | Canon Universe, MPreg, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"The simple life."

"You'll get there one day."

"I don't know. Family, stability...The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Bucky wants to be part of Steve's life. He wants to be an Avenger. He wants to be a good partner. Unfortunately, sometimes that means not telling Steve everything.

a road less traveled by Claudia_flies, cyclamental art (cyclamental),maichan, zilia - Words: 75,396 | 2012 Timeline AU, Post-Avengers 2012 (Endgame Divergence), Domestic Avengers, Recovering!Bucky

Steve wakes up on the cold stone floor of the foyer. He scrambles up; there’s glass shards everywhere and they crunch under his gloved hands. People are staring, holding themselves back. They must have seen the fight, must have seen two of him.

His own voice rings in his head.

“Bucky is alive!”

Kept Safe by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 54,419 | S, DS, BDSM

Steve and Bucky are friends. Best Friends. If asked, Bucky would say he knows absolutely everything about Steve. Except when it comes to sex. Steve lives such a monastic existence that Bucky doesn't know if he likes girls, boys, or none of the above. For all he knows, Steve may have no interest in sex whatsoever.

But then a mission goes wrong, Steve is bleeding out from a wound to the femoral artery and Bucky is trying to stop the bleeding when his hand brushes against metal. Where there most definitely shouldn't be metal. Or a padlock. And most definitely not a torturously small cage.

48 hours by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 25,894 | Post-CW, S, DS, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Steve is keeping it together. No one would say he's keeping it together well, but he's getting by. Mission after mission, he goes back to his apartment in Wakanda and breaks down. Then he watches Bucky sleep and tries to not notice how everyone looks at him like he's the saddest bastard that ever lived.

But, this time is different. This time, Steve goes back to his apartment post-mission and Bucky is awake, out of cryo and making them dinner in Steve's kitchen. The breakdown is still happening. Bucky isn't pleased, but he does have a plan. For 48 hours after every mission, Steve is going to let Bucky take care of him or he's going to be on Steve's next mission. He can't risk losing Bucky again. Which should make the decision simple.

It isn't simple.

The Sex Therapist ♥ by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 179,941 | S, DS, DKink, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Current/Past Steve/Sharon

Sharon has given him an ultimatum- either go to sex therapy or it's over. Sex therapy sounds like normal therapy but more humiliating and expensive. It's total BS. He will go because she's making him, but he will also make everyone's lives miserable (Yeah, including his own) and never return again.

Do they have a lot of sex? No. Does Sharon want more sex? Yes. Does Steve do his best? Yeah, actually, he does. He can get it up, he just needs time. Alone. There's... preparation involved. It's not like one just 'is' aroused.

He can't explain it. And he won't. He definitely won't tell Bucky what exactly he thinks about to get worked up enough to screw his girlfriend.

Found My Place in Time - Cap_D, humapuma - Words: 12,492 | Post-EG (Divergence, duh) S, Fluff, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

“Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?”

In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

Total Institution ♥ from the Institutions of Love and Incarceration series by thelittlestpurplecat - Words: 94,303 | Canon Universe AU, Prison!AU, Guard!Steve, Prisoner!Bucky, Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, WS Trial

The Winter Soldier has been sentenced to life without parol. His entire world had been condensed to a hot, cramped cell that he hasn't seen the outside of in the four years since his apprehension. It's hell. He has no means of escape, no means of terminating his suffering, and no means of distraction...that is, until he's assigned a new guard. Steve Rogers is assigned the Winter Soldier as his singular charge. He expects a sadistic, violent murderer. What he finds instead is a broken, tormented man with no memory of his past life, and no control over what had been done to him. He's a victim. Not a monster. And Steve won't stand to see him pay for crimes over which he had no control.

Raise Your Glass by minkeys - Words: 10,008 | Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Light DS, S, DKink

Bucky knows Steve in ways that his 21st century friends could never even begin to imagine. Or at least, they couldn't until tonight. It's about time somebody corrected all those historians that painted Steve as a straight-laced, God-fearing soldier, and what better way to do it than over a harmless game of "Never Have I Ever." What's the worst that could be said?

b) SHRUNKYCLUNKS

Waking Up Slow ♥ by odetteandodile - Words: 44,638 | Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic, Hurt/Comfort

In 1945 Steve Rogers crashed the Valkyrie into the Arctic Ocean and was never recovered.

In 2019 Bucky Barnes is walking along the beach below the decommissioned lighthouse where he lives with his sixteen month old daughter when he finds the body of a man washed up in the surf, half frozen but miraculously alive.

Bucky manages to revive him, but finds that the stranger has no memory of who he is or how he got here aside from a name: Steve. Snowed in by a blizzard soon after and unable to get Steve a medevac, Bucky discovers that the funny, good-hearted man slips into the fabric of his and Alice’s life faster than he would have thought possible. The two are undeniably drawn to each other, but as their feelings grow so does the looming possibility that the answer to the question “who is Steve?” might be much more complicated than either of them realized.

Isn't It Ironic? (Don't You Think?) ♥ by HeyBoy, Huntress79, imhereforgaysuperheroes - Words: 33,342 | Jewish, Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic

Bucky is used to his daughter bursting into tears in the middle of department stores. What he isn't used to is someone braving the wails and actually being able to stop Becca's tantrum in its tracks. Oh, and he's also not used to that someone being Captain America.

AKA, how Steve Rogers calms a screaming kid in Target and falls in love with two more Barneses than he had bargained for.

in my condition love's the best physician by aniloquent - Words: 9,177 | Pharmacy!AU, Russian!Bucky

“This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts.

The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him.

Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?”

Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

c) MODERN AU

Home Is Wherever I'm With You ♥ by cydonic - Words: 88,570 | Neighbors!AU, Slow Burn, Parent!Steve, Kid!Fic

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

That House-Flipper!AU.

if only you could see me (for the pie that i am) ♥ by bitelikefire (theoleo) | Words: 35,121 | Baker!Steve, WeddingPlanner!Bucky

In which Steve is the proud owner of Frost; a semi famous local bakery in D.C. And despite the overwhelming insistence that it’s about time he start dating, Steve swears up and down he isn’t ready for that.

Or as of recently, just doesn’t have the time because of Mr. Barnes. The highly demanding wedding planner on the phone who keeps asking for nearly impossible deliveries and maybe Steve would like to personally strangle him. Maybe.

(There is pie. And misunderstandings. But a lot more desserts and eye rolls.)

So Alive ♥ from the Brooklyn Heights Books Series by GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4) - Words: 109,074 (Series Total: 165,440 + ongoing) | Bookstore!AU (sort of), Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, DKink

A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

Beautiful, was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

The Penthouse Suite ♥ by elle1991 - Words: 15,873 | S, DS, BSDM, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, Happy Ending

Bucky Barnes has the chance to earn $5,000 in one night. All he has to do is go to the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel and spend the night with his client, one enigmatic Steve Rogers.

The catch? Steve is a massive pervert, intent on using this one night to satisfy every single one of his many debauched kinks.

Even ignoring the big box of sex toys on the bed, Bucky should have known he was in trouble the moment Steve opened his mouth and said his first words: "My name is Steve Rogers, but you can call me Sir..."

Burnin' For You by GoldBlooded - Words: 15,753 | Firefighter!Steve, Detective!Bucky, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve Rogers is Fire Captain of Brooklyn’s very busy Station 118. He wants three things out of life: People he can count on, for everyone to get through their shifts safe and sound, and for Sergeant James Barnes to get the hell off of his arson scene.

James Barnes is Detective Sergeant of Brooklyn’s very busy 107th Precinct. He wants three things out of life: A decent cup of coffee, good leads to chase, and for Captain Steven Rogers to get the hell off of his arson scene.

Everyone knows to steer clear when these two have to deal with each other. Everyone knows about their mutual dislike and sometimes hatred. But what everyone doesn't know? How they got to be like that in the first place.

Collar Full of Chemistry ♥ from the Rich People Are Wild Series by 2bestfriends - Words: 188,437 (Series Total: 219,519) | Heavy BDSM, DS, S, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve is very rich and desperate to feel in control of his life again after a recent divorce has left him feeling bitter and lonely. When he keeps crossing paths with a disaster twenty-something, an unconventional solution presents itself. Steve's always been one for following his instincts.

Bucky is very broke and can't seem to catch a break, especially after some asshole fires him for one fucking mistake. So of course, it follows that he should sign a contract agreeing to do everything and anything that same asshole wants for a whole year in exchange for a payout that could finally change his life for the better.

Toothpaste Kisses ♥ by buckybees - Words: 18,736 | Dentist!Steve, Patient!Bucky, Amputee!Bucky

Sitting in the horribly antiseptic gateway to hell, otherwise known as the waiting room, Bucky was deeply reassessing his life choices. Maybe if he didn’t eat ice cream for every meal this wouldn’t have happened.

Steve's a dentist, Bucky's a patient. You know the drill.

Out of the Blue ♥ by IsabellaJack - Words: 37,564 | PreSerum!Steve, Detective!Bucky (and Sam!), Mystery!Fic

“Does she have family?” Barnes asks again.

Steve tries to remember. “I don’t know.”

“You sing her praises and don’t know a simple info like that?” Barnes huffs, looking irritated.

Love Is An Ocean Wide by fancyh - Words: 29,009 | Shapeshifter!AU, Orca!Bucky, Marine Biologist!Steve

When marine biologist Steve Rogers helps to rescue an injured orca from the marine traffickers Hydra, he has no idea how his life will change. Once rehabilitated, the orca is released and disappears, and a despondent Steve throws himself into his work, only to feel a spark when a new volunteer arrives, a man with one arm and curiously familiar blue eyes.

Bucky has lived in the ocean his whole life. But when his family is killed and his sister captured by Hydra, he is forced to turn to humans for help. One human in particular intrigues him, a man by the name of Steve. As Bucky comes ashore to search for his sister, he finds himself falling for the man, but dangerous secrets still stand between them.

Includes clueless-about-humans Bucky, heart-eyes-Steve, and lots of Very Important rocks.

Innocent Until ♥ by L1av - Words: 136,866 | Lawyer!Bucky, Defendant!Steve, DS, BDSM, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Bucky Barnes made a name for himself as the attorney who could get anyone off, but he still lives by the saying, "Innocent until proven guilty." Steve Rogers finds himself on trial for multiple homicides but he swears he was only trying to protect a girl. Bucky's been in this business long enough to know when someone's innocent, and Steve is innocent. Steve already feels like a monster and Bucky's worried this guy's going to lay himself on the sword come his trial. So Bucky offers up another course for punishment:

Turns out, chains and whips really excite Steve.

Brooklyn Syndrome ♥ by lordelannette - Words: 158,350 | DARKFIC, Dark!Steve (VERY DARK, heed the tags, you have been warned) Doctor!Steve, Writer!Bucky, Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Graphic Violence

Bucky's back was pressed against the cold floor and he stared through blurry eyes as Steve stood over him. He was trying to push himself as far away as he could, using his hands and bare feet to slide himself out from between Steve's legs but he couldn't find purchase against the wooden floor. Steve's legs were locked on both sides of his hips and Bucky couldn't move, couldn't get away, and the room was swimming before his eyes and he couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. All he could make out was the hazy figure of Steve towering over him and he lifted his arm to push uselessly at Steve's shin.

"P-please," Bucky whispered. His voice was weak, like him, and his jaw trembled as Steve reached down.

Steve slid down onto the floor and effortlessly gathered him into his strong arms, cradling Bucky to his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Bucky," Steve breathed. One of his large hands slid gently into Bucky's hair, the other curving against his spine and pulling him even closer. "You're mine now, remember?"

Steve's grip tightened then it all went black.

lay me down (tell me i've been found) by coffeeinallcaps - Words: 25,188 | Modern!AU, DS, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

The collar is a little on the heavy side, and incredibly soft against Bucky's skin. Even softer than he thought it would be. It seems to fit snugly, and for a second he feels like he can't breathe. Then, Steve slides two fingers under the collar and runs them along the inside, almost all the way around. Bucky shivers. Goose bumps spread down his back, his arms. "How does it feel?" Steve murmurs, hooking his fingers into the ring and giving a gentle tug on it. Bucky swallows. Nods.

(In which billionaire businessman Steve shows up and turns Bucky's life into an improbable fantasy.)

All Those Things You've Always Pined For by LavenderProse - Words: 92,142 | Family Man (2000) aka the Nicholas Cage movie AU, Domestic, Kid!Fic, PreSerum!Steve

“Steve Rogers. I haven’t thought about him in…God, at least ten years. Probably longer." “Who is he?” Sharon asks, and perches on the corner of his desk, hands folded in her lap. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bucky clears his throat, tosses the sticky note onto the desk. “Steve was…my college boyfriend. We almost got married.”

It's been fifteen years since Bucky Barnes left Steve Rogers standing in a New York airport and never saw him again. Those fifteen years have brought him wealth and stability; everything his lower middle class Brooklyn upbringing had not provided. He is happy. He doesn't want for anything. He doesn't need anything. That's about to change.

Karma's A Fake Orgasm ♥ by daisymondays - Words: 51,637 | College!AU, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Slow Burn

There’s another abandoned mug, festering with mould in the living room — Steve offically has the world's worst roommates. And complains about them. Often. Bucky, tired of his lack of action, decides it’s time to avenge Steve's sleepless nights and unsanitary conditions once and for all. They’ll pretend to be the world’s most annoying couple: excessive PDA, loud fake sex, and general repugnance. The plan sounds easy enough; it will be strictly platonic. Or will it?

I'll Be Your Shield by 17 pansies (17pansies) - Words: 23,332 | Bodyguard!Steve, Rich!Bucky, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"If he's just minor nobility, why does he need a bodyguard?" Steve shoved the folder which held Barnes' details towards the middle of the table. "He's not exactly prime kidnap material."

"His parents aren't worried about kidnapping," Fury said. "They need someone to steer him away from the dumb ass situations he keeps getting into."

"You mean he needs a babysitter." Steve sat back and folded his arms. "Seriously."

I think this is a pretty diverse list :) There’s a good sample of everything here, some old fashioned post TWS recovery fics, some good dom steve/bucky, slow burns, fake pretend relationships and so forth!

PS: I’m on AO3 with more bookmarks plus my own hurt/comfort fics if anyone is interested :P

#stucky #stevebucky #bucky barnes x steve rogers #shrunkyclunks #stucky fanfiction #stucky fanfic rec #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction rec #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #modern au #canon divergence #marvel #my reclist #long post for ts

386 notes · View notes

dingdongitsbees · 3 years

Note

Hi, i was thinking of Attack on castes and i really like the idea of janitor levi, wannabe Hitch and so, would you write a one history teacher Erwin x lawyer reader, where she is friend to Frieda who is a teacher in the school asked her to pick Historia up for her and that's when Erwin sees her for the first time and immediately fell for her.... Hope you can accept it

offer up your heart

↪ WC: 3.3k ↪ Ao3 Link ↪ Genre: fluff, light-hearted, soft

Attack on Castes for those who haven’t read it! (it’s the reason some characters may seem oc)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

Attack on Titan Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You were already late and by god did you not want to be there. You were glad to leave high school behind you when you graduated, promising yourself to never set foot in one ever again. Gossip, bullies, shitty teachers, stupid drama and a mind crushing amount of work. Sure, good things too, but nothing that couldn’t be found in the adult world.

In the adult world you got adventures. You got to fight to bring people the justice they deserved, their livelihood in your hands. They offered up their hearts begging you to save them. It gave you purpose. Whether or not they shed tears of grief or joy would be for you to decide. Nothing quite came close.

Or that’s how you would have felt if your current client wasn’t being such an annoying little shit. He had lied to your face with three wildly conflicting stories about what happened, and then when he got cross-examined by the prosecutor, he decided to go completely off script and implicate himself even further for something he didn’t even do.

The evidence against him were fables and rumours at best but he had begun to make it look plausible through his shifty character. You would get the “not guilty” verdict at the end of the trial, but you were going to have ripped out most of your hair by then.

When you were busy screaming in your hands during the intermission, your friend Frieda rang you and asked you to pick up her younger sister from school because their bastard of a father surely wasn’t going to. You nearly yelled at her then.

Frieda had done favour after favour for you in the past years with your insanely busy and gruelling schedule, so refusing the one time she asked for something in return would put you up with the likes of your client. You agreed, for some reason not asking what time, and then promptly forgot about it.

So there you were, heels clicking rapidly against the school’s hallway, the oranges hues of the sunset streaming through windows and the entrance. You really should have asked for Historia’s number, though you weren’t sure if the girl would bother to reply.

Historia was the epitome of “I think I will cause problems on purpose” simply because she’s bored. To be fair, you couldn’t really blame her, you had no such positive attitude towards school either, but with her being at the top of the pecking order she had the ability to make those problems quite substantial. Freida’s hair was probably going to go grey soon.

You thanked any god that would listen that she had cheerleading practice or you might have genuinely cried. The amount of stress that blonde girl was putting you through simply because she refused to take the bus home was nearly unparalleled.

You looked around the school, each corridor breaking off into another. The same basic lockers and same ceiling lights, same everything. You were fucking lost.

You jogged down some corridors hoping to find someone, turning your head frantically, letting you slam full force into something hard, tall and…blond?

Erwin may love being a teacher but my lord did it get tedious sometimes. He loved the younger ones, brimming with hopes, dreams and potential. Though nearly all of them seemed to be misusing it, putting it on the backburner or simply didn’t care. Kids were good but they certainly could be better. Of course, there’d be the standout kids like Armin and Marco who took their schooling seriously and asked questions that allowed him to gush about things that weren’t just on the set curriculum. But what he would give so all of them were that engaged…

He just wanted them to offer their hearts to him, to trust him and put faith in the information he was giving forward. History is something, that he believed at least, was unparalleled in its importance. You learn from the mistakes done by the generations before you, using the knowledge to guide the current decisions needed to be made. On top of that it just let you understand the world around you; how it came to be and your place within it. History was unparalleled in its importance.

That’s why he was still at the school, marking very obviously last-minute written essays, so he could give them back with thorough annotations and advice that he was sure most of them wouldn’t even glance at.

He had popped off to the teacher’s lounge to get a cup of tea, and was making his way back, eyes glued to the swaying liquid as not to spill it, when a smaller figure came barrelling into him. He instinctually moved the tea away, not wanting the scalding water to hit this unfortunate stranger full in the face. Some of the brown liquid dripped to the floor, Levi would surely have his head for it later, but it was better than any burns.

When he was sure the tea was steady, he looked to the stranger on the ground.

He swore he saw a deity.

Erwin peered down at you in pure awe. Albeit being a bit dishevelled and frazzled, you were clearly a force to be reckoned with. Your pant suit was tailored to fit you perfectly, your heels matching your simple jewellery and watch, your hair which was now a little ruffled, was obviously put together with precision in the morning. You were immaculately put together.

And your face, your face. Everything was right where it needed to be in the exact size and proportion to everything else. It was like you had been perfectly carved for over a millennium by only the best sculptors available.

Your aura was something else. Even if he had found you in pyjamas, the power you would exude would be to the same effect. Something in the way your face shifted as thoughts flew across your mind, the way every bit of movement seemed controlled and purposeful. Erwin had read hundreds, maybe thousands of myths all around the world, and none of the gods in them had never been as ethereal as you.

You were the definition of a muse.

You on the other hand were trying to keep down your groans about your ankles as much as possible. Heels were a mistake enough to attempt to run in let alone fall in, god could this day get any…better? Oh no. He was hot.

You swallowed harshly as he looked down at you, tilting his head and eyes wide. You noticed the tea spilt in a little puddle behind him and felt a little guilty, but he seemed to pay it no mind, his piercing blue eyes only on you.

After a silent moment he offered his empty hand. You took it with a hasty thank you under your breath and gripped on. His hand was so warm, so steady, so comfortable to hold. The moment was over quicker than either of you wanted it to be.

You looked to the ground, smoothing down the ruffles in your clothes, some that existed and some that certainly didn’t, so you could reset yourself. You were not going to be flustered by the first man you saw outside of work though to be fair he would be a good reason to let that rule lay down. He was certainly a fine specimen.

You looked back up, coughing to clear your throat. His gaze was already glued to you, it hadn’t been torn off since the moment you bumped into him. His eyes didn’t even shift now you were staring into his. His mouth was slightly agape, his cheeks dusted pink, his eyebrows raised. You were getting nervous but wanted to know what was going on in that head of his.

“Uh, hi…” you started, leaning your head to the side, “Didn’t mean to bump into you there, sorry for spilling your tea.”

He blinked.

“You’re…” he trailed off, having caught himself before he said something stupid. He coughed into his fist, finally looking away, the student poster about splitting atoms on the classroom becoming suddenly riveting. “Sorry, could I help you in anyway?”

You scratched the back of your head with a small smile and Erwin short circuited. “Yeah actually, I’m meant to be picking up a friend’s sister, but I got lost.”

“What’s the student’s name? I may be able to direct you?”

“Historia Reiss.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.”

It was no question that the girl would be infamous to teachers as well, the girl tended to make quite an impression. Hopefully she wouldn’t be rolling her eyes at you more than necessary when you finally found her.

“Miss Reiss is likely at the gym.” He pointed down a corridor, the one you had come from.

You opened your mouth and closed it again, you would probably get lost again but you couldn’t convince yourself that’s why you asked the next question. “Sorry, do you think you walk me there?”

A colourful array of curses flew through your mind as he stilled, a deer in the headlights. You were about to apologise for being a bother and go on your way when his face brightened to an almost blinding degree and his eyes crinkled with his accompanying smile.

“It would be my pleasure.”

The walk started in silence for a few moments as you both scrambled for something to talk about.

“So um,” you said, “What do you teach here? You are a teacher, right? Not just some random guy taking advantage of the tea?”

