#IMAGINE if he had fallen off that chair and actually injured himself

[tchouamenii]

toni kroos almost injuring himself while trying to catch a rat what

[javi-reno]

13 part 2

Lily

“We’ll get a wheelchair from our sick bay, and depending on how you feel we could teleport over.”

Smiling she spoke softly, “I could get one too, and we could race each other around their corridors. Would drive them bonkers.”

Javi

“Let’s not get flung into the brig. Can you imagine Pabbi’s face if he had to come and get us”

Lily

She smiled and laughed softly, “I’m sure he’d be puzzled because I don’t usually recommend things like this. Though I’m sure there have been wheelchair races for as long as they’ve existed.”

Javi

-grins at a memory- “it wouldn’t be the first one I was involved in”

Lily

She smiled, “Wouldn’t be my first either.”

Javi

“Teleport is fine” -he shrugged looking resigned-

Lily

She nodded, “I’ll bring along a wheelchair just in case, putting weight on your knee as it is may make it worse.”

Javi

“So wheelchair into transporter?” -Javi was trying to get the details down, so he could have it planned on his head-

Lily

She nodded, “Yes. I don’t want you to be injured more attempting to walk to the base hospital.”

Javi

-he nods looking at his hands- “first time leaving the ship since I arrived”

Lily Bede

She nodded, “I haven’t left much either, except for the few trips we’d gone to Earth. You won’t be going alone.”

Javi

-he just nods- “let’s get it over with” -LC jumps onto his perch on his shoulder, laying like a strange type of scarf-

LB

She nodded, standing up and smiling as LC draped himself over Javi’s shoulders.

JR

“Looks like we have an added escort. Oi monkey” -he moved his hand in front of LC so he could see it and made a movement and he ran off- “he will be back in a second, gone to get his harness”

LB

She smiled, and watched as LC jumped down and ran off. “He’s welcome to come along, and having his harness means he won’t become lost running around the base.”

JR

“He likes getting it but putting it on is a bit more of a fight. I might need you to chase him cause I’m not sure I’ll be able to. Here he come.” -lying cat was approaching with his harness crouched low like a tiger dragging pray-

Lily

She nodded and bent down to pick up the harness.

Carefully she held LC and slipped the harness over his head and then put his arms through before clipping it closed around his body.

“While my two won’t bring me theirs, they know it means they get to go outside so they don’t mind having it put on. I try to do quickly so they don’t become upset.”

Javi

“Oh that’s not fair. He normally runs away when it’s time to put it on.”

Lily

She smiled, “Keep a hand on his chest while you slip the harness over his head, his rear and tail against your knees. This way he doesn’t have an opportunity to run off.”

Javi

“Normally don’t even get a chance to pick him up….”

Lily

“I’ve been doing this for a long time with my two. We’ll need to practice more often with him so he’s used to his harness.”

Javi

-hold his hands out- “come on monster, onto your perch and let mushy get the doom chair for me”

Lily

She nodded, “I’ll return quickly, I have to go and get the wheelchair.”

Javi

“Like I said, doom chair” -he was focusing on making sure LC was settled onto his shoulders-

Lily

She nodded, “They can be fun to race.”

Hopefully that thought might help Javi smile, though she understands being frightened of needing to go to hospital.

Javi

-Javi was currently seemingly arguing with LC about wether his hair needed grooming-

Lily

When she returned with the chair she smiled, watching LC grooming Javi.

Javi

-Javi half threw up his hands in defeat and noticed lily standing there watching with a grin- “he won”

Lily

She continued to smile, “They usually do.”

Javi

“He certainly does when he thinks I need grooming” -he looks at the chair- “guessing I need to get into that”

Lily

She nodded, “Probably when he’s hungry too, like my two do.”

Walking closer she set the brakes on the wheels so it wouldn’t roll. “Yes, I can help if you need.”

Javi

Javi nodded,realising that lily hadn’t actually seen him standing since he had fallen except to stand from the floor next to the sofa and then sit straight onto it.Would explain why she hadn’t picked up on him being hurt.Standing he took a step forward,wincing and biting his lip.

Lily

She took the brakes off the wheels and brought the chair closer to the sofa, setting the brakes again.

She felt horrible for not having picked up on this sooner, and stood at his side to help him get to the wheelchair.

Javi

“Stop feeling bad. I was hiding it. You couldn’t have know.” -Javi looked up having picked up her colours as soon as she touched him, letting her help him to the chair-

Lily

She nodded, “Injuries like this could get worse quickly without prompt attention, please don’t hide them in the future.”

While helping him sit she also pet LC.

Javi

“I didn’t want to be a burden. Besides we were having a good day.” -settles somewhat comfortably into the chair-

Lily

She smiled, “You’re never a burden, and we can still have a good day.”

She took the brakes off the wheels and began to walk slowly towards the doors.

Javi

-Javi remains doubtful but didn’t respond, resuming his battle with LC over being groomed-

Lily

She walked slowly, pushing the wheelchair and occasionally attempting to pet LC while he groomed Javi.

Javi

“Oi monster watch the teeth, the tongue is bad enough”

Lily

She tried to stifle a laugh, “Naughty cat. Trying to nibble as he cleans?”

Javi

“Pretty sure he tried to take a whole slice of skull half the time.” -reaches a hand up trying to convince him to move to another spot-

Lily

She nodded, “I’ve never understood why they are so aggressive when grooming, you aren’t caked in mud.”

Javi

“Probably because we don’t smell like them enough”

Lily

She smiled, “That is true, and I probably smell the strangest of all to them as I’m not human. To them, we’re all aliens.”

Javi

“Gotta remember I’m not fully human. I hate to think what I smell like”

Lily

“Couldn’t be any more stranger than me.”

She attempted to pet LC again as she walked pushing the wheelchair.

Javi

-LC licked her hand before going back to his grooming- “it’s a good thing I use pet safe hair stuff”

Lily

She smiled, giving LC an ear rub before placing her hand back on the wheelchair. “Agreed, don’t want them getting sick from grooming you because of the hair stuff.”

Javi

-Javi stared ahead, lowly humming the execution march as they wheeled along-

Lily

She noticed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I understand a trip to hospital is frightening, unfortunately this isn’t something we could treat here as we’re bolt leery of EMH still. You won’t be alone.”

Javi

“I was trying to lighten the mood”

Lily

She nodded, exhaling slowly. “I’m still learning your sense of humour, so I hadn’t caught it this time.

Javi

“It was half hearted I’ll admit.”

Lily

She smiled, “I better understand now, though I’d probably hum it in all seriousness as I’m terrified of hospitals and doctors.”

Javi

“Very tempted. But I’ll behave till after”

Lily

She nodded, “No worries. I know you probably aren’t looking forward to a few more weeks of medical leave.”

Javi

“Can’t say I am. Plus they still haven’t approved me for top surgery. If I ever get approved for that it would be another 6 weeks off. Starting to wonder if it’s all worth it.”

Lily

She gently rubbed his shoulders, having stopped walking for a moment. “I’m still fighting them on it, and won’t be backing down. I don’t understand why they are being so difficult.”

Javi

“Because it’s not a medical necessity. I can’t prove that the broken ribs and breathing problems are directly related to binding. In their words I should just stop binding if it’s causing problems.”

Lily

“Not binding will make you feel worse mentally, and your mental health is just as important as your physical. I thought the broken ribs had been from a previous injury, unrelated to binding.”

Javi

“Both. Binding weakens your ribs and muscles around your chest. Section 31 enjoyed targeting the areas that made me feel worse. My chest is one of the biggest.”

Lily

Listening she nodded, “That I didn’t know. I would love to knock one of them out, preferably those cunts who had their hands on you.”

Javi

“It’s a nice thought but I’d rather section 31 just stayed away.” - scratches LC head as they get closer to the transporter- “you do know these things practically cause a meltdown every time I use them?”

Lily

She nodded, “I would rather they did too, though if they do come here they’ll have one hell of a fight.”

Looking at the transporter she spoke, “We could take the lift to the shuttle bay, and take a shuttle over.”

Javi

“Let just get down there. I just want this over”

it didn’t really matter the method of travel. He was only just hanging onto his nerve and was just hoping to get through the and back to the ship”

Lily

She nodded, knowing he was already uncomfortable and in considerable physical pain. The last thing she wanted was to cause him mental suffering by using the transporter.

Why hadn’t she thought of this option sooner? Closing her eyes she called the Tardis to where they’d been standing, and when it appeared she used her screwdriver to open the doors. “This way would be the fastest.”

Javi

-pats lying cat- “good job your head mate or the singing might deafen ya.” -looks at lily- “is it safe to take them down to the space station?”

Lily

She smiled, “We can disguise it as one of the standard issue shuttles, and they won’t be the wiser. They also won’t be able to get into it, no matter what they do.”

Javi

“As long as it doesn’t put them in danger. Wouldn’t want that to happen for my sake.”

Javi

-Javi smiled as the tardis sang-

Lily

She pushed the wheelchair onto the Tardis and settled it close to the console as the doors closed behind her.

She set the coordinates for the base, and disguised the Tardis to look like one of the ship’s shuttles.

Javi

-Javi found him humming along with the tardis, swaying as he subconsciously followed the tardis movements. He didn’t notice his collar bones glowing. To busy looking around-

Lily

She’d begun the dematerialisation sequence, and they reappeared on the base in the shuttle bay.

Looking at Javi she smiled, at least he felt comfortable here.

Javi

Javi felt warm and safe, a lot like when he was snuggling with lily and Joe after a meltdown. Even LC had dozed off.

Lily

She smiled, not wanting to break this moment of peace by having to leave her ship.

Walking to Javi, she looked at him. “Ready? We’ll come back here as soon as they say we can.”

Javi

-Javi blinked looking at her- “I guess. Let’s make sure they don’t see the mark on my arms. Don’t fancy the questions.”

Javi

-he was still embarrassed over his relapse and really didn’t want questions from strangers-

Lily

She nodded, “We discussed this should they ask, I fell in cultivation and you helped me out of a mushroom bed. They really can’t argue that one, wouldn’t have the mycelium to stand on.”

She wouldn’t let them push him around, with prying questions or anything else that would make him uncomfortable.

2/2

Javi

“We discussed it when I had a meltdown and punched a wall. Didn’t know if we were using that excuse this time” -scratches LC head as he licked his face trying to keep Javi calm- “let’s get this over with”

Lily

She nodded, “We definitely can use it this time, they really can’t pry further into it.”

She reached down to pet LC before walking with Javi away from the console.

Javi

-Javi closed his eyes letting himself rock slightly, the weight of LC helping to ground him-

Lily

She walked steadily pushing the wheelchair, leaving the Tardis disguised as a shuttle.

Javi

-Javi winces slightly at the change in noise. The station sounded a lot louder then the tardis and even louder then the ship-

Lily

She also winced at the brightness and the sound. “I’ve no idea where we’re going. This is my first time on a base.”

Not knowing where she was trying to go made her feel anxious.

Javi

“Isn’t there a map on the wall? There normally is in places like this” -he hasn’t opened his eyes, and is only just resisting the urge to put his fingers in his ears to block the noise-

Lily

She walked closer to the wall, her hand still on the wheelchair. “Yes, there is. Thankfully we aren’t far at all. It’s actually on this floor.”

Javi

“Let’s go then before my head explodes” -Javi leans forward so it looks like he is resti his head in his hands but he is actually covering his ears-

Lily

She nodded and began to walk fairly quickly, making the trip from the shuttle bay to the on base hospital.

Walking through the doors they were greeted by the CMO. “I believe he may have a broken knee.”

Javi

-Javi looked up when he felt a change in humming immediately closing his eyes again against the glare of the hospital-

Lily

The CMO nodded and lead them to an exam room, and she followed behind with Javi in the wheelchair.

Javi

-Javi looked through his eye lashes at the room, it was a standard med room with several empty bed and instruments. At the doctors gesture he started to stand from the chair to move to a bed only to stop when they spoke.

“Animas aren’t allowed in here”

Lily

She exhaled slowly and glared at them, “This cat is an emotional support animal, they aren’t considered pets.”

Javi

-Javi ignored them and carried on trying to menovor himself from the chair to the bed, lying cat steady on his shoulders-

Lily

She walked over in an attempt to help Javi, while trying to contain her feelings toward the staff.

She had hoped humanity would be better than it had been three centuries ago, though she was seeing they haven’t changed much.

Javi

“Thanks mushy” -Javi murmured letting her help him get settled and grabbing her hand not wanting her to leave

Lily

She smiled at him and nodded, “You’re welcome.

Sitting down in the wheelchair she held his hand, having no intention to leave.

Javi

“Name?” The doctor was glaring at them both.

“Javier Reno-Bede” -ok it wasn’t official but it would save them poking around his file to much-

“Next of kin”

“Captain lily Bede or First officer Joseph Bede”

“You can not have your commanding officers as your next of kin”

Lily

She took a deep breath and held his hand, trying to be polite though the icy glare hadn’t faded. “Joseph and I formally adopted Javi, he’s also part of our command team.”

Hopefully tonight she wouldn’t be in the brig…

Javi

-the doctor glares before leaving the next of kin area blank-

“Nature of injure”

“Hurt my knee falling down a elevator shaft”

“An elevator shaft?”

“Yes”

“There is no need to make up stories, if you had fallen down something like that you would be dead.”

Lily

She held her breath before replying, “He’s not making that up, it’s how he was injured and why we are here.”

Javi

“I’m going to do a full scan. Dna make up, bone and tissue. Should tell us everything we need to know”

-the doctor was basically ignoring lily-

Lily

She listened and nodded, fully aware they’d been ignoring her.

There had been thoughts of smacking them with a smaller P.stellaviatori, and it would have been a waste of a perfectly good mushroom.

Javi

-Javi lowered his head to hide his smile having picked up on lilys thoughts before looking at the doctor and agreeing-

-a blood light scanned them from top to toe causing LC to hiss, the doctor looked at the results frowning-

“You have torn a ligament in your knee and cracked

Your knee cap.”

They kept frowning.

“It going to need to be immobilised for at least 6 weeks to prevent it from rupturing completely. A metal brace should do the job. But what more interesting is your genetic make up, did you know your parents?”

Lily Bede

She smiled when she felt Javi lean on her, continuing to hold his hand.

Listening as they spoke she nodded, and she knew Javi would probably not like more medical leave.

When they mentioned Javi’s parents she looked at them, “We hadn’t met them, my husband and I adopted him.”

Hopefully they wouldn’t continue pry.

Javi

“Well it’s very odd, your reading at 40% human 60% something else. What that something else is isn’t on our database. I’d like to do some more tests see if we can’t find out…”

“No” -Javi had gone pale at the mention of more tests-

Lily

She looked at the CMO and the icy glare returned alongside earlier thoughts. “He’s said no, that’s it. Since all he needs is a brace and six weeks of medical leave, I’d like to take my son back home.”

Javi

“But imagine what we might learn! His dna structure and genetic makeup is unique…”

-Javi cut him off, his voice angry-

“I said no. It had nothing to do with my medical care and I won’t be a mystery for you to play with. Thank you for your time but we must return to the ship”

Lily

She really wished she had a P.stellaviatori to smack them with… “He’s not a bloody science experiment! This is unrelated to his care and not why we are here. Thank you for treating him, we’ll be leaving now.”

Javi

-the doctor was opening and closing his mouth and stuttering but Javi ignored him, trying to get off the bed and onto the chair, it was only LCs hiss that warned him that the medic was coming towards him with a sedative-

Lily

She immediately stood to block the medic, when she heard LC hiss.

Javi

-Javi reacted without thinking, his hand raising and gripping the doctors bare up sending a flare of black unconscious through it, knocking him out-

Lily

She looked at Javi, “When you’re ready, we are getting out of here.”

She was quite upset with the staff of this base’s hospital, between the questions and the attempted sedation without consent.

Javi

-glances at the unconscious doctor and starts trying to get out of the bio bed- “let’s get out of here. How much trouble am I in for that?”

Lily

She quickly moved to help Javi back to the wheelchair, “By me, none. I plan to report them to Command. They really shouldn’t be trying to sedate anyone without their consent, or attempting to use them as a science project.”

Looking at Javi, “Once you’re settled hold on to LC, because we’re running back to the shuttle.”

Javi

-looks at the doctor- “I could make him forget that I knocked him out… won’t make him forget the rest and it would leave him confused but he won’t remember me knowing him out” -he wouldn’t do that without lilys permission. It’s not something he does as a rule.-

Lily

She nodded, “That wouldn’t be a bad thing, might help us in the long run.”

While she wanted nothing more than to get them out of there, she waited a moment.

Javi

-Javi closed his eyes and put his hand back on the doctors arm, pushing out white confusion and grey forgetfulness into the person. Pulling away be swayed drained-

“That should do it. The whole visit will be a bit of a blur to him.”

-he went to stand and fell into lily- “sorry”

Lily

She stood close and caught him when he fell backwards into her, “It’s alright. Let’s get out of here and go home.”

Javi

-he nodded and let her guide him into the chair closing his eyes once he was seated, LC taking refuge under his top-

Lily

She helped him back to the wheelchair, giving LC an ear rub before he went to hide.

Turning quickly, she walked out of the base hospital but sent a message telepathically [ Hold onto LC,…”

“… I’m going to run down this corridor to the shuttle bay.” ]

She knew a bond had formed, and also hopefully he heard her in his mind. Once in the corridor she repeated herself aloud.

2/2

Javi

[“don’t worry he is safe in my top. Just get me out of here. Please”] he hated how broken his metal voice sounded but it was harder to hide emotions mentally

Lily

She nodded, [ “We’ll be back home with a quickness, I just don’t want him getting lost here.” ]

She ran quickly down the corridor and to the Tardis, disguised as an unassuming shuttle.

The doors swung open, and she continued to run until she was back at the console.

Once they closed behind them, she aimed her screwdriver at the console. They dematerialised on the base, and reappeared on the ship.

2/2

Javi

-Javi started to relax once he heard the tardis singing, the sentient ship calming him in a way few things can- “I don’t know why my genetics is strange or why people find it so interesting..” -his eyes where still shut-

Lily

She sat down on the seat by the console and reached for his hand, “Anyone who’s different they automatically find interesting. I’d always been afraid of what they would do to me when they found out that I’m actually not human…”

“… and I’m not going to let them have that same opportunity to find out with either of us. It’s why Joe has been so protective of me.”

2/2

Javi

“I don’t want to be interesting. I just want to live. And things are changing. 40-60. The levels have changed. Last time I was scanned on discovery I was 50-50. Now im 40-60. I’m even less human then I was before..”

Lily

She nodded, “I want you to live, too. The only time I’ve ever heard of that was during regeneration, when every cell is remade. May I ask the Tardis to scan you?”

Javi

“Will the results change how you think of me?” -Javi wanted to know who he was but not if that meant risking the family he was building-

Lily

She looked at him and held his hand, “Your results could come back 60% mushroom and you’re still my son. If you identified as a mushroom you’re still my son. Nothing would chance how I see you or think of you.”

Javi

-he took a deep breath- “scan me. We need to know what’s going on”

Lily

She held his hand and nodded, hearing the sounds of the Tardis change. “You’ll hear the results in your mind.”

Javi

-Javi listen then looked confused- “what’s a child of the tardis? And who is river song? Cause apparently im their direct descendant..”

Lily

She nodded, “I’ve never met River Song. Do you remember your parents, anything about them?”

It didn’t seem right to answer a question with a question, but she didn’t have an answer about River.

Answering him slowly, “When we scan Joey, he comes back as biologically ours and also as a child of the Tardis. We conceived him here and I spent a lot of time here as a protective measure. You both have some energy of the time vortex”

Javi

“Don’t know anything about my parents. I was found wondering round trill as a kid. Was training to be a guardian before they decided I’d be better off on earth. Never made it. Was on the same ship as Jet when it crashed into a asteroid and that was that..”

-he looked confused

“So what does me being a child of the tardis mean..” -a screen flickered to life on the console a picture of a curly haired blond woman on the screen with some writing in galifrayan- ‘professor river song aka melody pond. Daughter of Amila Pond and Rory Williams. Child of

The tardis. Wife of the doctor

Lily

She listened as he spoke and nodded, Trill and it’s people were something else she hadn’t known about. “This happened right before you were on Discovery?”

Looking at the screen she nodded, “That explains whom River is, though I’ve never met her. You have enough energy from the time vortex to be different from a garden variety human, though not enough to make you go mad…”

“… a Time Lord mind and a human body are biologically incompatible, and madness will result. It would explain why you haven’t died from the fall recently in the lift.”

Javi

“But why the change. I was 50-50 now I’m 60-40. And it still doesn’t explain what I am or anything.” -Javi just looks more confused- “and yes leaving trill and everything happened just before discovery.”

Lily

She looked at him, “I’m unsure of why it changed, I’m sorry it hasn’t helped answer your question.”

She nodded, “Makes sense.”

Javi

“So what am I? A weird human/ timelord hybrid that’s gone wrong?”

Lily

“A hybrid isn’t biologically possible. While I did use the chameleon circuit to rewrite myself human, I also tried to retain as much of my mind as was possible. That made things much more dangerous for us…”

“… you haven’t gone wrong. I expect with the energy of the time vortex it altered your parent’s dna and was passed on to you. You’ll probably live for centuries, like Joey has.”

Javi

“I’ve got more questions then answers but that’s not new. Shall we get me back to the ship and get my knee braced?” -Javi didn’t know how to feel. Part of him feel panicked. He was unknown again, something new.

Part of him was just plain scared.-

Lily

She nodded, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you more answers. We’ve materialised in our quarters, and I’ve got a brace here. You’re welcome to use my cane.”

Hopefully with time they could find more answers to his questions.

Javi

-Javi nodded, a subtle shaking taking hold of him, even as a drift of gold light seemed to try and caress his hand in comfort-

Lily

She seen the golden light, and recognised it as regeneration energy. “There’s a chance you might heal faster than a garden variety human with the same injury, though I want to be cautious and not risk anything.”

Javi

“Agreed. Best not take to many risks.” -he nearly added with not something unique before reminding himself that lily didn’t care if he was unique. Lily care for him as Javi.-

Lily Bede

She nodded, “Agreed. I don’t want to loose anyone from my little mushroom patch.”

Javi

“Come on let’s go get comfy. I need a bubble gum milkshake”

[regencyslxt]

Silly Little Rabbit

1064 words.

Imagine how Anthony would react to you returning home injured.

(this might be my favourite anthony one I've written so far, i hope you enjoy it <3)

The sun peeked over the clouds lighting the fields as you rode through on horseback. Anthony had left earlier that morning to watch Will’s match. You had opted out of going and instead decided to spend the late morning strolling through the fields with your horse. The skies were clear and none of the clouds visible were dull on any scale, it was to be a good day indeed and a couple of hours in the fresh air would do you good, you thought. It had done, until a rabbit sped out from a bush and spooked the horse you were riding. He had risen onto his hind legs and you had tumbled off onto the flower infested grass below.

His hooves were unsettled as he swayed around you, his nerves evident as he rolled his eyes. You slowly stood back up but let out a hiss almost immediately as you put weight on your ankle. You must have sprained it when you landed. Oh great, you thought, just what you needed. You gently held your hand against the side of your horse’s face, stroking back and forth until he stood confidently. You pulled yourself up using your good leg and set back off towards home. Your hair whipped around your face and had your ankle not been in so much pain you would have taken notice of the way the birds chirped from the top of the tree as the sun warmed the branches they sat on.