He was already panicking being in the vicinity of you, so he almost didn’t pick up your teasing tone. The fact you were making fun of him just made his heart hammer even harder.

“I can confirm I’m not some stranger, to this school at least.” His added smile made your heart skip a beat; you should sue him. “I teach history here, but I won’t burden you with the specifics.”

“Do.”

“Pardon?”

“Burden me with the specifics. The teaching path wasn’t for me, but I admire those who followed it,” you sent a smile of your own back, “Plus, you seem like the kind of guy to know your stuff. You look like a passionate teacher. I wish there were more of those when I went to school.”

He took a second to compose himself, you being very cruel to him right now. He’d known you for approximately two minutes, but you were making it increasingly difficult for him to not declare his inevitable love right then and there.

“Oh well um,” he stumbled over his words, trying to string a few sentences together that would be worthy of your time. His hands were already extended, ready to add a visual focus. “War is quite an obvious favourite to go to, but I’ve always been more interested in the things that went on behind the scenes, the life of soldiers and nurses who lost their lives, the lives of those who stayed behind, anyone trying to look for peaceful solutions. Those have always interested me more. And then going far past the world and civil wars of the past three centuries, going back to when England and France were nowhere near the superpowers they became, and of course focusing all around the world. Europe has honestly been pretty lacklustre with their stories compared to everywhere else.”

He looked back to you, half-expecting you to be twiddling your thumbs, but your sight hadn’t moved. Your eyes were wide and bright like the ones he had seen in Armin and Marco except with an added adult understanding and perspective. This was quite unfair on his heart.

He turned his head down a corridor, taking the opportunity to calm down his heated cheeks. Really quite unfair.

“So what do you do?” He tried his best to make the words come out as smooth as he hoped. You didn’t seem to take notice that they didn’t.

“I’m a lawyer, so definitely a different world from yours.” Your laugh was awe-inspiring, he wished it were his morning alarm. There was no way he could come to hate it.

“It suits you,” he noted. It made perfect sense, everything about you commanded attention, thinking about you controlling a court room was easy to picture.

You sputtered out a few sounds, not sure if they were sophisticated enough to be called words and looked down a corridor as you passed, trying to figure out what the angry looking janitor was thinking about instead of what your brain was. This man was having quite the effect on you, and it wasn’t even his looks! Rude!

“Thank you, assuming that’s a compliment.”

Erwin simply nodded, not wanting to let you be privy to his thought processes right then. He would never recover.

“What area do you work in if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Currently represent for murder and manslaughter cases, anything that usually ended up with a person dead or nearly dead.”

A different world from yours indeed.

“I imagine that’s quite intense.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “The paperwork numbs a lot of it, honestly most of my clients aren’t any different from students.”

“I’d hope not.”

“You’d be surprised. Some of those annoying kids in school tend to keep being annoying, annoying enough to land themselves as a suspect for a murder case.”

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about you intimidating a client into submission and to just listen to you and let you take the reins. He would like to see that. He may possibly want to be subjected to it if he was in the right mood. He towered over you, but he would fall to his knees in a second if you told him to as a joke. He hoped that was a wild exaggeration done by his brain, but he knew most things come from a semblance of truth.

You really were something else.

You couldn’t believe you were talking to someone like him. He seemed so self-assured and at one with the flow of life, not needing to seek more to find contentment. He clearly loved his job as much as you loved yours, both acknowledging the downsides but knew it was worth it in the end.

He seemed to be taking up more and more of your brain as he continued to talk, only adding to the list of positives, there hadn’t seemed to be any negatives yet. You were concerned that there didn’t seem to be any. From his looks to his personality to the way he held himself, it was honesty too good to be true. Right?

When he looked at you, your cheeks would burn, and you’d feel like you were in high school all over again. That was one of the things you had forgotten, although small, they had been of the good parts about school. Crushes had always been a little fun.

But the way his lips pulled into an easy smile should be illegal. You could deal with murderers, not this. If he was ever on the stand in court, you would be a stuttering mess when trying to cross-examine him.

As you two kept talking, you’d take turns left and right, seemingly with no real reason. You were pretty sure you had seen those maths posters before, but you didn’t mention it. You were plenty happy to let this be dragged out a little longer. You were flattered to say the least.

Erwin knew that he couldn’t “trick” you without you noticing eventually, he couldn’t do that to save his life, but he also knew that if you had caught on to his little game, you would mention it if you wanted him to stop. That fact made his chest flutter, though perhaps it probably was time to take you where you needed to go so you didn’t have your friend yelling at you. He wasn’t that cruel.

The sound of cheers reached your eyes, your shoulders deflated. Guess this is it then. The gym doors came into sight and you could spot the cheerleaders practicing their formations through the open door. They all looked exhausted, so it was probably near the end by now.

Against the wall you could see Historia’s “friends” watching and applauding whenever Historia so as much breathed. No wonder she got bored.

Your feet came to a stop, just outside the entrance and you looked up to him. He shifted slightly, unsure of what to say.

“Thank you um…” you said before your eyes few open, “Holy- I can’t believe I didn’t get your name?”

He chuckled, deep and clear. “Erwin, Erwin Smith.”

You gave your name to his and his lips mouthed around it silently, feeling the shape of all the letters. It made you a little flustered how earnestly he was printing it into his brain.

Neither of you moved, you didn’t want to go into the gym, and he didn’t want to leave. To put it simply, you were smitten with each other and it was embarrassingly obvious to everyone including the both of you.

The cheerleaders stopped, grabbing their bags and chugging down litre water bottles. Historia would snitch on you in an instant if she saw you hitting on her teacher, so it was time to depart.

“I guess this is it then…” You dragged out the sentence, still trying to stall.

“I suppose it is.”

“Thank you, I do mean it. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

He nodded, swallowing. “I guess I will. Have a pleasant evening, both you and Miss Reiss.”

You cracked a grin. “I can’t promise she will have one, but I know you definitely made my evening a good one. See you, Erwin.”

He smiled softly. “See you.”

He waved as he walked back through the corridors, he snuck a look over his shoulder when he had almost disappeared from view to find you still looking at him. Both of your faces burst into flames and you looked away from each other.

You took Historia home after she (mainly her friends) questioned why you were there instead of Frieda. Reiner, you believed his name was, offering to take her home as suavely as he could to be shot down so quickly by Historia you got whiplash. Her friends bid her dramatic goodbyes which she didn’t reply to, and you two made your way to the car.

“Were you talking to Mr Smith?” She didn’t even bother taking her eyes off of her phone to ask.

“I…I was. I got lots trying to find you so he helped me get to the gym.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He didn’t need to take you all the way there though.”

“He was…he was just being nice.”

She hummed, no emotion behind to hide whether or not it was full of doubt. You really didn’t want her to tell Frieda or you’d never live it down.

“I finally get your ass out of the court room and you flirt with the first guy you see? Bold as ever.”

Though maybe, just maybe, it meant you could offer to pick up Historia more often. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

Erwin made his way back to his desk and he plopped himself down on his chair with a sigh. He leant his head back to look at the ceiling, projecting the past minutes on the white ceiling.

He didn’t even ask for your number.

He cursed at himself and dragged a hand over his face before getting back to his mountain of paperwork. Perhaps it was too bold to offer up his heart this quickly.

But you had said “see you”, and maybe it was too much for him to assume, but usually that meant a second meeting was anticipated. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

His tea had gone cold, but that was alright. He had met a goddess that evening after all.

a/n: to the person who sent this in sorry it took so long! this was my first time writing for Erwin so i hope it’s alright! thank you for reading :)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

Attack on Titan Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ko-fi

#erwin #erwin smith #erwin aot #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin x you #erwin smith x you #erwin x y/n #erwin smith x y/n #erwin snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on castes #historia #historia reiss

61 notes · View notes

knuffled · 3 years

Text

Just Practice - Chapter 17

here’s the ao3 link

The hospital garden was nestled along the northern side of the building and overlooked a small pond. Perhaps it was too generous to call it a garden. In reality, it was only a few flower beds of orchids and lilacs stowed carefully in terracotta pots. When the weather was nice, the patients would often spend some time there on the benches to get some fresh air. It wasn’t much but it definitely beat being cooped up in a hospital room with that stale, sterilized air that always made her feel more like a laboratory specimen than a human being.

After her surgery, Annabeth was allowed to visit the garden provided she went in a wheelchair to avoid agitating her knee. The doctor’s initial diagnosis had proven to be accurate once they ran some imaging tests on her: it was, in fact, a torn ACL. Annabeth had suspected as much, and she opted to get it operated on sooner than later. The surgery had gone quite well, actually. She had been lucky enough to only suffer a partial tear, according to her doctor. If she had suffered a complete tear, it could have possibly made both surgery and her subsequent recovery much more difficult.

Nonetheless, Annabeth didn’t feel particularly lucky. Honestly, in the week that she spent at the hospital, she hardly felt anything at all. Just numb. Her physical therapy sessions were the only things she had to look forward to in order to get her mind off of things. Otherwise, she was mainly stuck confined to her bed with her leg suspended in that god awful brace. Piper had brought her some novels to occupy her time, but Annabeth couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to anything she read.

Today was the first day the weather had been clear enough to head outside, and Annabeth had jumped at the chance to get out of her stuffy hospital room as soon as she could. She sat outside staring at the pond with her brain turned off, watching ducks glide across the water’s surface and preen their feathers.

Within another day or two she would be discharged from the hospital and would have to head back home, but she really didn’t want to. Her father had dropped by the day after her injury, but his visit was practically a formality. He had stayed for all of five minutes, only making sure she wasn’t dead really, before he left. On top of every other shitty thing that had happened to her recently, his visit only served to rub salt in the wound.

Sometime mid-afternoon, one of the orderlies told her that she had a visitor. Annabeth had been expecting Piper or Jason, but she was surprised to see Reyna approach her instead.

Reyna gave her a small wave, her hand hidden in the sleeve of her purple sweatshirt. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Annabeth said, blinking. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Reyna shifted on her heels. “I’m not intruding am I?”

“Funnily enough, my schedule is quite free these days,” Annabeth said lightly.

That managed to get the corner of Reyna’s lips to tug upwards. “Glad to see your injury hasn’t done anything to change your god-awful sense of humor.”

“It’s quite bad mannered to bully the infirm, you know,” Annabeth sniffed.

Reyna rolled her eyes and sat down at the bench beside Annabeth. “How’s your leg doing?”

Annabeth sighed and said, “It’s recovering. Just got surgery done a few days ago.”

“Surgery?” Reyna frowned.

Annabeth nodded. “Turns out I tore my ACL.”

Reyna grimaced and said, “Jeez, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“The doctors said that I’m lucky it was only a partial tear,” Annabeth said, smiling weakly. “But I don’t feel particularly lucky.”

“D-Did they say anything about how long it’ll take for you to make a full recovery?” Reyna asked hesitantly.

“They were pretty wishy-washy about it,” Annabeth said, shrugging. “Guessing they don’t want to be liable for being wrong. Only estimate they gave me was that I could walk normally in about two weeks or so. After that, depends on how well I respond to physical therapy.”

Reyna was silent for a while before she said, “Meet me at the college circuit someday. I’ll be waiting there for you. And then we can finally settle things.”

Annabeth picked at the hem of her shirt with a wan smile. “What’s there to settle? I haven’t beat you a single time. There’s a clear winner here, and it sure isn’t me.”

“You of all people should know you’re only as good as your last race,” Reyna said. “People in our sport can never afford to rest on their laurels.”

When Annabeth was silent, Reyna quietly said, “You look like you’ve already given up.”

Reyna’s words stung and made Annabeth recoil. “I’m sick of giving myself false hope.”

“The way I see it, hope has nothing to do with it. The only question is if you still want to try. If you still want to compete, then you’ll keep pushing until you find a way through,” Reyna said, shrugging.

“Now, I’m not here to tell you whether you should keep going or not. That’s up to you. But don’t hide behind hope as an excuse. If you want to stop, then own it.”

Annabeth stared at her lap for a while and said, “I- I don’t know. I need more time to think about it.”

Reyna nodded and said, “I don’t blame you. It’s a big decision.”

There was another pause before Annabeth cleared her throat and said, “I never got a chance to apologize. For what happened at the meet, I mean.”

Reyna furrowed her brow. “What is there to apologize for?”

Annabeth dug her fingernails into her palms. “I cost you the race. If it weren’t for me, you would have won state and placed nationally.”

“From what I recall, a certain someone was screaming at me to let her go because I was, and I quote, ‘throwing the fucking race’,” Reyna said dryly.

“Sorry about that,” Annabeth mumbled.

Reyna gave her a smile and said, “You have nothing to blame yourself for, Annabeth. It was my choice to stay and help you.”

A lump formed in Annabeth’s throat. “But why though? Why did you help me?”

“I already told you,” Reyna said, mock-exasperatedly. “Because we’re friends.”

“And that was enough of a reason?”

“There are more important things than high school cross country races, Annabeth,” Reyna said simply.

Annabeth bit her lower lip and struggled to wrap her head around Reyna’s answer. They were friends, but not so close that it made sense for her to abandon the championship for her sake. Maybe Reyna was just like that with people she deemed friends or perhaps it was just a decision made in the heat of the moment.

“And you don’t resent me or anything for it?” Annabeth asked.

“Not one bit,” Reyna said firmly. “I would do it again if I had to. I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”

“You think too highly of me,” Annabeth said quietly. “But thank you.”

Reyna raised an eyebrow and said, “So you would have left me lying in the mud with a fucked up leg just to a win a race then?”

Annabeth paused and said, “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose not.”

“See? Told you: there are more important things,” Reyna said, smiling. “Besides, I don’t want you using your injury as an excuse for when I inevitably kick your ass.”

That got a watery laugh out of Annabeth. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”

Reyna rolled her eyes fondly. “Of course not.”

Annabeth hid a smile and stared up at the clear, blue sky for a while before something occurred to her. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Percy told me,” Reyna said, shrugging.

Annabeth furrowed her brow and said, “You have his number?”

“No, we just happened to run into each other somewhere, and I got a chance to ask him.”

Annabeth’s heart beat faster in her chest. “D-Did he say anything else to you?”

Reyna shook her head. “No, but he looked like a mess though. Did something happen?”

Annabeth nodded and felt a lump form in her throat. Slowly, she told Reyna about everything that had unfolded after she had left her with Percy. Reyna listened quietly and intently the entire time that Annabeth spoke, but Annabeth couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

Annabeth finished by saying, “I know I shouldn’t have cornered him like that just because I was so angry about my knee, especially the whole confession thing, but at the same time, I can’t help being frustrated that he still refused to open up, right to the very end.”

When Reyna was silent, Annabeth looked at her and said, “You once said that you thought he lied all the time about how he felt and what he wanted. Is this what you meant?”

“Not exactly,” Reyna admitted. “I thought it was something more malicious, but after seeing how he is around you, it’s obvious how much he cares for you.”

“If he does,” Annabeth said softly, “it’s not in a way that I understand.”

“You’re not alone in feeling that way, I would imagine,” Reyna said. “We all have different ideas of what it means to love and be loved, and sometimes those ideas don’t match up.”

“And there’s nothing we can do about that then?” Annabeth asked.

Reyna shook her head. “No, it just means you both need to talk to about your needs. It’s not wrong to teach someone how to love you the way you need them to.”

“I would if he bothered to listen,” Annabeth said tersely.

“Really? From what you’ve told me about him, he seems to listen to you a great deal,” Reyna said, sounding surprised.

Annabeth worried her lower lip and hesitantly said, “I mean, yeah, I guess that’s accurate. But there’s still something that gets in the way, and I don’t know what it is.”

“I said this before, but it seems like he’s holding something back,” Reyna said. “Not in the way one hides secrets, but in the way you shoulder a burden, quietly and without complaint. Maybe it’s just that over time that weight has become too much to bear.”

Reyna’s words instantly struck a chord in her, even though she hadn’t fully processed them yet.

A wry smile danced on Reyna’s lips. “Reminds me a lot of my sister. Something about how sad their eyes look.”

Annabeth blinked in surprise - she had always pegged Reyna as an only child. “Wait, you have a sister?”

Reyna nodded and said, “Yeah, seven years older than me. Her name’s Hylla.”

She looked like she had more to say, so Annabeth remained silent and watched her. Reyna buried her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt and stared up at the sky with a sigh.

“My dad was a physically abusive piece of shit growing up, so much so that my mother left him. Unfortunately, she didn’t bother to take us with her, for whatever reason, so we had to fend for ourselves. As the older sibling, Hylla took it upon herself to protect me until she was old enough to move out and take me with her,” Reyna said.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Annabeth said quietly.

“It’s whatever. We’re fine now, for the most part,” Reyna said, shrugging. “But sometimes I can tell that it still eats at Hylla. It wouldn’t be that big a deal, but she has a hard time opening up or putting herself first. Over the years, I’ve tried my best to help her through it, but it’s something she still struggles with.”

“Eventually, I realized that there was really nothing I could do,” Reyna said, pursing her lips. “So instead I swore to myself that I would be open and straight-forward about everything, in the hopes that maybe if I could show her there was another way, it might change something. And who knows, maybe it’s all for nothing, but at least I am being true to myself and honest about what I want.”

Reyna traced the lines on her palm and swallowed thickly. “But it’s really tough. People think it’s easy and assume nothing scares me but they’re wrong. I’m terrified, like all the time, but seeing how much it tears away at my sister, keeping everything locked up inside, I— I don’t ever want to live that way.”

“I think you’re amazing,” Annabeth said softly. “I can’t begin to imagine how much courage that takes.”

Reyna gave her a smile and said, “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Annabeth shook her head. “I should be the one thanking you, for sharing all of this.”

“It’s no problem. I only brought it up because your situation reminded me of my sister and I. Maybe I’m totally off base about that, I don’t know,” Reyna said.

“No, um, it was definitely helpful,” Annabeth said.

Reyna took Annabeth’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You still look conflicted.”

Annabeth laughed breathlessly and shrugged. “I-I don’t know. I guess I’m still having a hard time accepting that we’re even in this situation. It just hurts to find out that I didn’t know him anywhere near as well as I thought I did.”

“Why does that have to hurt?” Reyna asked. “What is it that troubles you so much?”

Annabeth had to pause and really think about Reyna’s question because nothing immediately came to mind. It was only now that she realized that it was actually kind of strange that she was so distraught about this to begin with. It wasn’t like there was anything particularly awful about the situation. After all, this sort of thing was totally common, but it still seemed to profoundly unsettle her all the same. She was just having a hard time understanding why that was the case.

“It’s hard to say,” Annabeth admitted. “I think it’s because Percy’s the only person in my life that I have ever truly been able to rely on, and finding out that I don’t fully know him scares me. If I don’t know him, utterly and completely, then how can I count on him? It just makes me feel really insecure, like this is all a house of cards that could come tumbling down at any moment.”

Reyna sighed and said, “I don’t know. I just think knowing someone is a pretty impossible standard to set for yourself.”

Annabeth furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, in my experience, a person isn’t something to be known like a fact in a book,” Reyna said. “The human heart isn’t something quite so definitive. A person is always ever in the process of unraveling, constantly revealing themselves moment by moment, piece by piece. None of us ever really knows one another, but that doesn’t really matter. What matters is the effort we make to know one another, not whether we succeed. That’s all that love is: finding someone that you make the effort to know, to discover and rediscover, over and over again. And they do the same for you.”

“But then how can we ever trust anyone?” Annabeth asked desperately.

“You take a leap of faith,” Reyna said simply. “I wish I could say there was some trick to never having your trust broken but that’s not possible. Trust, by its very nature, is a brittle thing, but that’s also what makes it worth anything. The only reason trust holds any value at all is because it is something that needs to be earned.”

Reyna’s words made Annabeth recall what Percy had told her atop Aspen Peak. She hadn’t fully understood what he had meant at the time, but now she realized that there was a power to vulnerability that she didn’t know existed. It was a paradox but only by opening herself to heartbreak could she ever find what she was looking for: something permanent.

Annabeth managed a half-smile and said, “Percy told me it was like letting someone touch your heart with their hands and praying they didn’t crush it between their fingers, but that it was something we needed to do anyways.”

“That’s a pretty good way to put it,” Reyna laughed.

Annabeth sighed and said, “Would be nice if relationships weren’t so fucking complicated.”

“Agreed,” Reyna said, yawning. “I should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

Annabeth nodded. “Thanks again for visiting me and for the advice. It was really helpful.”

“And thank you for listening,” Reyna said, smiling.

“I hope someday I’ll be able to live as strongly as you do,” Annabeth said.

“You already live that way,” Reyna said, shrugging. “You just doubt yourself too much.”

Annabeth worried her lower lip and nodded. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Reyna offered one final smile and said, “Guess I’ll head out then. Keep me posted about your leg and everything. When you can walk, we should hit up the batting cages again. Take your mind off things.”

“I’d like that,” Annabeth smiled.

“See you later, Annabeth.”

“You too, Reyna.”

Annabeth watched and waited for Reyna to leave before she sighed and headed back inside the hospital herself. She felt lighter for the first time in weeks. Reyna’s advice stuck in the back of her mind, and Annabeth took some time to digest it. She had a feeling it would help her figure out her path going forward.

:::

Piper came to pick her up on the day she was discharged from the hospital. By then, Annabeth could walk with the help of a brace that helped keep most of her weight off her knee, but she could only walk for a few minutes or so at most before the strain piled up and became too much. Piper leaned against the side of her car and watched Annabeth hobble over before she rushed in and gave Annabeth a hug.

“Didn’t realize you were so happy to see me,” Annabeth joked.

“Shut up,” Piper mumbled against her skin. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Annabeth swallowed thickly and whispered, “Thanks, Pipes.”

Piper pulled away and offered a gentle smile. “Ready to go then?”

“Yep.”

Piper opened the passenger’s side door for Annabeth and waited for Annabeth to take a seat before she did so as well. Annabeth rolled down the windows and relished in the late April breeze when it flowed across her face. Piper started the car and turned the radio on before she pulled out of the hospital parking lot and onto the interstate.

Once they were on their way, Annabeth turned to Piper and said, “You’re still okay with me staying with you right? I complete get if that’s not an option anymore.”

“No, you’re totally fine,” Piper assured her. “It’ll be nice to have some company. Besides, my place is too fucking big for only one person.”

“Your dad’s still away on a shoot then?” Annabeth asked.

Piper shrugged. “Probably. Didn’t bother asking.”

Annabeth nodded slowly and turned back to the window, but Piper looked at her and said, “Your parents aren’t going to flip out about this right?”

“Oh, I’m sure Helen will kick up a fuss, but that’s kind of par for the course,” Annabeth said.

“I’m all for it and everything, but have you really thought this through? I mean, leaving your family is a huge decision,” Piper said.

Annabeth gave her a significant look and said, “In all the time you’ve known me, when have I ever not thought things through?”

“Alright, fair point,” Piper admitted. “I’m still worried though.”

“I was going to have to leave for college anyways. This is basically only moving up the schedule. Besides, I’m pretty sure they’ll be glad to finally see me gone,” Annabeth said.

Piper grimaced and nodded. “I wish you didn’t have to go through all this. Especially now, with your leg and all.”

“It is what it is,” Annabeth said, shrugging.

They drove along in silence for a while before Piper glanced at her again and said, “I, uh, wanted to ask you about something unrelated.”

“Fire away.”

“I’m not sure if you know anything, but Percy has been acting really strange lately,” Piper said. “I’ve tried asking him about it, but he just smiles and says that it’s nothing.”

Annabeth sighed. She had been expecting this, but it was still rough now that it was finally here. Slowly, Annabeth began to explain the whole fake dating arrangement from the start of the school year and everything that had happened since then, culminating in their confrontation after her injury. Piper didn’t say so much as word, but Annabeth noticed the way her fingers tightened around the steering wheel so hard they drained of blood.

When she was done, Annabeth watched Piper with bated breath, waiting for the worst. Piper just exhaled forcefully and said, “Christ, what a mess.”

“I know,” Annabeth said mildly.

“So this whole time, you guys weren’t actually dating then? You were just lying about it?”

Annabeth hung her head and said, “Yeah, pretty much.”

Piper was quiet for a moment before she shook her head incredulously. “I mean, I knew something was up with how jittery you were about the whole dating thing, but I never expected this.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” Annabeth said. “I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”

“Oh, I am mad at you. Furious, actually. But I’m equally as frustrated with Percy. As bad an idea as it was on your part, he should never have accepted. He knows better,” Piper said, fuming. “A pair of idiots, the both of you. What were you both thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth said.

“Well, what’s done is done, I guess,” Piper sighed. “Honestly, maybe this what the both of you needed. Maybe now you’ll finally sort out your relationship.”

“Or maybe this is the end of it for good,” Annabeth said wryly.

“Love the optimism, babe.”

Annabeth huffed a laugh and said, “I’ll try my best to fix this, but I don’t know if I can.”

Piper was quiet for a while before she said, “Give it another shot. Maybe things will be different now that he’s had time to think about all this on his own too.”

“Yeah, you might be right,” Annabeth said.

There was another pause before Annabeth said, “You’re not gonna rescind your offer to let me crash with you, right?”

Piper snorted and said, “I have half a mind to, but I won’t. As stupid as you are, you’re still my best friend, and I’m not going to turn my back on you.”

“I don’t appreciate the insult, but thank you,” Annabeth said, smiling.

Piper glanced at her and jabbed her with her elbow. “Don’t look so happy with yourself or I might change my mind.”

“What, I’m not allowed to be happy that you called me your best friend?” Annabeth asked innocently.

Piper rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t try and schmooze your way out of this, you know what you’ve done. Especially, after that whole spiel about how you always think things through too.”

They pulled up in front of Annabeth’s house, and the brief levity in the air dissipated immediately. Annabeth set her jaw and took a deep breath, but her heart still beat faster in her chest anyways. Piper gave her a look of concern and squeezed her forearm.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with?” Piper whispered.

Annabeth shook her head. “No, this is something I need to do alone.”

Piper nodded but she still looked worried as Annabeth steadied herself and stepped out of the car. She hobbled to the front door and stepped inside with the spare key hidden beneath the flower pot. It was quiet inside the house, but the cars were still in the driveway so her father and step-mother had to be home. Annabeth pursed her lips and made her way upstairs to her room.

There was a suitcase hidden in her closet, and she pulled it out and opened it on the floor of her bedroom. She packed as many clothes as she could inside and stuffed her laptop, charger, phone charger, and water bottle inside her backpack. Once she was satisfied that she had everything prepared, she sat on her bed with a sigh.

Annabeth took a look around the room and felt a sudden rush of nostalgia wash over her. This was probably the last time she would ever come here, she mused. It was littered with all sorts of knick knacks and photos, posters and sketches. As much as she hated living in this house, this was the only place she could call her own. Leaving it almost felt like killing a part of herself off. Her step-mother would turn it into a storage room or something once she was gone, and soon there would be no trace that she had ever lived here. Something about that hurt, even though Annabeth knew it was for the best.

She stood up, feeling more than a little melancholy, and steeled her heart. There was still one last thing she needed to do. Annabeth put her luggage in the hallway and tentatively stepped into her father’s study. Thankfully, he wasn’t there. She riffled through the drawers of his desk in search of the old brown briefcase he stashed old letters in. It was always weird to her that he just kept letters, but he said he liked to have records in case companies tried to swindle him out of money. It was hidden away in some dark corner, and she dumped the contents onto the carpet.

There were hundreds of envelopes so it took her some time to sift through them all, but a few minutes later Annabeth’s worst fears were confirmed. There was an unopened letter addressed to her from Berkeley, dated October 4th.

That wasn’t the worst of it however.

There was another letter from Stanford. Northwestern. Duke. Cornell. Dartmouth. All dated from late September to early October. All unopened.

Annabeth had always felt something off about the fact that her Berkeley letter never reached her. She had dismissed it as a fluke but during her stay at the hospital it occurred to her that there could have been a more malevolent explanation. Seeing the letters now only confirmed her worst suspicions, but the sense of betrayal still hit her harder than she had anticipated.

She snatched the letters and stormed downstairs, as quickly as she could with her brace. Her father and step-mother were in the living room watching the news.

Helen blinked in surprise and said, “Annabeth? I didn’t know you were home from the hospital.”

Annabeth ignored her and held up the envelopes, her hands trembling. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, dear,” Helen said mildly.

“These are college letters. Addressed to me. Why did no one tell me?” Annabeth asked.

Helen shrugged and said, “I didn’t think they were important.”

Her excuse was so bad, it actually made Annabeth’s head hurt. “How could you not think that those might be important to your step-daughter, a senior in high school?”

A gleam of irritation flashed in Helen’s eyes. “You have been getting letters since junior year, and they always just asked you to apply, so I thought these were more of the same.”

“Let’s pretend for a moment that your terrible excuse is valid - you still should have shown me these,” Annabeth said.

“You’re still a child. Talk to your parents with respect,” Helen snapped.

Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “You literally lost me the chance to go to fucking Stanford, so you’ll have to forgive me for not having much respect for you.”

“Annabeth,” her father warned.

The smart thing to do would have been to drop it then and there. Nothing good could have come of this. The damage was already done. Continuing this would only make things worse.

Annabeth knew all this, but at that moment, she was filled with such uncontrolled rage, rage that had been built upon years upon years of horrid treatment from Helen and her father who couldn’t be bothered to care about the fact that his new wife routinely emotionally abused his first-born daughter, that she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

“She fucking knew this was important and she hid these from me anyways,” Annabeth snapped. “She’s so insecure about that fact that I’m more intelligent than her kids that she has to sabotage me.”

“Annabeth, that’s enough,” her father said sharply.

Annabeth turned to him and balled her hands in fists. “And you! You never say anything. You just let her treat me like absolute dogshit, and you don’t even care.”

“Young lady, you are so disrespectful that it honestly blows my mind,” Helen said coldly. “How you can accuse me of treating you poorly when you never bother to interact with the family and treat us like strangers is beyond me.”

“That’s rich coming from the person who couldn’t be bothered to visit her step-daughter once in the hospital,” Annabeth snorted.

A vein bulged on Helen’s forehead, and Annabeth knew she had her. “The reason I do my best to stay out of the house isn’t rocket science. From day one, you have done absolutely everything you can to make me feel unwelcome in this family-”

“Let me tell you something that you don’t seem to understand: no one is ruining your life, dear,” Helen interrupted. “You ruin things yourself and blame everyone else for it instead. You are just an ungrateful, spiteful little girl that does nothing but cause people pain.”

Annabeth stiffened like she’d been hit in the face with a shovel. Her thoughts turned to radio static and her chest squeezed so painfully that it was hard for her to breathe.

No words came to her.

Without meaning to, she turned to her father.

“D-Dad?” Annabeth asked, her voice cracking.

Annabeth wasn’t even sure what she was asking for, just that at that moment, she felt very much like she was seven years old again, asking him to check for monsters hiding in the closet. Back then she had taken it for granted that he would help her, that he would keep her safe. Suddenly, it made sense why she kept looking to him whenever Helen tormented her, even though she knew he would never come to her aid. She thought she had abandoned that hope a long time ago, but now Annabeth realized some small part of her had still held on to it, like someone tending to a dying flame.

Still, there was nothing that could prepare her for the silence in the living room at that moment as her father simply sat there, his lips pressed in a hard line, still not looking at her.

Annabeth forced herself to take a deep breath. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to let Helen win this.

No, instead, Annabeth turned to her father and offered him a strained smile. “Since it is apparent that you aren’t going to say anything on my behalf, like always, I just wanted to tell you a few things before I left. And yes, I am leaving. I’m done living in this house, which should delight the both of you. I don’t know that would even worry you, but rest assured: I’ll figure things out on my own, like I always have.”

When Helen bristled at the accusation, Annabeth offered her a smile like poisoned honey and said, “Before you open your mouth, feel free to shut the fuck up. I’m talking to my father right now.”

Helen went red, but Annabeth stared her down, begging her to say something. Helen glanced at her father, but for whatever reason, he didn’t come to her aid this time. She shook her head incredulously and left the living room, leaving Annabeth alone with her father.

When she was gone, he looked at Annabeth for the first time and said, “You went too far.”

“I honestly don’t give a shit,” Annabeth said simply.

Her father opened his mouth to chastise her, undoubtedly, but Annabeth bulldozed on through.

“Don’t bother to defend her. I’ll be gone in a few minutes anyways, and then it won’t matter since you’ll never have to see me again. But until then, you are going to shut up and listen to me,” Annabeth said.

Her father pressed his mouth in a thin line, which Annabeth took as permission to keep going.

“I don’t know when or how things went so wrong between us. I still remember how it used to be, back when mom was still around,” Annabeth started.

“She’s gone, Annabeth,” he interrupted.

“Yeah, I fucking know, but you don’t seem to realize you weren’t the only one she left behind,” Annabeth yelled.

“She left me, too, you know? And you have punished me for that, every day since she left,” Annabeth said, her voice cracking.

Annabeth steadied herself before she got too emotional and shook her head. “But I want you to know something - I am proud to be my mother’s daughter. Despite your best efforts to make me feel otherwise, I will not apologize for that, for being here, for existing. And I’m done looking to you for help or safety or even acknowledgement given you’ve long since proven to be utterly incapable of that. And I want you to know that someday I’ll find people who love and accept me, and I won’t ever have to spare a second of my life thinking about you and how you made me feel. Someday, I’ll heal and you’ll be nothing more than a bad memory.”

With that, Annabeth left to retrieve her luggage from the hallway before he could respond and left the house for good. Piper was pacing around her car and rushed over to her once she heard the door open and threw her arms around her.

“Are you okay?” Piper asked. “It sounded pretty bad in there.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, nodding. “I finally let go of something I should have a long time ago.”

Piper studied her for a moment before nodding to herself. “Alright, looks like that’s settled then. Let’s go get something to eat!”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “You’re dropping it, just like that?”

“You look like you’ve got it figured out on your own,” Piper said, shrugging. “Besides, I can tell this is something I can’t really help you with anyways.”

Annabeth smiled despite herself and shook her head. “I never thought the day would come when Piper McLean would know when to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Piper rolled her eyes and stashed her luggage in her car trunk. “Don’t make me change my mind about letting you stay.”

“That’s an empty threat if I’ve ever heard one,” Annabeth said, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Piper muttered.

“But seriously though,” Annabeth said, clearing her throat. “Thank you. For everything. It means more to me than I can say.”

“You’re welcome,” Piper said softly. “I’m happy for you. Leaving that hellhole was a long time coming. You definitely made the right call.”

“What happened to all the asking me if I was sure about it and stuff?” Annabeth asked.

“I’ve always wanted you to leave. I just didn’t want to influence your decision,” Piper said.

Annabeth was quiet for a moment and said, “You’re actually a really good friend, huh?”

Piper gave her a cheeky grin and started the car. “I’m offended that it took you so long to notice.”

#knuffled fic #just practice #percabeth fic #percabeth fluff #percabeth angst #annabeth chase #percy jackson

57 notes · View notes

marrys-dream-world · 3 years

Text

if we’re bound to be something, why not together? (chapter 11)

Read on AO3

First / Previous / Next

Notes: Double update to cheer up a bit! This chapter turned out much longer than I thought it would be, almost double the size of other chapters. No content warning, just fluff! The song "Blueming" by IU, I think this fits this chapter a lot so if you want a song to listen while you read, it's that! Day 11: Voice Mail/Phone calls. @ladynoirjuly

After their last patrol, Ladybug sent Chat Noir a link through their communicators.

[Download this!!] She sent along with it, eagerly waiting for him.

[As my lady commands : D] He sent back almost immediately.

That talk had been a bit of an eye-opener to Marinette. She was getting to know Chat Noir more and more each day and she treasured every bit of information she got, jealousy holding it close to chest, hesitating to write it even in her diary. He was a quiet student during class, he had a friend whose name was definitely not Sallie (ugh), his father was distant, his mother and mother-figure were out of reach. He was lonely. All this information was worrying, just not as much as what she learned that night. At that moment, with him shaking in her arms, she made a decision.

Being there for him just as Ladybug wasn't going to cut it anymore.

This idea wasn't anything new, she had been playing with it in her mind for a while now. So when she sent him a chat room code through her communicator with other instructions and detransformed, she was fairly confident it would work. Picking up her phone, she smiles as she saw that there was already a message.

My lady!! <3 <3 <3

down, Chaton. :)

I'm just mdlaomqnahsbsk

Is it okay, though? Talking like this?

yeah, i've been testing this app with RR and it's fine, there's no way we'll leak our numbers or anything like that to each other. don't worry ;)

This app is to warn each other about attacks and schedule meetings? Are you going to add RR to the chat?

nah, i'll just make one for the 3 of us. this is one for us to talk and stuff, doesn't need to be about job things.

The "CN is typing…" kept it's place on the screen for enough time for her to start getting worried.

You don't need to force yourself for my sake, bug. I don't want to bother you.

Marinette thought about making a joke. The situation, however, didn't seem right for it.

you never bother me.

His response came almost immediately.

You never texted me before.

guess i'll have to learn what's the maximum amount of cat memes a person can humanely send per day

Is that a challenge, my lady?

;) ;) ;)

just remember to not blow up my phone, we have class

I'll use my powers for good, don't worry : D

Marinette smiled and put down her phone, fixing up her bag for the next day on the chance (certainty) that she would wake up late the next day. When she picked the phone up again, there was a single text:

Thank you, bug. Good night.

He was absolutely unstoppable after that. Next morning, as she was brushing her teeth, her cell phone pinged with the telling sound from the app and she smiled as she opened the app on her phone.

Look, look, we can change each other's names.

good to know

You changed "CN" 's name to "Chat-terbox"

Chat-terbox

You know me so well. Soulmates.

Chat-terbox changed your name to "lady of my heart"

lady of my heart

yeah, i should have seen that coming, that's on me.

oh yeah, gm

Chat-terbox

Good morning <3 <3 <3

Are you in class already?

Marinette froze in place, eyes snapping to the clock. There was only ten minutes before the class started. She bolted, barely noticing if she had on the right shoes or if her jacket matched her pants. So much for being an aspiring designer. Marinette blurred past the kitchen, taking a croissant and a banana and cramming them into her mouth as she ran. She made it to the classroom in the middle of the roll call, not even stopping by the lockers.

“Thanks for joining us, Marinette.” Ms. Bustier said dryly. “Please take a seat.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” She answered, out of breath. Sitting down, she took out her tablet and noticed another message making her phone screen glow.

Chat-terbox

Is everything okay?

lady of my heart

i made it late in class but the teacher let me in hehehe

i think she's used to it *forehead sweatdrop emoji*

Chat-terbox

Hahaha a friend of mine just did the same thing, you two are twins

lady of my heart

let me guess… Sallie *eyeroll emoji*

Chat-terbox

I mean, yeah, but why the eyeroll???

lady of my heart

you just talk too much about her, don't you think

Chat-terbox

You sound just like Plagg.

lady of my heart

maybe bc we're right

Chat-terbox

Why does that bother you? Jealous? *eyes emoji*

lady of my heart

as if *kicks u*

Chat-terbox

You kick your partner? You kick his body like the football? Oh! Oh! Jail for my lady! Jail for my lady for One Thousand Years!

lady of my heart

since my fate is already decided *kicks u again*

Chat-terbox

Nooooooooo

A giggle escaped her mouth.

"Marinette?" Ms. Bustier raised an eyebrow. "Something you want to share with the class?"

"N-no, ma'am." She answered, face heating up. Marinette quietly put her phone away, ignoring Alya's prying eyes.

She only opened the app again during the break between classes, moving away from a curious Alya to hang by Kim and Alíx.

Chat-terbox

I'll assume you're actually paying attention to class, which is great. You probably need it to make up all those crazy plans ;)

SM beaten by ninth grade physics

Hey, boo, did you see this one SM identity theory video making rounds on the internet?

Marinette frowned.

lady of my heart

there's nothing new on the ladyblog

Chat-terbox

Oh, it's not on the Ladyblog, here

She opened the video as quickly as she could before Ms. Bustier came back, only from the sound to make Kim and Alíx burst out into laughter.

lady of my heart

i opened it in my class I hate u so muuuuuch ughhhhhh

Chat-terbox

C'mon, boo, it was funny

lady of my heart

>: (

Chat-terbox

: 3

This time, she willingly put her phone away.

On the next break, she tried to ignore the pinging from her phone. However, curiosity killed the cat(‘s lady).

Chat-terbox

Please don't be mad, my lady, I have written you a lengthy apology to make up for sins

File attachment: apology letter for my beloved.doc

lady of my heart

if it's another rickroll i swear to god i'll END you

Chat-terbox

You can see it's not a video, it's safe to open

Scout's honor

lady of my heart

u were never a scout

Chat-terbox

I could be!!

Please read <3

Sighing deeply, she clicked on the document. He would never shut up if she didn't. It read as:

l would like to offer my sincerest According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible…

She clicked back

Chat-terbox

Did you like it? :3

lady of my heart

…

blocked

Chat-terbox

Boo, noooooooo

After that, Marinette didn’t open the app again no matter how much her phone pinged. She wasn’t mad, not really, just a bit annoyed. Before lunch ended, she would read and answer. But now, she was stuck watching Alya and Nino play Super Penguino and make moon eyes at each other. Adrien wasn’t allowed to join them, as much as he begged his father, and she was feeling pretty bummed about that. She poked around her chicken pasta when she heard her phone playing a familiar song.

kore nani kore nani korenanikorenanikorenanikorenani-

Chat Noir!

"Is everything okay?" Marinette asked as soon as she picked up the phone. Alya and Nino, noticing her worried tone, paused their game to look at her.

"You picked up!" Chat Noir said, cheery. "I thought you blocked me."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is there actually something wrong? I'll hang up "

"No, wait!" He yelped. "There's nothing wrong, I just wanted to talk. Are you busy?"

Marinette looked over at Nino and Alya, who were still watching her expectantly. She smiles reassuringly and waved them away, furtively signaling to Alya that it was Chat Noir on the phone. Her friend nodded and bumped her shoulder on Nino's.

"C'mon, babe, let Marinette talk to her 'friend' by herself." Alya said, leering.

"Why did you say it like that?" Nino asked, confused. Then, his eyes lit up. "Is it Adrien? Tell him I said hi!"

"No!" Marinette shouted, gaining weird stares from the other patrons.

"No, you aren't busy?" Chat Noir asked on the phone.

"No, it's not Adrien, or no, you won't tell him I said hi?" Nino asked.

"It's another friend." She said hurriedly before focusing on the phone. "I can talk now, not that busy."

"If you're with your friends, it's okay." He said, rather meekly for her chaton.

"I'm just third-wheeling." Marinette said as Alya and Nino began another round of Super Penguins. "Why did you call? Aren't you having lunch now?"

Chat Noir chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah, I'm having lunch at home and I'm all alone, so I thought I could give you a call. Is that too much?"

"No, it's fine." She reassured. "Why are you alone? What about your siblings?"

"What siblings?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"Uh… the siblings I assumed you had for some reason." She said awkwardly, noticing how out there she sounded the more she spoke.

"Really? You thought I had siblings? Why?"

"Because you're just like an annoying little brother." She said teasingly, a complete lie.