The horse trotted against the cobblestone roads and you spotted Anthony through the open window, his head down facing his work. His face was stoic, the work on his desk was draining but it had to be done is what he said. You knew better to argue with him about it. He must have heard your horse come to a stop in front of your house as he peeked up from his paperwork and waved a hand out to you, a small smile forming. You smiled back at him, a wave following its path. A member of the stable staff approached and took the reins from your grip, assisting you down from where you were sat. Forgetting about the injury you were sporting, you hopped down rather energetically. The shooting pain from your ankle snapping you out of your momentary bliss. The young boy who was holding the horse asked after your wellbeing, but you assured him it was alright and that he was fine to go on his way.

Anthony’s chair scraped against the wooden floor in his office as he stood up, your cry of pain causing his heart to twist. He took notice of your stance as he looked out of the window and chuckled. You had evidently hurt your ankle as your posture was completely off, you were putting all your weight onto your healthy ankle and you appeared to be lopsided, he laughed to himself and made his way out to the main entry of your house. He pulled open the door and walked towards you, a smirk etched onto his face.

“I do not even have to raise my head to know you are laughing at me, my dear.” You spoke.

“I am not laughing at you. I am merely finding enjoyment in how a person can be so clumsy.”

He held his arm out for you to take and enclosed your hand in his as you did.

“This was actually not my fault, a silly little rabbit sprung out of nowhere and the poor horse got an awful fright. He knocked me off, but I am alright. Just a sore ankle is all.”

“Let us get you inside. It appears work can wait.”

“Do not worry, I am sure I can rest my ankle myself, Anthony.”

“Y/N dearest…what kind of husband would I be if I left you to suffer in pain without me? I am absolutely positive if I do not stay with you your heart will also be in pain, after all, you are so completely in love with me are you not?” he led you into the drawing room and sat you on the chaise lounge. He gently pulled your shoes off and calmly urged you to prop your foot up on a small pillow. He crouched beside you, sweeping a strand of hair that had fallen out of place out of your face.

“That is true. If it were not for you I would, evidently, break into pieces…”

He lets out a warm laugh at your sarcasm and motions for you to move forward slightly. He slipped his shoes off too, and situated himself behind you, pulling you against his chest as his legs draped along either side of you. He placed his chin on your neck and snuck soft kisses on your collar. He quietly hummed and his fingers traced over the shape of your hands.

“What song is that you are humming?”

“Oh, I do not know the name of it. It is what my mother would hum to me as a child whenever I got injured. It seemed fitting considering someone cannot find themselves going a day without tripping or getting hurt on any scale of the word.”

You nudged him with your elbow, and he let out a deep groan.

“Mrs. Y/N Bridgerton what on earth was that for?”

“Well, I thought it was unfair that my injury took you away from the work you were so clearly enjoying, so it is my duty as a wife to give you a reason. So, I gave you one.”

“So you hit me?”

“I did not hit you. I nudged you. Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Well you must stay with me now, you cannot work when you are in pain my love I will not let you. You have to stay and hold me in your arms until we are both better.”

He pulls your face round to meet his and he plants a loving kiss on your lips.

“My love, I would never let you go if I could. I will be taking full advantage of this situation until my absence from work can no longer be justified. But until then, I will love you and care for you and my every breath will be yours until your ankle decides to forgive you and the horse forgives that silly little rabbit…”

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do) (3)

warnings: misunderstandings, OCs, mild drowning/hypothermia, violence, one instance of self-inflicted injury, attempted self sacrifice, cliffhanger

-

Virgil laid low for a while after his encounter with Roman, avoiding towns and taking winding paths far from the main roads. Every passing moment, he half-expected a maniac with a sword to descend upon him out of nowhere.

Isolating himself probably made him seem more suspicious, an easier target, but he didn’t want to risk getting caught in a crowd. Demon slayers were an odd bunch, rumored to have supernatural senses to counter a demon’s, and the last thing he needed was to be outed in front of everyone.

The rumors about the ‘Hooded Demon Slayer’ had shown him that gossip spread in unpredictable ways, and he didn’t want to have that unpredictability turned against him.

So, yeah, no towns.

Unfortunately, that plan hadn’t accounted for the people living out in more rural spaces, the way his own family had once.

And now he was here, in a silent standoff at the shore of a frozen lake with a stranger who was staring at him with far too much alarm for his liking.

He held up a hand in an awkward wave. The stranger threw a handful of salt at him, made a sign to ward off evil, and then twisted on their heel and bolted.

Virgil blew some salt out of his fringe, nonplussed, but didn’t move after them.

Either they’d noticed his eyes reflecting eerily the way they sometimes did when light caught on them, or they really hated social interactions. Regardless, who was Virgil to stop their frantic flee to safety?

There was an ominous cracking sound from the direction they’d just run off in.

That could be anything, Virgil told himself stalwartly.

As if in retribution for the thought, there was a splash, as though perhaps something approximately human-sized had been abruptly plunged into the waters of an icy lake.

Virgil was sighing even as he hurried onto the ice after them.

Sure enough, the stranger was scrabbling at the edge of the brand-new hole they’d made, eyes wide and breath coming in tiny little gasps as they clawed at the ice.

He stepped closer testingly, and the ice pinged in warning, hairline fractures spreading under his feet. The stranger let out a half-sob, probably thinking that an evil demon was taunting them or something.

Virgil pulled off his cloak, brushing his fingers over the clumsy stitching of the patch closest to the neckline for good luck. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to patch it up further after this.

His ears catching every minute noise the ice made, he leaned forward as far as he could and tossed one end of the cloak in front of the stranger’s grasping hands.

They latched on with surprising speed, maybe due to cold shock, and Virgil tugged them up.

The ice in front of them broke the moment their weight was leaning on it, and he hissed through gritted teeth. Didn’t this person know anything about escaping thin ice?

He struggled to speak, and only growled, the noise low and half-choked. Somewhere between his mind and his mouth, the words became tangled and refused to form. He would guess that horrific man-eating monsters didn’t deserve to talk, but he’d witnessed other demons chattering away, so maybe it was just something in his brain that had been scrambled. Figured.

Giving up on words, he instead slowly lowered himself until he was flat on his stomach, now eye level with the stranger. He forced his hand into a flat shape and laid it on the ice several times, hoping that they would catch on.

Gradually, they did, though they looked as though they could hardly believe they were listening. They stretched their arms out and kicked their back legs in the water until they were as level as possible, though their movements were growing more sluggish.

Virgil reeled the cloak towards him, providing the leverage needed to help them propel themselves onto flat, unbroken ice. He relaxed slightly in relief.

They immediately tried to get to their knees, prompting a creak from the ice beneath them, and Virgil snarled so viciously that they went right back down like their limbs had given out, terrified eyes locked on him.

That was one way to tell them not to stand, he supposed.

As quickly as he could, he shuffled back to solid ice, towing the stranger along with him over the smooth icy expanse. Once the ice beneath them was solid against even a few elbow jabs, he rose to his feet and gestured for them to do the same.

Apparently being dunked in life-threatening waters had taken the fight out of them, because they followed without protest, trembling from the cold or fear or both. They were still clutching tightly to the cloak, so Virgil used it to lead them along the ice until they reached solid ground again, mindful of their slow, stumbling pace.

All told, they hadn’t been in the water very long, perhaps under a minute or two. Still, Virgil knew better than to leave them to their own devices. One didn’t grow up on an icy mountain range without knowing what the cold could do to people.

He sniffed the air, the dip in water thankfully muting the scent beside him, and easily caught the trail that the human must have taken. Hopefully, it would lead to an actual building as opposed to some campsite in the woods.

The stranger seemed to be about Thomas’s age, though they currently looked more like a drowned mouse than anything else, and Virgil had been able to lift Thomas up into a fireman’s carry even before he’d gotten the supernatural strength of a demon, so he had no problem scooping them up and beginning to run.

They kicked and flailed for a short moment before seeming to just… give up, letting their limbs go limp and heavy, their only movement the full-body shivering that was still tearing through them.

Shivering was good, Virgil reminded himself, shivering meant they weren’t at lethally dangerous levels of cold or shock yet. He should feel reassured about that, but he couldn’t ignore the terror that was practically coming off the stranger in waves.

He couldn't shake away the memories of carrying a younger Thomas around in the same hold, either. The gleeful shrieks of his kid brother being toted around overlapped with the taut, tremulous silence of this stranger, painful nostalgia twisting in his chest.

Once again, the world proved that he was right to have left Thomas. Even the idea of his little brother like this-- drenched and resigned and terrified of him-- was enough to make his stomach roll. He didn’t want to imagine how bad it would feel to face it in reality.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek and kept moving, hoping that shelter was nearby.

-

The upside was that Virgil had found a small house, saturated thickly enough with the stranger’s scent that it had to be their home.

The downside was that there was someone in there.

The other downside was that as soon as he got within sight of the little home, the drowned-kitten stranger found a reserve of energy apparently dedicated to trying to smack the shit out of him.

He grunted in annoyance as another swing thwapped against the back of his head, their other hand frantically attempting to grab at his ears and throat with surprising vehemence. It was about as effective in actually harming him as a kitten’s pounce, but he tilted his head away anyways before they could get too close to one of his eyes. Sure, his eye would probably heal from any damage human hands could inflict, but superhuman regeneration didn’t mean he couldn’t feel it.

Calm down, he tried to project, but the few throaty chirrups that curled out of him weren’t exactly reassuring to a human.

They continued to struggle, not subsiding even when Virgil’s annoyance turned to literal growling, and he eventually just gave in and crouched to shift them off his shoulders.

Rather than try to struggle to their feet and bolt for the door, they plunged a hand into a pocket and came out with-- Virgil’s irritated rumble spiked up into an alarmed snarl, but he was too late to keep them from putting the carved whistle to their lips and blowing hard.

The piercing noise was enough to make him shift back, and two heartbeats later, the door of the cabin slammed open, revealing the silhouette of a new stranger.

Next to him, Drowned-Kitten was making a motion with their hands over and over, but the new person barely even glanced at them before running directly at Virgil, pulling a knife from a sheath with vicious intent.

The dagger’s blade practically glowed, even in the dark of the night, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose up the moment it got in range. He jumped backwards, but Stab-Happy just kept coming, matching his ‘back-off’ growl with a shattered human snarl of her own.

Slayer-knife or not, this human didn’t have nearly half the trained grace he’d witnessed from Roman, and so he was able to trip her up and grab her wrist mid-strike, ignoring the way being so close to the blade made his skin crawl.

He twisted, forcing her to drop the knife, and the moment it hit the ground, he dragged her back toward the open doorway, ignoring her vicious swearing as she struggled to break away.

Drowned-Kitten made a choked-off sound but was barely able to move, let alone stand and stop him.

The interior of the cabin provided what he needed, and he yanked a blanket from the mat on the floor and shoved Stabby into a chair, swiftly wrapping the blanket around her until she could only snap her teeth and kick her legs, the rest of her swaddled against the chair back.

“Get back here!” she screamed when he turned back to the door, the anger in her voice cracking into something close to fear.

Drowned-Kitten had crawled a few paces from where he’d left them, and they’d grabbed the fallen blade. Virgil grimaced as they pointed it at him with trembling hands, looking frantic enough that they seemed more likely to injure themself with the jittering knife than him.

He couldn’t tell exactly in the dark, but it seemed like their hands were turning the shiny red that heralded frostbite. They needed treatment. Why did people have to make everything so damned difficult?

A moment passed in this silent standoff, Stabby’s angry shouts still going strong, and Drowned-Kitten’s gaze strayed past Virgil to the doorway before their gaze went firm and hard.

They tightened their hand on the knife hilt-- and ran it clumsily over their other palm, opening a thin red line.

Virgil was there in the next instant, wrenching the knife away before they could try again for a less shallow injury. They shuddered but didn’t recoil, tucking their face away like they didn’t want to see what happened next.

The smell of blood turned thick and cloying in the air, and Virgil swallowed the sudden welling of saliva in his mouth with no little irritation.

Snarling, he grabbed the back of their shirt with his other hand and yanked, using the shirt as a makeshift scruff and stomping back inside. He dropped them on the mat, pulling the satchel he’d restocked at the last town from his back.

“Don’t you dare touch them, you monster!” Stabby yelled indignantly, and Virgil ignored her entirely to press a pad of gauze against the cut and breathe very carefully through his mouth.

Drowned-Kitten watched him wind thin cloth bandages around the gauze with wide eyes, like they weren’t quite sure this was real. More of those hand motions-- signs?-- and even Stabby grew quiet, thankfully for the headache beginning to pulse behind Virgil’s eyes.

The two of them were eerily silent as they watched him poke around their cozy little home with bated breath, dragging any extra cloth he could find to drape over the one who’d fallen into freezing waters and stoking the fire stove until warmth suffused the room.

Drowned-Kitten’s breathing turned strained almost immediately, the increasing temperature likely feeling much too hot on their skin, but they grit their teeth through it and didn’t try to shed any of the blankets after Virgil just insistently pressed them back on.

He crouched in front of them and held his hands up, moving his fingers through the slow stretches that would help ease the near-frostnip that had blistered Drowned-Kitten’s fingertips red. This, at least, was something he was familiar with, having done it frequently for passing travelers back when he apprenticed under the town’s doctor.

Back then, he’d mostly helped neighbors with colds or bruises and ran delivery errands, rarely seeing the doctor perform actual large-scale treatments. How was it that he was only getting more experience with medicine out in the field after becoming a demon?

Seriously. He was pretty sure that having a monster tending to them was freaking people out.

Case in point, the silent, secretive conversation that the two teens behind him were trying to have, made slightly less discreet by Stabby’s occasional hissed answer. He added a bit more charcoal to the stove, and rose from his squatted position to stare at the two of them, feeling fairly satisfied at the way Drowned-Kitten no longer looked as though they’d been dunked in freezing waters.

It had been an annoying detour, but at least he could say that he hadn’t yet managed to drive someone to death-by-lake just by walking past them.

Dawn would come soon. He unraveled the knotting keeping Stabby in the chair and ducked through the door back into the cold night air before she could fully untangle herself.

He took the knife with him.

-

Naturally, because the fates weren’t fond of him, the pair found him curled up in a cave the next day.

Drowned-Kitten-- or Harley, as Virgil would learn-- could smell demons, and had followed his trail, DW-- also known as Stabby-- right behind them. He hadn’t bothered to hide his scent trail because he hadn’t caught wind of another demon for miles, and foolishly assumed that he was safe. Which had led to him being cornered and interrogated by two teenagers.

Yeah, he’d been less than pleased.

Still, he could snarl and snap until they stepped out of his cave, but he couldn’t exactly get away with the sunlight bright overhead. So, he grumpily conceded to the questioning.

Surprisingly enough, they seemed to believe him when he shook his head ‘no’ to ‘are you going to eat people’. They hadn’t outright expressed doubts, at least. It was kind of concerning that they took his word for it.

DW had demanded the knife back, at least. Smart kid.

He’d attempted to shoo them off afterwards, but Harley had been very insistent on ‘repaying their debt’, wary in the way that meant someone had given them kindness before, but with strings attached. DW had eyed him with more blatant suspicion.

They didn’t owe him anything. Debts, deals, returned favors... Those were for people, not monsters. Virgil had dragged a hand over his face and wished he could say as much.

And then he’d paused.

He’d jabbed a clawed finger at the little hand signs that Harley made, the ones DW had been translating the entire time, and tried to mimic them sloppily until the two cottoned on to what he was asking.

Lessons in hand-speech.

Maybe there was still a way for him to speak after all.

-

From there, they settled into routine.

Virgil spent his days in the shadiest corner of their little house at the urging of Harley’s puppy-dog eyes, and at night, after their daily work was done, he would slink out under DW’s wary gaze and learn how to angle his hands into the proper shapes and flick small motions full of meaning in the right directions.

He picked up on the structure of the language surprisingly fast. Harley was a patient teacher, and DW was always willing to provide extra details on where Virgil had gone wrong.

He’d half expected them to usher him out the door once he’d had the basics down, but the season began to turn and still, they allowed his presence. The blatant trust was enough to make him worry, though any attempts to convince them to be more careful around demons earned him a confused look from Harley and a derisive snort from DW.

Hopefully, Thomas wasn’t being so reckless.

Since he was staying, he insisted on carrying their heavier goods down to the market in the nearby town, heading out with them in the early-morning dark and making sure they didn’t fall into any more lakes on the way there. He spent those market days waiting in a dark spot, his nerves frayed, until evening fell and he could meet them at their agreed rendezvous point.

As he adjusted to the sudden presences around him after so long traveling alone, the two adjusted to him as well. He hadn’t realized just how many noises he made aloud in substitute for his thoughts until Harley showed him all the signs for different emotions, and matched each of them with a soft imitation of Virgil’s growl, or huff, or even, embarrassingly, that cat-like purr that got started when he was particularly pleased. DW had laughed hard enough to make her side cramp up.

He could admit it. It was… nice. To not be feared. To have people to look after again.

Naturally, though, his occasional presence at their side couldn’t go unnoticed forever, and once one person knew, practically the whole town was guaranteed to hear about it. If Virgil had been paying better attention to anything but the two teens under his protection, he could have had advance warning.

But he hadn’t, and so he wasn’t ready when a polite knock came at the door, unusual considering how remote their little home was. He wasn’t ready for the sudden foreboding that washed over him as the three of them exchanged glances.

He wasn’t ready when DW opened the door to the sight of a smiling stranger with a sun-bright sword at his hip.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Civil War (Chapter Four)

Summary: In the aftermath of the U.N. bombing, (Y/N) receives a call from Steve and is ‘invited’ to the Joint Counter Terrorism Centre in Berlin for questioning.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’m not too sure about this chapter, it’s all over the place and I’ve rewritten it twice so I can’t tell if it’s good or not lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Four (Previous Chapter)

While the paramedics finished fastening the bandage around her head, (Y/N) sat in the back of the ambulance and silently watched the chaos unfolding. A fire crew was busy hosing down the still-smoldering ruins and a medical helicopter flew overhead as different government agencies began setting up their base camps on the outskirts of the caution tape. The CIA agent who’d questioned her about the incident had informed her that a large-scale bomb had gone off next to their building, injuring over seventy people and killing twelve; she’d gone on to explain to her that if not for T’Challa’s last-minute warning, many more people would’ve perished in the blast.

Poor T’Challa, (Y/N) thought to herself with a pang of sadness. His father, King T’Chaka, had been the closest person to the blast and was killed instantly. The paramedics completed their work and she thanked them before quickly getting out of their way, knowing that there were many others who still needed to be helped. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her ash-covered blazer, she walked along the edge of the crime scene towards where she’d last seen Natasha and T’Challa; different international news reporters were documenting the tragedy and as she passed by one of them, their words almost made her stop dead in her tracks.

“Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous Hydra agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations…”

(Y/N) continued walking, afraid that she’d be recognized if she lingered too long, and finally sat down on an empty bench near the CIA’s base camp. Once she got over the initial shock of learning the suspected identity of the bomber, she couldn’t help but feel confused; Bucky had been on the run for over two years, ever since the Battle at the Triskellion and the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., and there hadn’t been any sign of him since. Steve and Sam had tracked down every single lead they could find but to no avail. To her, it didn’t make much sense that after all that time, the wanted man would suddenly decide to do something as massive as bomb the United Nations.

The buzzing of her cell phone in her pocket jolted her out of her thoughts; pulling it out and glancing down at the screen, her eyes widened in recognition and she was quick to answer it. “Hello?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Um…yeah, a little. My right eardrum ruptured from the noise of the blast and my lungs feel like crap, but other than that I’m okay…” She trailed off, listening as Steve let out a shaky sigh of relief. Try as she might, memories of their recent fight came to mind but she forced aside her irritation with him as she continued. “Listen Steve, I just heard about Bucky and I-”

“You’re gonna tell me the same thing Nat did: to leave it up to the Task Force and stay home.”

She blinked, taken aback by the shortness of his tone. “Well, I think she has a point about staying out of it but what I was actually going to say is that-”

“I’m the only one who can bring him in alive, (Y/N), so that’s what I’m gonna do. I just wanted to call and tell you myself so that you didn’t believe I was hiding things from you.” Steve abruptly interrupted and after a moment of tense silence, the hard edge in his voice softened a little. “Look, I’m…take care of yourself while I’m gone, okay? Don’t forget to change that bandage of yours every few hours.”

The call disconnected as (Y/N)’s head snapped up in shock and she hurriedly scanned her surroundings, but the super-soldier was nowhere to be seen. “Bastard.”

“(Y/N)!” She looked over in time to see Natasha striding over to her, her brow furrowed in worry. “(Y/N), I just got a call from Steve a few minutes ago, and-” The spy stopped herself short as she examined her assumedly-angered expression. “I take it you got one, too.”

“Yep, and I’d rather not discuss it right now if that’s okay.”

Natasha nodded. “Fine by me, hot-shot, but we should be going; our presence has been…um, requested in Berlin. At the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, to be precise.”

Frowning, (Y/N) stood and walked alongside her. “Our? What’s all this got to do with me?” The spy gave her a pointed look and she exhaled through her nose. “Ah, yes, my ‘association’ with Steve Rogers. They’ve guessed that he’d be the first one after Bucky and since I’m his fiancé, they want to hold me for questioning.”

“Pretty much…but there’s another reason that I’ll let Tony tell you about himself when we arrive. It was his bad idea, after all.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By that point, (Y/N) was well and truly sick of flying; they’d taken the Quinjet to the Berlin-Tegel Airport, where a car had picked them up and drove them to the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre. If her head hadn’t hurt so much and she were in a better mood, she would’ve taken the time to admire all the historical landmarks they passed by. And here I thought that week we spent dealing with Ultron was exhausting, she thought with a humorless smile, getting out of the car and walking alongside Natasha as they entered the parking garage’s elevator.

“When you’re questioned by an agent, be sure to answer as honestly as possible.” (Y/N) glanced up from her dirty sneakers and met Natasha’s serious expression. “Cooperation’s the only thing that’s gonna help Steve and Sam out right now, (Y/N). Don’t let the agent get inside your head, though; make sure that you’re the one in control of the situation, just like I’ve taught you. If I know them like I think I do, they’re gonna try and get more valuable intel out of you than just Steve’s whereabouts.”

She nodded after a brief moment of hesitation and the spy’s shoulders relaxed a little. The elevator stopped at the top floor and its doors slid open to reveal two men; one was Tony Stark, dressed stylishly in a dark-grey suit with a tense smile on his face and the other was an older man with salt-and-pepper colored hair that she didn’t recognize. The stranger stepped forward and shook Natasha’s outstretched hand. “Miss Romanoff, thank you for coming in so quickly.”

“Of course,” Natasha replied before glancing over at (Y/N). “(Y/N), this is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander of the CIA. Agent Ross, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Agent Ross smiled and shook her hand, but (Y/N) got the distinct feeling that he was studying her expression and analyzing her behaviors. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, Miss (Y/L/N); my niece and nephew are big fans of your novel.”

(Y/N) murmured her thanks and followed the trio as they walked down a covered sky-way, not noticing that Tony had fallen into step beside her until he quietly asked, “How’re you holdin’ up, Austen?”

“Let’s just say that I’ve had better days.” She remarked, glancing over at the billionaire with a raised brow. “Nat mentioned something about a bad idea you wanted to run by me?”

“Oh, I have a couple of ‘em, but I’ll let you get changed before I go ahead and tell you. When I heard about the bombing, I figured that you and Romanoff would need clothes so I packed some before I left the compound.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, (Y/N) allowed him to lead her to a private bathroom and quickly changed out of her soot-covered clothing; she felt a little bit like her usual self as she emerged from the bathroom, but the comforting feeling her change of clothes had inspired soon disappeared when the billionaire ushered her into a glass-walled conference room in the middle of what she imagined was a control room.