Chat Noir struck her as a mischievous, but supportive older brother. The kind that sneaked you treats after midnight and comforted you after failing a math test. Not like she could tell him that, though. If he was a little brother, it would be to a stressed older sister that he admired a lot and that found him reliable in return. She dreamed about meeting them sometimes and now it seemed that they would truly stay dreams forever.

"I would like an older brother or sister." He sighed longingly. "The closest I have is my cousin, but he lives in another country."

"Oh, sorry."

"No, it's better this way, we would kill each other if we lived together. Everyday I would have to check for poison in my breakfast."

"A true sibling dynamic."

"Yep."

"Hey, why aren't you having lunch with your friends then?" With Sallie, she wanted to tease, but held back for fear of sounding, as Tikki said, bitter.

"My father would rather I have lunch at home." He said vaguely. "My friends did invite me to go with them to a café, but my father didn't like the idea. He only likes one of them, the rest he says are bad influences."

"Let me guess, the one he likes is Sallie?"

"I can hear you rolling your eyes, but yes."

"Well, if you ever get lonely at lunch, you can call me." Marinette said honestly. "I don't mind it."

"Thank you." Chat Noir said softly.

They spent the rest of lunch talking on the phone, even sending pictures of their food to each other (Chat's limp salad made her take a bunch of mental notes to take him some pastries next patrol). On the way to school, as she walked to the classroom, they kept talking. She could hear Chat getting on a vehicle (a bus?) and when he got to school, she was disappointed he had to hang up. After Marinette clicked the end call button, the first thing she noticed when she looked up was Alya's smug face and Nino's confused one.

"Wow, does my bro have some competition, dude?" Nino said. "You spent the entire break talking."

"What? No, that was just a friend!"

"Yeah, a friend." Alya sing-songed, making her face heat up.

"Yeah." Marinette said firmly. "There's no competition for anything."

"Who's competing?" A sweet voice asked from behind her and she jumped.

"Adrien!" She shouted, scrambling. "N-nothing hehe."

"Dude!" Nino smiled. "How was your lunch?"

Adrien smiled, brightly. "The best I've ever had."

Marinette felt inclined to agree.

#ladynoirjuly #ladynoirjuly2021 #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #ml fic #my stuff #miraculous ladybug #if we're bound to be something why not together

37 notes · View notes

gaeilgeoirgay · 3 years

Text

Posadh Eagraithe

This was one of the most popular oneshots of my Pride series so I hope you enjoy it :)

Ao3 Link

Summary- Din's Council want him to get married. Except Din is aromantic and he's not interested. Enter Boba Fett.

Din sighs as he settles himself in the council chambers. The throne is surprisingly comfortable, which he appreciates when the meetings drag on. The meeting today is about an offer they’ve received from the New Republic- namely, whether or not Mandalore as a whole will join them. He knows that they joined the Old Republic when the dar’manda New Mandalorians were in charge, but he doesn’t personally think it would be a good idea for the new Mandalore they are building. He serves his people though, and it will be their decision.

The Clan and House alor’e file into the room and take their designated places. Din had learned the hard way that seating had to be assigned carefully after the alor’e of Clan Onyo and Rau had started a fist fight with each other. Twice. In ten minutes.

Din straightens and waits for everyone to take their seats. The Armourer is at his right and he bows his head slightly. He may be Mand’alor but she is an Armourer. More importantly, she is the leader of his tribe. “Su cuy. I have given you a week to speak with your aliit about the New Republics offer. Today, we will decide what to do based on their answers. Alor be Skirata. What have you decided?” Din says, wasting no time. “Clan Skirata votes to not join them.” Kal Skirata says. Din nods and moves on to the next clan.

It appears his people share Din’s opinions. They’re overwhelmingly in favour of staying out of the New Republic. “Alright, we’re not joining the New Republic. What do you propose we do about them?”Ketsu Onyo asks and Din sighs again. He likes Ketsu but she has a knack for asking questions he doesn’t have an answer for. “I’m not sure yet, but we definitely shouldn’t slam the door in their faces. I’m open to ideas.” He replies anyways. “Like you said, Mand’alor, we should keep our options open. How about an alliance? As narudar, until the Empire is completely rooted out. Or for things like hyperspace lanes or goods we don’t already have access too.” Sabine Wren suggests. Din definitely likes Sabine. She’s whipsmart and always has good ideas that are actually relevant to the conversation. Unlike some people.

“The Republic is worth nothing to us! We have allies already- the Tattooinian lanes are open to us, Sorgan, Nevarro and Stewjon supply us with food and we can take care of the Empire ourselves.” Bo-Katan snaps. There it is. “Yes, we do, However, the New Republic is currently the largest political alliance in the galaxy. We have our own political alliance but it’s easier if they aren’t our enemies. There’s no point in making them turn against us, when they don’t generally affect us.” Din says patiently. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t started his own fistfight with Bo-Katan Kryze. He admires his self-restraint sometimes.

A gleam enters Bo-Katan’s eyes and Din pales beneath his helmet. She’s stopped trying to challenge him physically for the throne but he knows its only because the rest of the Mando’ade have sworn to him. “Well, how will the Republic trust us? Our Council isn’t elected and we technically live under an oligarchy. The Republic practices democracy and as far as they’re concerned, you’re ruling alone without any other Mando’ade having the same social and political power that you do.” She says smugly. Oh no.

The only person with the same status as the Mand’alor is the Rid’alor. Din is aromantic. He has never planned on finding a riddur, maybe just finding someone who would raise ade with him, but without a romantic relationship. If Bo-Katan suggests herself as rid’alor, then dignified king or not, Din will throw himself out the window.

Fenn Rau picks up on the implications too and traditional bastard that he is, decides it’s a great idea. Sabine and Retsu seem sympathetic but they’re outvoted. “Alor’e, I understand that we must appear balanced to the Republic but I am sol’karta. I have no need for a riddur.” Din says, a final objection. That softens a few alor’e but Bo-Katan remains unremoved. “You’ve got a week to pick someone, Djarin. Then the Council will choose. They have to be Mando’ade- we’re trying to show them we’re united.” She says, voice hard. Din ignores the technical disrespect and finally just agrees. If he can pick, maybe he can ask another sol’karta Mandalorian.

Suddenly he gets an idea and grins. He has the perfect person in mind.

Boba yawns behind his helmet as court finishes up. Ruling Tattooine is exhausting. His comm buzzes and he discreetly checks it. It’s Din so he motions Fennec to take the throne for a few minutes and leaves to answer it. “Hey Din. How’s ruling Manda’yaim going?” He asks. Din also seems exhausted. “Meh. How’s Tattooine?” Din replies in turn. “Same old. What’s the comm for?” Din and him chat often but this wasn’t expected. “You’re aromantic, right? Same as me.” Din asks and Boba blinks, taken aback. First of all, he didn’t know Din was aromantic and second of all, why ask?

“Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?” Boba says, genuinely curious. The smile spreading across Din’s uncovered face is downright wicked. “The Council, more specifically Kryze, want me to marry another Mandalorian to show a united front to the Republic. Pretty sure that Kryze is gunning for Rid’Alor if she can’t get Mand’alor. I’ve got a week to pick someone or else the Council chooses.” Din says, the smile turning slightly maniacal. “And you thought of me?” Boba double checks.

“Yep. You don’t have to agree but I thought it over. They cant disagree on the basis you’re not Mandalorian, because you are and the Republic knows that. You’re also a fellow king/ruler so it strengthens our alliances. Your buir and ba’buir were both Mand’alor at some point so it shows that I have the support of my predecessors allit. You’re also aro so I don’t have to worry about my spouse wanting a romantic relationship. We’re already good friends so it won’t change much and my son loves you. We actually like each other so its not an unhappy arranged marriage.” Din hesitates in his list before he quickly adds his next pro.

“If we want to add sex into it, I think you’re hot and I wouldn’t mind. That part depends on your opinion though. And possibly the best part- Bo-Katan is going to have a heart attack and Han Solo will have to pretend he doesn’t hate you at diplomatic functions because the Republic doesn’t want to make Mandalore mad.” He finishes. Boba’s surprise has turned to genuine mirth. Din has clearly thought this out, and it makes sense. Boba isn’t exactly averse to sleeping with Din either- he can admit that the beroya is very attractive. "I'll set my course for Manda'yaim then. See you soon, cyare.”

Din is completely right. Kryze looks like she's just eaten several lemons at their riddurok and her face lands itself a spot in Boba's cherished memories. Din is also very experienced when it comes to the bedroom and Boba enjoys himself thoroughly. The best part to their marriage, however, is at the Republic's ball to celebrate their new alliance with Mandalore.

Han Solo does a doubletake when he sees Boba and he spits out his drink. Leia Organa comes over to talk to Din and Solo looks like he’s barely restraining himself from shooting Boba in front of half the galaxy’s politicians. Boba makes sure to be a perfect gentleman, the very picture of a Rid’Alor and Solo’s veins nearly explode.

All in all, he thinks he likes this friends-with-benefits things. The benefits just happen to include pissing off Han Solo, pissing off Bo-Katan Kryze and most importantly, his and Din’s respective Court’s will never nag them about spouses again. Manda, Din is a genius. Even if marrying him means Boba occasionally has to coax a toddler off the ceiling.

#aromantic din djarin #aromantic boba fett #bobadin #the mandalorian #anti bo katan kryze #sort of #din definitely doesn't like her

24 notes · View notes

mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

Miles Between Us Chapter 9 ~The Mediation~

Previously in Light Vs Dark ...

Tears streamed down her face as he grabbed his phone and keys and made his way out. He couldn't get out of the cottage fast enough. His heart hammered, his ears started to ring, his lungs squeezing out the last air. He'd hurt her. He'd seen the bruises with his eyes, and now she's crying because of him. He needed to get out fast to clear his head.

She followed him closely behind. "Please tell me where you're going, Jamie. At least give me that," she pleaded.

He couldn't stand to see her tears anymore or hear the plea in her voice. He was doing what's right for her because he loved her too much. He wasn't even sure where he was going or if anyone would be safe in his presence. All he could think of was how frightened his sister had looked at him and the bruises he'd inflicted in Claire's arms. He needed to get as far away as possible, away from the people he loved.

He got into his car, slammed the door, and started the engine.

Claire banged on his window, her face wet with tears. "Don't do this, Jamie. We can fix this together. Please don't go. I'm begging you."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

The sun blazed through the windows, but instead of feeling delighted with the promise of a beautiful day, Claire felt hollow.

Earlier, moving on autopilot, she'd numbly climbed out of bed, showered and gathered all the will and strength she could summon and prepared to face the day. Though a part of her would rather curl into a ball under the duvet until Jamie returns, she made a Herculean effort to stay positive for sanity's sake. It should have given her comfort knowing Jamie was safe after Willie had informed her he'd been spotted at three in the morning at Lallybroch's driveway in his car and was now resting in his childhood home. But her eyes would prickle with tears every time she stood still and stared into space. So Claire kept herself busy, feeding Jamie's pets, letting them out of the house, doing a bit of laundry and setting up her work station for the day on the dining table. Currently, there were things that needed attending to, like her own work, and anytime soon, Willie would be arriving.

She was just about to open her laptop when there was a knock on the kitchen's back door.

She knew it was Willie. "Door's open," she croaked.

Willie walked in and stopped. A line formed between his brows, reminding her so much of Jamie she felt the beginning of tears welling up. "Hey, how are ye?" he asked.

With more enthusiasm than she had in her, she gave him a small smile. "I'm hanging in there. How's Jamie?"

"He's asleep ...last time I heard from ma."

"How about you? You look like you didn't get much rest either."

"Knackered," he replied, shoving his hands into his jeans' pocket. "The bloody git sent us on a merry chase. And now he gets to sleep the whole day while I'm left to pick up the slack at work."

Claire knew Willie was trying to make light of things. Needing to move, she stood and made her way to the kitchen, having the sudden urge to keep her hands busy. It would have been easier if she'd asked Willie to take her to Lallybroch. But there had been a reason for her decision to stay put. She needed to remind herself, there's a probability her presence could make Jamie's condition worsened after having seen his reaction to her bruise last night. Even if in the light of day, nothing seemed good enough excuse to be separated from him.

"Would you like something to drink? Coffee or tea?" she offered. "I could use a strong cuppa."

"Coffee would be grand."

Conscious of Willie watching, she went through the motion of taking out cups and switching on the coffee machine. When she opened the fridge to retrieve some milk, she accidentally nudged one of Jamie's magnets on the door, sending a post-it note to slip down. Automatically bending down, she picked up the piece of paper from the floor.

As she turned it the other way round and read it, a cross between a sob and a laugh broke passed through her mouth. It was a note Jamie had written to her just the other day.

Gone to work. Bought some croissants, and they're in the bread bin just in case Adso gets his grubby paws on it first. Can't wait to see you later. Missing you already. Love you. X

"Oh, damn it." Claire leaned over the countertop, pressing the note with one hand on her chest. "I-I can't do this."

Willie came up behind her and touched her elbow, gently turning her to face him. "Ye cannae do exactly what, Claire?" he asked, a look of concern etching his face.

"Pretend Jamie is fine." She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, she let out a lungful of air. "When we first met, he was in a good place. And I have this strong feeling that I am making his condition more frequent and worse."

"No, Claire ...dinnae speak like that."

She glanced down at Jamie's note, and when she felt prickles behind her eyelids, she slipped the piece of paper in her jean's pocket and shook her head. "How can Jamie and I be together if I'm the one triggering his nightmares and anxiety? Before I came along, his episodes were a rare occurrence. And now here I am making that classic mistake of attempting to fix a man." Her breathing suddenly became laboured, like she'd raced ten miles. "I wish I could be by his side. I know it's selfish wanting to be with him right now when I'm the reason for his distress. But I do. On the other hand, logic tells me, it's probably a good thing all those memories he hasn't dealt with are finally coming to the surface, so at least we have something to work on. I just wish there was a less unpleasant way for Jamie to handle all of these." She glanced out the window, unseeing the beautiful view in the sun.

When the silence dragged on for too long, Claire turned to face Willie and was surprised to see him smiling. "Cannae ye see it yet, Claire? Ye are not making Jamie's condition worse. In fact, ye have been helping him heal all this time."

She frowned. She was confused. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

Willie took the portafilter and began filling it with coffee for her. "Ye said it yersel'. The suppressed memories are coming to the surface." He shrugged as he worked the coffee machine. "Meaning, after all these years, Jamie can finally confront them head-on, deal with it and lay it to rest once and for all. Isn't that what his dreams are trying to tell him? He's forgone dealing with grief and issues that it had nowhere to go to except present itself as this monstrous nightmare and panic attacks. And then ye came along, and somehow, ye've extracted more out from him than all his therapists put together."

A nervous laugh gurgled from her throat. "I might have been able to do that, but at what cost? Jamie could've hurt himself last night." She'd worried at the speed he'd taken off, thinking if anything grievous had resulted from it, she would have been so utterly devastated, she'd blamed herself. "He needs professional help, Willie. It can't go on like this."

"He does," he agreed, pressing the button on the coffee machine. "But Jamie needs you too, more than ever ...even if he believes he's a danger to ye."

"But he didn't hurt me."

He pushed the stop button on the coffee machine. "May I see the bruise?"

"Of course." She rolled up her sweatshirt sleeves. "I told him I bruise easily. I have an iron deficiency which I'm taking supplements for."

Willie studied the markings on her arms. "They're not that bad."

"No, they're not. I tried to convince him, but he won't listen. I only need to pinch my skin, and I bruise. It's a symptom of being anaemic."

Willie sighed. "Jamie won't be easily convinced, though. Weel ...at least not until he's calmed down."

"He used to have a therapist. Why isn't he seeing one now?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. "I know he's against taking pills for his condition, but surely talking to a professional would help him a lot."

"He has nothing against seeing a therapist ..." he replied matter-of-factly as he handed her the coffee. "...just a particular one."

"Oh!" She took the cup from Willie and watched him make another one for himself. "May I know why?"

"Her name is Geneva Dunsany. She's the only available therapist in Broch Mordha. She took over Jamie's former therapist after he left for England." He paused to look at her. "Ye see ...a few years back, my da remortgage Lallybroch and then when the recession came, our family was hit hard financially and had trouble paying the bank. To cut a long story short, Jenny, our meddling sister, knew Geneva was infatuated with Jamie. Since Geneva comes from a well-off family, Jenny thought by playing matchmaker, she would solve everyone's problems single-handedly. Ever since then, my sister has been trying to get them together. So when she heard Jamie's therapist left for England, she encouraged Geneva to take the job even though she already had one in another town. Jamie is quite perceptive, though and knew what our wee sister was up to. Hence he refused to see Geneva."

"That's a bit sneaky."

"Ye can say that again. Geneva might have a wee crush on Jamie, but I dinnae think she's aware of Jenny's meddling, even though they're friends. Jenny thinks she's doing Jamie a favour by finding him a lass who lives here and can help him with his condition. Jen is practical like that."

"I've met her, actually. The therapist that is. We were introduced ...just before I went back to London," she explained, thinking back to the day when she first met Jenny and Geneva. And she's beautiful too, she thought grudgingly. Although Jamie had never given Claire reason to feel jealous before, every muscle in her body had gone rigid, hearing Willie's account on Jamie's would-be therapist. Jealousy continued to roll in like a lick of a flame as the image of Jamie pouring his heart out to a beautiful woman burned hot in her guts. The sudden urgent need to see him made her want to sprint out of the cottage at full speed, but a dose of decorum kept her rooted on the spot. "So, Jamie wasn't interested, huh? Not even the teeny, tiniest bit?" she squeaked, annoyed at the sudden change in her voice.

She thought she saw a muscle twitched along Willie's jaw, but she must have imagined it. Looking like he was sucking the inside of his cheek, he shook his head. "No. Never. And ye have nought to worry about, Claire. Jamie only has eyes for ye."

She swallowed the bitter taste of doubt. "Not worried," she lied, sipping her coffee. But in the true sense of the word, she already felt loads better after the enlightening conversation with Willie. It had taken the edge off her worry over Jamie's condition, even though she still couldn't erase the thought of Jenny pushing Jamie towards Geneva.

"Maybe ye should attend a therapy session with Jamie ...at least initially," he suggested, eyeing her closely as if trying to read her thoughts. "That way, it would put Jamie at ease, and Geneva would realise he's taken already."

Claire slowly placed her cup on the countertop. "Why do I get the feeling this meddling thing is inherent in your family?" she asked, feigning disapproval.

Willie put his own cup down. "Not inherent, Claire. I have my own selfish motive. Ye're the best friend of my Annalise, and I wouldn't be helping my cause if she finds out I've done nought to help ye." When Claire gasped, he grinned. "Kidding aside, even if Annalise wasn't my girlfriend, I want ye to know, I really like you for my brother."

Claire could barely see through the tears she hadn't been aware that was building up. "You sound so sure."

Willie placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. "Are ye sure about my brother?"

"With all my heart," she whispered.

"That's all I need to know."

..........

Jamie slowly opened his eyes and took in the familiar surroundings of his old room. His heart throbbed when he realised the last time he'd slept here had been on New Year's eve, with Claire tucked snuggly on the crook of his arm. Bracing himself up on his elbows, he heard his mother talking to Jenny and his da downstairs. They were probably in the kitchen discussing his state.

He rubbed his face with one hand, feeling the beginning of a day-old stubble, exhaustion washing over him in waves. A mixture of self-loathing and guilt rose within as he replayed the incident from the night before. He couldn't decide what pained him the most, the bruises he'd inflicted on Claire or the fact he'd left her in tears standing in his driveway.

When he'd taken off from his cottage, his heart had been heavy and thoughts dark, not having had any clue what he wanted to do or where to go, only determinedly pushing himself to get as far away from Claire as possible. A few hours later, he'd found himself parked outside his childhood home after Willie and Murtagh had woken him up in his car. So far, he'd only talked to his older brother Willie, and he hoped it would be enough to keep the rest of his family's questions at bay.

Sitting up, he realised he was still in his clothes. He searched for his phone and found it on the nightstand. Swiping the screen, he saw he had a few missed calls from clients and a voice message from Claire. Willie must have switched his phone to silence.

I should call her, he thought. It wouldn't be that difficult. Her voice would soothe him, and her lack of judgement would make him feel like he's on solid ground. He could show his worst, and he knew she'd still be there, smiling and soothing him with words, just like last night. Every hour that passed without seeing her or hearing from her put him a little more off centre, and he could see how too reliant he was becoming on those breaths of fresh air that sprung from her. He shook his head. She was too precious to be with someone who had this nonstop ugliness embedded in the insides of his head. It would only be a matter of time before he dragged her into his hell. He couldn't do that to her.

He was about to tap on Claire's voice message when he was alerted by a double knock on the door.

"Jamie, are ye awake, son?" It was his father.

"Come in," he answered, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

The door opened, and he saw his mother walk in first with a mug of tea. "My darling boy," she smiled, placing the hot brew on the bedside table. "I thought ye could use a bit of something warm in yer belly. How are ye feeling?" She stooped down and kissed him on the forehead.

Jamie scooted back to the headboard to make space for his mother while his father took the chair. "Exhausted," he said honestly. Although he'd slept all morning, it hadn't been a restful sleep.

His father, Brian, cleared his throat. "So ... what's going on with ye, lad?" he asked, cutting to the chase as usual.

Ellen sent her husband a warning glare before refocusing her attention back to Jamie. "Whenever ye're ready, darling," she reassured him, patting his thigh. "Willie vaguely told us what happened, and Jenny is beside herself thinking she triggered yer panic attack yesterday. And Claire ...ye never told us she's here. She's worried sick about ye."