“Sorry if it seems like we’re sitting inside a fish bowl but this is the only place where we can talk without being overheard.” Tony sat down across from her at the long table, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m sorry about the civilian consultant thing, Austen. We all found out about it last night when Secretary Ross called to ask who’d decided to sign; he seemed crankier than usual when we told him that we didn’t know what you’d decided to do.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and leaned her elbow onto the table, resting her head in her hand with an exasperated sigh. “What, does Ross think that if I sign then that’ll make Steve suddenly change his mind and decide to sign too?”

“Pretty much…but truth be told, he’s not the only one.” Her brow rose in surprise as Tony sat forward in his chair, an uncharacteristically subdued expression on his face. “Look, (Y/N), none of us wants to see Rogers gone. The team needs him and we both know how much he needs the team, so…I was hoping that if you signed, you’d be able to convince him that he’d be doing the right thing by signing too. Once Rogers signs them, then Wilson and Maximoff should follow suit and we’d have our Earth’s Mightiest Heroes all back together again in no time. What do you think?”

“You make it sound so easy…and I wish it was, Tony. I really do.” She stood and walked over to the glass wall, her eyes trained on a large computer monitor that bore her fiancé’s photograph on a wanted poster. “But you and I also know that once Steve’s made up his mind about something it’s impossible to change it. I tried telling him that refusing to sign might put our future together in jeopardy, and do you know what he said?”  Turning back around, she met the billionaire’s gaze and mirthlessly smiled. “He said that he couldn’t afford to be selfish and he left it at that.” A lump formed in her throat as she blinked away her tears and shrugged. “He respects the hell out of you, Tony, so maybe you’ll have a better change at convincing him. I’ll be there when you do, but…since I haven’t decided what I’ll do yet, I honestly don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

Just as Tony opened his mouth to reply, the glass door of the conference room slid open and none other than Sharon Carter poked her head into the room. “If you’re ready, Agent Ross would like to ask you some questions.” (Y/N) stood and spared Tony a final glance before following the agent down the hall, pointedly ignoring the jealous pang in the pit of her stomach as she did. “Romanoff mentioned that you weren’t much of a coffee drinker, so I brought you some hot chocolate instead.” She looked over to see Sharon holding out a to-go cup out towards her, a hesitant but friendly sort of smile on her face. “Might help settle your nerves before your talk with Ross.”

She accepted the beverage with a murmur of thanks and took a sip as they continued down the hall; giving the agent a sideways glance, she cleared her throat before saying, “I’m sorry about your aunt, Sharon.”

“Thank you…and thank you for everything you said in your eulogy. Actually,” Sharon stopped beside the stairwell door and gestured towards it. “We don’t have much time, but do you mind if we talk for a quick sec?” (Y/N)’s brow furrowed a little but she nodded and followed her into the stairwell, watching as she leaned back against the wall and shuffled her feet. “You meant a lot to Aunt Peggy, (Y/N), but I don’t think you know just how much she appreciated you. Back before her dementia got worse, she’d call me after her visits with Rogers and we’d talk for hours; she worried about him, always telling me that he was deliberately keeping himself from embracing his new life and that there wasn’t anything she could do to help. But then you came into his life and from what she told me, it was a night and day difference; knowing that you were there for Steve, as a friend and then as something more, gave her piece of mind. She really liked you, (Y/N), and she really respected you. I just thought that you should know that.”

“Thank you, Sharon, that…that really means a lot to me.”

The agent nodded, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. “I would’ve told you all that after the funeral but you and Steve were sort of…well, you know…arguing. I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping, it’s just that you both were kind of loud and the cathedral has crazy-good acoustics.” (Y/N) started to reply but Sharon cut her off with a firm head shake. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, (Y/N). I’m not exactly a fan of the Accords but just between us? I think that Steve was out of line back there.” Unsure of what to say, she nodded once and took another sip of her drink as the agent looked down at her wristwatch. “C’mon, we should get going before Ross starts looking for us.”

The two of them left the stairwell and continued down the hallway to an office; Agent Ross was seated at a desk and reading through a file, looking up from his work with a friendly smile. “Thank you, Agent 13, that’ll be all.” With one last glance, Sharon turned and left them alone. “Please, take a seat.” (Y/N) sat down in the chair across from him and crossed her leg over her knee, trying her best to remain cool and collected. “Miss (Y/L/N), we have reason to believe that Captain Rogers plans on interfering with the apprehending of the Winter Soldier; can you tell me when you last spoke to your fiancé?”

“A little over three hours ago in Vienna. He called to ask if I’d been injured during the bombing and then he warned me that he was planning on bringing in Bucky himself. That’s all he said.”

Ross nodded and gestured to the bandage wrapped around her head. “And are you okay?”

“Yes, it’s only a ruptured eardrum; the bandage is just keeping the ear from becoming infected.” (Y/N) shrugged, taking another sip of her drink before setting it down on the desk. “Truth be told, I’ve had worse.”

Nodding again, the agent picked up the open file on his desk and scanned its contents. “Yeah, it seems like you have. In March of 2014, you suffered a moderate-grade concussion, GSW on your left thigh and a severe muscle contusion on the other thigh; it also says here that you even needed an emergency blood transfusion upon arrival at the hospital.” He looked back up at her with an arched brow. “Sounds like a lot for a civilian to go through.”

(Y/N) blinked in surprise. “I-it was-”

“And according to witness statements from the Avengers, the Artificial Intelligence known as Ultron targeted you last year because of your close relationship with Steve Rogers, is that correct?” Nodding, she struggled to keep her expression neutral as her fingers began reflexively tracing along her old gunshot wound. “It looks like you were just a pawn in Ultron’s plan to break the Avengers apart, and it very nearly worked.”

Her first instinct was to snap at the agent but after recalling Natasha’s earlier warning, she swallowed her frustration and gave him a fleeting smile. “The CIA certainly cares a lot about historical fiction novelists, doesn’t it?”

Ross chuckled and leaned forward in his seat. “Only the ones engaged to rogue super-soldiers, of course. Speaking of super-soldiers, can you elaborate on the nature of your fiancé’s connection to James Barnes?”

“There’s nothing much to say that hasn’t already been said; Steve and Bucky were childhood friends who fought together during World War II and when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, Steve and Sam tried searching for Bucky but they never found him.”

Nodding, the agent reached over and moved his computer monitor to face her; on the screen was a blurry image of a man wearing dark clothing, obviously taken from grainy security camera footage. “And is this James Barnes?”

“Yes, although I’ve only seen him in person once and this photo’s a little blurry.”

“Okay, let me see if I’ve got this straight: Steve’s old pal bombs the U.N. meeting that you, his fiancée, was attending and instead of rushing to your side like any other partner would do, he decides to leave the country to apprehend Barnes himself. Does that pretty much sum things up?” (Y/N)’s jaw clenched tightly and she stared silently at the agent in front of her, who tilted his head to the side as he considered her. “You see, the CIA knows that you and Captain Rogers are close but what we don’t know is how far you’d go to protect a man who doesn’t sound like he’s got your best interests at heart.”

Before (Y/N) could finally lose her temper, another agent poked his head into the office. “I’m sorry, Agent Ross, I know you said that you didn’t want to be disturbed but this is urgent.”

“Fine, fine…”

Ross stood and followed the agent out into the hallway, leaving the office door cracked open just far enough for her to make out some of what they were saying. “Rhodes…all of them arrested…Bucharest…ETA in less than six…”

Thank goodness they’re all right, (Y/N) thought as relief washed over her, they’ll both be charged with obstruction of justice but at least they’re alive. Some of her elation disappeared as her mind drifted back to Agent Ross’ line of questioning; Natasha was right, the CIA was taking the golden opportunity to get intel on Captain America with the knowledge that what they were doing was protected under the Sokovia Accords. The thought of being manipulated and used that way infuriated her but what angered her more was that this all stemmed from Steve’s unwillingness to consider the consequences of not signing the Accords. You’re in control here, she told herself with a calming breath, just do everything Nat told you to do and you’ll be okay…

Agent Ross reentered the office and sat back down with an expectant smile on his face. “Well, now, where were we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This story’s a little more challenging to write than The Winter Soldier or Age of Ultron, there’s so much angst to deal with and writing these chapters really takes a lot out of me, so any likes, reblogs and comments are really appreciated ❤️

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, you guys are truly amazing! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4TsJ2TY1F2HDXhEYOfzCjY?si=f5f309da80a74a63

Chapter Five

Civil War Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien​ @lahoete​ @awkward117​ @cminr​ @natdrunk​ @momc95​ @savedbystyle​ @miraculouscloud​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @khuang3​ @supersouthy​ @benakenalove​ @brooke0297​ @hufflepeople​ @becausewelie​​ @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum​ @ladydmalfoy​ @mads-weasley​ @username23345​ @crist1216​ @aesthethickks​

[bratkook]

one chance. (m) knj. teaser.

pairing. flash!namjoon x reader genre. fluff, angst, smut, superhero!au word count. approx 20k warnings. light hearted, some fighting (not graphic), mentions of character death (also not graphic...or permanent), mutual pining, namjoon is an adorably sweet dork !! smut: tbd as i write! but ofc filthy summary. namjoon knows he only has one chance to go back and make things right, but is he prepared to live with the potential consequences that his actions could cause? note. this was going to be part of a bts super hero collab that fell through (& i hope the author’s involved still post their fics) i’m about halfway through writing it and hope this will give me the motivation to finish it lmao. i might do a tag list if anyone is interested?? lmk muah.

The searing pain is felt before Namjoon even hits the floor, shooting down his fingertips when he attempts to move them, making his shoulder ache with each breath he takes. The plastic drums he had just collided into—an impact at a speed they weren’t designed to withhold—lay tattered in bits and chunks all around him, cold water that would typically be held inside them now spilled out and soaking into his suit. 

A hiss escapes his lips as he remains on the wet floor, already hearing the rushing footsteps approaching him. “It’s broken!” he shouts out, wincing when he once again attempts to move his arm. “Why isn’t it healing if it’s broken?”

When you and Hoseok finally reach him, you breathe a sigh of relief. From the absolute chaos his crash had caused, you were expecting to see him a lot more battered and bruised. Instead he lay on his side, hand gently cradling his aching shoulder with a grimace on his face. 

“Holy shit, that was awesome.” Hoseok barely spares a glance at Namjoon, overstepping him to assess the damage caused, tapping away at the screen of his tablet as he does so, checking the speed data he had captured. 

“You told me these would hold,” Namjoon grumbles, foot kicking a nearby scrap of plastic, another groan leaving him when his shoulder throbs. 

“That was just a guess.” Hoseok brushes him off, continuing to type away as he circles the crash scene. He only approaches Namjoon to pluck the Go-pro off his head, pocketing it with a sheepish smile on his face. 

With a subtle eye roll, you’re crouching down to meet Namjoon’s body, hands gently reaching out to see what the problem was. He lets his hand fall from it’s protective position, eyes squeezing shut as he waits for the burst of pain to come, jaw clenching when your fingers press along his shoulder, clearly feeling the way it had popped out of place. 

“It’s not healing because it’s not broken.” Namjoon finally opens his eyes now, peering up at you and gulping when he realizes just how close you are. He can clearly see the worry in your eyes as you try to see just how bad it is, a crease between your brows that he wants to rub out with the pad of his thumb, small frown on your lips that only makes him feel worse for going against your warning of this being a bad idea. 

A small huff spills from your lips once you realize you won’t be able to help him until you’re back at the lab without this suit—a suit that Hoseok calls his pride and joy—covering him up. “It’s dislocated. You probably tore some ligaments and tendons, but those will heal up just fine once we pop it back into place.”

“Wait, is that gonna hurt?” he whines out, huffing out the strands of his brown hair that had fallen over his face and gasping in pain when you purposely prod at the swollen joint with a small glare. 

“I’ll make sure it does so you remember to never go against my warnings.”

“Oh god, you’re doing this on purpose!” Namjoon yells, sat on the cold chair, knees pulled up as he braces for the pain. 

“I told you I was,” you smirk, extending his arm out, hands placed against his palm with the other on his trap muscle to get a good grip. The loose threads of his suit tickle his skin, a product of you cutting the fabric to double check that the only thing wrong was in fact his dislocated shoulder. 

Did you actually have to cut it? No. This was just your childish way of getting back at Hoseok for convincing Namjoon to do this. 

The grimace never leaves his face as you stretch the limb out, twisting it slowly to the right angle before pulling back with a slight pop once it settles back into its rightful spot. 

He feels the relief instantly, tense muscles relaxing as he sags back into the chair, face no longer contorted in pain when you gently lower his arm. Namjoon swears he’s never felt better, already able to lift his arms as if nothing ever happened, the torn tendons quickly repaired and back to normal thanks to his regenerative ability.  

“Good to go. If you pop it out of place again you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

“Yeah right. I’ll just have Hoseok do it for me.”

Right on cue, a crash sounds out behind you, followed by a shout and an apology as Hoseok picks up whatever gadget he was currently working on. 

“You sure about that?” you question with a smug smile, crossing your arms under your chest as you step back. As smart and helpful as Hoseok was, his mind was far too focused on the technology surrounding him. If Namjoon seriously injured himself, the only person who would know what to do, was you. 

He knew this, and sometimes he liked that fact, not opposed to the way you’d constantly worry about him—totally choosing to ignore the reason why you did so was because it was your job. That tiny factor in the equation was tucked into the back of his mind. His small crush was innocent, and if looking forward to seeing what color lipstick you’d wear that day helped him deal with getting poked, questioned, and forced to run on a treadmill to document his speed, then that's fine by him. 

“I won’t dislocate my shoulder again. I promise.” 

Something about the smile on his face does nothing to ease your worry, and as Hoseok emerges from his room with a giddy laugh, you feel the need to pry. 

“What the hell were you trying to do anyway?”

“I think we’re close!” Hoseok announces, your question being brushed aside as he thrusts his tablet into Namjoon’s now fully mobile arms. The only thing lighting up the screen is a skew of numbers along with a diagram and some fancy looking animated figure that slightly resembled himself. It meant nothing to Namjoon so he doesn’t bother trying to decipher it, looking back up at Hoseok with a confused expression. 

“I don’t think me making those plastic drums explode got us any closer.” A small shiver courses through him as he recalls the pain from his shoulder once more. 

“Oh yeah, that was pointless. But I think I figured out another way.” Hoseok grabs the tablet once more, tapping a few more times before another animation fills the screen. Peering over his shoulder you spot what it is, a golden animation of what looks to be a treadmill, swirls flowing on either side of them that you believe to represent wind. 

“Another way for what?” You question again, not liking the sly look on Hoseok’s face. 

“Time travel.” He says it so casually, not even sparing you a glance as he flips the tablet over to show Namjoon. 

That wasn’t what you were expecting. When you had walked in on Hoseok pitching the idea to Namjoon, wanting to document his full speed, push it further to see what more he was capable of, you thought it was just to gather information to help when it came to figuring out a plan of action the next time a meta-human decided to torment the city. 

“Time travel?” you repeat, a displeased look on your face that Namjoon spots instantly. The small wrinkle between your brows is back and he can’t even allow himself to find it adorable because the small glare you were giving Hoseok changes course and stares directly at him. 

“Yeah,” he quietly admits, pressing his lips together gently. His saving grace comes in the form of his phone ringing loudly, cutting through the tense silence and making him jolt in his seat, hands fumbling for the device.

He has never been more thankful to get a call from work, your scolding being directed at Hoseok now, but Namjoon can hear it through his current conversation. The worried tone in your voice is clear as you question Hoseok’s sanity, stating how dangerous time travel could be in the grand scheme of things. Hoseok can only stumble over his words, flustered at being on the receiving end of your lecture. 

Namjoon ends the phone call right on time to hear you shout, “Are you trying to start World War three?!”

“I gotta go…” he whispers, slowly sliding off the chair trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping he wouldn’t be detected. But before he can flash out of there, you’re looking at him again. 

“Not so fast.” He freezes instantly, hands lifted up in front of him. “We’re not done talking about this—“

“I know, but I gotta go. I do have an actual job after all.”

Hoseok glares at Namjoon, “So you’re gonna leave me here to get yelled at...alone?”

Namjoon gives him a guilty smile, shrugging and mumbling out a quick apology before bolting out of there—literally. Your hair flows up at the speed, Hoseok’s shirt flapping wildly, and nearby documents scatter around from the gust of air he had caused. The only thing left behind is the red suit draped across the chair he had been sitting on, flashing out of it and into his regular clothes before leaving to work. 

“What was the Gopro for?” you question. As much as you didn’t like the idea of time travel, you were slightly curious about the entire situation. 

“Just thought it’d be sick to film it. Like imagine if it actually works and we have solid proof?” Hoseok’s eyes glimmer at the prospect of it all, tapping at the screen to replay the footage captured earlier. The two of you have front row seats of Namjoon’s earlier crash, and seeing the chaos along with hearing Namjoon’s grunts of pain a second time makes you glare at Hoseok once again. 

You reach forward and grab the discarded red suit from the chair, balling it up and tossing it at Hoseok’s face. “Patch it up. I had to rip the sleeve to properly see his shoulder.”

He whines loudly as he peels the material off of his face, fingers clutching the precious suit and gasping when he spots the torn area. “You monster!”

[ssadumba55]

Weak (Ian Malcolm X Reader)

Request: I dont want to rush you, and im in no hurry. Take your time. I would love to see a second part of the ian malcom x reader story you wrote so far :) i loved it and really enjoyed how perfectly you potrayed sarah harding.

 A/N: Sorry this took so long but here you finally go anon! I tried to add more Sarah interaction, because I actually enjoyed writing her! For those of you don’t know this is part two of a Ian Malcolm imagine.

You can read the first part here. Enjoy!

 Ian Malcolm paced the hospital waiting room floor, he was covered in his own minor injuries but nothing enough to warrant his own bed in the hospital, thankfully. Sarah was sitting in one of the chairs, flipping through one of those magazines they left for patient’s families. Kelly, his daughter, was also sitting in one of the chairs but due to the late hour she’d fallen asleep.

They’d almost had a lucky break from the island. He’d gotten Sarah and Kelly out safely, he got himself out safely but of course, you’d been injured. It was kind of his fault, if he hadn’t been cheating on you, you would’ve never run off. You would still be just as fine as the rest of them right now.

“Ian, stop pacing. It’s a broken leg, they’ll be fine,” Sarah didn’t look up from the magazine she was flipping through. She wasn’t actually all that interested in the contents, Ian knew, she was just looking for an excuse not to talk to him.

With everything that had happened, he hadn’t had the chance to be yelled at by Sarah yet. But now that they were in relative safety, he knew it was coming any moment now and even though he wasn’t looking forward to it, he also knew he deserved it.

“You can go in and see them now,” a nurse stepped out to talk to them. Sarah stood, placing the magazine away. Ian made to start walking to the room, but she grabbed his wrist before he could.

“They probably don’t want to see you right now Ian,” she pointed out. He hated that she was right. He walked over, sitting in the chair next to Kelly and wrapping an arm around her, trying to ground himself as best as he could.

Sarah continued on her own to your hospital room, knocking gently on the door. You looked up, part of you wanted to send her away. But you couldn’t do that, it wasn’t her fault Ian had picked someone better. It wasn’t her fault Ian was happier with her-

“Ian is waiting in the waiting room, as well,” she warned, crossing her arms over her chest with a sympathetic smile as you groaned. You didn’t want to have to deal with him yet. Not with a broken leg anyway.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, in the distance you could hear the regular hustle and bustle of a hospital. It was so weird to be back in the middle of civilization after days of being on some dinosaur infested island. Your family would probably fly in once they find out what had happened, just to check up on you. You wondered what you’d tell them about Ian.

“I know you’re angry at Ian, I am too, but when he does come in here, I really think you should listen to what he has to say,” she finally says, meeting your eyes. “Ian is an idiot; his own hubris is sometimes his downfall. He hurt people and, before the park, he used to not care how his actions affected other people. I’m sure you’ll find now, though, that’s not the case. He cares about us both, which is why I’m going to let the two of you work things out.”

You looked at her in surprise. That wasn’t what you were expecting at all. You weren’t exactly sure what you had been expecting, a catfight, an argument? But no, Dr. Sarah Harding was just stepping away. Giving up before the fight had even begun.

“Why?” You asked, your voice was shaky. You hadn’t been expecting this turn of events at all.

“Because I see the way he looks at you, I can tell he cares about you a lot. I may spend most of my time around animals, but I’m not inept at social cues, (Y/n). He loves you, maybe he feels the same way about me, I’ll never know. But you were here first, if he’s going to settle down with anyone, it’ll be you,” she walked over to the door again, clearly ready to leave now that she had said her peace.

“But you-“

“I’ll be fine. Ian isn’t the first or last guy who will come into my life. I think he might be the last in yours, though, either way,” she held up her finger, as if she had forgotten something and reached into her bag, pulling out a slip of paper. She crossed the room once more and handed it to you.

“In case you do still want to keep in touch, if I’m not in the middle of an African safari, I will definitely pick up,” she promised,  leaving you alone to your thoughts in the room.

You listened to the distant hospital noises, running your finger over the slip of paper with her number Sarah had given you.

“Thank god, you’re okay,” you hadn’t even noticed Ian, but before you could really say anything in response, he was hugging you and it felt good. Without hesitation, you returned the hug. The whole time on the island, you’d avoided seeking physical comfort from him. You had determined to come across as pissed as possible, but now here, after what Sarah had said to you… You found yourself indulging in what you thought you’d never have again.

He pulled away slightly and you met his eyes.

“Sarah said…”

He looked back over his shoulder, as if she might be there. She wasn’t of course, but he still continued to stare at the door.

“I know. You don’t have to work things out with me if you don’t want to, I’ve done and said things I can’t take back. I get it if that means this is the end for us,” he finally looked back to you, standing up from the bed.

If you were a stronger person, you would tell him he was right. If you were a stronger person, you wouldn’t have even considered running back to him. You would start all over, find somebody new who you knew would treat you better. But seeing him here in the hospital, after one of the most terrifying events in your life…

“I need you, Ian,” you admitted softly. “I can’t do this alone.”

He didn’t even ask what you meant, deep down he knew. You weren’t just talking about living alone, continuing alone. You couldn’t deal with the nightmares your time on the island would inevitably bring alone, you couldn’t deal with the memories alone.

He sat back down on the bed, taking your hand. Silently, agreeing he was fine with staying. Fine with working this out.

Who cares if giving Ian a second chance makes you weak, you needed him now more than ever.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 124

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 7,320ish (I know... yikes)

Summary: Y/N tries to help Simmons and Daisy save Fitz, Mack, May, Director Mace, and Coulson. (Sorry, I hope it’s not too confusing as you read it. It’s a lot...)

“Okay… So… Let me get this straight…” Y/N’s mind was trying to comprehend everything that Simmons and Daisy had just told her. “Dr. Radcliffe created a Life Model Decoy—“

“LMD for short,” Simmons added.

“Right. He created an LMD of his computerized assistant… just saying that takes me back to Ultron.” A shiver went down her spine. “Anyway, and she went crazy, building more LMD’s to replace the team. She put those she replaced in what is called the Framework, some sort of computerized alternate universe where consciousnesses can live… Am I getting this right so far?”

“Yes,” Daisy nodded.

“And Aida, the crazy LMD, has replaced May, Coulson, Mack, the new Director, and Fitz. And to stop them, you blew up the base and now need to go into the Framework yourselves and pull the team out. Correct?”

“Basically.”

Y/N sighed, running a hand down her face. She was still dressed up for her date, standing in front of Simmons and Daisy who were both injured, with Yo-Yo standing beside them.

“Okay, where do you need me then?” Y/N asked.

“If we’re in there too long, our bodies will… give out,” Daisy said.

“Well, that’s the hypothesis,” Simmons clarified.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” Y/N exclaimed. “You guys want to go in there knowing your bodies might give out?!”