Jamie sighed. "What's there to tell." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "It wasnae Jenny's fault. It's just the same old, same old. The only difference this time is, I made a stupid mistake getting Claire involved with me. And I'm hurting her in the process."

Ellen briefly looked at her husband. "I find that hard to believe, Jamie. Ye're such a gentle soul, ye could never ever hurt a fly even if it's bugging ye to bits. Did ye two have a fight? Did Claire say ye were hurting her?" she asked Jamie gently.

"No. I just know I am."

"Oh, darling ..."

"So that's it ..." Brian raised his hands in the air before letting them drop to his sides. "Ye're giving in to this condition ye've fought hard against all yer life when the chance for happiness finally present itsel' to ye because ye THINK ye are hurting Claire. Is that what ye're trying to tell us? Because believe ye me, we didnae raise a violent or abusive son. So enlighten us ...where in heaven's name is this all coming from?"

"Brian!"

"It's a futile fight," Jamie blurted before taking a deep breath. "Trust me ... I'd like to have what ye both have. But at what cost? Look at the state of me. Is this the kind of man Claire deserves? She's willing to turn her life upside down for me, and for what? Only to find out later she'd saddled herself with a mentally ill man. So perhaps it's for the best she lucked out early before its too late for either of us."

His mother moved closer to his side and took his hand. "So let me get this straight. Ye're staying away from Claire because ye like her a lot, and ye're afraid to hurt her." Pain clenched tight on his vocal cords, incapacitating him to answer, but she interpreted his silence as a yes. Even though it's far more complex than that. "Oh, sweet lord, how youth is so wasted on the young," she clucked.

"Aye, perhaps." He rubbed a hand behind his neck. "But trust me, I ken fine what the problem is."

"Oh, is that so?"

His father's sarcasm wasn't lost on him, but he ignored it in favour of the pressure sinking into his chest. "I ken I hold back a lot from everyone, and I ken too that's wrong. When things get too much, I keep my mouth shut. And I dinnae realised at first that suffering in silence damages, instead of helping. Though it's easier said than done, I'm working on it. All I ever wanted was no' to be a burden or be the cause of anyone's pain. Claire deserves more."

Ellen sighed. "Jamie ...Jamie ... ye're never a burden. Ye're a delight, and we're so proud of ye. Ye need to understand, ever since ye were a wee bairn, ye've always needed a purpose, like fixing everyone's problem because it gave ye satisfaction to see ye've righted someone's world. Whenever someone was hurting, ye're always the first to reach out." Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I thought it was endearing at first until it began to take over yer life. The trauma you've gone through only amplified yer true nature to a point it wasnae healthy anymore. And the guilt that came with it when ye can do nought and thought you've failed ...almost destroyed ye every time." She shifted on the bed. "Jamie ...ye have to stop denying yersel' a chance for happiness because ye're afraid of hurting or failing someone. Pain is part of life. It's inevitable. Though it's good of ye to think of others first, sometimes, it's also good to let others carry that burden for ye and help ye. Running away because ye're afraid of hurting someone is no' gonnae to do anyone any good. Ye'll only end up hurting yersel'. And when that happens, who's going to help ye?"

His mother's logic made sense, but the chatter in his brain continued to hold its ground. "Claire's been through a lot, ma."

"And so have ye, son," Brian interjected, firmly.

"But what if I make things worse for both of us?"

"Oh my sweet boy, what if ye end up happy together?" Ellen smiled. "I ken a crystal ball would come in handy right now, but because we dinnae have one, the only way to find out is to take the risk and hope for the best. Just like what Claire is doing."

Jamie shut his eyes for a while and pictured them together. Every fibre in his body was screaming to get in his car and drive back to Broch Mordha and start making it up to Claire. But his mother was right ...he needed help. He didn't want to put Claire through all that misery again, so he decided right there and then he would start attending therapy afresh. It was the way forth, and he'd held off attending therapy for too long, which might have worsened his condition. But first things first. He needed to be in the right headspace to start doing anything.

"Fine, I'll call the clinic later for an appointment but do ye mind if I rest some more. I'm still feeling a bit off."

The chair scraped the wooden floor as Brian stood up. "Aye, of course. Ye look worn to a frazzle."

Ellen reached out and pulled Jamie into her arms and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be downstairs if ye need anything." She got up and ruffled his hair as if he was still a wee boy. "And I've made leek and tattie soup in case ye're hungry."

"Thanks, ma."

His parents were just about to walk out when Jenny strode in. "Hey."

Jamie rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "Jenny, can we talk later? I'd like to be alone for a bit."

Brian and Ellen gave his sister a warning look as they left the room, but she just shrugged. "I promise this willnae take long. Please, Jamie?"

Jamie waved a hand. "Fine. What is it?"

He watched his sister retrieve something from her jeans' pocket. "Mrs Fitz from the Airbnb gave me this. One of her clients staying over her place left an Oxford Mail newspaper a couple of weeks ago. As she was browsing through it, she came across Claire's name." She handed him a newspaper clipping. "Looks like yer wee girlfriend is an heiress."

"What? Let me see that."

Jamie skimmed through the short article about some property in Fox Lane, Boars Hill in Oxford. It said it was formerly part of the Berkeley Castle Estate. The original part of the house had been designed by the celebrated architect Sir Ernest George for Lord Berkeley, a family ancestor from her mother side. The house had apparently garnered loads of interest among the local rich after being recently vacated by a local MP. It mentioned the original owners' name as Henry and Julia Beauchamp, deceased, and the heiress as Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.

Was this the South Lodge property Claire had been talking about she'd inherited from her parents? He hadn't really given it much thought ever since she'd casually mentioned it. This was a far cry from the cabin in the woods he'd envisioned.

"Three million pounds for a house!" Jenny broke through his reflection. "Doesn't it make ye wonder what else she inherited?"

Jamie looked at the paper again. That's what the house is worth? Ach, Christ! Even the Oxford gossip found its way to Broch Mordha. He knew Claire would be mortified if the news of her assets became everyone's favourite topic of conversation.

Folding the note, he handed it back to his sister. He saw Claire a little differently now. All that money in the world and all she only ever wanted was a place to belong to. Suddenly he felt awful for leaving her last night. He shook his head at his sister. "Not a word about this to any of yer mates!" he warned her. "Or else ..."

Jenny's eyes widened. "What do ye take me for?"

"A babble merchant," he ribbed, unsmiling. "Now, let me be."

"Ye're no' angry at me still, are ye?"

"No," he sighed. "I'm just exhausted."

"Can I do anything for ye?"

He puffed out a breath. Jenny was looking at him earnestly, and he knew she only wanted to reach out. "Aye, in fact, ye can. Ye can arrange that appointment with the therapist for me."

She smiled, seemingly happy to please. "Right on it. If ye need anything else ..."

"Aye, aye, I'll let ye know."

Jenny left, and somehow, he felt a little less heavy in the heart than he did when he woke up earlier. Grabbing his phone, he tapped play on Claire's voice message.

"Hey, it's me. Just letting you know how much I miss you. I felt a little sad earlier, so I wandered into a cafe in the village centre after Willie left. They had this upbeat music playing in the background. It's an old song. Probably from the eighties or nineties, I'm not quite sure. It's pretty cheesy, but it brought a smile to my face. And now I can't get the music out of my head. Maybe if you listen to it too, it will bring a smile to your face. It's from Rick Astley, Never Gonna Give You Up." There was a pause before she spoke again. "Right, I'll let you rest. Willie told me that's what you've been doing. I'm going to take Rollo out for a walk now and try to get some work done. I'll text and send you a voice message later. I love you."

Ah, Sassenach! He swiped the screen to phone her, but his phone beeped and died. Ah, shite! He wanted to go and see her now but stopped. He had to take steps to make himself better first. He needed to put in the hours to help himself. She deserved the extra time he would put in because she's not getting half-arsed from him again. But for now ...

He scrambled out of bed and opened the bedroom door.

"Ma!" he called out.

"What is it, dear?"

"Do ye still have all yer old music from yer university days?"

"Anything in particular?"

He cringed inwardly. Ah, fuck! "Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley?"

He thought he heard females sniggering downstairs.

Dear Readers,

Thank you so much for your patience with the previous chapter and, mostly, the feedback and beautiful comments. I hope this latest update felt a lot lighter to read. I'll keep this short as I'm drained today; nevertheless, I wish you a great weekend.

Looking forward to reading what you think of this update. Take care always, and keep those love vibes rolling. Much love. X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

69 notes · View notes

beewolfwrites · 3 years

Text

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Twenty-One: Tread Softly

I’m sure some of you have been looking forward to this chapter. Some truths are starting to come out now :)

I know I put this on every chapter, but if you’re new here, this is a Chishiya x OC/Reader fic, and i’ve put the link to the full fic on AO3 right here.

Enjoy! And thanks so much for reading! You have no idea how much it means to me <3

----------------------------------------------

A shiver swept through me, and everything went still. The flames, the tendrils of smoke, the gunfire, they all blurred into nothing, and all that mattered was this very moment.

‘The other day, you asked me for the reason why you’re here,’ he said, ‘but the real reason had nothing to do with your usefulness to the Beach. It was because you were useful to me.’

He spoke as if he were telling a well-rehearsed story, as if he’d predicted this outcome all along. He wasn’t even looking at me, but simply staring off into the smoke.

‘From our first game together, it was obvious you cared too much about others. I was looking for a third person to complete the plan, and after the Tag game, when I brought you to that pharmacy, I knew you were perfect.’

Every word sent a new wave of disappointment washing over me, eventually settling and making way for numbness, as I realised how much he had played me for a fool. And the most devastating part was that I should have seen it coming. After all, he was the one who’d told me my naivety would be the death of me.

‘And after that?’

‘Everything I did after that was all to gain your trust.’ When he finally looked at me, his expression was indifferent. Detached. ‘I was going to send you into the royal suite, just like Arisu.’

The wind shifted, and the cards grazed around our feet, settling once again on the rooftop. An orange glow had lit up the hotel windows, and as the fire spread, it sent embers floating up into the night sky. And in the middle of it all, was the million-dollar question.

‘So why am I still alive?’

‘Because somewhere along the way,’ he said, ‘I changed my mind.’

But... why?

He was speaking in riddles, evading my question like he evaded everything, and quite frankly, I was tired of it. I just wanted out, and to not have to worry about whether he was going to throw me under the bus.

‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying I decided against the idea.’ He sighed, his expression darkening almost imperceptibly. ‘I’m not sure exactly when the decision happened. It crept up behind me, without me realizing it.’

I froze.

‘It sort of creeps up behind you, and by the time you realise it’s there, it’s too late. You’re already trapped.’

Those words… they were mine, back from that time in the jewellery store. He knew how I felt, and he was still trying to get into my head and twist me.

My fists clenched. ‘Stop,’ I hissed. ‘Stop trying to play with me like this.’

‘Play with you?’ His eyes shone with amusement. ‘Who says I’m playing with you?’

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, and I squeezed my hands until the fingernails cut sharp crescents into my palms. The flash of pain offered little remedy. The fact that he was toying with me so casually... I didn’t know whether I loved or hated him.

‘You were going to use me for something else then,’ I said. ‘If not for your plan, I would have come pretty handy in a game. A human shield, maybe.’

He laughed, a soft huff of air. ‘The thought did come to mind, but like I said, I decided against it.’

Despite how much I wanted him to leave me alone and let me focus on finishing the game, there was still a part of me that childishly clung onto the hope that he was telling the truth. I despised that part... I wanted to stamp in into the ground until it was buried forever.

‘I can’t....’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t understand.’

For a long moment, he stared at the rooftop in quiet contemplation, and then he spoke. The words were low, slipping out as if they didn’t truly want to be heard, and something inside of me buckled.

‘You’re a train whistle.’

I cried, hard. Even while the wind scattered the cards around our feet, and the gunfire slowly ebbed away, I sobbed into my hands like a child because this was my dream, the vision that I had wanted for myself. Yet here he was, standing before me with his trickster smile and his cruel apathy, trying to steal it from me.

‘I’m sorry.’ I rubbed the tears from my face with the backs of my hands. ‘I just can’t believe you.’

His jaw tightened for a fraction of a second. ‘You can’t believe me, or you don’t?’

‘Both,’ I replied. ‘If you’re telling the truth, you’d have to find a way to prove it. And even then, you’ve lied so much, I just can’t trust anything you say anymore, even if I really want to.’

‘And if I found proof?’

I shook my head. ‘You can’t.’

That was the cold hard reality.

However, there was another reality, one that was surrounding us in swathes of smoke gusting from the windows downstairs. The fire in the hotel was spreading fast, aided by the cold breeze that seeped through the singed holes in the back of my hoodie and sent goosebumps across my skin. Chishiya didn’t seem particularly bothered by the flames. His impassive gaze was focused on the ground, and he seemed preoccupied with something else.

Probably whatever ‘proof’ he’s going to concoct.

‘We should pick these up and go back inside,’ I said, drying my eyes on my sleeve and eyeing the playing cards dotted across the rooftop. ‘We need to find the witch before we all burn alive.’

Chishiya was silent as he helped me collect the cards before the wind carried them off. Once we re-entered the hotel, I could hear his footsteps following behind me, but I didn’t turn. Until the timer on our phones ticked down to zero, we would be allies and nothing more.

------------------------------------------

The halls were empty, and as we made our way to the balcony overlooking the lobby, it became clear why. All of the survivors were gathered here, including Aguni and the militants. Chishiya and I stayed close behind a pillar, remaining hidden on the floor above while watching the scene. The air was stiff as the survivors backed away, crying before the militants who waited with their guns poised.

‘Kill them all,’ Aguni said.

The militants readied themselves, adjusting their grip, all except one who shakily clutched his gun. ‘Jun,’ he said to the man beside him. ‘I can’t... I just can’t do this anymore.’

‘We’ve gone too far to stop,’ Jun replied. ‘There’s no way we can go back to our original lives after killing this many people’

I flinched as Aguni kicked Jun to the ground. ‘You heard me before, right? Anyone who goes against me is a witch.’ His expression turned dark, and he pointed his gun at Jun’s head.

‘Shoot me then!’ Jun cried.

I bit my lip, my fingers tightening around the balcony as Aguni placed his finger on the trigger.

‘That’s enough!’

That voice… he’s alive.

A familiar face appeared from the sidelines, and the crowd parted to make way for Usagi, the girl in the yellow t-shirt from earlier, and a boy I knew to be named Tatta. Between them, they were supporting a heavily injured Arisu. Blood was smeared across his face and clothes, but I was glad to see that he had made it.

I should go down there, I thought. I should be supporting them.

I made a move towards the staircase, only for Chishiya to wrap a hand around my forearm. Glaring, I tried to yank myself free. He only tightened his grip in response and shook his head.

‘Let’s end this game!’ Tatta said, moving back to let his friend stand upright.

Arisu hobbled over to Aguni. ‘I was tied up by you guys the entire time, even before the murder happened. I can’t be the witch, and if none of you guys are the witch, there’s no need to kill me. Please cooperate with me.’

Aguni casually strolled over, then smashed his fist into Arisu’s nose. There was a crunch as he kicked him square in the chest, and Arisu’s body rolled across the floor. I recoiled, turning my head in the direction of the staircase – anything not to have to look at Arisu’s bloodied features. Chishiya’s fingers squeezed.

Once again, Arisu stood up to face Aguni, who advanced like a predator. Before he could swing a punch, Usagi lunged at him. He tossed her aside like a rag doll.

‘I see now,’ she said, scowling from where she lay sprawled on the floor. ‘The reason you attacked Arisu even though he’s the only one with an alibi, it’s because you’re the witch.’

There was a moment where Aguni hesitated. Something unreadable came over his face, then he spoke, confident. ‘That’s right. I’m the witch.’

The room filled with whispers. Several people took a step back, eyeing the guns of the militants and Aguni’s unwavering certainty. There was something about it that didn’t sit right with me. Aguni had more of a reason to kill Arisu and Usagi than he did Momoka. Not to mention Kuina had been guarding outside his room earlier. He had been in there all evening.

‘Why is he lying?’ I whispered to Chishiya.

His mouth tilted knowingly. ‘I have a feeling we’ll find out soon.’

I bet he already knows who the witch is.

I scanned the room, trying to figure it out for myself, but there were so many elements to this puzzle. Aguni wasn’t the witch, that was obvious. He probably murdered Hatter though, and I had a feeling there was more to it than just rising tensions. It was only when he walked towards the militants’ outstretched guns, daring them to shoot him, that the bigger picture started to come together.

He wants to die…

Hatter’s death, he felt guilty for it, and now he wanted to die. Could that mean they had been genuine friends before things at the Beach got out of control? But that still didn’t make Aguni the witch. If this was a Hearts game, the real witch was someone we’d least expect… a solution that would leave us distraught.

Apparently, I wasn’t alone in thinking this, as Arisu yelled, ‘don’t shoot him! Aguni’s not the witch!’ With Usagi’s help, he lifted his head from the ground. ‘This is a Ten of Hearts game. Killing him won’t help you win.’

He’s right, it’s a Hearts game, which means the witch will be hidden in plain sight.

The rules stated that we had to find the witch and burn her body. They never mentioned anything about killing anybody, and the rules never lied.

It’s a solution that that still involves burning a body…

My eyes drifted to Momoka.

‘He has an ulterior motive,’ Arisu continued, struggling to his feet. ‘The one you killed wasn’t Momoka… it was Hatter. I found out after I saw your eyes. They were the same eyes I had after killing my best friends.’ He stumbled into middle of the room until he stood face to face with Aguni. ‘If you had this many firearms, the militants would have gained control a long time ago. In reality, you and hatter were both helping each other. There was no conflict at all. You were best friends with Hatter in reality, right?’

With one subtle twitch, Aguni’s expression gave him away, and he crashed his fist into Arisu’s head. Several people jumped onto his back, but he shook them off easily, picking up Arisu by the scruff and socking him once again in the jaw. It was hard to believe he was still conscious as he writhed on the carpet.

‘Just who is the witch?’ Usagi cried.

‘I know who it is,’ Arisu whispered. He swayed as he got to his feet. Then he pointed across the room, and everyone turned to the body lying there. ‘It’s possible that the witch is Momoka herself.’

I looked at Chishiya who was calm as ever. ‘You knew this already, right?’

He smirked softly. ‘So did you.’

For the tiniest second, there was something else in his expression, something I didn’t have a name for, and some of the pain I felt softened in response. But the moment disappeared, as down below, the room erupted into disorder.

‘What a joke!’ Aguni threw Arisu to the floor yet again. This time, the action sparked something as all the remaining survivors threw themselves at Aguni, swarming in an attempt to subdue him. With gritted teeth, he flung them aside one by one. ‘I’m the witch!’ he yelled. ‘It’s me!’

It was no use. They circled him in a mess of limbs, arms grabbing and pulling desperately. If they could take him down, or at least keep him distracted, there was a chance the game could finally be cleared. But then a new voice broke through the madness, and things took a strange, strange turn down the rabbit hole.

‘Listen up everyone!’ The girl in the yellow t-shirt, Momoka’s best friend, stood unflinching in the middle of the room. ‘I’m the dealer for this game!’

A bright red laser struck the ceiling and pierced her body. She dropped, limp against the floor.

A Dealer?

My mouth fell open in surprise, and at the same time, it all fell into place… the reason why certain games had others playing against us… why they seemed to be designed and run by gamemasters rather than computers. Were the people in this world split into dealers and players?

I glanced at Chishiya finding him equally taken aback. His fingers slackened around my arm, and seeing my opportunity, I pulled away, heading towards the stairs.

The least I can do is help them carry Momoka’s body to the fire.

I didn’t get far. Chishiya’s hand grabbed my hood and dragged me right back. I staggered, trying to get away from him after everything he’d done, only to freeze when he said firmly, ‘not just yet.’

‘Why?’ I hissed. ‘So you can use me as a shield in case they see us?’

He didn’t reply, but the look on his face left no room for discussion. Everything inside me bristled as he kept his hand tight around my wrist. He had no right, no right whatsoever to do this, keeping me here without even telling me why. However, the sting was washed away when I saw Kuina stumble into the room, Ann by her side.

Kuina!

It was such a relief and a joy to see her alive and uninjured, although at the same time I wondered how much she was in on. Did she know that Chishiya had been manipulating me? Was she only friends with me because he had told her to be? She had mentioned once that he was the one who asked her to bring me food that time when we first met. The confusion was tearing me apart; I no longer knew what was real and what was fabricated.

Ann held up the missing knife from the body. ‘The fingerprints on the handle show a reverse grip,’ she said. ‘Momoka killed herself.’

It only meant one thing; she had committed suicide for the sake of starting the game.

Then in that case, they were both ‘dealers’, whatever that means.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about this now. Were they forced to participate, or did they choose to create all this mess themselves? If so, why would they want to do something like this? And why would the girl in the yellow t-shirt help Arisu if she was in on the game?

‘FIVE MINUTES REMAINING.’

The acrid scent of burning fabric filled the air, and everyone looked around, trying to pinpoint the source.

The fire!

I had forgotten all about it, and now there was no time to waste standing around like this.

‘We only have minutes left!’ Kuina shouted. ‘We need to get her body onto the fire.’

Several people scrambled to lift Momoka’s body and bring this entire massacre to an end. No more deaths. No more blood. No more betrayal. However, this was just wishful thinking, cut short by gunshots bursting through the lobby. A familiar figure stumbled out through the smoke, and I instinctively took a step back.

Niragi’s alive?!

He’d wrapped his torn shirt around his head, and every inch of his upper body was blistered with glistening red burns. In his hand was a submachine gun, and with an animalistic growl, he unleashed a spray of bullets throughout the room.

Bodies flew back and tumbling to the ground, blood splattering the walls and carpet as people stumbled over one another in a frantic struggle to escape. I saw Arisu and Usagi duck, while others crouched low, covering their heads. Bullets ricocheted off the walls as Niragi aimed wildly in every direction, shooting everything that moved.

And then he looked up.

Even through the charred skin and the tatters of fabric, that familiar glint shone in his eyes when they locked with mine. Teeth bared in unrestrained fury, he raised his gun.

I felt Chishiya’s hands on my shoulders.

It’s just sound and fury…

He fired.

#alice in borderland #aib #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

100 notes · View notes

ephemeralstark · 3 years

Text

An Intern’s Ordeal

Summary: Peter gets invited to the Annual Stark Charity Gala, only he thinks he's attending as an intern and panics because he doesn't even know how to make coffee so how can he manage an actual event. Throw in a stab wound, some fractured ribs, a healthy dose of self-deprecation and a case of mistaken identity, and Tony realises that Peter really doesn't understand how much he means to him.

Rated T | Irondad | Completed | 10k

AN: i hope you all enjoy, i’ll add the link to read on ao3 in a reblog if you guys prefer that!! tw for injuries and blood, stay safe my lovelies and the tag list is at the end!

“You know,” Peter commented idly as he set down the wrench Mr. Stark had handed him on the table, “when you said you wanted me to come over and help out in the workshop, this wasn't exactly what I thought you’d have planned.”

“No?” Mr. Stark wondered as he held out a hand for the weird caps Peter was still tightly gripping after being warned not to lose them, “what did you think we were going to do?”

“I don’t know, really,” Peter shrugged dismissively, “but I kinda thought it would be something to do with Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man?” Mr. Stark spoke as though he had forgotten who Spider-Man was, as though he wasn't sitting in the same room as him, before cursing slightly under his breath and dropping one of the caps.

“Yeah, you know? The red and blue guy who swings over the city on webs that he made himself because he’s so totally cool and smart.”

“I know who Spider-Man is, kid,” Mr. Stark said rolling his eyes at Peter, “can you grab that wrench again? Then get down here, it’s your turn to do a bit of work.”

“Well, I’m just saying you sounded a bit confused,” Peter said as he jumped off his stool and crouched by the engine on the floor, the smell of motor oil and grease making his head spin a little, he blamed his enhanced sense of smell for that as he other man didn't seem to be affected by it.

“Not about Spider-Man,” Mr. Stark corrected him, before frowning and giving Peter a serious look, “Pete, do you think I only keep you around because of your abilities?”

“Uh,” Peter faltered, unable to find the words to explain how he did think that but not in a way that made Mr. Stark seem like a bad guy, just in a way that proved Peter wasn't any more special than the next intern who passed through the halls of Stark Industries.

A look of understanding seemed to cross Mr. Stark’s face and before Peter could even open his mouth he continued to speak, “hey, actually, how would you feel about coming to this charity Gala on Saturday?”

“Wh- wait, what?”

That… had been the last thing Peter expected Mr. Stark to say, why would he invite him to a Gala? Didn't he realise that Peter was probably the last person in the world who should be invited to a fancy event - in fact, he wasn't entirely sure he owned a suit, would that be an issue? Maybe he could borrow that one of Ben’s he wore to Homecoming.

“Charity Gala,” Mr. Stark repeated, “it's a big event with suits, ties, dresses, and champagne; lots and lots of champagne, not that you’re allowed to drink that, but as Stark Industries is the organiser of the even then I can make sure we have plenty of soda. So, what’s your favourite: Coke, Pepsi, Dr Pepper, Sprite, Fanta…”

“Uh, I don't- I don't know,” Peter stammered, “just whatever you want is fine with me.”

“Come on, Kiddo, I want to make this enjoyable for my favourite intern, so what’s your drink of choice?”

“Uh, Dr Pepper, maybe?” Peter said unsurely.

“You got it,” Mr. Stark said, “now come on, get your head in the game, we need to rebuild this engine.”

“Why are we doing this?” Peter wondered, still feeling slightly confused by the conversation that had just occurred, he felt like there was a deeper meaning to it.

“By the time I was your age, I’d lost count of the number of engines I’d rebuilt, this is a young genius’ rite of passage.”

I’m not a genius, Peter thought to himself but instead of voicing the thought aloud, he focused his attention on the task at hand. Or, he tried to, at least, the truth was that he was slightly caught up on Mr. Stark’s comment about wanting his favourite intern at the Charity Gala.

Was that his way of saying that he wasn't keeping Peter around because of his Spider-Man abilities, but rather because of his status as a Stark Industries intern? But that couldn't be right, Peter wasn't even a good intern - he usually just fiddled around in the workshop and tried to improve his Spider-Man equipment before attempting to eat Mr. Stark out of house and home. So, why wouldn't he take a better intern to the Gala? And what exactly would be expected of Peter on Saturday?

“Kid?” Mr. Stark poked Peter’s arm making him jump in shock and his head snapped to the side to see his mentor staring at him with a slightly concerned expression, “you good? You’re off in your own world tonight, I’m starting to get a little worried and you know me; I don’t like to be worried, I like to be blase in most situations.”

“I’m yeah, I’m good, don’t worry,” Peter lied, “I was just thinking about this US History project I’ve got to hand in soon.”

“History?” Mr. Stark muttered, screwing up his nose in disgust, “you go to a STEM school, right? Shouldn't they be focusing on the sciences more than history?”

“Well, you know how it is,” Peter muttered with a shrug, “those who are ignorant of history are doomed to repeat it, and I suppose they have to give us a rounded education.”

Mr. Stark cast him a dubious glance, “you sure that’s the saying, Bud?”

“Well, it’s close, I think,” Peter mumbled, “anyways, I like history, I don't think it’s something I’ll pursue as a career but the class is interesting enough.”

“A career?” Mr. Stark asked jerking back in shock, “in history?”

“Not for me,” Peter repeated, “I don’t know, I’ll probably go into research or scientific development or something, I haven't thought about it in too much detail, to be honest.”

“You haven't- Kid, what? You should absolutely be thinking about this,” Mr. Stark said, “I know I’ve mentioned this before but I do have some pull at MIT. In fact, I have some pull at almost every college out there, you name it and I could probably get you in. What can I say? People love me.”

“I just don't want to make a life-changing decision at fifteen,” Peter muttered, “I know I’m going to have to soon, but do you know how much people change and grow? I asked May and she said she’s nothing like the person she was as a teenager, so if that’s going to be the same for me, how do I know that I’ll choose the right career at this point in my life, I’d rather take the time and make that decision.”

“Alright,” Mr. Stark said, “as much as I’d love to put you through college and have you working full time at Stark Industries, I can understand why you feel that way and it’s quite a mature observation - even though I hate it.”

“You’d want me working here?” Peter asked with wide eyes.

“Of course, you’re my favourite intern after all,” Mr. Stark said with what Peter was sure was meant to be a teasing grin, but all he could think about was the swooping in his stomach as those words were repeated. ‘Favorite intern’ was that Mr. Stark’s way of saying he was going to have to act like an intern at the Charity Gala?

He instantly began to feel nauseous, Mr. Stark was dropping hints about the intern thing which meant that he was absolutely expecting Peter to be on the ball at the Gala and he was only used to messing around in the lab. In fact, Peter was fairly sure that he’d never done anything intern-like; Mr. Stark had once asked Peter to turn on the coffee machine and Peter had merely shrugged, shoved a handful of sour patch kids in his mouth, and admitted that he had no idea how to make coffee.

So really, Peter had never done an intern’s job, he was going into this completely blind.

“Peter?” Mr. Stark prompted, “are you alright? Was that too much?”

“I’m fine,” Peter said quickly, as he lurched to his feet, “I just really gotta go and… work on that project.”

Peter stumbled over the toolbox on the floor, a testament to his distraction as his Spidey-Sense would have usually warned him of such obstructions, and grabbed his backpack off the ground.

“Peter, wait-”

But Peter didn't wait, or even hang around outside the door to the workshop to listen to the end of Mr. Stark’s sentence, he ran. Like a coward, his mind supplied.

He wasn't a coward, he was just… scared that Mr. Stark was going to expect more of him than he was able to give, he didn't know how to be an intern, so really, was it any surprise that no one at school believed him? Ned probably would have eventually lost his trust in Peter after a while if it wasn't for the discovery that he was Spider-Man.

Peter made his way upwards to the roof, instead of towards the main exit, slipping his web-shooters on over his wrists in preparation to swing home.

“Peter, Boss has requested that I ask you to stay, at least for ten minutes,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, which of course shouldn't have been a surprise considering she was everywhere in the building - except the bathrooms.

“I can’t,” Peter said, guilt gnawing at his stomach as he spoke, “tell him that I’m sorry for rushing out, and it wasn't anything he said-” that was a lie but Mr. Stark didn't need to feel guilty about expecting Peter to do his job “-and maybe just say I’ll see him on Saturday, although if wants to he could text me the details?”

“I’ll pass that along,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said gently, or as gently as a robotic voice could sound, “take care Peter, don't forget your mask and swing safely.”

“Thanks, F.R.I.,” he mumbled as the doors to the roof slid open and Peter breathed in the cool NYC evening air.

Taking note of her advice, he pulled his Spider-Man mask out of his backpack and pulled it over his head, he didn't bother changing fully into his suit, he was only going home - he had no plans to stop and fight any crimes.

“Good evening, Peter, I heard from F.R.I.D.A.Y. that you were distressed, how are you now?” Karen greeted him instantly.

“Of course you did,” Peter muttered, “I’m fine, don't worry, but can I ask you something?”

“You just did, but of course I am your A.I. system therefore you can ask me as many questions as you’d like,” Karen told him.

“Alright,” Peter mumbled, rolling his eyes behind the mask as he wondered whether she had been programmed to respond with that whenever he asked if he could ask a question, “uh, so theoretically if I asked you some questions would you have to tell Mr. Stark what I asked you?”

“No, he only has override codes in case of an emergency, but I was designed to be yours alone and that must come with some degree of trust.”

“Right,” Peter said, trying to process her words as he launched himself off the side of Stark Tower and felt the cold wind make his clothes flap in the breeze, his stomach swooped with the familiar, intoxicating fear of falling and he felt himself immediately perk up with the adrenaline rush.

He waited until he could make out the shocked expressions of the people on the street before he shot a web, feeling the familiar tug on his arms as his fall was broken and he swung in an upwards arc - it felt like he was on a rollercoaster and he couldn't deny that he loved every moment of it.

He had almost lost himself in the comforting thwips of web-slinging and the soothing breeze when Karen spoke up once more and reminded him of his concerns.

“Did you want to ask me anything else?” she prompted.

“Uh, yeah,” Peter mumbled, “what would an intern typically wear to a Stark Industries Charity Gala?”

“Mr. Stark doesn't typically take interns to his Galas,” Karen informed him, “however, I know that you’re asking this because you were invited this Saturday, therefore why don't you just wear formal attire.”

“How did you know that?” Peter asked in a moment of paranoia.

“I am connected to Tony Stark’s personal server which is the same server as F.R.I.D.A.Y. and she has the finalised guest list for the Gala which includes your name.”

“Is there anything else there about me?” Peter wondered, “besides my name, that is?”

“Unlimited access.”

“Unlimited because I’m an intern, right?” Peter asked, “I have to be able to do what Mr. Stark needs during the Gala?”

“I don't follow your line of questioning,” Karen said.

“Yeah, no,” Peter mumbled, “I didn't really follow that either. How about this: what does an intern typically do?”

“I need more context,” Karen said, “the job role of an intern depends on who they intern for.”

“Alright, what does an S.I. intern do?” Peter corrected.

“In which department?”

“Mr. Stark’s personal intern, what would be expected of that person?”

“The only person to ever fill that role is yourself, therefore I’m afraid that’s only a question you can answer as it was never an official post therefore I can’t source any information from a job application.”

“So,” Peter said slowly as he swung, “you’re telling me that only I know the answer to the thing I don't know?”

“Exactly.”

“Great,” Peter mumbled, shaking his head to himself.

So basically he was the only person who had ever interned for Mr. Stark, which made sense, after all, Mr. Stark had always had Miss. Potts with him, she had been his assistant before she had taken over everything, therefore why would he need interns? If anything, Miss. Potts was probably the one who had interns, so what if Peter asked her?

No.

That wouldn't work, she and him hadn't seen each other a ton and if he went up to her and started asking weird questions she would either assume that he was looking for money or she’d grow suspicious and tell Mr. Stark about him questioning her.

So, he was essentially lost. There didn't seem to be any clear answer about how to be a good intern for Mr. Stark or what would be expected of him on Saturday. To be fair he should have expected this to be harder than expected, his mentor wasn't one to play by the rules and why should this situation be any different?

“Are you alright?” Karen asked, “you’re acting strange tonight, your behaviour is sparking concern.”

“I’m fine,” Peter lied, “just worried about this project thing I have to prepare for school next week.”

“You know, I am connected to a great deal of information, if you need help with a project, you can always ask me,” Karen reminded him.

“Yeah, K, I know,” Peter murmured, “I just need to think, alright? I’m fine, I just need some time to myself.”

“Noted.”

And with that, she fell silent, finally, and Peter was left to his thoughts and worries. Which he had absolutely planned to do, except a piercing scream breaking through the night distracted him from himself.

“No, no, please, my husband’s medication is in that bag!” A woman shouted, sounding panicked, “please, no, he has seizures and if you take his meds he will be in danger and my money is in there too, I can’t buy more pills.”

Peter immediately changed his trajectory, so much for not getting involved in anything, I probably should have put the whole Spidey-Suit on, he thought to himself as his hearing honed in on the desperate sobs coming from an alleyway.

The scene that met Peter in the alleyway made his blood boil and he felt himself gritting his teeth without meaning to; a lady who looked to be in her late seventies was clutching at her handbag as though her life depended on it, although judging by what Peter had previously heard, her husband’s did. The thief was tugging sharply and slashing the air between them with a sharp blade, he didn't seem to be trying to stab her, but he wasn't exactly being careful.

“Hey!” Peter shouted, successfully distracting the thief who seemed to jump out of his skin and let go of the lady’s handbag on impulse.

“Spidey?” the man asked, looking over Peter’s clothes with a confused frown which reminded Peter that he was wearing an incredibly dorky science T-Shirt with an amazing science pun on it, he would probably have to bin the shirt now, or at the very least retire it for a year or so.

“Stealing a lady’s handbag?” Peter asked, not needing to put much effort into proving that he was disappointed in the guy, “really man? That’s low, especially when she’s told you her husband’s very important medications are in there.”

“No one asked you, beat it!”

“I can’t do that,” Peter said, “I’m going to have to insist that you walk away, maybe if you go in the opposite direction I won’t knock you out and call the police.”

Alright, so maybe that was a lie and Peter was planning to web the guy up and call the cops no matter what he decided.

“Oh, fuck off,” the man muttered.

“Hey!” Peter shouted, “language!”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the thief snapped, forgetting about the lady and her handbag in order to focus his attention on Peter.

He made a quick hand motion to the lady to run, and thankfully she didn't need to be told twice as she instantly broke into a hasty trot away, her heels clicking on the concrete but the thief didn't seem to care, his attention was solely on Peter and the blade in his hands was no longer being held loosely, now it was poised to attack.

“Woah, dude!” Peter muttered, holding his hands up as he backed off a few steps, “I take it back, you can use whatever language you want.”

“Why couldn't you just keep swinging?” the man asked as he took a couple of calculated steps forward, “I had this all under control, why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to get involved?”

“You were stealing that lady’s handbag,” Peter said, “and her husband’s medication, there’s nothing about that situation that is controlled.”

“It was for me, alright?” the man screamed.

Uh oh, Peter thought, from experience he had realised that when people were overly emotional, they became unpredictable. This man was armed and seemed desperate.

That was something that Peter occasionally struggled with; he was out almost every night as Spider-Man and often he stopped people who weren't truly bad but they were just in a difficult situation. Did that make him a bad person? Some of those ‘criminals’ were potentially only trying to scrounge money to feed their families.

He couldn't think like that though because if he started excusing some people’s bad actions and condemning others’, where did he draw the line? Spider-Man was the person who looked out for the little guy, he stopped crime, he didn't take statements and decide who was guilty or whose actions were justified. If someone did something wrong then he would stop them and that was that.

“Look, I get you think you have your reasons for this, but it's wrong,” Peter said, “why don't you put the knife away, and maybe we can sort this out without anyone getting hurt?”

“You-” the man broke off, seemingly too angry to form a coherent sentence, instead he lunged forward, knife in hand.

Peter hadn't been expecting that reaction, he had hoped the man would have been willing to compromise. In a desperate attempt to avoid being impaled on the guy’s blade, Peter forced himself through the air and he hit the ground with a thud, feeling as though something in the side of his chest had cracked.

“Ouch,” Peter muttered, trying to ignore the whine he could hear in his own voice, he was meant to be the tough hero who fended for those who couldn't fend for themselves, “hey, man, that was seriously not cool.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

The man lunged at him again, still holding the knife, and Peter skittered backward like a crab until his back came up against a hard, metal surface: oh, the dumpster. He desperately needed to get back up on his feet, he was at a serious disadvantage.

His Spidey-Sense thrummed in alarm and he whirled around just in time to see the moonlight glint off the blade that was flying towards his face - this guy was aiming to kill! In a last-minute, desperate attempt, he pushed himself downwards so that the guy stabbed into the dumpster instead of Peter’s face, the blade cutting through the metal as though it were butter.

“Dude, what the hell?” Peter gasped out from his place, flat on his back on the damp alleyway ground.

“Stop moving,” the man grunted as he swung again.

“What?” Peter asked, “no!”

Why would he do the one thing that would mean certain death? Sure, he put on a spandex suit on a nightly basis and swung around the city at dizzying heights, but he didn't have a death wish. Besides, his suit had a certain degree of shock absorption ability, and it was cut-proof, which didn't always prevent Peter from getting hurt, but it definitely took away the brunt of his injuries.

Except he wasn't wearing his suit currently…

He was very much just Peter Parker in a mask, although he did have his web-shooters. His web-shooters! Just as the guy lifted the blade, with two hands, looking as though he was ready to perform a sacrifice, Peter shot a web upwards and pulled himself out from certain death.

As he flew upwards he felt the man strike one last time, and in his desperation, he succeeded. Pain radiated through Peter as the blade embedded in his thigh and was dragged downwards as Peter’s body moved up.

“Ah!” Peter called out in agony, the man below in the alley laughed in victory.

“Got the little bastard!” The man cheered as he started to run.

Peter wanted to chase after him, web him up and make sure that he would never hurt another person ever, but he was smart enough to know that with the current state of his leg, he wasn't going to be chasing anyone.

“Karen? You there?” Peter asked, despite knowing that she never went anywhere.

“I’m here,” she confirmed, “I know you needed time to think, but I would seriously recommend seeking medical attention, you have a large laceration down your right thigh.”

“I’m aware,” Peter said dryly, or tried to, his humour was shadowed by the pain that was coursing through him.

“I can contact Mr. Stark if you would like?” she offered, and normally Peter would have said yes, he would have felt relief at the thought of his mentor coming to pick him up from the cold rooftop and taking him back to the tower where he would receive decent pain relief and have his wound cared for immediately.

But, he couldn't say yes, because he had run out in such a strange way that the next time he saw Mr. Stark the man would undoubtedly have more questions than Peter was ready to answer.

“No,” he said slowly, “but thanks, Karen, actually though… could you just alert the police to that guy, I don't care what you tell them, just make sure he can't hurt anyone else, please?”

“Consider it done,” she said.

Peter let out a breath of relief that he hadn't even realised he’d been holding. It was going to be alright, the cops would pick up the guy before he hurt anyone else, that lady would probably be at home with her husband by now and he could go home and patch himself up before he started to research further into interning at a fancy Gala.

Or, that had been the plan.

By the time he made it home, the sun was beginning to reappear in the sky and he could hear the sounds of the city waking up for another day.

It's a good thing May was on the nightshift, Peter thought to himself as his apartment block finally came into view.

His jeans were no longer blue, but rather a strange brownish red with the effect of a mixture of dried and still flowing blood. His blood. It wasn't often he ended up covered in his own blood, but these things happened he supposed.

Taking advantage of the last hour or so of dim light, he carefully crawled up the side of the building, doing his best to make sure there wasn't a blood trail leading up to his window - he wouldn't be able to explain that one away easily.

“You have a text from Mr. Stark,” Karen informed him.

“Oh…” Peter mumbled and he painfully crawled through his bedroom window and let his body fall to the carpet with a thump, “what does it say?”

“One message from Tony Stark, sent two minutes ago: hey Kiddo! I’m not really sure what happened back there, maybe I overstepped by bringing up colleges and working with me, or maybe you’re more interested in Oscorp - although I don't know why didn't you hear about their animal experimentation scandal? Probably not a good time for jokes, but let me know you’re alright, ok? I saw that Karen has been active all night, so try and get some sleep and just know that I’m not mad at all… I’m just a little confused, but there's no pressure here for you to explain what was up. “

“Do you think I upset him?” Peter asked his A.I. carefully as he lay on his bedroom floor, probably creating a mess of blood that he would be forced to scrub at later.

“I like to think he was honest in the message, I believe he is just confused.”

“It’s stupid,” Peter mumbled, “like, I shouldn't have freaked out, it was so dumb of me.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Karen offered.

“Uh, maybe?” Peter said, “I could keep the mask on while I clean this leg up.”

“Sounds good,” and if Peter wasn't mistaken, her voice sounded gentle and reassuring, he was lucky that she was a computer program and didn't tire of him, or need to sleep.

So, Peter carefully pulled himself back to his feet, crying out in agony as soon as he put weight on his bad leg. If the thought of trying to stand once more didn't fill him with dread, he would have crumbled instantly.