“We have to get our team back,” Daisy stated.

“I know but just… I’m going in.”

“No. You need to stay about here and—“

“And what? Watch over your bodies with Yo-Yo? No thanks. You’ll have a better shot with me in there.”

“Yes, but we need you out here,” Simmons said. “The Government won’t be far behind looking for us and you can help stall them.”

“You realize I’m a fugitive of the law, right?”

“Do you realize we found you with Tony?” Daisy retorted. “Isn’t he suppose to arrest you on site?”

Y/N clenched her jaw with a huff. “Fine. I’ll stay in the Zephyr. When do you need to go?”

“Now,” Simmons answered.

Y/N watched as Daisy and Simmons set up everything and connected themselves to the needed equipment.

“Meet at the rendezvous right away,” Daisy told Simmons and they both laid down. “That’s where I programmed the backdoor to get out.”

Y/N stood in between the two beds. “Listen, you two,” she said, trying to hide her worry. “Living in there too long may kill you, but dying in there will definitely kill you, so… just be careful.”

“Remember, Y/N and Yo-Yo,” Simmons started, “even if our vitals are going haywire, do not—“

“Do not pull you out or wake you up,” Yo-Yo finished. “We know. It will cook your brains like huevos rotos.”

“Cause permanent damage to the cerebral cortex, test.”

“Just promise me you’ll get our guys back, okay?”

“I promise.”

Y/N watched with bated breath as they hooked themselves up and seemingly feel asleep. Feeling around in both their minds, Y/N could tell they were in the Framework though. Now it was only a matter of time.

~~~

“They missed you,” Yo-You said. 

Y/N had changed and the two of them had been sitting in silence, watching their two friends, for who knows how long.

“I’ve missed them, too,” she replied. “I… I really didn’t want to leave.”

“They knew that. And they felt terrible for what had happened when you woke. They had many arguments with Director Mace about it.”

“I didn’t like that guy.”

“He grew on me,” Yo-Yo shrugged. She leaned back in her chair. “Where have you been?”

“I can’t say,” Y/N shook her head. 

“Understandable. They never stopped searching, you know?”

“I figured.”

“They actually caught sight of you once. In South Africa, I think.”

“They wouldn’t be the only ones. I was stupid for staying too long in one spot.” Y/N silently watched her unconscious friends for a moment. “I was going to say that I can’t imagine what’s going on in there, but I kinda can. Falling asleep, walking up in a new world. It’s how I got here.”

“Except they’re walking up to a demon world.”

“Truth,” Y/N chuckled. “Very true… Do we have any idea where the others might be kept at?”

“No.”

Y/N let herself comb over Yo-Yo’s thoughts briefly. “You and Mack, huh? That’s…”

“Interesting?”

“I was going to say exciting. The height difference must be a real challenge though.”

Yo-Yo laughed. “I don’t let it stop me.”

“Never thought you did.”

“And you and Stark?”

“It’s complicated. Especially now.”

“I can imagine.”

“Honestly, Yo-Yo, I don’t know if you can."

~~~

“Agent Rodriguez!” A woman came jogging up to Yo-Yo and Y/N, who were still watching over their friends. “Agent—“ She came to a halt. “Agent Rogers? I thought—well, you should be—“

“On the run. I know,” Y/N responded. “You are?”

“Agent Piper, ma’am.”

“And what seems to be the problem, Agent Piper?”

“We’re running out of power. Keeping them plugged in is draining the Zephyr faster than we thought.”

“Are we cloaked?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Y/N took a deep breath, thinking over the options. “It’s going to be risky but I need you to uncloak the Zephyr.”

“What?” Yo-Yo questioned. “You can’t be serious? They’ll see us.”

“Just trust me and do it, Agent Piper.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Agent Piper responded, heading back to the controls.

“And please stop with the ma’am, it’s annoying.”

“Are you sure about this?” Yo-Yo asked her.

“No. But if anyone tries to take this bird down, I’ll take them down first.”

~~~

“Zephyr’s got 24 hours till it runs out of power,” Agent Davis, a man, informed. 

“We can’t wait anymore,” Agent Piper chimed in. “We need to touch down and refuel.”

“Let’s not have this conversation again,” Yo-Yo said.

“Okay, we don’t know who we can trust at SHIELD and, the government, Talbot’s been trying to reach us. Maybe it’s time we talk to him.”

“Not an option,” Y/N said. “You’ve seen what they’re saying in the news. We’re lucky they haven’t shot us out of the sky. Not to mention that I’m on board and that if they turn off the Framework—“

“That thing’s draining all our power,” Agent Davis stated.

“Might be time we figure out a way to wake up Daisy and Simmons,” Piper suggested.

“Again, not an option,” Y/N argued. 

“We must find something else to turn off,” Yo-Yo said.

“We already shut off all non-essential functions,” Davis stated. “Including the heat and the cloaking.”

“Why haven’t they shot us from the sky yet?” Piper wondered. “We haven’t been cloaked for almost a day.”

“Because I’m cloaking us,” Y/N stated.

“What?” / “How?” / “You can do that?”

“I’ve never released the amount of power I’m releasing for this long of a time, so I really don’t know how much longer I can hold it for.” Y/N turned to Daisy and Simmons, nibbling at her thumb nail. “They’re taking too long though… I think I need to go in after them.”

“No!” Yo-Yo exclaimed. “If you’re what’s keeping us safe, then we need you conscious.”

“It’s still only a matter of time before we have to land and I can’t hold it anymore. I can get in there and pull them out.”

“You don’t even know where the duplicate of you is.”

“What makes this world different, Yo-Yo? Why is it different than ours?”

“Simmons said something about taking a regret away.”

“So everyone has one regret taken away?” Yo-Yo nodded. “Then I have a pretty good guess where I’ll be.”

“You have no way of knowing if your powers will work.”

“If it’s basically a replica of our world, then I’m pretty sure they will. Besides, I’m not an inhuman, my powers are from sources much more powerful than some stupid computerized world. Now hook me up, we’re running out of time.”

~~~

Y/N gasped as she woke, immediately taking in her surroundings. She was in a casket, in the ground, inside of the Framework. She wasn’t surprised at all to find herself there, there was only two things she ever regretted. This regret Y/N had was one she always kept to herself, for reasons as to not hurt the ones she loved. She took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself. 

She put her hands on the top of the casket and focused. The purple energy quickly glowed from her hands, blasting forward to free her from the ground. She crawled out of the hole, analyzing her surroundings. Arlington Cemetery in Virginia, just outside of Washington DC. Looking down, she realized she was in an old, warn out, military uniform. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the headstone. Turning to look at it she wasn’t shocked to see what it said:

Y/N Rogers

July 4th, 1918 to November 1945

A Hero Of World War 2

A Champion For Women

“Okay,” she whispered to herself as she stood up, brushing herself off, “If I were SHIELD, where would I be?” 

Raking through her mind, it didn’t take long for her to come to a conclusion.

“The base.”

~~~

When Daisy woke up in the Framework, she was shocked to find out that here she was working for HYDRA, her powers weren’t active, she’s was still Skye, and that she was dating Grant Ward. HYDRA had taken over the world, SHIELD had fallen. Trying to find Simmons without the rest of HYDRA, she’s followed by Ward.

Simmons woke up in a mass grave of SHIELD agents, her Framework double having died in the fall of SHIELD. She eventually came across Coulson on her way to find Daisy. Here, Coulson’s a teacher teaching a HYDRA-approved curriculum that warns against the dangers of inhumans. Simmons tried to convince Coulson that he’s inside a virtual simulation, only to fail and have him call HYDRA on her.

When Daisy and Simmons finally met up, they tried to exit the Framework using a safeguard they created. They realized they were in over their heads in here and they needed back up. Unfortunately, Aida, the Director of HYDRA, blocked their way out. Ward then revealed himself to be a mole in HYDRA for the Resistance, out to protect Daisy since she’s inhuman.

On the run from a HYDRA attack, Simmons explains what happened with Coulson. This caused Daisy to go visit him, where he remembered her name. Ward took Simmons and Coulson to the Resistance, though he wasn’t so sure to believe the story Daisy and Simmons were telling. The Resistance is the remnants of SHIELD, led by inhuman Director Mace. 

Daisy went back to HYDRA to find Radcliffe, hoping he could help them escape. But May, now a top HYDRA agent, gave her a new mission on the orders of Fitz, lead HYDRA scientist, and Aida, though she goes by Ophelia or Madame Hydra in the Framework. Daisy sent the information to Simmons on Radcliffe’s whereabouts before going with May to arrest Mack and his daughter Hope. May forced Mack to trick Daisy into confessing her true allegiance. Daisy gets placed in a cell and tortured. Mack, after him and his daughter are freed, joins the Resistance, having felt bad about what he did to Daisy.

Ward, Simmons, and Coulson find Radcliffe living in seclusion with Agnes Kitsworth, the woman he based Aida off of. Radcliffe explains that him and Agnes cannot leave the Framework since both of their real bodies have died. Fitz and Madame Hydra arrive. Radcliffe attempted to appeal to Fitz, though Fitz seemed to already know of the “other world” and believed that Radcliffe had enslaved Aida there. Fitz killed Agnes and takes Radcliffe as a prisoner, all while Ward, Simmons, and Coulson watch. 

Ward, Mace, and Coulson then infiltrate a HYDRA “Enlightenment Camp” to free an undercover agent, Antione Triplett. They are tracked there by May, who uses a super serum to fight Mace. Coulson attempts to save one of his former students who he sees being held in the camp. Mace followed him into the building to help free all the other kids. HYDRA brings the building down with a missile. Entering the rubble to ensure Mace is dead, she finds him stopping debris from crushing a student, with Coulson and Tripp helping other children escape. May is horrified to find children being victimized by HYDRA. With the others having escaped to safety, Mace is crushed beneath the debris, dying in both worlds.

Through the vents of their holding cells, Daisy learns from Radcliffe about a backdoor he installed to escape that Aida is unable to disable. Turning on HYDRA, May sneaks a terrigen crystal into Daisy’s cell so she can gain her abilities within the Framework. The two women work together to escape HYDRA, with Daisy using her abilities to break Ophelia’s back.

Ophelia insists that Fitz, her lover, complete the work on their secret project, Looking Glass, after which her Framework body will no longer matter. Fitz then, with his very much alive father, becomes the head of HYDRA.

~~~

Y/N knew that it wouldn’t be smart to just appear in the base, so she showed up at a known SHIELD meeting spot. Appearing, she saw May and Daisy get out of an old car.

“I saw the building collapse on him,” May stated, getting out of the car. “I have the body-cam footage to prove it.”

“A building collapsed on who?” Y/N asked, worried.

Daisy spun around. “Y/N?” She questioned.

“You were taking too long.” The two women rushed into a hug.

“We tried to get back out to get your help, but Aida—“

“Stopped you. I got it.”

The three women pressed themselves up against a storage container.

“That’s not possible,” May whispered, staring at Y/N. “You’re Y/N Rogers. You died in World War 2, in the plane crash.”

“That, let me guess, my brother survived,” she responded.

They heard a security drone whirring near them and they pressed themselves up further against the storage container. May glanced around the corner to see the drone fly away.

“This is our window,” May stated.

The three then walked around the corner, Daisy leading the way. They were all on high alert, two of them now being considered terrorists. Daisy knocked on the red door of the building. A man quickly appeared, gun out.

“Get out of here,” he ordered.

“Hey! Hey,” Daisy exclaimed, hands up in surrender. “We are friends of the Resistance.”

“I know who you are. There’s chatter all over the police hand.” The man kept switching who his gun was pointed out.

“We weren’t followed. We were careful.” Then tires screeching were heard.

“Not careful enough,” May said. 

Daisy and her quickly pulled out their guns. They took cover behind a trash can as those in the speeding car began shooting at them.

“Milkman, I have contact!” The man shouted into a walkie-talkie before getting shot down.

May and Daisy were firing back as Y/N pulled the man into the building.

“Come on!” She shouted. May followed.

“Incoming!” Daisy yelled, seeing a bomb thrown their way. She stood up and quaked it back into the car. She was shutting the door to the building as the car exploded.

“I’m going to be honest,” Y/N began, “I have not missed getting shot at.” Y/N began pushing large things in front of the door.

“He’s still breathing,” May said checking on the man. “But we’re gonna need to find another way to get out of here.”

“How long before HYDRA busts down the door?” Daisy asked.

“Not long. They’ll be following SOP for a hostile inhuman. Six teams to sweep the area. And if the hostile’s taken cover they’ll call in an air strike and sort through the rubble later.”

“Like what they did with the Patriot?”

“What I did. That air strike was on my order.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Doesn’t change what I did.”

“I’m sorry, who’s the Patriot?” Y/N asked.

“Director Mace,” Daisy answered.

“So, he’s…” Daisy nodded. “Oh, gosh.”

“May, you can’t blame yourself for their lies. Once you learned the truth, you fought back. That is what we need.”

“Daisy’s right. If more people see what you saw, they’ll probably start fighting back too.”

The three of you froze, hearing the HYDRA agents break down a door down the building. The three women hid, waiting for the agents to come to them. When they did, May jumped down on one from the ceiling, Daisy took one from the side, and Y/N appeared behind another, quickly knocking him out. The three HYDRA agents were quickly finished off.

“Three down,” Daisy whispered.

“Stop right there,” a HYDRA agent ordered, aiming at Daisy.

May and Daisy held their hands up, while Y/N’s hands slowly started glowing purple. Before any of them could do something, Mack showed up from the side, knocking the guy out with his guy.

“Mack?” Y/N and Daisy questioned. The three headed towards him only to freeze when he aimed his gun at May.

“Mack,” Daisy called.

“I’m here to help you,” Mack stated, “not the woman who held my daughter hostage.”

“May is the only reason I’m alive. She helped me escape. HYDRA messed with her head, but she’s fight back now.”

“How do you know she’s not lying?”

Coulson and a SHIELD agent ran in. Assessing the situation, Coulson stopped between May and Mack. Y/N was relieved to see her long time friend.

“Not a good time to be holding guns on our allies,” Coulson said.

“Alpha One, report in,” a HYDRA agent requested from outside. “What’s the situation down there?”

“We have to go, now.” Coulson slowly walked towards Mack. “Mack, I get it. These wounds don’t heal overnight. But for reasons I can’t fully explain, I trust this woman. And so should you.” Mack put the gun down.

“This place was originally build during the prohibition,” the SHIELD agent explained. “We have a secret tunnel out of here.”

“Lead the way,” Y/N said.

Mack grabbed the SHIELD agent from before and they all jogged towards the secret tunnel. Coulson moved so he was beside Y/N.

“Y/N? Right?” He questioned.

“You remember?” She asked.

“Little things. But you’re also known here. Not necessarily in a good light, but you are.”

“I’ve missed you, Phil.”

“Weirdly, I’ve missed you, too.”

“Y/N?” Daisy called. “Do you think you could just portal us there? It would be faster and safer.”

“And miss all this fun?” Y/N smirked. “You kidding?”

~~~

“Welcome to SHIELD,” Coulson said as the group walked into the base.

“So the secret base is the base,” Daisy said. “Probably should’ve guessed that.”

“I did,” Y/N said. “I just didn’t want to scare everyone.”

“Been looking for this place for years,” May said, looking around.

“I got to go find my little girl,” Mack stated, leaving.

“Thanks for your help,” Coulson said.

“Thank goodness you’re alright,” Ward said, coming towards them. “We’ve been combing the streets looking for you.” Y/N clenched her fists and they slowly began to glow purple.

“I can take care of myself,” Daisy responded.

“And you are?” Ward looked at you before noticing your hands. “And what are you doing?” He went to grab his gun but Daisy quickly stepped between the two of you.

“Woah, woah, woah.” She had her hands out. “Stop. Y/N,” she turned to her friend. “This is not the same Ward that shot you.”

“I shot you?” Ward repeated.

“Yeah,” Y/N responded. “I almost died.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Y/N…” Daisy called. “Calm down.” Y/N looked at her friend and nodding, powering down. “Now, you want to explain the purple hands?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N answered.

“How about we go take a look at that body-cam footage,” Coulson suggested. “Could really hep the cause.” May and Coulson left, leaving Ward, Daisy, and Y/N.

“Y/N and I are gonna go talk to Simmons,” Daisy said.

“She and, uh, Agent Triplett are on a recon mission,” Ward said, stopping them.

“Tripp?” Y/N repeated.

“Mm-hmm.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks,” Daisy smiled.

“What’d you need to talk to her about?”

“It’s not exactly—“

“She told me about the other world.”

“Ah.” Daisy nodded. “Right.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“Yeah. And I need you to trust me. I know a way for us to get back home.”

“By ‘us’, you don’t mean me.” Y/N stepped back, feeling the tension. “I guess I was holding out hope that Simmons was wrong and that you’d still be… the girl I knew… I’m glad you’re safe, Daisy.” Ward walked away.

“Well that was…. Weird,” Y/N said. “Do you want to tell me—“

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

~~~

Y/N and Daisy walked in as Coulson, Ward, and May had just finished the body cam footage of Mace’s death.

“Getting this footage out isn’t enough to make up for what I did in HYDRA,” May spoke up. “But it’s a start.”

“Changing people’s hearts and minds is great,” Daisy said. “But I know a way to destroy HYDRA for good. Remember the place Simmons and I were trying to find? Radcliffe told me where to go, how to find it.”

“The way out of this?” Coulson asked.

“Yes. If we can get there, all of our problems go away. We just— we need all the help we can get.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” May stated. “THere’s no magic bullet against HYDRA.”

“Yeah,” Ward agreed. “This footage is a close as it comes. I mean, people will finally wake up.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Daisy said. “None of this will matter in the long run. It’s— it’s… Coulson, this is the only chance to actually wake people up.”

“Maybe the only way to solve our problem,” Coulson replied, “is to solve their problem.”

“What does that mean?”

“Getting to Radcliffe’s coordinates right now is next to impossible. We need a way to divide HYDRA’s forces.”

“To save ourselves, we need to save the world,” Y/N said. “Well, I’m in. But I guess none of us really have a choice, do we?”

~~~

Using both Y/N’s and Daisy’s powers, a small SHIELD team broke into HYDRA’s broadcasting center. All their people hand their hands held up. Bakshi was sitting at his news anchor desk. Coulson, May, Y/N, and Daisy walked up to it.

“Heard you were looking for some enemies of the state,” Coulson commented.

Y/N and Daisy looked at each other with small grins. Coulson would always be Coulson, even if he didn’t remember everything. With a nod from Coulson, Y/N controlled all the people to stay in their seats. Ward tied Bakshi to his chair.

“Stay quiet and we won’t have a problem,” Ward warned Bakshi.

“May and Coulson are getting everything set,” Daisy told Ward and Y/N.

“We’re good to go out here. No one’s putting up a fight.”

“That’s because I told them not to,” Y/N explained. Ward looked at her, confused. “I have a variety of abilities. Just don’t plan on crossing me.”

“Yes, but we will,” Bakshi said. “If you think you can force me, Sunil Bakshi, to go on air and slander HYDRA, then you’re delusional. I am the most trusted voice in journalism—“ Daisy quaked him back so that he hit the wall behind him. “Just, uh, put it in the teleprompter, then.” Bakshi was scared.

“We don’t need you to say a damn thing,” Daisy said. “The facts will speak for themselves.”

~~~

Y/N waited by herself for Coulson to finishing filming his speech. She longed to know the truth about what happened to Steve, Bucky, and Tony in this Framework. She was just too afraid. With a sigh, she looked to the side and saw a HYDR computer. Y/N contemplated for a moment before finally giving in and searching.

Steven Grant Rogers

Born: July 4th, 1918

Died: December 6th, 2007

First super soldier created. Helped defeat HYDRA. After his sister, Y/N, crashed a plane in 1945, Rogers married Peggy Carter and helped found SHIELD.

James Buchanan Barnes

Born: March 10th, 1917

First HYDRA super soldier ever created. Alias is The Winter Soldier. Still in regular use. Currently under cryo. 

Anthony Edward Stark

Born: May 29th, 1970

Died: dated unknown, during the fall of SHIELD

Former CEO of Stark Industries. Son of Howard and Maria Stark. Died trying to stop the fall of SHIELD.

After reading everything, Y/N quickly turned off the screen. She wanted it get out of this hell whole faster now. This was not the place she longed to be. She met up with Ward, May, and Daisy, right before Coulson entered the room.

“Well,” he began with a breath, “that’s that.”

“Let’s get out of here,” May stated.

Coulson noticed that Ward’s gun was on the table and he knew that Ward was planning on staying. “The Patriot would’ve been proud of what we did today.” 

Ward and Coulson nodded to each other before Coulson walked out of the room, with Y/N following. May and Daisy were close behind. Ward began the broadcast, playing it on every screen.

~~~

Daisy stood by Y/N’s side as they watched the news from the base. Everyone in the room had their eyes on the screen. Madame Hydra had sent crews to take back control of the broadcast center. Y/N huffed as she watched people getting beat up by HYDRA agents.

“She’s not subtle, that Madama Hydra,” Daisy commented.

“Yeah, just look at her uniform,” an agent said from beside them. “It’s so crazy hot.” They both gave the guy a look. “I-I mean, if you’re into the whole ‘bad girl’ vibe. Not—not me. I’m just… making an observation.”

Just then, Tripp and Simmons walked into the room.

“Tripp,” both Daisy and Y/N gasped.

“It’s so good to see you!” Daisy laughed, pulling the man in for a hug.

“Hey… person I don’t know,” he said, hugging her back.

“Right.” Daisy immediately let go. “Yeah, sorry. I-I heard about your mission. Awesome job.”

“Thanks.” Tripp looked at Y/N, studying her. “I… do I know you.”

“You might have seen pictures,” Y/N responded, thinking back to the conversation she had with the real Tripp. That seemed like so long ago. “Y/N Rogers.” She held her hand out to shake his. “I worked with your Grandfather, Gabe. He was a—“

“Howling Commando.” He shook her hand. “I’m sorry, but shouldn’t you be dead?”

“Long story.” Y/N pulled her hand away.

“Tripp,” Simmons got his attention. “Do you mind if Daisy, Y/N, and I have a quick word?”

“Sure,” he agreed. He looked at Daisy. “You can finishing hugging me later.” He chuckled before walking away.

Simmons grabbed grabbed an arm from each of the other women, pulling them to the side.

“Aida’s building a body for herself in the real world,” Simmons stated quietly. “A human body.”

“She wants free will,” Daisy said.

“Which would allow her to unplug the Framework… killing us all.”

“Okay,” Daisy sighed. “We can still stop her. Radcliffe gave me the coordinates to the Framework’s back door.”

“Will it work?”

“According to him, all we have to do is pass through the exit point, and then our minds will disconnect from the Framework.”

“So we just need to get everyone there.”

“Which own’t be easy,” Y/N said, “with May and Mack having no idea what’s really happening.”

“Well, and Fitz had HYDRA guards around him at all times.” Y/N and Daisy shared a look. “What?”

“Simmons, we can’t reduce Fitz right now,” Daisy said. “There’s no time.”

“We can’t just leave him behind. He’s part of our team.”

“And the current head of HYDRA,” Y/N reminded them.

“The Fitz in this world wants all of us dead,” Daisy added.

“Guys—“

“I know that it’s not his fault, but that is the reality that we are living in. If we don’t get Coulson, May, and Mack out of here, Aida will kill all of them.”

“I can try to get Fitz, if the time is right,” Y/N offered. “But I can’t promise anything.” She shook her head slightly. “What I can promise is that we will find a way to get Fitz out once everyone’s safe. Okay?”

“Okay,” Simmons agreed quietly.

Daisy left quickly, realizing Mack was leaving. Y/N stayed by Simmons. 

“When did you even get here?” Simmons asked.

“When May and Daisy were escaping HYDRA,” Y/N answered. “The Zephyr is almost dead. You guys were taking too long, draining the power. I had to jump in to see if I could help.” 

“Thank you.”