“Shit,” he muttered, he wasn't one for regularly cursing but all things considered he felt the situation called for it, and there was no one around to hear, except Karen.

He made his way slowly to the bathroom, dragging his leg rather than stepping to try and reduce the amount of muscle movement, not that it mattered, the blood still oozed out and the tearing sensation still made him feel nauseated.

“I’m going to have so much blood to clean up before May comes home,” Peter whined to Karen as he pushed open the bathroom door, leaving a red smear behind.

“Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark for you? He can hire a cleaning company,” Karen offered.

“A… cleaning company?” Peter asked, feeling ill at the thought, and not just from the pain he was in, “no, no that’s fine, thanks though.”

He and May weren't poor per se, but they didn't often have an abundance of money to spare, and the thought of paying someone to come and clean their little apartment, when that money could have been used for gas or food, made Peter feel ill. He already caused their food bill to skyrocket thanks to his enhanced metabolism.

Peter sat down heavily on the side of the bathtub, letting the bright lights hurt his eyes momentarily.

“Karen?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“I didn't run out on Mr. Stark because I was upset that he had brought up college or offered me a position at Stark Industries,” Peter admitted, “I mean, it was a bit of a shock, and I know I’m going to have to decide what I want to do with my life soon enough because I can’t live in limbo until I know for sure, but yeah, working with Mr. Stark is the dream.”

“So why did you leave?” Karen asked.

“He asked me to go to the Charity Gala,” Peter said.

“That’s a bad thing?”

“No, no, no, not for a normal intern,” Peter admitted, “but for me, yeah, I’ve never actually done anything intern-y in my life, I don't even know how to make coffee because I don't drink it and that one time I tried to make it for May she made me promise to never put her through that again.”

“So?”

“So interns get coffee,” Peter said as he inched out of his jeans, the dried blood creating a kind of glue between the fabric and his skin.

“You have never gotten coffee,” Karen informed him as though that wasn't partially what he was freaking out about.

“Exactly,” Peter muttered, gently easing his clothing off was causing him too much pain, so he tore the jeans away from the wound in a sharp motion that made stars blink in and out of existence in his line of vision as darkness threatened at the edges.

He didn't remember slipping off the side of the tub, but just as he thought he was going to lose the fight to stay awake, the fuzziness disappeared from his vision and he was blinking tiredly on the bathroom floor with his leg oozing fresh blood.

“Peter? Peter!”

“Ugh,” he groaned, “s’ok, ‘m fine.”

“I really think it’s about time we sought more professional help,” Karen suggested.

“No, no, it’s all good,” Peter said as he started to feel less dizzy from the agony, “besides, I was telling you stuff, remember?”

“Indeed, would you like to continue?”

“Yeah, uh, so, the coffee thing,” Peter mumbled as he gently nudged his jeans off properly, trying to avoid looking too closely at the blood on his leg as he did so, “well, it’s just that I’ve never done one of the most simple things an intern does, and Mr. Stark was dropping hints about me being an intern, so obviously I need to fill that role at the Charity Gala, but how can I when I don't know what’s expected of me?”

“Maybe you’re meant to just go and have a good time?” Karen suggested.

“No, no it’s not that,” Peter was sure, “he mentioned interning a few times, it was very clear that he’s wanting me to step up and actually fill that role.”

“Why don't you ask him?”

“What? No way!” Peter said quickly, “I absolutely can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn't get it,” Peter muttered and ripped the mask off in one smooth action, feeling slightly guilty about cutting off his closest confidant so ruthlessly.

He tried to ignore the turmoil in his mind and instead focused his attention on the gash on his leg. He carefully pulled himself back up onto the side of the tub and swung around so that he could clean the wound off in the bath. He used the showerhead and rinsed it on the gentlest pressure setting, rubbing at the skin around the laceration to clear it of the dried and congealing blood.

“What the-”

For some reason he had expected a long swipe, maybe from upper thigh to his knee, he had not expected the sight he was met with. The wound was the length of his pointer finger, and it was wide. It was almost like someone had cut an oval into his flesh rather than swiping him with a knife.

It needed stitches.

It probably needed a professional, but Peter was an amateur with a complex against disturbing others and a strong need to avoid Mr. Stark until the Gala, so he was going to have to deal with it himself. How much blood had he lost? How long did he have until this wound became life-threatening? He needed to get his shit together and sort it out.

Once he had finished rinsing the laceration, he wrapped one of May’s nice yellow towels around it tightly, to try and stem the flow of the blood - a large part of him felt guilty, he was going to have to throw it away and listen to her confused rambles as she wondered what had happened to it.

“Come on, Peter,” he muttered to himself, “you can do this.”

He forced himself to stand, ignoring how that simple, painful movement made a sudden red appear on the otherwise pristine towel.

“Gotta close it up,” he muttered as he opened the mirrored cabinet and began to rake through for the first aid kit he knew was hidden in there, various things fell as he searched and clattered into the sink making him glad that he was home alone.

When he opened the first aid kit, he rummaged until he found the thing he had been looking for; a pack of Steri-Strips. He opened them and read through the information leaflet.

Only use on shallow, clean, uninfected wounds. Do not use where bleeding is unmanageable or significant. Do not use on hairy, oily areas, joints, the face. Seek medical attention if the wound was a human or animal bite.

Well, that was a lot of situations in which they were unsuitable and Peter was fairly sure his wound wasn't shallow and he would have said the bleeding was erring on the unmanageable side, but what else could he do? He didn't have any other option, he would have to try.

So he did, he carefully unwound the towel and looked at the nauseating wound on his thigh. He needed to align the edges and hold them in place with the Steri-Strips. It sounded simple… but it was going to hurt. Gritting his teeth, he started to get to work. Small whimpers and whines of pain would escape every now and then as he struggled not to lose himself to the lightheaded feeling that kept coming with the pain.

The Steri-Strips didn't work as well as Peter had hoped, the edges of the wound weren't exactly lining up and there were parts of the sticky side that were attached to the open part of the wound, which he was sure wasn't meant to happen. But, it was an improvement, and that was all he could ask for.

He stuck one of the sterile dressings over the top and used the first aid scissors to cut a strip off the towel - he was going to bin it anyways - which he then tied tightly around the affected area to create enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

“Now to clean up,” he muttered with a slightly delirious laugh that he was putting down to the blood loss.

Sitting there, with his leg wound cared for - to his best ability - and his throbbing ribs, Peter realised just how tired he was. He still needed to clean up the mess he’d created and research what Mr. Stark would be expecting of him at the Gala.

He pulled on his mask tiredly, “Karen?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, what can I do for you?”

“Can you text Mr. Stark for me and say: sorry for running off like that, don't worry I’ll be at the Gala tomorrow, and I’ll be fully prepared.”

“Message sent.”

“Thanks, Karen,” Peter said and laid his head back, fighting the urge to fall into a deep, comforting sleep. He still had so much to do…

----

By the time Saturday evening arrived, Peter was so nervous he was almost crawling about on the ceiling.

“Oh, Honey, relax would you,” May said with a fond eye roll as she rewatched the tie tutorial that she’d saved after they’d both been mystified by the snakelike fabric on the night of Homecoming.

“Relax?” Peter asked, his voice a few octaves too high, “May, I can’t just relax, this is the Stark Charity Gala and I am a Stark Intern.”

“So?” May asked, motioning for him to come closer so she could do up the tie after her third run through of the video.

“So, I need to be the best intern that has ever been to one of these things, if it gets out that I’m Mr. Stark’s personal intern and I don’t do a good enough job, then my actions will impact negatively on Mr. Stark and I can’t have that!”

“You need to calm down, Pete,” May said with a laugh, “you’re getting too in your head about this, why don't you just try to have a good time? And maybe go fix your hair.”

“Yeah,” Peter mumbled running a hand through his curls, “hair. I can do that.”

“Just don't use as much gel as you did last time, alright?” May said, “the curls suit you, the greasy look does not.”

“Oh ha ha,” Peter mumbled as he made his way out of the living room, pain echoing in every step, but May couldn't know.

She couldn't know about the thirty dressings he had gone through in the last two days as his leg refused to heal properly, despite his normally impressive healing abilities. She couldn't know about the weird yellowish-green discharge that was escaping constantly or the strange smell he had begun to notice. She couldn't even know about the smattering of dark bruises that spanned across half his ribs and made breathing difficult.

“Don’t take too long, Peter,” May called after him, “Happy will be here soon and I want to take some pictures of you before you leave.”

Peter looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his ghostly pallor and the bags beneath his eyes, how had he avoided causing May suspicion? He looked terrible, or maybe that was his enhanced sight picking up on things normal people couldn't see.

He coated his fingers in a light amount of gel and ran them through his hair, enough to style it but not so much that it looked greasy, as May would say.

“Alright, I’m ready!” Peter declared, walking back into the room to be met with the flash of a camera, “woah! May!”

“You look so cute!” she said in response.

“I am not cute!” Peter insisted, “I- I’m- I am the most-”

“Face it, you’re the cutest,” May said pinching his cheeks gently, before pulling him into a hug that squeezed his ribs painfully, “alright, now, have a good night, alright?”

“You sure you don't want to come?” Peter asked.

“Oh no,” May said with a laugh, “I have a bottle of red and a handful of romcoms with my name on them.”

“Alright,” Peter said, “have a good night.”

“You too, and if you’re staying at the tower, send me a text, ok?” May asked, “I don't want to spend the night worrying about where you are.”

“You got it!” Peter said with false cheer, he doubted that Mr. Stark would want him to stay over, especially as he hadn't replied to the man since that message while he’d been cleaning his wound up.

Peter made his way downstairs to see the familiar sleek black car parked by the curb, without hesitating he wandered over to the back door and slipped inside.

“Hey, Happy!”

Happy grunted in greeting and fixed Peter with a piercing stare through the rearview mirror.

“Is uh, is everything ok?” Peter wondered nervously.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Happy said, “Tony says you’ve been avoiding his messages.”

“My phone died,” Peter lied.

“You couldn't charge it?”

“My charger is broken.”

“You couldn't get a new one?”

“We’re not all billionaires,” Peter mumbled.

“You could have asked Tony, he would have replaced it in a heartbeat.”

“How?” Peter asked, “my phone was dead.”

“Alright, fine, keep your secrets,” Happy grumbled, “just… be careful alright, Kid? Tony is really worried about you and I thought he was maybe overreacting because I know how he can be sometimes, but now I’m beginning to think something might be wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Happy asked, ignoring Peter’s lie.

“Uh actually, can we go to a Drive-Thru Starbucks on the way?”

“You… want coffee?”

“Uh, yeah,” Peter mumbled.

“Alright, sure,” Happy said, “the first time you’ve actually asked for something so I’m not going to say no.”

Was it really?

The server manning the Drive-Thru window looked very confused when Happy pulled up and requested an Americano and a Hot Chocolate, Peter could see her glancing between the two of them, obviously wondering who Peter was and why he was being chauffeured around.

Maybe she would make up a story for her friends to laugh about, or maybe she was tired and nearing the end of her shift and didn't really care. Either way, Peter slunk back into the seat and looked the other way until Happy handed him the two drinks he had requested.

“So, what’s with the drinks Kid?” Happy asked.

“I don't know how to make coffee,” Peter admitted as though that was an appropriate answer.

“Alright,” Happy said and he sighed deeply, “do you… do you normally drink coffee?”

“What? No, this stuff could kill me,” Peter said, “ever since becoming Spider-Man, I have bad reactions to caffeine.”

“Bad reactions?” Happy asked, his eyes narrowing at Peter through the mirror.

“Oh yeah, you know; palpitations, heart arrhythmias, rashes, jitters, headaches, projectile vomiting, occasional hallucinations, collapsing episodes, cra-”

“So it’s bad?” Happy interrupted.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Peter agreed.

“So…” Happy trailed off, looking seconds away from pulling over so that he could tear the coffee from Peter’s hands and throw it, “why exactly did we get you a coffee?”

“Oh, this isn't for me.”

“Peter, Kid, come on, you’ve got to give a little here,” Happy muttered, “why did we get a coffee if it’s not for you and you can't even drink the damn stuff?”

“It’s for Mr. Stark,” Peter said as though that should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

“And pray tell, why are you getting a coffee for Mr. Stark before the Charity Gala?”

“Because I’m an intern.”

“Of course,” Happy muttered, looking about ready to drive them off the bridge they were currently crossing, “why did I even need to ask?”

The divider slowly raised between them as Happy muttered his statements of disbelief under his breath.

-----

“There he is!” Mr. Stark said cheerfully as Peter walked into the room, Americano in hand, “I was starting to worry you wouldn't show up.”

“I promised I would,” Peter said, despite Mr. Stark’s words he could see the worry in the older man’s eyes, “oh uh, here, I brought you coffee.”

“Coffee?” Mr. Stark asked, taking the drink from Peter and looking at it in confusion, “you brought me a coffee?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, “I hope it’s alright.”

The worry only seemed to intensify rather than lessening, was Mr. Stark that concerned about Peter messing up in public? If so, why should he invite him?

“Thanks, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, taking a polite sip from the cup, “anyway, why don't I introduce you to some people.”

“Sounds good, but maybe I could go to the toilet first?” Peter asked, “it was a long drive and I may have had a hot chocolate.”

“Great, a sugar hyped kid,” Mr. Stark joked, “go on then, scram, you don't need my permission.”

Things seemed to be going smoothly enough until Peter walked out of the bathroom to find his Spidey-Sense thrumming away with a sense of urgency. Just as he started to look for the source of danger, a hand fisted into the fabric at the back of his neck and he was tugged to the side harshly.

“Where have you been?” a man asked angrily, “and what are you doing out here without even a tray of drinks?”

“I uh-”

“Shut up!” the man snapped, “I don't know who your daddy is or whose ass he had to kiss to get you this job but if you’re going to work tonight I need professionalism.”

“I’m not-”

“I said ‘shut up’!” the man shouted once more, giving Peter a little shake to further drive his demand home. Peter was surprised to find himself slightly afraid, and the shake had hurt his ribs and pushed a little too much pressure down his sore leg.

“Please, Sir,” Peter begged, “I’m not working.”

“Oh you absolutely are,” the man snapped, “you think you can sneak through here and meet Iron Man?”

“I didn't-”

“I have half a mind to kick you out into the gutter,” the man continued, “you are a disappointment to all of us in the service industry, you are meant to remain professional at all times, which doesn't mean fishing around for secrets and autographs.”

“I wasn't!”

“Liar!”

The man tightened his grip and started marching Peter forward as though he was a disobedient child.

“Sir, listen, please,” Peter pleaded, “Mr. Stark is waiting for me.”

The man froze, his grip tightening momentarily, and Peter’s Spidey-Sense blared louder.

“You disturbed Tony Stark?”

“No! No, no, no!” Peter insisted, “I came here with him, I’m his intern.”

“That’s a lie,” the man said, “Stark Industries never brings interns to these events, now come with me or I’m going to end up kicking you out on your ass and blacklisting you from ever working an event in New York ever again.”

“You can’t make me do anything,” Peter grumbled, trying to twist out of the man’s hold but being restricted by the pain in his leg and side, he wasn't going to be able to free himself, “you have to let me go?”

“Or what?” the man asked with a sneer in his voice, “what are you going to do about it?”

“Him? Probably nothing, he’s far too polite for his own good, but me? That’s another story entirely,” Peter felt the grip loosen in a second and he almost crashed to the floor from the relief of it, only for Happy to grab his elbow and stabilise him.

“Thanks, Happy,” Peter whispered, knowing the man would hear him.

“You’re Tony Stark’s security,” the man who had grabbed Peter stated with a dumb expression on his face.

“Yes, and you were manhandling one of the people I am here to protect,” Happy said seriously, Peter had often wondered how Happy - with his tendency to get overstressed and his annoyance at most living things - had become the Head of Security at Stark Industries, but now, looking at him confronting the man, he had no doubts that Happy deserved that title.

“I wasn't- manhandling?” the guy asked, “that’s a bit… harsh, wouldn't you say?”

“I call it as it is,” Happy said, “care to explain?”

“I thought the kid was one of my waiters.”

“Did you recognise him?” Happy asked.

“Well, no, but there are a lot of them, it’s difficult to know them all,” the man said.

“That’s dangerous,” Happy said, “it’s fortunate for you that I personally run background checks on everyone working this function, but if you’re not even able to recognise a stranger among your employees then I feel like you won’t have a future organising events for Stark Industries.”

“Wait, no, you can't do that!” the man insisted, “this is my biggest job of the year.”

“It’s a shame you care so little about it then, imagine not caring enough to learn your employees’ names?”

“It was a misunderstanding!”

“Peter, did you try to tell this man you weren't a waiter”? Happy asked patiently.

“I uh said that I’m an intern and that Mr. Stark was waiting for me,” Peter admitted, feeling a little guilty for the ashen look that came over the man’s face when he realised that Peter had been telling the truth, after all, how else would the head of security know Peter’s name?

“Mr. Stark is in fact waiting for you,” a familiar voice broke in, “and he’s not a patient man, what is going on here?”

The man now looked positively grey as he tried to look anywhere but at the confused and impatient billionaire before him, Peter however noticed the way Mr. Stark’s eyes narrowed in on the crumpled fabric by Peter’s neck and the sheen of panicked sweat on his forehead.

His mentor looked questioningly at Happy, “well?”

“This is Bernard Kyting,” Happy said, and Peter was sure in that moment that Happy knew absolutely everyone in the room’s name and face, “he is the owner of the company that organised this Gala, he is also the man that just manhandled Peter and attempted to kidnap him.”

“Kidnapping? What no!”

“Uh, Happy, he wasn't going to kidnap me,” Peter said hesitantly.

“Are you sure?” Happy asked seriously, “because we should operate on the worst-case scenario and him trying to force you to go somewhere against your will without listening to you say you’re an intern and that Tony was waiting for you sounds bad to me.”

“It would probably sound bad to the police too,” Mr. Stark agreed thoughtfully.

“You’re not serious!” Bernard gasped.

“I’m deadly serious when it comes to Peter’s safety,” Mr. Stark said.

“Mr. Stark, I really don't think-”

“Hush Peter, we’re handling this,” Mr. Stark said, “actually, don’t hush, Happy will handle this and I am going to show you off to all the stuffy businessmen here, let’s make them all insecure as a twelve-year-old shows them up.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m fifteen,” Peter said, rolling his eyes.

“Exactly, now come on.”

Maybe it was the anxiety that had been festering in his stomach since he’d been invited to the Gala, or maybe it was the stress of almost being roped into working as a waiter for a high-end Gala, or maybe it was even the blood loss he’d recently suffered… maybe the reason didn't matter, because it was kind of irrelevant.

The important thing was that Peter suddenly found himself falling forward.

He felt hands grab at him to try and stop him from crashing against the ground, but they caught him exactly where his ribs were sore and Peter screamed and everything flashed a brilliant, agonising white before the darkness suddenly crept in.

------

When Peter woke up he was partially surprised that he had actually passed out and partially relieved that he had passed out. He had managed to completely avoid the stress of pretending to know how to act as an intern.

He tried to sit up, only to gasp and fall back against the pillows as his ribs announced their displeasure at the sudden movement, “oh,” he murmured under his breath as he tried to catch what little of it was left thanks to the pain.

“I wouldn't recommend that,” a smooth voice said from beside him, Peter turned his head to see Mr. Stark sitting there, looking over his tablet at him.

“Hey,” Peter mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.

“You have three fractured ribs,” Mr. Stark informed him casually, “which wouldn't normally concern me too much because I get it, it kinda comes with the job, no matter how good you are, you usually end up a little banged up.”

Peter nodded solemnly, not wanting to speak up because he got the impression that Mr. Stark was nowhere near finished.

“However, imagine my surprise when I lift your unconscious body up off the floor and find myself with a patch of blood on my new grey suit,” Peter winced, yeah, there it was, “so of course, there’s complete pandemonium, we think there’s an assassin in the Gala, we lock the place down and organise S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medics to attend. The highest of all security is on alert and preparing to raid the building, only for us to find that you have a stab wound, that looks to be a few days old on your leg.”

“Oh, that,” Peter mumbled.

“Oh that, yes that,” Mr. Stark snapped, “what the hell were you thinking not telling me about that?”

“It happened after I left the other day,” Peter admitted, “and I thought I’d managed to deal with it myself.”

“You thought-” Mr. Stark broke off and sighed, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “do you realise how irresponsible that was?”

“It was fine,” Peter mumbled.

“Fine?” Mr. Stark questioned, his voice rising an octave from the shock of hearing such a thing.

“I have healing powers,” Peter said.

“Kid, you’re still human, you still need appropriate medical care and time to recuperate after getting hurt,” Mr. Stark said gently, “you’re not a machine, no one expects you to be able to keep going without looking after yourself.”

“I guess,” Peter whispered.

“And you had no idea what you were doing, did you?” Mr. Stark asked although it seemed like he already knew, “those Steri-Strips were totally inappropriate for that wound.”

“I know,” Peter said, looking down, “I just didn't have anything else.”

“You had your phone.”

Peter cast him a confused look, “my phone? They don't like blood or moisture that much.”

“To… call me,” Mr. Stark said slowly, looking at Peter with a strange mix of disappointment and amusement, “you’re a smart kid, but would you really think to put your phone on a bloody wound before using it to call me.”

“Uh, not usually,” Peter said, “but this kinda happened after I left yours the other day.”

“Ah,” Mr. Stark murmured, seemingly understanding something that Peter hadn't yet explained.

“What?” Peter asked, feeling unnerved by the older man’s sudden understanding.

“I freaked you out with all that talk of colleges and coming to work for Stark Industries,” Mr. Stark said quietly.

“What? No!” Peter almost shouted, jerking upright in the bed despite the pain in his ribs that threatened his ability to breathe, “Mr. Stark, that’s not at all what happened.”

“No?” Mr. Stark asked, arching an eyebrow curiously.

“No, of course not,” Peter mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I wasn't ready to think about that sort of thing, but it would be an honour to work for you in the future, but Mr. Stark, I realised that I’m a really bad intern.”

“What- Kid, no,” Mr. Stark said quickly.

“I am!” Peter argued, “I don’t know how to make coffee, I don't know how to sort paperwork, I don't know what else interns actually do! There’s no way you can say I’m good at it when I don't even understand my own job description. You invited me to the Charity Gala as your intern and I freaked out because I didn't want to embarrass you, I wanted to make a good impression.”

“Kid, I invited you to the Gala as you,” Mr. Stark said, “we both know the internship is a fake formality to keep your alter ego a secret and give you a boost in your college applications.”

“So, you’re not mad that I don't know how to make coffee?”

“I never was,” Mr. Stark said, “wait… is this why you brought me an Americano earlier?”

Peter nodded guiltily, “yeah…”

“Kid, you absolutely did not have to do that, although I must admit since I’m staying away from all the fun stuff now, it was rather nice to have,” Mr. Stark said, “I wanted you there so you could have a good time and so that I could brag about how amazing you are.”

Peter couldn't stop the warmth that spread over his cheeks and he ducked his head.

“I just didn't want to be a disappointment,” Peter mumbled.

“Kiddo, you could never,” Mr. Stark sounded as though he had never been more sure about anything, “I’m slightly upset that you didn't come to me about this wound, but I get that your teenage brain works in mysterious mystery ways.”

“I tried my best with it,” Peter mumbled.

“It’s infected.”

“I didn't say my best was good,” Peter continued, he pulled the blankets to the side to look at the wound on his leg only to find that the bloody, yellowing dressing he had last seen was gone and had been replaced by a bright white one with only a tiny amount od seepage. “You fixed it.”

“Well, my doctor did,” Mr. Stark corrected, “I called him in and we gave you some of Cap’s meds to keep you a little out of it while we cleaned it up and you’re now the proud owner of some stitches.”

“Oh cool,” Peter mumbled.

“Stitches are cool?” Mr. Stark asked with a raised brow, perhaps he was questioning Peter’s sanity.

“No, I got Captain America’s drugs!” Peter said with a smirk, “he always tells us not to do drugs in those PSAs so this is a wonderful twist of medicated irony.”

“Yeah, I think they’re still in your system a little,” Mr. Stark muttered, “so since you’re still a little dopey, I think now would be a good time to remind you that you have three fractured ribs and you’re not allowed to go out as Spider-Man until they’re fully mended.”

“Wait… what?” Peter protested, “why?”

“Swinging will put a strain on them and cause you pain meaning you could flinch and fall, or you could receive another blow and worsen the damage,” Mr. Stark said, “come on, Underoos, you were just bragging about your healing powers, it won’t be forever.”

“But…” Peter hesitated.

“But what?”

“If I can’t be Spider-Man will I still be allowed to come to the workshop?” Peter asked and he focused his attention on fiddling with the sheets rather than facing the look he knew Mr. Stark would cast towards him.

He wasn't ready for the ‘why would you come to the workshop if you’re not needing upgrades?’ response, the one that he knew in his head he was about to receive.

“Kid, what?” Mr. Stark responded instead, “look at me, Peter.”

Peter blinked back the tears that were building in his eyes, trying his best not to appear childish and weak before the man who had been his hero since he was a child.

“Pete, c’mon Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said gently, and Peter found himself unable to avoid him any longer, “I don’t know why you have this idea that I only care about Spider-Man, because you are always going to be my number one priority.”

“But-”

“Uh uh,” Mr. Stark cut him off, “no, you need to listen to this. I’m Tony Stark, do you really think I would have a fifteen-year-old kid running around my home if I didn't want him there? Do you think I’d be texting his Aunt and arranging transport for him when she’s at work? Would I have a ridiculous amount of food and sweet things in my kitchen? Would I brag about him to my colleagues and competitors?”

“But we spend so much time designing stuff for Spider-Man?”

“Because you are Spider-Man and no matter how much I wish you had a safer hobby, I know that you won’t quit helping people just to stop the greying of my hair and the wrinkles that are forming. So instead of sitting here panicking about you getting brutally killed, I help you develop things that will ensure your safety - which you then bypass by trying to teat that wound by yourself.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled, how had he gotten it so wrong? “I’m sorry.”

“Kid, don't apologise,” Mr. stark said, “listen, I’m the one who’s sorry for making you think that I only cared about Spidey, I know I’m as Pepper would say “emotionally constipated” but I really do care about you and your dorky interests.”

Peter couldn't help but smile, “well, in that case, I’m sorry for freaking out about the intern thing, and for hiding my injuries from you.”

“Those are apologies I can accept,” Mr. Stark said with a smile, “although, I wouldn't be opposed to you turning up with coffee more, especially when we both know Happy’s the one paying for it, just… not Starbucks, ok? Try some smaller places, support local businesses and all that jazz.”

“MJ would love that you said that,” Peter mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, come on then,” Mr. Stark said, his knees cracking as he stood and stretched.

“Come on?” Peter repeated, “where are we going?”

“Someone has to explain all of this to your aunt and I’m not taking the blow on my own,” Mr.Stark said.

“You can’t throw me under the bus,” Peter protested, “I’m injured.”

“Yeah, and I will be too if you’re not there to soften the blow.”

Peter grumbled under his breath as he clambered out of the comfortable bed, May was going to be so pissed at him, in fact, he’d be lucky if he lived to see his Spidey-Suit ever again. Maybe he should write a will, did he had time for that?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Mr. Stark moving to his side to support his weight so that he didn't step too heavily on his sore leg.

“You don’t have to help me,” Peter said, “I’ve been walking on it since I hurt it.”

“Yeah and look how that ended up,” Mr. Stark muttered, “anyways, this is as much for me as it is for you. May won’t kill me if she thinks I’m holding you up.”

“You’re using me!” Peter protested.

“Now he gets it.”

Tag List: @joyful-soul-collector @thatavengersbitch @clover-roseee @thespydersargon @iron-loyalty @ormbunkar @justme--emily @pookiethefrickinbunn @pillowspace @dumbofassbi @kiki44430

lemme know if you want to join/leave the tag list :D

#spider-man #Iron Man #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spiderson #mcu

155 notes · View notes

writing-gifts · 3 years

Text

okay im back with the 7th part of the incubus!doppio au! this chapter is really long compared to the other ones!

also I made the decision to make reader asexual in this story, I mentioned it on my blog already but saying at again since it’s mentioned this chapter. so there definitely wont be any smut in the future

AO3 Link

List of parts

@wasabi-mommy @mistabrainr0t @the-average-mastermind

-----

It’s been 2 weeks since you last saw Doppio. He was most definitely avoiding you since you snapped at him, kind of. You realized you had upset him right after it happened too, but you didn't expect him to stop visiting because of it.

So when you weren't at work or trying to socialize with coworkers, you were by yourself. Being alone wasn't necessarily bad, but the whole time you'd end up dwelling on Doppio and stressing yourself out.

You tried to consider the positives, which there was one; Diavolo hadn't shown up either. But still, you missed your friend. And at this point, you were fed up with your thoughts going in circles. So instead of moping around your living room today too, you decide to go to the only other person you know nearby.

Retracing the steps you took with Doppio to get back home after your visit with the local witch--Was he the only witch in this area? You didn't know--you find your way back to the clearing in the forest with the giant lake and cabin.

Bruno looks surprised to find you at his door but lets you in. “I wasn't expecting you to come back.”

You shrug.

"By the way--" he says, "--it would be best not to wander too much in this forest. Many fae reside deeper within it and we don't want you running into any of them."

You nod since you didn't plan on going anywhere you hadn't been shown before anyway.

The comfortable looking couches around the fireplace are just what you need after that long walk. But as soon as you fall back into one of the loveseats, something sharp pricks your ass.

"Ow!" You shoot up and turn around. "What the hell…?"

A small pin you hadn't noticed was already occupying the seat. You pick it up and when Bruno sees what's in your hand he sighs.

"Okay, which one of you did it?" He sounds exasperated but stern.

There's no response and you wonder if the witch is talking to himself.

His brows furrow and he frowns, clearly frustrated by something.

He takes the pin from you. "Sorry about that ____."

"Uhh, it's fine? Accidents happen." You make sure there's nothing else in the seat and sit down. "...Who were you talking to?"

"My kids."

"You have kids?" You have never heard any noise or seen anything in the house that would imply that. Were they hiding?

Bruno drops the pin in the drawer of the small, wooden table next to the couch. He then takes a seat in the loveseat across from yours. “Well in a way. It's more like I just let them reside here.”

You were still confused but Bruno continues speaking before you can inquire more.

"Why'd you decide to visit?"

"I'm going to be honest. I was feeling a little lonely."

"No visitors?"

You rub at your arm and your slight frown becomes a full pout. "Yea…"

You didn't even have a certain cat anymore to help break the silence at home. Of course you weren't going to admit that part.

"Well that's not necessarily a bad thing."

"No. I already told you I want Doppio to stay with me, so it actually is."

Bruno hums. "I'm just trying to help you ____."

"You think you're helping me? Things don't have to go your way you know."

The witch looks completely unfazed by your words. “One day you'll understand and hopefully without you getting hurt.”

You deeply exhale. Talking to Bruno reminded you of a brick wall and you couldn't even find it in you to get mad.

"Wow…"

He raises a brow. "What?"

“You're stubborn as hell.”

"The same goes to you."

The two of you are quiet after that and the witch watches you. You felt like he was trying to see into your head and it made sitting still hard.

“Do you need something?” you ask.

“You're the one in my house ____.”

“Yea but you don't have to stare so hard...”

“You came here for another reason. Tell me.”

Caught off guard you take longer than usual to respond. You didn't know how Bruno could tell but it was best if you just said what you needed to instead of beating around the bush.

"Okay...I did. I was wondering about the exorcism, but not for Doppio--for Diavolo." You look down at your lap. "Do you think it's possible to exorcise him without hurting Doppio? I'm not even really sure how their whole situation works to be honest.”

You look to Bruno wondering if he had any answers.

"....A demon possessing a demon--that's what's most likely happening."

"Huh? That sounds strange."

"It is very peculiar, but I can't say it's impossible. So maybe there's a way to do an exorcism like you wanted."

Bruno's familiar swims by, above the fireplace and his eyes follow the eel. "Leone told me you two don't get along," he mentions.

"Me and Diavolo? Well yea. I'm sure you know he wants to kill me."

"Yes." His eyes land back on you. "That's why I'm not completely onboard with your idea."

"Okay but don't you think it would be better to at least get rid of one demon who definitely wants to hurt me instead of none?"

"I can't guarantee it; there's a chance it won't work and we'll only piss him off. Then you'd possibly be in more danger. It would make more sense and be much easier to get rid of both of them."

You frown but you weren't giving up. "Diavolo already has it out for me though. So not trying because of that is kinda pointless."

The rebuttal you just gave was weak and you weren't sure you could come up with anymore. So the longer Bruno takes to reply the more nervous you become.

"Listen, I'm not saying I'll do this but I'll at least look into it," he finally says.

You perk up. Even though you couldn't say he seemed convinced, you could at least work with it!

"T-Thank you! I'll even help!" You stand up eager to start. "Where do you want me to look first?" you ask.

From then on, you spend your off days at Bruno's home looking for any information about exorcism within his many books. A lot of which were in languages you didn't understand.

Surprising to you, Bruno turns out to be pretty good company when he isn't actively trying to get rid of Doppio. And you quickly find yourself enjoying coming over. It was the perfect distraction too.

You also now had the chance to really take in how cool the witch's house was. It felt like you were at the aquarium whenever you walked through it! So at first, you did a lot of that whenever you needed a break. Bruno's familiar which you found out was named Angeela, would swim along with you and keep you company. And even though there were no other fish it was still really relaxing.

But soon, strange things started to occur. Doors closing behind you. Items falling on top of you. It happened one too many times and started to freak you out so you brought it up with Bruno. It seemed to stop right after that though so you shrugged it off and decided to focus more on researching from then on.

During one of your visits, you focus a little too hard and accidentally end up staying too late. And there's no way for you to traverse back home safely so Bruno insists you stay in the spare guest room.

After dinner, you're ready to quietly head to bed for the night, but while you're cleaning your face, Abbacchio walks into the bathroom.

You raise a brow at the cat. You'd only seen hints of him this whole week. "What the hell?"

"Is there a problem?" The cat jumps up on the counter barely looking your way.

"Yea, you just walked in here without warning. What if I was changing you weirdo?"

"Then you wouldn't have left the door cracked open."

You roll your eyes and go back to what you're doing. "Where did you even come from?"

"None of your business. You don't want me around you anyway so it shouldn't matter."

"I said my house. I don't care what you do outside of it."

You wash off your hands and grab the tooth brush Bruno gave you. It's quiet except for the sink water running and the sound of you brushing your teeth. But you feel like you have to talk with Abbacchio in the room.

You spit in the sink. “Umm...is there something you need from me?”

The cat’s tail twitches before he answers. “Just making sure you don't do anything stupid."

Your lips purse. You were literally just trying to get ready for bed.

"Okay?" You go back to brushing.

The cat huffs. "You should stop trying to keep Doppio around. You're literally wasting time--"

“Ah, that's why you came in here," you interrupt through a mouthful of foam. You spit. "....I don't understand why everyone keeps doing this.”

"Doing what?" The cat sounds and looks irritated.

"Telling me this and that! I'm going to stay with Doppio and nothing you, Bruno, or Diavolo say is going to chase me off."

You expect to get lectured some more but Abbacchio glares at you. "Please don't tell me you aren't actually in love with him?" he asks.

"What are you talking about? I just want to stay with him because we're friends."

"You barely know him. It must be 'love'...or lust."

You shake your head. "Lust's definitely not it."

Abbacchio tilts his head but you weren't exactly in the mood to explain asexuality right now, especially to a feline, so you leave it at that and go back to brushing your teeth.

He squints at you. “Okay then. You're definitely in denial about your feelings though.”

"Can't friends care about each other--"

"Yes but that takes years. You're ready to throw your safety to the wind for someone you've known for a few months. You need to be careful before this crush gets out of hand."

You let out the most frustrated sigh. "Doppio wouldn't hurt me. I trust him."

"Hmph, you don't even understand this world but you think you know better."

You pause unsure how to respond. You wanted to say something back but he unfortunately had a point. This supernatural stuff was still new to you and you were honestly processing it kind of slowly.

Since you knew you weren't getting in the last word with Abbacchio and you were tired of being scolded by a cat, you rinse off your toothbrush and leave the restroom.

----

You open your eyes and stare at the unfamiliar ceiling for a several seconds before getting out of bed. You forgot to bring a glass of water with you and there was no way you would be able to get back to sleep with such a dry throat. So you creep out of your room.

The blueish glow from the tanks help light your way down the hallway to the kitchen. You see Angeela pass by before turning back and swimming along with you.

You smile before whispering. "Just getting water.”

The eel continues to follow you all the way to the kitchen. You rub at your arms once you enter to fend off the unusual chill in the room. Unfortunately, this was common in Bruno’s home. You suspected a draft problem but the witch didn’t seem to care.

Angeela swims out of view while you hurry and look for a glass so you can get back to your warm bed.

Once you find one in the cupboards, you fill it with water from the sink's tab and quench your thirst before filling it again. You move to leave but stop at the kitchen's entrance and look back at the refrigerator. You might as well eat something while you’re here.

Ready to grab the leftover food Bruno made for dinner, you open the fridge and scream. The glass you’re holding falls from your hand and shatters on the floor. And you slam the fridge door shut.

Abbacchio’s the first to appear in the kitchen. “There better be a good reason you’re yelling!"

“Something in the fridge--A HEAD--I don't know!”

Right after that Bruno rushes in. “What's wrong ____?”

“Something weird in the fridge--a head! I was just looking in the fridge because I was kinda hungry!”

Bruno pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fugo and Narancia come out now!”

A second passes before something phases into form in front of the annoyed witch. Then right after something small and sparkly flies out from behind the dish rack next to the sink. But you've barely registered the second thing cause there’s a little ghost kid standing there!

He had a tealish glow and you could see right through him.

A shiver runs up your spine and you want to run out of this cabin.

“Do either of you want to explain why ____ says they saw a head in the fridge?” Bruno asks. His breath is visible from how cold it's gotten.

The ghost looks down at his feet avoiding eye contact. The glowing light next to the ghost didn’t seem keen on answering either.

“Brats,” Abbacchio says before walking out of the kitchen.

"Narancia t-told me to…" the ghostly child's voice sounds watery and distant.

Bruno sighs before looking at you. “I’m sorry.”

“I...It’s okay,” you lie.

And you guess Bruno can tell because he stares at you strangely before speaking again. “Well I suppose I should introduce you to them since we all are here. This is Fugo." He points to the ghost. "And this is Narancia.”

You risk getting closer to the glowing small creature flying in the air and realize that they look like a shrunken child with wings.

“A...pixie?” you ask. You can barely believe your eyes but should you be surprised at this point?

"I think...I need to go to sleep," you say.

“Okay,” Bruno says, understanding. “Are you sure you're fine?”

“Uh huh.” You’re about to speed walk to the guest room, but remember the glass on the floor.

“Oh wait do you have a broom?" you ask the witch. "I-I'm sorry…”

“I'll take care of it.”

You nod and go back to your room. You wouldn't be wandering around Bruno's home again at night, if you ever stayed the night again that is.

-----

When you open your front door to walk out, you immediately tense up in surprise. Doppio's standing there, holding the key you gave him.

"Doppio!"

" ____--"

The both of you stop talking.

The incubus frowns and fidgets with the key in his hand. "Er ____...I'm sorry for keeping things from you! I really missed you.”

You hum but can't get any words out. For some reason you felt uncomfortable and timid.

“____?”

You clench your hands next to your sides and force yourself to speak. “I shouldn't have said what I did and especially not that harshly. I-I'm sorry and I missed you too.”

Doppio seems to relax but you stand in place awkwardly, struggling to make proper eye contact.

“That's okay ____. I understand why you were upset.”

"Yea but still…"

"Um, is it okay if we hug?" Doppio asks.

His expression is shy but he doesn't look away which makes you smile. You nod and open your arms. Your friend walks into them wrapping his own arms around you and giving you a squeeze. He smells like something sugary but you can't place it.

Once you're satisfied, you let your arms drop and pull away from the incubus.

“Do you want to come inside?”

He tilts his head. “Weren't you heading somewhere though?”

“I can go later. It’s not urgent.”

Doppio nods and walks past you inside. You shut the door and the two of you sit down on the couch.

“So what were you up to the last several weeks?” A question that you hoped would make any left over awkwardness disperse.

“I was on business for the boss.”

“Of course...Maybe he’ll finally stop being so angry with me.”

Doppio looks confused before his eyes widen, "Not that type of business!"

“Oh! What type of stuff then?"

"Um...making sure people stick to agreements. I don't think you'd want me to go into detail."

He gives a bit of a forced laugh. So you move on.

"Hey, you're okay right?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“Like you're not dying or anything? Diavolo said you would just lose your powers, but I just want to make sure.”

“Oh that. Yeah, I'm okay! I don't need sex to stay alive...”

You nod. “I guess I'm still trying to wrap my head around this incubus stuff--well demon stuff in general." You suddenly remember the events that happened at Bruno's house recently. “Actually, supernatural stuff overall. Soooo...just wondering, is it possible to exorcise a demon out of a demon?”

He grimaces slightly. “____, what are you trying to do?”

“I'm just speculating, but maybe we could get rid of Diavolo.”

Doppio's eyes widen. "N-no way. Why?"

”Don't you want to? He's literally leeching off of you.”

You liked Doppio...a lot and you wanted him to stay by your side but dealing with his alter ego frankily sucked. You had been able to tolerate him (barely) but after not having him come in and threaten you for the past couple weeks, any qualms (if there were any to begin with) about getting rid of Diavolo were gone. You just needed to get Doppio onboard.

“I don't know…I know he can be a lot but he's not all bad.”

You stare unbelieving at him. “Doppio, I think you might be codependent. He's literally the worst type of person.”

He avoids your eyes. "Well technically he's not even a person--"

“Demon whatever, he still sucks.”

"I don't think this is a good idea ____. He might be listening right now!"

That wasn't about to stop you. And even though Doppio didn't like to act like it, he had more control over this body than his "boss". The fact that Diavolo hasn't appeared to rip you apart proved that.

“If it doesn't work you can put all the blame on me. He won't hurt his own vessel anyways.”

“I'm not worried about me ____."

You smile a bit at his concern. "If we get this to work then you'll never have to worry about me."

Doppio sighs. "I guess...How are you even planning to do this?”

“Well, I've been visiting Bruno while you were gone.”

The incubus immediately looks disgruntled.

“Don't make that face okay. I actually managed to get him to consider doing things a different way.”

“B-But what if he's just using this as a way to get our guard down?”

“We are just researching. I haven't agreed to anything just yet. I really just want to know if it's possible…And wouldn't it be nice to have your own body?”

Doppio nods but still looks unsure.

“So let's just see what happens?” you say hoping to give him that little push he needs.

"Well if it's just research...it can't hurt to look into it?"

You nod and smile. “Right! I'll let you know if anything comes up.”

#doppio x reader #vinegar doppio x reader #incubus!doppio #plot plot plot #started writing the next part but its hella rough so idk when im updating again #jjba x reader #im excited for the next chapter because froggie #if you know you know #reader insert

57 notes · View notes