~~~

Y/N found herself mindlessly watching Mack interact with Hope. She didn't even notice that she had been staring too long until Mack met her gaze. She looked away, trying to compose herself.

“Hey,” he greeted, walking up to her.

“Hey,” she replied. “Sorry about staring. I just… you two are a good pair.”

“Yeah.” He smiled softly, looking at Hope. “Have any kids of your own?”

“I… I should have… He… there was a big fight and I lost him before he was even born.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“It’s no problem. Really.” She waved him off. “I’m… it’s still a little fresh.”

“Did you, uh, pick out a name?”

“Anthony James, or AJ for short.”

“That’s nice.”

“It is.” She nodded. She looked at Hope, thinking about how Mack will after to leave her soon. Even though she’s not real. “Just.. Mack, don’t wast any second. Every moment is precious.”

~~~

Y/N met up with Daisy and Tripp in the Director’s office. They were leaning over a map.

“Okay, so, Radcliffe’s coordinates should put it right about here,” Daisy stated, drawing a circle on the map. “DO you think you can fly us there?”

“No problem,” Tripp agreed.

“Great.”

“But what’s with this team of yours? A HYDRA agent, a school teacher, and a dad? Looks pretty bad news hears to me.”

“Trust us, I think they’re up to the task,” Y/N replied.

“Does this have anything to do with that other world Simmons was talking about?”

“She told you?” Daisy questioned.

“What can I say? I’m easy to confide in.”

“Okay. Yeah, you, May, Mack, and Coulson were all apart of our team in the other world.”

“So that’s why you were so happy to see me.” He smirked. “You and I,” he pointed between Daisy and himself, “we must’ve, uh, you know—

“Dated?”

“Sure. We’ll go with that.”

“Uh, no. Sorry.”

“Right. Me and Simmons, we probably—“

“Nope.”

“Agent May?” Daisy shook her head. “Y/N?”

“Sorry, Tripp,” Y/N smiled.

“Damn. And this is really a place you two want to go back to?”

“Easy, playboy. Right now, we have to round up Simmons and the rest of the team.”

“Doubt she’s back yet.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought you two knew. Simmons left base an hour ago.”

“Where was she going?” Daisy asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s go ask Coulson and May,” Y/N suggested. “Maybe she told them.”

The two women rushed down to find May and Coulson walking the hallway.

“Do you know where Simmons went?” Daisy asked them.

“No, sorry,” Coulson responded.

“She went to find Alistair Fitz,” May replied, like it was no problem.

“What?” Daisy questioned. “Why didn’t you come and tell us?”

“Because I don’t answer to you. Not here or any other fantasy word you three might have cooked up.”

“You told her?” Y/N asked Coulson.

“It came up in conversation,” he shrugged.

“How does the existence of an alternate reality come up in a casual conversation?”

“I’d like to think it’s because we were bonding, though I don’t really want to speak for her.”

“You’re really not helping,” Daisy said.

“Don’t worry. Melinda here said she’d keep an open mind.” May sighed.

“We can’t leave without Simmons.”

“She knows how to stay off-radar,” May stated. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

~~~

The small team packed up the quinjet. And now the only person they were waiting for was Simmons.

“Hey,” Daisy went up to Tripp in the pilot’s seat. “We all good?”

“Ready when you are,” he replied.

“Yeah. We just can’t leave without her.”

Y/N was waiting at the end of the ramp. She was the first to notice Simmons.

“Jemma!” She exclaimed rushing towards her friend. “You okay?”

“I was trying to save Fitz,” she answered, clearly shaken up.

Daisy noticed blood on Simmons jacket. “Please tell me that’s not his blood,” Daisy pled.

“No. It’s… It’s from his father. I—I killed him.”

“That’s—that’s okay. Fitz’s dad is just an avatar. You didn’t kill anyone. You just made some ones and zeroes disappear.”

“But Fitz won’t come with us now. We’ve lost him.”

“No, we haven’t,” Y/N said, shaking her head. She rested her hands on her friends shoulders. “We will figure something out. But first, we have to get back to the real world before Aida makes us disappear. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Y/N and Daisy guided Simmons into the quinjet and Tripp took off.

~~~

The quinjet landed on the roof of a steel mill. Everyone armed up and headed out, leaving Tripp with the quinjet. May led the way into the mill.

“Just up ahead,” she stated.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, cautiously surveying the area.

“Nothing about this disgusting world feels right,” Simmons stated. “It’s hell. A digital hell.”

“Radcliffe said the back door was in a public fountain, not some creepy steel mill.”

“If only the exit beacon I brought to this world worked, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Yeah, well, if we’re gonna get out of here,” Y/N said, “this is our last chance.”

“Found the location,” Coulson called to them.

They quickly followed him. He led them to a pool of molten steel.

“This can’t be it,” Daisy said.

“Uh, the coordinates lead right there,” May replied.

“Into a pool of molten steel?” Coulson wondered. “You think Radcliffe gave us bad info?”

“Radcliffe’s a prisoner at HYDRA,” Daisy said. “He’s got no reason to lie.”

“Maybe someone else found it and took it,” May suggested, getting annoyed.

“The back door is part of the Framework’s digital infrastructure. It can’t be moved.”

“But it could be concealed,” Y/N spoke up. “What if Madame HYDRA discovered the back door and built this place as a way to prevent people from passing through?”

“Wait a minute,” Mack interrupted, confused. “What is this back door everyone keeps talking about? I thought we were here to take out Madame Hydra.”

“Let me guess,” May started, “no one told you about the other world.”

“The other world? What?”

“So what does this mean for us?” Coulson asked, ignoring Mack and May.

“It means Aida’s won,” Simmons stated.

“You seriously believe that there’s some magical back door that will transport us to another world?” May wondered.

“It’s not magic, May. It’s science.”

“Then where’s your proof?”

“We just have to trust Radcliffe,” Daisy said. “He said when a person passes through the back door—“

“That they wake up on the other side. This is what you really believe?” May asked Coulson.

“Admittedly, it doesn’t sound great when you say it like that,” Coulson admitted.

“You lied to me,” Mack said to Daisy.

“Mack—“

“No, don’t try to talk your way out of this. You’re a damn liar. My daughter looks up to you, and for what? SO you can bring me out here on some wild goose chase?”

“Daisy was only trying to help,” Simmons excused.

“How?” By taking me away from my kid? What the hell is wrong with you guys?” Mack pointed at Y/N. “And you? You’re willing to let me feel the pain you felt. That’s… that’s cruel.”

“Mack, you don’t understand,” Y/N began. “It’s different. So, diff—“

“No it isn’t.”

“Hey, guys, maybe we should start thinking about a plan b,” Coulson tried to cool everyone down.

“Glad you’ve finally come to your senses,” May said. “We need to get out of here.”

“Actually, I was thinking we might try to find another way through the back door. I still believe Daisy’s right.”

“Wake up!” Mack exclaimed. “There is no back door, just like she’s not Moses about to take you to the promised land."

“That’s it,” Y/N whispered. “Daisy, quake it.”

“What?” Daisy questioned. “What do you—“

“Quake the damn thing, Daisy!”

Daisy held out her hand and quaked the pool of molten steel. It revealing the backdoor beneath it.

“HYDRA!” May shouted, as bullets came at the group. “Take cover!”

The small team took cover. HYDRA started shooting more and Y/N caused them all to drop to the ground, unconscious. Daisy went back up to the platform and quaked the steel again, uncovering the backdoor.

“It’s real,” Coulson said.

“It could be a trap,” May suggested.

“The time for doubting’s over. We’re going back to our world.”

Coulson got up from where he was hiding, heading to the platform across from Y/N, Daisy, and Mack. Unknown to the team, HYDRA agents were below them. Shots were fired, hitting Coulson.

“Coulson!” Y/N screamed, quickly appearing at his side. She had watched him die once, she couldn’t bear to do it again. “We have to get you up.”

May and Mack began firing at the lower agents as Y/N helped hoist Coulson up.

“This feels oddly familiar,” Coulson grunted, blood covering up his chest.

“Sadly, it is,” Y/N replied.

“You were there… I think I remember that…”

“We need to get you patched up,” May said, coming from behind.

“No, it’s too late for that. Help me to the edge. It’s the only way.”

“Daisy!” Y/N shouted. “The door!”

“On it!” She replied, quaking the door open again. May and Y/N helped Coulson to the edge.

“Hey, come with me,” Coulson told May.

“How can you be sure it will work?” She asked.

“I can’t. Guess it’s gonna be a leap-of-faith type of thing.”

“It’s not that simple for me.”

“Yes, it is… Just follow my lead.”

Coulson pushed himself away from Y/N and May, falling back into the door. He disappeared, causing a wave to ripple out through the Framework, showing that it wasn’t real.

“They were right,” Mack whispered. “It’s not real.”

“Go May,” Y/N urged. “He’ll be right there when you wake. And we won’t be far behind… Go.”

Giving Y/N one last look, May took that piece of faith and jumped. Y/N sighed in relief. Two down, just 5 more of them to get through.

“Simmons, you’re up!” Daisy shouted.

As Simmons headed towards the platform, a gun cocked behind her. She looked back to see Fitz pointing a gun at her. Radcliffe was handcuffed behind him.

“Hello, Jemma Simmons,” he greeted. “Seems you finally found me.”

“Fitz—“ She tried to rush towards him.

“You don’t get to say my name! Not after everything you’ve done.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Simmons shook her head. “Aida, she took you from me, and I cam to rescue you.”

“So you kill my father? Right after he tells me that he loves me, you murder him in cold blood as I listen.”

“I am so sorry,” Simmons cried. “I was an accident.”

“Nothing that you’ve done has been an accident! You want to destroy this world! To destroy me! You want to destroy the woman that I love!”

“That woman is lying to you! None of this is real! She’s not real! Aida’s just a robot yo and Radcliffe created.”

Outside the small room Fitz-Simmons was in, Y/N was wondering what was happening. So she slowly walked over, ready to attack.

“Her name is Ophelia,” Fitz defended.

“It’s name is Aida,” Simmons responded. “Artificially Intelligent Digital Assistant. And stop making excuses for it!”

“She’s right, Fitz,” Y/N cut in, bringing the attention to her. “Radcliffe, Simmons, and Daisy have all told you the truth.”

“Y/N?” Radcliffe quietly wondered. “Wow, they really called in the big guns.”

“Please… Fitz,” Simmons pled. “You have to wake up.”

“Get on your knees,” Fitz ordered Simmons. 

“No.” Fitz shot Simmons in the foot causing her to fall to the ground.

“You don’t get to touch her!” Y/N screamed freezing Fitz in place. “You don’t.”

“Let me go,” he growled.

“Fitz, listen to me,” Simmons begged. “I love you.”

“And you mean nothing to me.”

Suddenly there was a gun shot. Y/N turned to see that Radcliffe was out of handcuffs now and had shot the agent with them. He pointed his gun at Fitz and took Fitz’ gun away. Radcliffe looked at Y/N and she let her hold on him go. Radcliffe hit Fitz on the side of the face, pushing him towards the door and the platform.

“This was never my intention,” Radcliffe stated. Y/N quickly went to Simmons, helping her up. “The Darkhold corrupted my mind. Please, don’t blame yourself.”

“Go,” Simmons nodded at Daisy. Daisy quaked open the back door.

“It was all my fault.” Radcliffe pushed Fitz through the back door. Simmons caught Radcliffe before he fell in too. “Bringing Fitz here was the only way I could truly save him. I know I can’t make everything that happened in the Framework right, but at least— at least this way, Fitz gets to be his old self again.”

“Simmons,” Y/N called. “Go.”

Simmons nodded, limping forward and throwing herself through the doorway. That left Mack, Daisy, and Y/N.

“Now it’s your turn,” Daisy told Mack. “You said it yourself, this world is not real. And in the real world, you’re in danger right now.”

“What about Hope? Is she in danger?” He asked.

“No,” Y/N answered, appearing beside Daisy. “Things are different there.”

“Different? How?”

“Hope… she isn’t alive in our world. I’m so, so sorry. I… I don’t exactly know what happened. It’s not something you talk about.”

“No, no. That— on, the doesn’t make any sense. She’s alive here. Why would it be different there?”

“Aida,” Daisy answered. “She made changers in this world to keep us from fighting back. So fixed your biggest regret.”

“Then I’m staying.”

“Mack—“

“I don’t want to live in a world without Hope.”

“But it’s not real,” Y/N argued. “You saw it with your own eyes it’s a computer program. All of it. Even hope.”

“She laughs at my jokes. We watch movies together. And when she’s sad… when she’s sad, I hold her. So, she’s real to me.” Mack looked back in the eyes. “If you had the chance to be with AJ, would you stay?”

“I know the truth, Mack… And I know that AJ is safe where he is. Loved and protected. Here…. Here’s not that. Here’s not real.”

“I have to stay.”

“I understand,” Daisy replied. “And I know how hard this is, but you have people who really care about you,” she began crying, “who love you very much.”

“Tell them I’m sorry.”

“Mack, please… I don’t want to lose you.”

“Good luck. Both of you.”

With a deep inhale, the two women looked at each other, both shedding tears. They turned away from Mack. Not wanting to force him into anything. Daisy grabbed Y/N’s hand, quaking the door open as they jumped together.

next chapter >

I know I said that Agents of Shield would end with this chapter, but that ended up not being the case. We will see our Agents of Shield team for the last time in chapter 125 and Infinity War will start in chapter 126.

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[binunus]

college bf!rocky

a/n next is our rock and aegyo king sorry sanha park minhyuk !! also I was going to post this yesterday :( but me and my roommates got a little too lit for valentine’s and I literally sat for 7 hours straight in zoom so I couldn’t finish it until now but !! I hope you loves enjoy!!

→ genre: fluff, smut

→ word count: 4.9k

_________________________________

alright aright alrightttt

we’re gonna switch it up a little bit

add a little flavor

because as much as I would love to say that college bf!astro all got their partners in a cute and smooth sailing way

we all know relationships aren’t that easy

but before we get into how you and rocky met

major: dance

are we surprised? no

rocky is a prodigy in dance

he’s been dancing since he could walk

he started choreographing at age 6

it just made sense for him, like even his parents were like go pursue dance, you’re not a law or business type of kid

he can master any type of dance from jazz, to ballet, to street, to contemporary, to tango, whatever you can think of

he’s roommates with music tech!jinjin

jin literally takes care of him all the time bc rocky??? when he comes back to the apt after dance practice?? dead weight

only passes his gen ed classes bc eunwoo tutors him

if it weren’t for the boys, rocky would literally live in the dance studio

they make sure to drag him out for fun and food at least once a week

or they join and keep him company while he’s practicing

have they gotten noise complaints before while messing around in the dance studio? yes

rocky is loud alright, especially when he’s with astro

he’s a perfectionist, literally will not leave the studio until he’s 100% satisfied with his progress

oh the amount of times myungjun and jin nag at him to take care of his health

now now

you’re also a dance major

people could say that you and rocky are the top two dancers of your year

gasp a rivals to lovers au??? you betcha baby

granted you switched into a dancer major your second year so rocky technically had seniority

but boom baby as soon as you made your appearance, it rocked his world

now im not saying rocky’s cocky bc obviously he’s a cute hardworking humble boy

but was he used to always being placed first in evaluations or getting the highest marks??? yeah

so the first time you placed first and he placed second??? it lit a bit of a fire in him

he’s seen a ton of good dancers in his time, but no one has ever matched his capabilities better than you

there was an unspoken rivalry between you two, everyone knew about it 

you both always wanted to upstage the other

there was always a tension whenever you two were in the same room

but like...have either of you ever really talked to each other besides side remarks in class?

no

and it didn’t really help that the whole dance department basically pit you up against each other to see who was really the best dancer of your year

so you and rocky never had the proper introduction to a friendship, it just went straight to rivalry 

and then came the announcements for the end of the year showcase

and instead of putting on a solo, the department chairs decided to have you and rocky perform a duet

and you’ve never worked with him before so you were dreading the first time you met up

you to your roommate: ugh i can’t believe im partnered up with rocky, that arrogant rude–

your roommate: have you ever even talked to him, y/n? he’s actually very nice

you: no...but that’s what he wants you to believe!

your ego sorta just went along with the whole thing

and rocky was 15 min late to your meeting bc he was out eating food with the guys so your patience?? very thin

literally as soon as he stepped into the dance studio, the air turned stuffy

rocky could feel you glaring at him and he just smirks?? 

rocky: did I make you wait long y/n?

you: yeah you did

he liked pushing your buttons?? idk he just felt satisfaction knowing that any small of action of his affected you that much

it made him feel like he was winning or whatever

and god it took literally forever for you two to decide on a song and genre of performance for the showcase

you wanted contemporary, he wanted ballet

you were literally disagreeing so much on it that you had to ask Siri to flip a coin

and then you fought and said that Siri was rigged when it chose tails (contemporary)

so you decided on a happy? mix of both

rocky at the end of your first meeting: i get that we’re not exactly friends, y/n, but we have to work together so let’s at least be professional

you: i can if you can

rocky: fine

you two literally bicker like five year olds on a playground

even the guys are like ???? why are you being so childish ???

you have 2 months of preparation until the showcase and you start meeting once a week for choreography and practice since given the assignment

you two are pretty civil for the most part, you make the contemporary parts and he makes the ballet parts and then you combine it when you meet up and see how it can incorporate and complement each other

there’s not much joking around ?? like you know how rocky’s a clown when he’s teaching astro choreography?? it’s not like that at all

and honestly you two are too caught up in your rivalry and tension to notice that your styles really match and highlight each other well??

there’s definitely a lot of “i could do this better than you” from both sides

i repeat: you are children

and then there’s this one practice where you and rocky are trying a pas de deux for the first time

(i literally looked this term up, it’s basically what jungkook and jimin from bts did during the 2020 mma black swan intro...if you haven’t seen it, watch it bc it is perfection mmm chefs kiss)

and you don’t know if it’s because you didn’t have enough momentum or rocky didn’t prep himself enough for the lift but he ends up dropping you and you both fall

and you both immediately start blaming each other for the mishap

until you lift your hand to point at him and it just hurts

it’s like a switch goes off, rocky’s immediately concerned and he’s like gently taking your hand like: holy shit are you okay??

you shake your head and you’re wincing whenever you try to move it

you: ow fuck rocky, I think it’s sprained

and he suddenly feels so guilty, like he goes silent

you: can we stop for today? I’m gonna go get this checked out, make sure it’s not broken

rocky: do you want me to go with you?

you: no. I’ll see you next week.

boy he feels so bad, he texts you throughout the course of the following week asking if you’re okay, asking your roommate if you’re okay, telling you he’s sorry that he dropped you

you didn’t respond much, not bc you felt weird texting him–well, you did a little bit shhh–but bc you were beating yourself up for getting injured a month before the showcase

you show up to practice the next week with your wrist in a compression bandage

and he doesn’t greet you with a quip like he usually does, he immediately grabs your wrist (gently) and he’s like inspecting the bandage

you: uh...the doctor said I should be careful with it for a week or two if i want it to heal faster. so don’t bitch at me if i’m not going all out

rocky: y/n...i’m so sorry...I didn’t mean to injure you, it was my fault that we didn’t execute the pas de deux

you just shrug: it was both our faults...if I didn’t fall on my wrist maybe we could have avoided this little obstacle

rocky: if I caught you correctly, you wouldn’t have even fallen

you: are we really arguing right now about this??

and then the two of you just laugh??? 

this is the first real pleasant interaction you’ve had with him

and you notice like wow rocky had a nice smile

you: i should be back to normal before the showcase so we should be fine

rocky: don’t push it though while we’re practicing alright? if your wrist starts hurting then stop, and don’t even think about doing any floor choreo

the atmosphere between you and rocky change after that

he becomes pretty concerned about your recovery–and maybe it’s bc he still blames himself for the cause of it

each night before your set practice days, he always shoots you a text asking how you’re feeling and how your wrist is doing

he brings ice packs, painkillers, and extra bandages during your practices just in case you need it

and you’re actually pretty touched by his concern

about two weeks before the showcase, your wrist is back to full movement and you’re like excited to actually practice to your best ability

from now on you see each other twice a week, just to get that detail and fine-tuning perfected

rocky’s still a bit hesitant to have you go full out but you reassure him that you’re fine

you both try the pas de deux again the day you take your bandage off 

and you can see that he’s nervous to try it

you: rocky, i’m fully healed now. we haven’t practiced this move since the first time and we need it in our routine

rocky: but...y/n, what if I drop you again??

you: you won’t...i trust you 

and you really did, that move requires a lot of trust between partners and you know? maybe it didn’t work out the first time because of the lack of trust between you two

and so you go through the full routine and rocky was holding his breath when that part of the choreography came up but you both successfully did it!! and it was a beautiful move

he was so excited at the end of the run through that he hugged you

and you were smiling too bc this was the first time you did a full run through without any stops in between

you both don’t even notice that all the hostility is gone??

and the tension suddenly changed from hatred to...dare I say it...sexual

oo baby the day of the showcase you two were hella nervous 

but c’mon you and rocky were the best of the best so ofc you absolutely killed the performance

your energies literally merged as soon as the music started

every move was flawless

and you both had to face each other during your ending pose and you were just like looking at him like ??? wtf ??? did you maybe wanna kiss him??

and you know the look that rocky has in his eyes when he’s dancing

imagine that literally piercing into your soul

you got the shivers waiting for the lights to dim 

you both received a standing ovation after your duet obviously

astro watching it bc they always support rocky: they’re gonna fuck 100%

fast forward to the next term bc you both didn’t really have a reason to contact each other during summer break now that the showcase was done

you and rocky had two classes together, dance research and advanced modern technique

it was then that you started to see his actual personality and how goofy of a person he was

you still had a rivalry of course, but now it was healthy

instead of trying to bring each other down, you both started motivating each other to do better

and yes you’ve always been impressed with how good of a dancer rocky was (and vice versa), but now whenever you saw him practice you start to feel a little bit of stir in your stomach and shit are you blushing??

and then you two get paired up again for your midterm evaluation

your teacher: i saw the chemistry you had for the showcase last term, i think you two would work well together for this project

and god is your teacher trying to murder you??? the theme of this midterm was “couple dance” to encourage collaboration or whatever

you were just thankful that the song choice she gave you was more upbeat and not sensual bc you know for a fact that you would not survive doing a sexy dance routine with rocky

but that didn’t stop the way your skin felt like it was on fire whenever he touched you for partner-dependent moves

this time around, you did the choreography process together and it was actually pretty fun??

you and him would bounce back ideas and joke around whenever something looked stupid

you and rocky did this by the way for reference

and then there was one late night when you two were practicing

it was around 2 am, no one else was in the music building and you both didn’t have class the next day so you two were just like fuck it let’s just practice until campus security kicks us out or whatever

you both were literally dancing for four hours, not just this new routine but old ones and freestyles as well

and then you were doing your new routine and during the part where he had to twirl and dip you, you both fall again

but no one got injured this time luckily

and you both just burst out laughing, maybe you were a little delirious at this point in the night

you: i can’t believe you dropped me again

rocky’s laughing and you both just look at each other, and he’s hovering above you right???

and your heart is beating so loudly in your chest you’re positive he can hear it

and you’re thankful that your face was already hot from dancing so that he couldn’t tell that you were in fact blushing

rocky’s like looking at you for a good minute or so and he’s just like thinking in his head: have you always been this cute?

and maybe it’s bc you guys have been getting along so well lately and the vibes are??? immaculate

but the atmosphere suddenly gets super thick and he !! just !! leans down !! and !! kisses !! you !!

and phew baby you bet that you immediately respond to it

you’re literally making out on the floor for like five minutes

and mind you, five minutes is a long time

until rocky’s phone rings loudly through the speaker and you both suddenly separate

he scurries to his phone and you sit up trying to compose yourself 

jinjin: park minhyuk where are you?! it’s 3 am!!

you literally hear jinjin scolding rocky through the phone and you laugh a little bc it’s so cute how he’s getting nagged right now

rocky: hyung...im practicing...

jinjin: do i need to drag you out of there?! i’ll literally call bin to carry your ass to our apartment! how long have you been practicing huh?? have you eaten dinner at all??

rocky: okay okay I’ll come back home

he turns to you after ending the call and he’s so !! shy !!

rocky: I guess that’s the end of our practice haha...do you want me to walk you back to your place?? it’s pretty late out

you: yeah that’d be nice...hm you sure your hyung’s not gonna call a search party for you??

you’re teasing him and he just pouts

rocky: i’ll be fine

rocky walks you back to your apartment and it’s a little?? awkward?? 

but before you bid him goodbye he’s like: uh...the kiss earlier...sorry if I surprised you

your cheeks are hot again: it’s um...it’s okay, I didn’t mind it...it was actually pretty nice...I guess...

and rocky’s heart skips a beat and now he’s blushing: yeah...it was...i’ll see you in class then??

you: yeah, i’ll see you. text me when you get home okay?

he nods and waits until you’re safely inside and then he just starts grumbling to himself

rocky: i’ll see you in class?? could i say anything more stupid??? 

rocky’s adorable okay

him texting you when he gets back: im home :)

you: that’s good! good night rocky :)

he goes to the guys the day after like: i have a predicament !! me and y/n kissed !! 

jinjin: that’s why you were late last night??

eunwoo: you dirty dog, doing it in the dance studio??

rocky: we didn’t do anything else hyung !!

bin: so did you ask them out??

rocky: no...i said...i’ll see you in class

myungjun: i’ll see you in class?!?! are you an idiot??

sanha: hyung even I’d ask y/n out after that

rocky: i know !! im dumb okay!! help me

sanha: you’re a lost case sorry

jinjin: why don’t you start with, hey y/n do you wanna get some food with me??

rocky: AHHHH

yes he does want to ask you out, yes he does want to kiss you again more than he’d like to admit, but he’s shy

you’re not faring any better, you and roommate were literally talking about it all weekend

the next time you see rocky (in class), you two are awkward as fuck

you both keep stealing glances at each other and then if one of you get caught, you both immediately look away

those 50 minutes of class could not go by any slower

and you were so ready to book it after the professor dismissed you but then you hear rocky call your name

rocky: hey y/n, are you free right now?

you: uh yeah! why what’s up

rocky: do you...um...wanna get some coffee with me?? or food or something??

you: do you mean like just to hang out or...uh like a date?

rocky: a date...if you want it to be

and cue the blushies again

you and rocky end up going to this cute cafe and get smoothies bc neither of you were feeling caffeine at the moment

and the whole time you two are just ??? so cute and shy and awkward with each other ???

which is such a contrast from how you two would dance together

rocky’s so sweet, really the cutest boy

gives you so many butterflies

the two of you end up going on little cafe dates before practice 

and you’re all cute and wholesome

and then he turns all passionate and dominant when you start dancing

like wow alright rocky giving you whiplash or whatever

when you show the routine for your midterm, the teacher and other students give you both high praises 

and he’s all giddy after class and he goes up to you: i think its safe to say that we have really good chemistry when we work together, don’t you think?

you’re smiling hehe but you wanna mess with him a little: hmm i think we’re alright, but who knows, i might mesh well with someone else

and then he’s all frowny, a little jealous: what do you mean someone else? do you make out with someone who just has alright chemistry with you??

your eyes go wide and you put your hand over his mouth: im kidding!!

rocky just smirks at your embarrassed reaction and he like tickles your sides

and then he just grabs your hand like: don’t find another dance partner y/n, just be mine

how could you say no to that??? especially when rocky’s just looking all handsome and charming and shit??? exactly. you can’t and why would you ever say no in the first place??

you and rocky dating?? biiiig news in the dance department

and even outside of it

bc lowkey rocky had a bit of a fanclub bc of how good he is at dancing, are we shocked? no

the boys are so happy for him !!

you meet his friends literally the day the two of you start dating

and you’re a bit nervous meeting them bc ofc you want them to like you, they’re his friends

but they’re so sweet...and headass

when rocky brings you to their dinner, the five of them literally start applauding at your entrance

you were so confused and rocky’s just out here with second hand embarrassment

he’s the cutest boyfriend

shy with pda in public (unless you’re dancing), most he’ll do is hold your hand

but in private he’s very clingy

loves backhugging you

he also tickles you when he wants to be a little shit

which is 50% of the time

very playful bf, will tease you at least once every day

if you two are just practicing dancing, he’ll make any sort of excuse to hold you or kiss you

asddfadsjf he’s so cute

gets very soft at night especially when you two are worn out from practice

just wants to go back to your (or his) apartment and cuddle and sleep

imagine just you two cuddling in bed after hours of dancing and he’s just spooning you and he mumbles tiredly into your shoulder: you’re amazing y/n...you’re one of the best dancers i’ve ever seen

and before, his pride would have never allowed him to say that, but now it can

not really one for pet names in my opinion, but he does call you “my y/n”

after you two start dating, you begin to call him by his real name, minhyuk

or you say hyukie

he lowkey loves it when you call him that, it’s so endearing

the guys teasing him, cooing at rocky all gross like : heyyy hyukkie

then rocky just like crosses his arms: only y/n can call me hyukie

he didn’t realize he loves couple dances so much until you and him are dating

well he only loves it because you’re his partner ofc

alright hear me out !! slow dancing with rocky

slow !! dancing !! with !! rocky !!

he dims the lights in the dance studio until it’s just a single spotlight and some slow romantic music comes on and he just grabs you by the hand and twirls you once before pulling you close and you’re just swaying side to side

and then he presses your foreheads together and he’s just looking into your eyes and gives you the softest smile

!!! im freaking out!! i want this so bad !!

that’s how the first i love you comes out

surprise, you say it first

okay but like in the moment, the atmosphere is literally so perfect, and you can just see how much he treasures you and you always feel butterflies whenever he does this, but there was just something that night that made you say it

like your chest was constricting so hard and you were thinking to yourself, i love this man

and so you just said it

and omg the smile on rocky’s face just widens and he kisses you so sweetly before he says it back

loves kissing you, your lips are like a drug to him

can literally make out with you for hours

has pushed you against the walls of the practice room just for a little make out session

ahhh here we go ladies and gents

sex !! with !! rocky !!

first and foremost, dance studio sex??? yes

especially if it’s just you two late night practicing like the first time you kissed?

mirror kink? maybe so

and bc y’all are ~flexible~, you bet he likes bending your back like a pretzel

he’s a very passionate lover, your pleasure is his #1 priority

loves foreplay just as much as the main event

but oof his hips?? grrrrr bark bark ram me over with a truck

his stroke game is so good

literally knows how to fuck you in all the right places

and his stamina??? god tier, can go at it for hours on end

into edging and overstimulation, oof you bet you’re cumming at least twice during every session

i cannot stress this enough!! thigh riding

you know he has thighs of steel

will make you cum just from riding his thigh

most of the time you guys start off slow and sweet, and then just boom it turns it hard sex

will definitely get turned on from doing a sexy dance routine

the amount of times he’s wanted to just fuck you in the middle of class bc you turned him on?? but ofc he has public decency he won’t do that

he knows you get turned on from his fingers oops

anal or vaginal fingering?? he’s all for it baby

he’s loud during sex, all the grunting, huffing, growling, oo im getting chills

not afraid to tell you how good you’re making him feel

not really into spanking, but he grips a lot, like his fingernails have definitely left some deep imprints in your hips or your ass

hair pulling?? yes, both sides receiving

okay but if you call him rocky during sex? big turn on

i can’t explain why, it just is

favorite position?? cowgirl

he loves when you’re on top of him

yes he likes seeing you try to fuck yourself on him

and then when he can’t take it anymore and just grabs your hips and thrusts up into you until your body literally collapses on him

he always tries to make you cum first but oops sometimes baby just busts a nut

yes you will probably tease him about it and then he’ll just shut you up by kissing you 

on another note, no way to turn rocky on faster than sucking on his bottom lip when you’re kissing

will cuddle you after cumming, like he doesn’t care if either of you are sweaty or messy, he’s hugging you for at least five minutes

honestly becomes a baby after sex so it’s more like you’re giving him after care sksksk

the switch he makes from being a sex fiend to a clingy cuddly boy? whiplash

like you need to go to the bathroom to pee or something and he’s like: but...i wanna hug u

i would risk it all for rocky yes

anyway after graduating, rocky becomes a choreographer for this really famous dance studio and get recruited to join a highly-competitive dance troupe

you both do long distance for a little bit bc obviously he’s back home but you have to travel with your group for competitions, sometimes even internationally

and so that caused some strain in your relationship bc distance sucks, but you would always make sure to call him every night before going to bed and despite any time zone difference, he would always answer

your biggest supporter !! literally flew out to surprise you during a big dance competition in london or whatever and you cried happy tears bc was he really there right now??

that’s when you knew that he was the one :’)

you spent the night w him in his hotel room and after a good couple rounds of reunion sex, you were like trying to test the waters a little bit: i missed you hyukie

rocky: i missed you too, but now that you’re here with me, nothing else matters

you: what do you really think about this long distance thing??

rocky: it sucks...but i know it made us stronger. i feel like we can get through anything now

you: yeah, i agree

rocky getting paranoid: omg why? are you thinking of living abroad?? y/n, do i need to start looking at dance studios out here??

you have to hold in your laughter bc he’s so cute: why? would you move out of the county for me if i wanted to??

rocky: i mean...if you’re thinking of leaving for good...then yeah.

he gets so shy and quiet and you’re just !! wow you love him !! he’s yours !!

you kiss him shortly and you smile: no, i’m not gonna live abroad. I miss being home and I miss seeing you all the time. I told you before, I’m thinking of leaving the troupe in two months and then gonna find a job back home for good.

he lets out a sigh of relief: you scared me a little

you just laugh: I only wanted to confirm something and hmm I was right

rocky: what did you wanna confirm??

you being a confident baddie: that I wanna be with you for the rest of my life

rocky feeling his heart implode: you mean it??

you scoffing: why would I be lying about this?

he just laughs and kisses you: I wanna be with you too...I’ve been thinking it since the last time you visited. How much I love you and how much I hated seeing you leave for who knows how long, but I didn’t wanna say anything bc you’re still living your life and I didn’t want a promise like this to influence you to come back if you didn’t want to yet.

two months later you’re back for good and move in with rocky

you end up becoming a choreographer at his dance studio too

you and rocky: the couple™

and you live happily ever after

somewhere down the line...

sanha: hey remember when you two hated each other?

eunwoo: remember when you injured y/n??

bin: remember when you freaked out to us about your first kiss together

myungjun: and you said i’LL sEe yOu iN cLaSs

jinjin: those were fun times, right hyukie?

rocky: i hate you all

__________________________________________________

2-16-21

[fandom-blackhole]

mmm had an. angsty thought. I know the mandos being big and strong is really hot but it's also scary. Imagine how bad they'd feel after they accidentally scared you, maybe you saw them fighting someone or smthn idk and it's like. oh yeah these men could 100% kill me very badly. I know they'd never but wow they certainly could. just a thought for ya :)

Its been awhile since I have dived into some good angst....

Din's ability to protect your small family had always been something you had been in awe of. You had watched him walk onto the Crest bloodied and sometimes slightly injured. That being said, you had never actually seen him in action, until now. Din had been gone for almost two complete days when you had heard blaster fire as you stood beside a napping Grogu in his cradle. You panicked and reached for the hidden blaster Din had shown you before racing up the latter to the cockpit where you could look out the window only to stop dead in your tracks finding Din standing in front of the ship locked in combat with another person. You watched as Din very quickly and efficiently took down his advisary with a vibroblade to the throat. It took the breath away from you and scared you with how coldly Din had done the deed. You'd known for as long as you knew Din that he killed, and knew how to efficiently but seeing him do it was just a whole other story. You felt a chill to your bones and found yourself collapsed in the spare seat in the cockpit. You had no idea how much time had passed, but the next thing you knew Din was kneeling in front of you reaching out to cup your cheek as he whispered your name and you couldn't help but flinch back from his touch. You could almost feel the shock and panic roll off him in waves, and you could only apologize while avoiding looking at him.

You had always heard rumors about the great, fearless, and dangerous Boba Fett. You always imagined him to be cold hearted and nothing but a killer. And you lamented that fact to a man that came into your small cantina every couple of months. He was nice enough, but you could tell that he had seen plenty in his life, you could see it in his eyes and his scars that covered his entire body that he held himself back in every way. You could see it when you asked for his name, and he chuckled and didn't answer. You saw it when he had walked into you cantina to find you crying over destroyed chairs and tables after mercenaries had come in and wrecked the place for fun. You had felt it the first time he had taken you to bed after he had been loathed to leave at closing time. It hadn't been until long after you had fallen for the scarred man that you saw him completely show his true colors and you realized his true identity. Bib Fortuna had left you and your cantina alone up intimate this point, when he had sent a group of bounty hunters to rough you up into paying for "protection". The only problem was, when they reached your cantina a man they all thought to be long dead was sitting and having a spotchka as you talked with him. Boba had instantly recognized what was going on and had told you to hide behind the counter as he took care of the problem. The men had not even gotten the chance to say a single word before before he had told them to leave, and when they refused Boba had pulled his blaster and shot one of the three men and again told them to leave, only the remaining two decided to go toe to toe with the notorious Boba Fett. Boba was quick to dispose of one of the other hunters, and when you peeked up above the counter to see Boba swing his staff straight towards the remaining hunter's chest injuring them to the point of not being able to fight anymore before telling them, "Run back to Fortuna now, and make sure and tell him that Boba Fett is back." Once he was sure that the hunter is long gone, he turned to find you peeking above the counter frozen in fear, and with a sigh he slowly walked to where you were and whispered, "Little one, I told you to stay hidden."

Paz was a warrior through and through. You could tell that by his sure size and the amounts of weapons he carried and was surely an expert in. You had originally been terrified of the looming mandalorian when he had originally walked into your shop and quietly stomped about gathering different supplies, buying out completely some of your stock. But it had been when he had cleared you stock of candy that you knew that the man in front of you was not as scary as the way he portrayed himself. He had come back multiple times but not often and with several months inbetween. Though you did not see him often, you did fall for him quickly, and when you gained his trust he began opening up to you to the point that you realized this man was nothing but a giant teddy bear that loved and cared for children. Then one day multiple stormtroopers stormed you small store and announced that you were under arrest for associating yourself with a mandalorian. They had just put the handcuffs around your wrists when Paz had burst through the door guns ablazing and yelling for you to duck and go for cover. You did exactly as he told you and you closed your eyes tight and trembled as you heard the carnage happen around you. Then you were jersey into standing and you felt a blaster being pressed underneath your chin. When you opened your eyes, they swam with tears and you were met with the sight of Paz pointing his own blaster at you- no the stormtroopers holding you. Your ears were ringing and you were sure that Paz and your captor were talking but you couldn't process anything besides how scared you were. Then in a flash, a literal flash of a blaster, you were being thrown forwarded into Paz’s arms as the trooped fell dead behind you and you could help but scream and jolt back the second Paz touched you.

[221bsunsettowers]

Buck/Eddie: Now I’m Pacing Back and Forth, Wishing You Were at My Door (Fake Dating/Undercover AU)

Fandom: 9-1-1

Pairing: Buck/Eddie 

Summary: 

Fake Dating/Undercover AU requested by anonymous

No matter what he does, no message from Buck appears.

And Eddie understands he's spent less than a few hours with this man, that people wouldn't understand why there's this twisting aching tug inside his gut at the knowledge that Buck could be hurt, could even be dead, right now. That he might never get to have another moment with this beautiful, kind hearted, funny, complex man who kisses like he's got Eddie's heart in his hands and reads to Christopher like there's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.

For Tropetember 2021, can be read on Ao3 here

CW:  a few uses of the f word, a very brief mention of sex trafficking with absolutely no details (one line in the newspaper Eddie reads)

"Look, I'm really sorry, but please go along with this, and you can absolutely tell me off later."

In that split second, Eddie realizes that the gorgeous guy at the bar, the one he hasn't been able to tear his gaze away from since he walked in two minutes ago, has seemingly magically appeared in front of him.

And he's kissing him.

Really kissing him. And he's really fucking good at it.

"Hey, babe," the guy says with a smile, pulling back just enough to run his hands through Eddie's hair (and isn't Eddie thrilled he was too tired from work to style his hair, making it so much easier for whoever the hell this is to really get his long surprisingly gentle fingers right up in there).

"Hey," Eddie manages to breathe out, pretty sure he's stuck in a state of total shock and awe here, and the mystery man chuckles, and Eddie's pretty sure that he spots a blush spreading right up to a birthmark that's just the perfect size to press his lips against-

Eddie makes a tight fist, hoping against hope that the sharp jolt of his fingernails digging right into his palm will snap him back to himself, and out of whatever world he's fallen into where all he can think about is dotting tender kisses across a stranger's beautiful face.

Mystery man backs up, looks sad suddenly, and that definitely doesn't help Eddie's desires to just kiss it and make it all better. "It would be great if you wouldn't hit me," the guy says softly, hands loose and open, "though I would get it if you did." And no, Eddie thinks, no absolutely not, he would never. He's always known that's not a good path to ever let himself go down, using his fists to solve something, but he can't ever imagine mixing violence with the man in front of him.

"I wouldn't," Eddie assures him, "never. I promise." The man looks relieved, then a smile spreads across his face, and he reaches a hand out, gently opens Eddie's closed fist and soothes the stinging nail marks with soft strokes from the tips of his fingers. Eddie feels callouses, and a small scar, but before he can process that information further, the man's other hand is latching onto Eddie's belt loop and tugging him in close again.

"There's two guys, both tall, one has black hair, one brown,"  the guy murmurs into Eddie's neck, his arms tight around Eddie's back, and Eddie can't help but lean into the touch, letting his own arms drape around this mystery man's waist. He can't honestly remember the last time someone held him quite like this, so even if it's a (gorgeous) stranger (with a tender touch) Eddie's going to let himself have this. "Brown haired guy has a big jagged scar running up his cheek, black hair's wearing a leather jacket with a red lightening bolt on both sleeves. Where are they in the bar?"

Turning his head slightly, Eddie spots the two men who fit the descriptions, over in the back by the pool table. He tells the mystery man as much, and feels a whoosh of relieved air against his neck before the man is pulling back again. "Pretty sure you just saved my life there," the man says, and behind his cocky grin Eddie swears he can see his lower lip trembling. "Thank you."

And with that, just as quickly as he appears, the man is gone. Eddie throws down a twenty and runs to the door, but there's no one there.

Eddie doesn't tell anyone about what happened. Definitely not his son, Christopher, when he gets home from spending time with his Abuela. And not any of his co workers at the store, definitely not. He can already hear Chimney saying he's been spending too much time in their thriller section (only Hen knows it's actually romance books Eddie sneaks behind the counter, and she promised not to tell anyone). And he especially doesn't want to admit just how much he's been thinking about his mystery man since that night.

So when said mystery man comes flying through the door of Eddie's bookstore and small cafe right before closing on Monday, Eddie is the only one who is both surprised and also secretly thrilled.

"Oh, no way!" the man calls out excitedly, grinning despite the blood dripping from the large slash on his left palm. "It's you!" (Okay, so the blood does definitely put a damper on things, Eddie thinks, though apparently not for the mystery man, who seems completely unfazed.)

Hurrying behind the counter in the cafe, Eddie grabs a towel and their first aid kit, guiding the man to the nearest overstuffed armchair.

"You going to introduce us, Eddie?" Hen asks, and Eddie knows he's in for it when he sees the gleeful looks she and Chimney are giving each other.

"I'm Evan, but everyone calls me Buck," the man says with a smile and a wave, Eddie tugging his injured hand back down with an exasperated huff of air. He's barely had a chance to even start cleaning out the wound when two more men burst in through the front door.

Eddie immediately recognizes them as the two men from the bar, jagged scar and red lightening bolt. Their body language screams "extras from a mob movie" at Eddie, and he moves in front of Buck before he even has time to think things through. "What the hell are you doing here?" Lightening Bolt growls in Buck's direction, and again, Eddie's only excuse is that the mystery man now known as Buck has overridden his common sense, because Eddie crosses his arms across his chest, and-

"He's visiting me, who the fuck are you?" Eddie spits back. Hen and Chimney are wide eyed, and Eddie can feel Buck tensing up at his back, ready to spring up at a moment's notice.

"We're pals of his, now who the fuck are you?" Lightening Bolt (apparently the better spoken of the two) growls, again, and Eddie is really getting fed up with this guy. Eddie takes a second, scrolls back through his memories in the bar (he barely has to, considering how many times he's replayed that kiss in his head), adds in some wishful thinking, and decides to go for broke here.

"I'm his boyfriend," Eddie asserts, and he can only hope that the three people behind him don't give the game away. Eddie takes a step forward, hoping to keep the attention on him and not whatever facial expressions he can only imagine Hen and Chim are unable to stifle (and he's afraid to know what look is on Buck's face). "This is my store, and I don't like your attitudes right now. I don't like anyone bothering my boyfriend."

"Didn't know Sam had a boyfriend," Jagged Scar says, and Eddie can see why he's kept quiet, his growl is far less impressive. Sam is certainly not the name Buck just gave him, but Eddie's already this far in, he might as well just keep going.

"Well he does, and I'd really like to spend some time with him, so you can show yourselves out," Eddie says calmly, and feels Buck put his (non-injured) hand on Eddie's waist, leaning into his side.

"Thanks, babe," Buck murmurs, nuzzling his face into Eddie's neck, laying a soft kiss behind Eddie's ear, and Eddie desperately wars against every single strand of his genetic code and emotional state to keep his face from turning beet red.

Jagged Scar looks at Lightening Bolt to find out their next move, clearly waiting for his cue. Lightening Bolt stares at Buck and Eddie for another minute, almost daring them to break and spill the beans, but when they simply stare back, Lightening Bolt heads for the door, Jagged Scar right on his heels.

"Make sure you tell your boyfriend you're busy tomorrow, Sam," Lightening Bolt calls back over his shoulder, before slamming the door closed. The second they are out of sight, Eddie feels the breath whoosh out of him, sitting down hard in the nearest chair and burying his face in his hands.

"Man, you were amazing!" Buck exclaims, grabbing Eddie by the shoulders and shaking him. "You are badass under pressure."

"Hen, Chim, you guys can leave early today," Eddie calls out from behind his hands, his tone leaving no room for argument. Chim utters a protest anyway, clearly wanting more details, but Eddie can only assume Hen has dragged him out because he can hear the door close and then silence.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks softly, his voice far more hesitant than Eddie has heard it.

"Have I gotten myself into something dangerous?" Eddie asks quietly, voice less muffled as he pulls his hands away from his face, but still stares down at the ground. He doesn't trust himself to meet Buck's eyes and thus completely override his preservation skills.

"These guys are simple," Buck promises, the sincerity in his voice drawing Eddie's gaze up again, despite his best efforts. "They wouldn't use anyone to get to me. They'd just get me."

"Okay," Eddie nods, then shakes his head vehemently. "No, wait, not okay. Are you in danger?"

"Can I sit?" Buck asks tentatively, and Eddie nods again, standing up and drawing a chair over. As soon as Buck sits down, Eddie takes hold of his injured hand again, opening a clean wipe and gently returning to cleaning out the wound.

"I can't really tell you anything, I'm really sorry." Buck's voice is so full of regret and loneliness it takes everything Eddie has in him not to leap across the table and take Buck into his arms. "What I can say is I promise you I'm not a criminal, I would never put you in any danger, and I'm doing the best I can to stay safe. It would have been a lot easier if I could have avoided those guys before they saw me, like you helped me do in the bar, but someone must have told them where to find me."

"I believe you," Eddie says simply, and the smile that springs up across Buck's face almost blinds Eddie, and he can't help smiling back. "Now is your name Buck or Sam? I have to know what to call my fake boyfriend."

"My first name's actually Evan," Buck answers almost sheepishly with a small shrug of his shoulders.. "But my last name is Buckley, so all my friends call me Buck. Sam, it's a...a temporary name." Trailing off, Buck peers down at the floor, like he's taking notes on the soft blue carpeting.

"Buck it is then," Eddie agrees with a soft smile, and Buck looks up again, the smile back on his face as well, and Eddie's heart can't take the fact that he's the one who made Buck feel happy again. So instead he focuses on carefully bandaging Buck's hand

"I heard your friends call you Eddie?" Buck asks shyly, looking up at Eddie through his long lashes, and yep, that's definitely doing it for Eddie too.

"They did," Eddie replies, lip between his bottom teeth as he examines his work before relunctantly releasing Buck's hand. Glancing back up, he meets Buck's gaze and smiles, nodding his head once. "And you can too."

"We're friends, huh?" Buck asks, and Eddie's pretty confident that is literal sunshine streaming out of Buck's smile.

"I won't be a fake boyfriend for just anyone, you know," Eddie banters back, cheeks tinging red in the warmth of Buck's soft grin.

"I hope not." Buck reaches his uninjured hand out and wraps his fingers lightly around Eddie's wrist. Eddie knows Buck must be able to feel how his pulse is racing, but he can feel that Buck's pulse isn't exactly steady either.

Then the shop door opens, and Christopher is there, grinning from ear to ear. Abuela leans in to give both Christopher and Eddie hugs and kisses goodbye, and to give Buck a very interested stare, and then she is back in her car and Christopher is in Eddie's arms, giving his own very interested stare at Buck.

"I'm Christopher," he says matter-of-factly, eyes twinkling mischeviously. "Did you know that Pluto is half as wide as the whole United States?"

"I'm Buck," Buck replies with a very similar mischevious twinkle to his own eyes. "Did you know black holes can burp up stars?"

"Cool!" Christopher is absolutely delighted, grabbing Buck's uninjured hand and tugging him towards the Astronomy section of the bookstore. Before Eddie knows it, Chris is on Buck's lap, Buck reading him a new book about the solar system, and Eddie is helpless to do anything but watch them fondly.

A shrill beep suddenly comes from Buck's left pocket, and he pulls out a phone, making a very disgruntled face as he stares at the screen. "I'm sorry, buddy," Buck tells Christopher softly, as he helps Christopher up before standing up himself. "I have to go."

"No, Bucky, stay!" Christopher pleads, turning his patented puppy dog eyes on an unsuspecting Buck, and from what Eddie can see it looks like Buck is two for two in winning the Diaz boys over simply by existing.

"I wish I could, Chris, but I'll come back as soon as I can," Buck promises, and Eddie is scrawling on a post it note before Buck can suddenly disappear again.

"Let me know you're safe, okay?" Eddie asks softly, holding the note with his phone number out to Buck. "Whatever is going on tomorrow that you can't tell me about, just please let me know you're okay, even if it's just a quick text."

"Yeah?" Buck whispers, gaze darting between the number and Eddie's face like he can't stop looking at either.

"Yeah, Buck." Eddie reaches over, gently squeezes the back of Buck's neck, and for just a second, Buck leans in, their foreheads lightly touching. Then Buck steps back, bending down to return Chris' hug, waving as he steps out the door.

Tomorrow comes, and Eddie can't help checking his phone. And checking it. And checking it again. No message from Buck.

Eddie makes sure the battery is still charged, the volume is turned all the way up, the ringtone is set to the most blaring noise he can find, the wifi and the data are both in working order.

Nothing.

No matter what he does, no message from Buck appears.

And Eddie understands he's spent less than a few hours with this man, that people wouldn't understand why there's this twisting aching tug inside his gut at the knowledge that Buck could be hurt, could even be dead, right now. That he might never get to have another moment with this beautiful, kind hearted, funny, complex man who kisses like he's got Eddie's heart in his hands and reads to Christopher like there's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.

Christopher's been asking all day when they can see Buck again, and Eddie doesn't even know if they ever will be able to see Buck again. He tells Christopher he's not sure, and his son looks as heartbroken as Eddie feels, and after a night of no sleep and gutwrenching nightmares, Eddie grabs the first newspaper he sees Thursday morning and pours through it.

Overnight, there's been more violence than Eddie can even try to fathom, and so it's not until the third page that he finds what he's looking for. Evan Buckley, detective with the LAPD, successfully disbanded a sex trafficking ring that had been operating out of a small local pier. The officer will be awarded a medal for his valor. The article doesn't say which station Buck works out of, so Eddie drops Chris off at school, giving his son his solemn vow that he will get Buck to visit the second he finds him. He calls Hen and Chim, tells them he won't be in until later.

It's the fifth station Eddie tries.

He's got a routine down by now, hurrying into the station and heading towards the first person he sees.

"Hi, excuse me, does Evan Buckley work here?" Eddie asks, heart dropping as the woman shrugs, but then an older man walks up behind her and approaches Eddie.

"Captain Bobby Nash," the man says, extending a hand which Eddie shakes, most likely far too enthusiastically, but Eddie's long past caring about what anyone who isn't Buck thinks about him. "Can I ask why you're looking for this officer?"

"He...we..." Eddie takes a deep breath, tries to steady himself. "This might sound crazy, but we met for like two minutes, then we met again at my bookstore, and I bandaged his hand, and he made my son laugh, and I really like him, and I promised Chris I wouldn't come back without him, so here I am." He shrugs at the end of his speech, because honestly, what else can he do at this point?

"You must be Eddie," the captain says with a smile, and then Eddie's being led past the entryway and through a sea of desks and ringing phones, until there he is.

Buck.

Looking exhausted, a bandage on his forehead, another just showing over the top of his Henley, but there, alive, breathing, and about a foot away.

"Buck!" Eddie calls out, voice loud and relieved grin huge, and he will admit to no one but Buck himself that he is actually blinking back tears as he closes the gap. Buck is just rising to his feet, eyes widened in surprise, mouth curling into a matching grin when Eddie reaches him and pulls him in by the back of his shirt, clutching tightly to the stretched taut fabric as he wraps the younger man in his arms.

He feels Buck melt into his arms, moves one hand to cup the back of Buck's neck, presses a kiss to Buck's temple when the typically taller man curls his face into the crook of Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie can't begin to imagine how heavy this job must feel sometimes, what it must have taken out of Buck to pretend he was the same as men who would sell people to the highest bidders. So he takes on whatever weight Buck is able to let slide off his shoulders.

"Fuck, I was so worried," Eddie breathes out, "When we didn't hear from you, I thought...god, Buck, are you okay?" Pulling back slightly, Eddie turns his medic eyes on Buck, gaze sweeping over the banadages, a gentle touch ghosting across Buck's forehead as he lightly taps Buck's chin up, checking for any visible concussion symptoms.

"Cap made me get checked at the hospital, promise," Buck says, blushing under Eddie's scrutinity. "I'm sorry I didn't let you know, I just..." Dropping his head, Buck mumbles, "Wasn't sure if you meant it."

"If I meant it when I said I wanted to know you were safe?" Eddie asks, first utter disbelief and then complete warmth tinging his tone. Buck nods, eyes still on the ground, and Eddie swoops right back in, tucking Buck back into his arms. "Of course I did. Every word. Chris won't let me back into the house unless I've got you with me."

"Really?" Buck tilts his head up, arms now around Eddie's waist, and Eddie nods and smiles, and Buck smiles back.

"You make quite the impression," Eddie teases gently, and then lets his hands slide up to cup Buck's face, and leans in. Buck meets him halfway, their lips press together, soft, tender, once, then twice, then again before Buck lets out a pleased little sigh and Eddie grins fondly, resting their foreheads together.

"Captain Nash, can I borrow Detective Buckley?" Eddie asks, eyes twinkling, and he hears the captain laugh, feels the clap of a hand on his shoulder.

"Please," Captain Nash responds kindly, "I've been trying to get him to leave, but he just keeps insisting he has more work to do."

"I could take a break," Buck offers up shyly, and Eddie nods enthusiastically, bringing another laugh out of the captain.

"Finally use up some of that time off, that's an order!" Captain Nash calls after them, as Buck practically hop skips his way out the door, grin broad as he looks down at his and Eddie's intertwined fingers.

[marlahey]

under the same roof part two: an old friend

a harry styles rpf part two of six  ratings/warnings: the stalking comes to an alarming head via chase, suggestion of violent intent, aggressive emotions, fuck the patriarchy notes: things get serious, intimacy occurs, we all suffer. moments were edited or cut to reinforce the utter lack of actual romance in a real stalking situation, but I promise we’ve made up for it in later parts!  fun fact: on a lighter note, this series should probably just be titled: sweet things that have actually occurred to annie that she forgot she wrote in and so suffers in every edit session. 

masterlist | part one | part three (14.12.2020) ... • friday, 4th january 8:34 pm • Blood roars in your ears as you sprint through the parking garage, but the sound isn’t loud enough to drown out the pounding footfalls that aren’t your own. Every gulp of air burns your throat but you can’t stop, you can’t even slow down. The hum of industrial ceiling lights overhead is the only other sound. No one would hear you scream.

You’d heard the second car door after yours, and the initial footsteps. A quick turn of your head was your worst fear realized: the blue-eyed man beelining towards you, so quickly you’d barely had a chance to try and outpace him. A heavy hand landed on your shoulder as the man grabbed a fistful of your cardigan before yanking back on the fabric. Twisting desperately against his hold, you’d heard a faint pop-pop-pop as the stitching around your collar snapped and gave. You’d practically fallen away from him before scrambling upright, sliding with little traction on the dusty concrete beneath your feet, and bolting towards the open center of the lot. Your breath pours out into the air. There are no security cameras. Why are there no security cameras? A white, hot panic inside your head makes it hard to think, but you must. You can’t take the lift as it leads to a dead end, so it’ll have to be the stairs. The torn neck of your sweater leaves one of your shoulders naked to the cold. You came so close to draping a scarf around your shoulders before you left your apartment this morning. Had you kept it on, you could have been dead by now. You tear through the door to the stairwell at the other end of the garage and take the steps by two. At any moment an obstacle could arise—a locked door, a dead phone battery, a hard fall on the stairs—and that would be it for you. You’d be a gruesome headline or a face on a milk carton. You would never see your siblings, or India, or Chowder, or your parents ever again. Hot tears sting the corners of your eyes. On the last flight of stairs before the lobby, the sound of the stairwell door slamming echoes up the passageway. You look instinctively. A black, gloved hand is making its way up the railing. You almost lose your balance bursting through to the lobby, and even though your legs are screaming, you do what all the brochures have ever told you to do and break into another full-fledged run to the lift around the corner. You wish you’d chosen a building with a doorman or security desk—some kind of human checkpoint. “No, no, no,” you beg under your breath, launching an arm between the closing doors. You stumble, half expecting it to be empty, and find yourself face to face with Harry.  His eyes skim you over, widening from behind his glasses. You’re still clinging to the doors of the lift. Down the hall and around the bend, the door to the stairwell bangs open again; you wince. Harry’s eyebrows knit together. Thinking on your feet, you lurch inside and drag your hand along the keypad, illuminating just about every random floor up to the penthouses in the twenties, but not eight, and nothing before it. Harry’s eyes dart between yours and the doors. The footsteps in the hall behind you grow louder. You smash the close door button a dozen times, but something in you knows it’s a lost effort. You rush forward and tuck yourself into Harry’s side, tearing his name tag off and stuffing it in your bag. He startles, twisting to look at you, but you stick to your guns and slip your arm around his back. A moment later your eyes meet in the vaguely distorted metallic reflection above the keypad. Harry’s eyes are full of questions; a plea is in yours. For a second time, the doors of the lift begin to close but are stopped by an interjecting hand. A third body enters. It is him. That yellow-grey hair, the wrinkles and the scar on his lip, the worn, leathery skin… Immediately, the man turns to stare at you, and scoffs. You jump, your hand instinctively grasping the back of Harry’s jacket. You will your knees to be still. The lift doors close. It is silent until the car lurches upward. Suddenly you feel a warm, heavy pressure across your shoulders. In the reflection of the doors, you watch Harry’s arm wrap around you. He squeezes once. Your frantic gaze is pinned down by his much more fixed one. He feels so solid pressed into your side, and his eyes are solemn behind his glasses. More serious, maybe, than you’ve ever seen in the last year.  Harry’s lips quirk—the suggestion of a smile—before he looks down at his feet: a ruse of casual nonchalance. Your stomach twists.  The blue-eyed man sighs impatiently. Harry moves his hand to your waist and pulls you even tighter into his side. The car bounces to a stop on the sixth floor with a ding. As the doors glide open, it dawns on you that you had not thought this all the way through to the end. Do you go with Harry? What if you put Sylvia in danger? What if the man follows you? Harry’s arm drops from your shoulders.  The same white hot panic from the garage sears behind your eyes. Is this it? Is Harry about to leave you alone to your fate?  You almost miss his hand reaching back for you, like it’s something he does all the time. Harry squeezes, hard enough to nearly be painful. It starts you into motion. Your legs feel stiff and inflexible like they can’t remember how to walk as he pulls you along, keeping himself between you and the blue-eyed man. You’re off.  The doors close.  Harry glances over his shoulder, your hand still tight in his. He gently guides you to walk in front of him, and you shudder at the thought of the man still watching. You do not hear a third pair of footsteps trailing you, and you do not dare turn around to check. There’s something eerie in walking down a hall identical to your own but knowing that none of these doors are yours.  “This is me.” Harry’s voice is low around the jingle of his keys as he nods to the only door in the hallway hung with a wreath. You say nothing as he steps aside to let you through. He peers into the hall one last time once you’re both inside before locking the door, deadbolt, and chain guard. You lean your back against the wall with your arms across your chest, clutching your sides. He looks over at you slowly, hesitates, and takes a step toward you. His Adam's apple bobs. Suddenly the air leaves your lungs entirely and you begin to heave. You feel as though you’d been sprinting on a treadmill for an hour and then stopped immediately, which keeps you from realizing that Harry has been saying your name. Tears gather in your eyes again; if you allowed yourself to blink, they would spill over. You begin to sink against the wall. Harry catches your elbows in his hands, but you keep sinking anyway. He follows you all the way down to the floor. “Sorry,” you gasp. “You’re safe.” Harry just shakes his head. “I’ve got you.” You nod and try to send a few deep breaths to the pit of your stomach, then clear your throat. “Call the police.” Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet, flicking on light switches and digging his phone from out of his bag. You hear, “Yes, hello. I’d like to report… following my neighbor.” Your mind reels.  Harry’s voice sounds almost distorted, like you’re underwater. “In my apartment with me.” You catch, “...followed her into the lift,” as well as “Yes,” and “No,” to a series of questions before he reappears with a concentrated frown, watching you. “She’s safe.”  You pick yourself up off the floor and Harry gestures to the small two-person dining table. He angles his cellphone down to his chest as he’s pulling the chair out for you. “Do you want to speak with them?” he whispers. You take a deep breath and nod, holding out your hand. Your fingers tremble, so you place it face up on the table instead and turn on the speaker. He may as well find out now; you can’t imagine having to explain all this a second time.  “Hello?” “Hello, my name’s Officer Warren. We hear you’ve had quite a scare tonight. I know it’s hard, but try to stay as calm as possible and just answer a few questions for me as best you can.”  The fact that the dispatcher is a woman comforts you. “Okay.” “Are you injured?” “No.” “Can you just confirm your full name for me? And your address?”  You rattle off your details, noting with strange detachment that you and Harry live precisely two floors apart. His flat is 6F; yours is 8F. “How long have you lived there?” “Almost a year.” “And how long have you been in the UK?” “About two and a half years. I’m a student at UCL.” “I understand you’re with a neighbor. Do you feel as though you’re in immediate danger?” You look up at Harry before your eyes dart to his front door, hesitating for longer than you want to. “No.” “Can you tell me what’s happened?” You close your eyes. “A man tried to grab me in the parking garage.” “Was this a man you’ve met before?” “He’s been following me since June. I see him everywhere I go. It happened the first few times in public places like on my walk home or when I go jogging, but then I started seeing him everywhere.” Your eyes open again. “Like, I’ve seen him on campus and in restaurants where I was eating. He was walking behind me the first time I ever went to Ilford for work, which is completely out of my way. He took the same tube as me once and tried to grab my hand.” You hear Harry’s knuckles crack across the table from you. “And how long ago was that?” “December twentieth.” “Have you ever come to the police with this information?” “Yes. I filed a report at the Lavender Hill station on the first of October and we went through some headshots but none of them were him.” You hear a series of keystrokes. “Yes, I see your file here. And can you describe what happened today?” “I was picking up some archives at the Ilford Historical Society–” “For school?” “Yes. I’m a research assistant. They have a postbox under my advisor’s name. I usually pick up the archives for the week on Thursdays, but I didn’t get around to it until a few hours ago. It’s usually just three or four storage boxes but today there was a sealed yellow envelope—” Your voice runs higher, choked. You turn away from Harry as you swallow another wave of emotion, but your voice is hardly any different when you begin speaking again. When you turn back, Harry’s hand is a little closer to yours on the table. “Today there was this big yellow envelope with my name handwritten on it and I figured it was just something from my advisor, so after I carried everything to the car, I opened it, and it… there were all these pictures of me.” “Are you able to tell where these photos were taken? What you were doing in them?” Your bag sits half open on the table beside you; you can tell without looking that Harry’s followed your eyes to the mustard yellow envelope poking out the top. You don’t want to open it again. You don’t have to. The images are burned behind your eyelids. “There’s one of me on the tube looking at my phone. Another one of me leaving the shops. There’s a few at the gym.” You sniffle. “Most of them are taken through the window of my flat. They must’ve been across the street because you can see me through the blinds and I’m—when I don’t…” You stare at the edge of the table. “When I’m undressing.”  You lean your forehead into your hand. Harry is stock still across from you. The pause before the officer speaks again feels like it stretches forever. “Can you tell when the most recent photo was taken?” It takes a beat to admit, “It’s from two nights ago,” and the words taste bitter in your mouth. The clack of a keyboard is audible again through the phone.  “You said you’ve been to the Lavender Hill station before? Have you reported these photos yet?” You gather your thoughts. “I was going to go straight there, but I wrote these long descriptions of all the past times I’d seen him. The officer I spoke to the first time I went in, she told me to write down absolutely everything I remembered, so I did—the times of day I’d seen him, where I was, what I was wearing… She said having my own record would help my chances of opening an investigation. I keep all of that at home in my flat, so I decided to go home and grab my notes to bring with me to the station, along with the pictures. I borrow my best friend’s car to commute to Ilford, so I drove straight home.” “And what happened when you got home? In the car park?” You take a deep breath. And then another. Your eyes squeeze shut again. “Take all the time you need.” “I turned into the car park… I pulled into my usual spot. I took off my jacket and left it in the passenger seat, thinking I would come back to it in a minute. I got out of the car and locked it… ” You swallow dryly. “I heard a car door shut behind me. I turned around and saw the man—I recognized him.” “Do you remember what he was wearing?” “He was wearing, um, black gloves, a grey sweater, black jeans, and I think his shoes were black too.” You frown at your hands. “I could hear how quickly he was walking up behind me. I tried to get away, and he—” You swallow. “He grabbed me. Or at least, he tried. He tore the seam of my sweater and I managed to like, pull away. And then I just ran. I was too scared to try the lift so I just took the stairs all the way up to the lobby. But he followed me.”  Your eyes flicker up to Harry absently before you go on. “Harry was in the lift—the—my neighbor, so I ran over and put my arm around him to make it seem like I wasn’t alone.” Harry nods at you from across the table.  “And the man was able to follow you into the lift?” The tips of your fingers ache at the memory of slamming desperately into the close door button. “Yes.” “Did he try to communicate with you in any way?” You shake your head and then remember she can’t see you. “No. He was just staring at me.” “Has he ever approached you or tried to make contact before?” “Just the one time on the tube and the pictures.” “Were you followed out of the lift?” “No.” “And you’re in your neighbor’s flat now, is that right?” “Yeah.” You run your sleeve beneath your nose with a sniffle. “And the man knows which floor you got off at?” ”Correct.” “Do the windows in both of your flats face out on the same street?” Your stomach drops. “Yes… They do.” “I want you to remain calm and stay on the line, can you do that for me?” It’s deadly quiet as you and Harry look at each other. You feel eerily as though you’ve wound up in a Hitchcock film. “Yes.” “Move away from the windows and find a place in the flat that’s not visible from the street—” The legs of Harry’s chair are scraping the floor before you get the chance to react. “...and do not turn out any lights or change the way any of the blinds are positioned.” “C’mere.” Harry’s voice is gravely urgent. He leads you to the kitchen with a hand between your shoulder blades, and brushes past you to lower the blinds of a small window above the sink. Your eyes widen as your hand reaches toward him. “Harry—” He glances back, too late. “Don’t… ” You stumble. “Don’t fix any more of those.” He nods once.  “Yes, don’t touch the blinds. Don’t change anything that would make it look out of the ordinary. If someone has been staking out your building from the same place across the street every night, you could give yourself away and put you both at risk.” “Okay.” Harry leans against the sink with his arms crossed, and you mirror him.  “Since you already have a file on record and the whereabouts of this man are still uncertain, it might do more harm than good to have you come in again for questioning at this hour. But we’ll need you to come by first thing in the morning. You absolutely cannot go back to your flat tonight. He knows very well which unit is yours, and he’s clearly found access into the building somehow. Do not turn on the lights, do not fuss with the blinds, do not go to retrieve any belongings. If it’s something dire, an officer can escort you.” “Okay.” “And don’t leave the building, either. If you need a place to stay, there’s a section of the precinct that can hold you till morning. An officer will have to drive you there, too.” “Okay,” you parrot. “Listen carefully. It’s not forever, but right now we need you to keep yourself absolutely out of sight. Anything that could result in your being followed… Well, we would strongly advise against your taking unnecessary risks. We obviously want to keep you and anyone else involved as safe as possible.” “I understand.” “A patrol officer is en route to your address. He’ll stay posted outside the building for a few hours. If something happens, don’t hesitate to call. Is this a number we can redial if need be?” You look up to Harry; he nods fiercely. “Yes.” “Try to get some rest. You’re safe now, and we’ll see you first thing in the morning.” “Thank you, officer.” You pass Harry’s phone back to him before digging through your bag to retrieve your own. The dial tone rings in your ear as you turn to face the living room. You’re sent to voicemail. “Uh… hi, Mom. It’s me. Just give me a call back when you get this, okay? I—um… Everything’s fine I should just… give you an update, so. Anyways. Talk soon. Love you.” You set your phone down on the counter, but can’t manage to meet his eyes. Some part of you had been worried that he would judge you—or worse, pity you. He doesn’t speak, nor does he try to touch you. Your eyes are pulled towards two sets of rainbow-painted handprints stuck to Harry’s fridge—one large, one tiny. A wave of nausea washes over you at the imposition you’ve entitled yourself to, the risk involved, the implications.  “Thank you.” Harry jumps at the sound of your voice. “For everything. I should—” you loop an arm through the strap of your bag— “I should go.” “Woah, woah, woah… ” Harry catches your arm before you can take three steps. You freeze. He releases you immediately. “And go where? You heard the officer, yeah?” He’s shaking his head slowly. “You can’t go back to your flat.” “I did hear her,” you counter. It comes out more curt than you had meant it. “There’s a safe place for me to sleep at the precinct… Thank you again, I can show myself out.” “That’s ridiculous—” You turn away and he says your name, once, imploring. It’s more of a plea than a demand, keeping you still. You still have your eyes on the door, but since you’re no longer moving, Harry goes on.  “You can stay here, it’s fine. I’ve got a spare bed n’ all. You can sleep in Vi’s room.” Your resolve wavers. His voice is a pitch softer as he asks, “What is it?” Your mouth hangs open a moment before you can find the right words. “I don’t—we don’t…” We don’t know each other seems far too accusatory with everything that’s transpired between you, especially after tonight. You grind your teeth, reeling the words back. Harry’s fingers touch your elbow, hesitating, and when you don’t pull away he wraps his hand gently around your arm. Tears well up in your eyes and you can’t blame them on the guilt, fear, or relief alone… all of it at once leaves you itching to escape.  “We’re practically strangers,” you settle on finally. “I put you in danger, and I put your family in danger—” Harry’s thumb rotates in tiny circles in the crook of your arm, a touch so light you can barely feel it. You think unbidden of the lift on New Year’s Eve, and the brush of his lips over yours. You want to fall headlong back into that memory—to abate what is shaping up to be one of the worst nights of your life. “I’m Harry.”  You blink. “What?” He smiles at you—a quick, sanguine flicker of a thing. “I’m Harry… Styles. I’m twenty-six. I graduated from Kings with a Bachelors in Art History and Psychology. I’m an Administrative Assistant to the Director of the National Gallery—” his smile is real now, wider— “But sometimes I pick up shifts keepin’ an eye on the gallery for the extra few quid… I have a daughter named Sylvia. She’s almost five. I get her every other week. I grew up in Cheshire. I have a sister named Gemma and my mum’s name is Anne.” You sniffle. “Why are you telling me all this?” “So you and I aren’t strangers anymore.” You have no idea how to respond. “You’ve never been here before,” Harry continues. “If someone’s been keeping close tabs on our building, then maybe this is the safest place for you right now. If I felt you were putting my daughter in harm’s way—” you open your mouth to speak and he raises a finger— “I would ask you to leave… As it is, if you go now, I feel that I would be putting you in harm’s way… And I don’t want to.” The two of you stand at a stalemate. “Please don’t make me.” Harry lets go of your arm and eventually backs up to lean against the sink again. You could leave if you wanted to. Eventually you sigh and drop your bag down to the kitchen floor with a thud. “Are you hungry?” Harry asks. “I was gonna fix something for myself anyway.” You shake your head. “I don’t think I could eat anything right now.” The more powerful urge is to erase this night from memory, to scrub away the feeling of a rough hand on your shoulder. You absently rub your thumb into the sleeve of your shirt where the grime from the door to the stairwell had smeared. Your shoulder is still bare from the gaping hole. Harry tilts his head, as if he’s going to say something more, but you blurt, “Could I use your shower actually?” “Of course.” He leads you to the end of a brief hallway with three adjacent doors, only one of which is open. “Be back in a sec.” Harry emerges moments later with two folded towels, then flicks on the light as you trail behind him. Your eyes are immediately drawn to Harry in the broad mirror that covers the entire wall above the sink. His bathroom is virtually identical to yours, but it’s striking to see his familiar reflection somewhere outside of the lift.  Harry pushes aside the curtain to the shower. “Fuck.”  He sets the towels down on the toilet seat and hastily gathers up the army of rainbow rubber ducks lined along the rim of the tub, before yanking off a plastic water wheel suction cupped to the faucet. Clear synthetic stickers in the shape of cartoon rocket ships and planets cling to the shower wall which Harry peels off in a stack before scooping out a myriad of other colorful knick-knacks from the bottom of the tub. “Harry, you don’t have to do that.” “I’m just now realizing how mad this must look to someone who isn’t the parent of a four-year-old—” “Harry, please. You’re already doing so much for me. You don’t need to remodel your bathroom.” “Alright, well… ” Harry rises, brushing his hands down the front of his suit trousers with flushed cheeks and glasses halfway down his nose. He cards his fingers through his hair. “Just be careful not to step on those little sparkly buggers. They’re the most painful by far.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” You have to suppress an laugh at the image of him having stepped on every last toy in the tub enough to compare. “So, like, the red is hot and obviously the blue is cold but it’s very sensitive so I find it’s best to just leave it at about three o’clock—wait you…” Harry shakes his head with a frown. “You probably have the same one, don’t you?” You nod, wringing your hands. “Do you have a shirt or something I could borrow for after?” “Of course,” he almost cuts you off, disappearing into the hallway. You perch on the edge of the tub and run the faucet to adjust the temperature. There’s three raps on the door. “Come in!” you call. Harry squeezes through the door and you catch his eyes in the mirror. “Let me know if these fit.” You watch his reflection lift the clean towels, put down the bundle of clothes, and restack the linens on top with the ease of someone who’s clearly used to taking care of someone else. “Thank you, I’m sure they’ll be fine.” He nods and closes the door firmly behind him. Sylvia’s bath wrap, bright yellow and embroidered with her initials, hangs by its duck shaped hood on a hook next to the door. Steam is starting to rise from the shower. You take a deep lungful and step in carefully. Although childrens’ soaps and clutter are unfamiliar, the water pressure is the same as the shower in your apartment, if not better. It pounds down against your back and shoulders, and for a minute you let yourself just stand in the hot spray. It takes several seconds of inner coaxing before you can close your eyes and tilt your head back beneath the water. A hardened blue stare flashes in your mind’s eye, but you push it back determinedly. You think of Harry’s clear, level gaze. You think of the way he’d looked as he pinned a poppy to your chest—as he’d drank from that half-empty bottle of Prosecco.  So you turn your attention to the soap instead. It’s strange to see the source of several of the mingling scents you’ve picked up from him in the lift over so many months, and even more strange to pick the bottles up and use them on yourself. But there’s something cathartic in the act of scrubbing yourself raw, especially the spot on your shoulder where you had to wrench yourself away from that painful grip. By the time the last of the shampoo and soap are swirling down the drain, buoying a tiny rubber duck that Harry had missed, you finally feel a bit more like yourself again.  The towels are in easy reach. You wrap your hair in one, wind the other around your body, and tiptoe across the bathmat, wading through a junkyard of toys. A hotel toothbrush packaged in plastic lays atop the pile of clothes Harry had left, so you quickly brush your teeth before giving the bathroom a cursory tidy. You have to roll up the cuffs of his sweatpants to your ankles. You can barely see your own reflection, so you crack open the door to air out the steam a bit. Somewhere a kettle shrieks. You creep into the hall, clutching a neat bundle of your clothes and set your things down on the chest table in the entryway before joining him in the kitchen. Harry has changed out of his work suit and into a plain white tee shirt and grey sweatpants. Sundry, mismatched tattoos are scattered all along his left arm and it catches you by surprise. No rings. You have no idea what to do with yourself, faced with the reality that you’re standing in Harry’s flat, wearing his clothes, smelling like him. You lean gingerly against the counter, sort of surprising yourself as you blurt out, “I thought you said you were hungry?” Harry freezes, like he is both realizing you’re there, and also that he contradicted himself. “Lost my appetite I guess. Tea?” “I’d love some, yeah. If there’s enough water. Thanks.” “Sure.” You watch as Harry pulls down a veritable armada of teabags. “Gotta be prepared,” he says with a vaguely self-deprecating smile. “We take our tea seriously over here. These—” Harry gestures—  “haven’t got caffeine.”  Something tells you that an entire bottle of cold medicine couldn’t knock you out tonight. “Whatever you’re having is fine.” Your phone vibrates against your hip and you pull it out to skim the text from your mom. Hi honey. Sorry I missed your call, hope everything is alright… It’s late for you now so I’ll try back in the morning. Hugs. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as guilt taps you on the shoulder. You’re drained and it would be lovely not to rehash tonight’s events for a second time when you know it would do nothing but worry her. Since you’re in reasonably good hands, you lock your phone and shove it back into the pocket of Harry’s sweats. “How do you take it?” Harry murmurs. “With a little bit of milk, if you don’t mind.” He places your tea on the counter beside you before adding the milk. “I don’t mind,” he mocks your accent gently, and it bothers you how good he is at it. Harry passes you the mug. You raise it to your nose and inhale the steam. “Thank you, Harry, for being so… okay with all of this, and for just like, making me feel… ” You trail off, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to have, like, an ounce of normalcy tonight after all that.”  You tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. Harry pushes his glasses up his nose with his thumb and idly plays with the tag hanging by a string over the side of his mug. “I’ve heard you take responsibility a dozen times tonight for the danger that someone else put you in,” he says after a minute. His eyes are vaguely unfocused, and trained on the blinds. “Tonight was not your fault. Like, you were smart, brave and all that, but you shouldn’t have had to be.” He takes a sip. “I’m glad I was there.” Harry doesn’t say anything else. It’s cathartic in a way you wouldn’t have expected, to hear him state it back to you so plainly and without nuance. There’s not a thing you could say to that in defense of the argument that you are indeed to blame. But there were other choices I could have made. I shouldn’t have gone running that morning. I should have known to be more vigilant, buying those groceries. It was reckless of me to choose sheer curtains. I should have apparated to class instead of taking the tube. The logic sounds absurd to you in a new way when held up to the light. You absently stir your tea; there’s an orange tabby painted on the ceramic. “Chowder!” Harry’s eyebrows fly up. “Sorry?” “My cat! He’s all on his own in my apartment.” “Does he have water?” “Yeah, and food. And he's a few years old so he’ll be fine. I just feel awful, he’s never spent the night alone.” You shake your head. “Sorry for making you jump, it just crossed my mind.” “No, it’s okay… Do you want—should I go up and check on him for you?” “No, no. That’s not necessary. I’m just, you know, a terrible cat mom.”  “Ha!” Harry barks. It’s the loudest sound you’ve ever heard him make. “You don’t even want to… Oh Christ,” he shakes his head, creasing with laughter, “You have no idea.” “What?” You ask after a minute, unable to help yourself from joining in his laughter. His face is turning pink. “Do you have any idea how many nappies I’ve put on backwards? How many haircuts I’ve botched? I mean with my real, human child. I assembled both of Sylvia’s cribs upside down because the instructions were in Japanese. One after the other. It was the same fucking crib.” He deadpans your name at you. “Sylvia’s first word was fuck because Daddy couldn’t shake the habit of saying it all the fucking time.” “Oh my god.” “Yeah. We thought she was just a quiet kid, but then we were getting concerned that she wasn’t speaking by her second birthday. We took her to a speech therapist. So imagine you’re me, watching your daughter in her little highchair with her mum right up in her face, going, “Vi can you say ma-ma? And the child throws her binkie… and yells, Fuck!” You’re laughing so hard it’s completely silent.  “Didn’t say it.” He swipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and it bumps up his glasses a little. “Yelled it. Not a thing wrong with her… Oh,” Harry sighs. “Annie wouldn't speak to me for a week.” He shakes his head. “That’s incredible.” “So, like, newsflash… ” He takes a sip of his tea. “Nobody has any idea what they’re doing. There’s no such thing as a perfect parent or, um—cat mum as you said.” “So…” you venture after a pause. “Annie?” Harry laughs once through his nose, rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright. Fair.” He sets his tea down on the counter. “Thought maybe we’d get to have this conversation over Prosecco,” he says, chuckling dryly. “Sylvia was definitely… unexpected… ” Harry begins delicately. “But she’s, like the funniest person I know and also my favorite person on the planet. So… I dunno. It worked out.” He clears his throat. “She was conceived on the night I met her mum at a pub in Essex and that was that. Haven’t really looked back. Annie—Vi’s mum—is an amazing person. We were never in love or anythin’ even close, but she’s the best co-parent I could ever dream of.”  “Vi’s a cute nickname.” “S’her first name, actually.” Harry smiles over the rim of his mug. “Lanh Vi.” His voice dips low and elongates the first syllable. “Lanh means gentle, happy. Vi is a family name. Annie wanted to give that to her parents, a proper Vietnamese name on her birth certificate. Sylvia’s sort of a good compromise for when she goes to school.”  Harry stares at some middle distance, smiling like he isn’t even aware he’s doing it. “Annie’s parents took a little convincing that any of this was going to work out—mine too—but I love our unconventional little family, and I’m really looking forward to her wedding. Sylvia’s in store for two really incredible mums.” He looks back at you and shrugs. “It’s not such a bad life. Sometimes I wish there was a more exciting answer.” “That doesn’t seem like a bad life at all.” The corners of Harry’s lips drop a little the moment you open your mouth. His head is tilted slightly as though he’s trying to gauge your reaction. You try to mirror the same, reassuring smile he’d given you earlier, then cover a yawn with your hand. “What time is it?” you ask. Harry checks his phone. “Half ten—or just gone.” “No it’s not,” you frown, but he holds up his phone to show you. “Oh god…” “Time flies when you’re talking about parenthood.” He takes your empty mugs, setting them carefully in the sink. “Thank you.” Without turning around Harry announces, “I think I’m gonna have you sleep in my bed and I’ll take the air mattress in Sylvia’s room.” “No.” You shake your head. “Harry I swear if you insist on that, I’m calling a taxi to the police station.” “No, honestly… They’re the only two rooms in the flat with the blinds consistently drawn, and her room’s empty most nights anyway since I’m such a pushover.” It takes a moment for that comment to sink in and when it does you feel your heart melt a little. “You’ll sleep much better in my bed than on my inherited air mattress from the nineties.” “I won’t,” you lie seamlessly. “I don’t sleep well in new places anyway, so at least one of us should get a good night’s rest.” “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” he relents. You’re glad you don’t have to argue about it. “Thank you.” Harry leads you to the linen cabinet in the hallway and removes a cardboard box from the very top shelf. An enormous dust cloud falls like an avalanche down his shirt and he coughs hysterically, scrunching his nose. “Last chance to change your mind,” Harry croaks, wiping his glasses on the front of his shirt. You shake your head and he turns to the door across from his, where his bed is half visible in shadow. The two of you shuffle into a cubby of a room, and Harry drops the box onto the plush pile rug with a thud.  Your neck cranes as you look around the tiny space, about as roomy as the lift. The walls are painted navy blue with silver and gold stars exploding in a galaxy across the walls, and your hand floats to your chest in memory of when Sylvia had pointed at you with a tiny finger, recognizing the shape at the end of the chain hung around your neck. Her bed frame is painted a deep, forest green and the two small pillows upon it are shaped like rain clouds. Plastic dinosaurs of all different sizes and colors line her windowsill. A small, homemade bookshelf is aligned by the bed. “You mind helping me spread it?” Harry’s voice brings you back down to earth, and you grab two corners of the plastic to lay out the mattress like a picnic blanket on the floor. It’s a tight squeeze, but at least it’s a queen. You look down at it with your hands on your hips, and Harry tilts his head, running a hand over his stubble. Harry steps back out into the hallway, ducking into his bedroom. You hear the creak of a closet door and shifting fabric as the beam of light from his room slants across the hall into Sylvia’s, illuminating a diagonal path right up through the wooden slats of her toybox. There’s a small, familiar shadow outline on top. You crouch down to pick up Jojo and his mother in one hand, running your fingers over the soft velvet of their floppy ears. It feels a little odd, to be so comforted by a child’s toy that doesn't even belong to you, but here you are. “I see you’ve found an old friend.”  Harry leans against the doorframe, watching you. His arms are full with a clean sheet, spare pillow, and quilt. The fondness in his voice is hard to miss, but you wonder if it’s for his daughter, for the toy, or for you. “I would’ve thought Sylvia brought him to her mom’s, too.” Harry’s lips twitch with amusement before he puts the pillow and quilt on top of Sylvia’s dresser. “She used to take him everywhere.” He visits every corner of the mattress to tuck the sheet around. “Here, let me help you with—” “No, no, it’s always easier like this before you blow it up.” Harry steps into the corners of the room that aren’t completely swallowed up by the giant, deflated bed. He removes a paper lantern night light with constellation cutouts from its outlet, replacing it with the motor to the air mattress. “This part always takes a bit.” The small plastic box sputters into a whine and the mattress begins to inflate. “Just give it a few minutes… S’ old.” Soft whirring fills the room before he speaks over it. “We almost lost him on a trip to Brighton once—” he nods at Jojo, still in your hands— “Vi was inconsolable until we found him wedged between the bed and the wall in the hotel. Managed to convince her that leaving him at home—or at least only to Bridget’s on the first floor while I’m at work—was the best way to keep him safe.” He steals a glance at you and unfolds the massive quilt on top of the bed as it rises, before fluffing the pillow and tossing it to one of the long ends. “Then she started insisting on leaving him here on the weeks she spends at her mum’s.” “How come?” Harry’s smile is somewhere between pointedly self-deprecating and unbelievably loving. “Says she doesn’t want me to be lonely while she’s gone.”  Before you can fully process all the ways your heart is both warmed and a little broken, Harry is disappearing into the hall again, returning with a throw blanket and fanning it out over the quilt. “Okay.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “That should do it. Do you want another pillow?” He turns to you suddenly, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “I have a couple more on my—” “No, no. This is more than enough… Thank you again, Harry,” You reassure him with the understanding that this is goodnight. Harry runs a hand through his hair and a little puff of dust is drawn out. “If you, um—If you need anything, I’ll be… my bedroom’s just there.” He twists around to point. “Don’t hesitate to like… yeah, wake me up if you need—if you feel… ” He laughs once at himself, exasperated. “Sorry, I’m tired.” You shake your head and smile sympathetically. “So am I.” “Goodnight, then.” Harry backs out into the hallway. He pauses in Sylvia’s doorway, his hand still on the doorknob. At that exact moment, the motor clicks off and the sudden silence feels unbearably loud.  “I want you to feel safe here.” The room is so still that you see the shadow against Harry’s neck bob as he swallows in the yellow light of the hall. His eyes are steady and clear. You take a breath in, and nod. “I do,” you say, steadfast. “I promise… Goodnight, Harry.” He shuts the door behind him. • saturday, 5th january 12:46 am •

There had been a knock, of that much you are sure. One solitary rap jolts you from sleep, followed by the raucous succession of a dozen more as you sit up on the air mattress. It stops for a moment. Then starts up again. “Harry?” you whisper into the blackness, your heart suddenly pounding. In your groggy trance, you weren’t sure the first time you heard it if someone was knocking on the door to Sylvia’s room, but by the time your eyes adjust, you’re sure it’s coming from farther away. It stops. You’re still for a minute, careful not to rustle the quilt. There is no sound apart from a faint siren in the distance. You unplug your phone from where it charges beneath the nightlight, squinting at its bright little face. 12:46. Perhaps it’s a police officer? Surely they would have announced themselves, wouldn’t they? You slide down the mattress and creep up to the door, pressing an ear against the wood. There is nothing but the echo of your own blood rushing in your ear. You have to close your eyes and count to three before turning the doorknob. Harry is already in the hall, the door to his bedroom left gaping. He turns to you and immediately brings a finger to his lips. The sound of an open hand smacking against the front door is unmistakable. Harry inches towards the noise. He freezes suddenly, then twists to look at you, reaching his hand back with fingers outspread. Stay here. Harry rounds the corner out of sight until it becomes unbearable to stand there a moment longer. You tiptoe in his wake, and move at the same time he does. The only light in the flat spills from his open bedroom. Here in hall, the shadows are long and dark and Harry’s expression is harder to make out until he glances over his shoulder. He nods at you once before training his eyes on the door again. Your feet move of their own accord, as though they have unilaterally decided that the safest place for you is as close to Harry as possible. It seems jarring to you, that this man in a tee shirt and boxers is the same man who, not a week ago, seemed like a piece of art with his burgundy suit and damp curls; the memory of loose limbs and laughter clashes against the image of him fraught before you. Harry peers through the peephole. Your eyes are cemented to the back of his head and you begin to feel dizzy, only just realizing you’ve been holding your breath. He tenses. In a freezing rush of dread, you suddenly know exactly who is on the other side of that door. You know you shouldn’t panic. Harry raises a finger to his lips again in another soundless imperative and you know—from a place that feels somewhere outside your body—that the last thing you should be doing is opening your mouth. But this is a terror hurtling beyond fight or flight. Your primary functions are in a deadlock with a searing hysteria clamoring for you to scream, and something desperately carnal that believes you could only survive this moment if you were silent enough.  Harry is still gesturing at you to keep quiet. He turns his back to the door and approaches you, the weight of his gaze keeping you motionless. He reaches forward and presses his palm firmly against your parted lips. All of a sudden you’re just as close as you were in the lift four nights ago when he tasted like brandy and the beginning of something new. The look he had given you on New Year’s was playful and wanting. In this moment, however, a pair of hard and urgent eyes bore into yours, igniting the pit of your stomach with a different kind of fear. Harry wraps his free hand around your wrist. You blink and blink. Beneath the steel resolve in his face, a desperate question forms: Do you trust me? You want to answer but you don’t know how. So you just keep staring. He pushes you backwards, gently, leading you around the corner and down the hall, his hand cupped to your mouth all the while. Even if you’d wanted to glance at the front door, Harry’s gaze is a magnet to your eyes. He walks you all the way into his bedroom, until you feel the mattress on the backs of your knees. You’d fall if not for Harry letting go of your wrist to guide you down with a hand on your waist. His lips move soundlessly around the words, stay here, and you manage to nod. Only then does he release your mouth. Your eyes can only focus on the closet door directly in front of you. It takes every ounce of your concentration to just keep breathing so you don’t pass out as Harry doubles back out into the hall, leaving you on the edge of his bed. You can feel an outbreak of sweat around your temple and on the back of your neck. You know you’re shaking but that feels distant, too.  You have no idea how long Harry is gone, you just know he closes the door upon his return. You’re still trying to pace your breathing as he crouches down in front of you. He has his phone to his ear. You can only catch a few of his words at a time.  “My name is Harry Styles… previously reported an, um, incident involving… yes… no… returned… knocked on the door. No, he’s gone now… I waited, to be sure. But I—” There’s a pause. “I think he’s knocking on every door on this floor.” You hear something like a choked gasp. Only when Harry’s eyes dart to yours do you realize it was you.  You have put the entire building in danger.  “Yes, she’s still here.” His free hand reaches up to your knee as he listens to the dispatcher, but he seems to think better of it at the last moment, worrying the edge of the duvet between his fingers instead. “Right, yes. I understand. I will. Thank you.”  Faint ringing replaces the feeling of water in your ears.  “They’re sending someone,” he murmurs after hanging up. “He’s gone.” You hear that broken gasp again. “He’s gone, I promise.” Your shoulders cave inward when you feel the full, painful heave of your sob. Tears stream down your cheeks as you cover your face. Harry’s hand lifts again. You shrink away and he immediately moves from you to stand. “I’ll be—”  You seize at the first part of him you can reach, grasping a weak fistful of his soft cotton tee. Harry is completely still beneath your trembling fingers. He doesn’t pull away or move closer. He just hovers there, steady. “Please…” You want to ask him to stay. You want to ask for help. You want him to touch you so you know that you’re real—that you’re not in fact still trapped alone in the most terrifying part of a nightmare, but the words are unbearable.  The sound of your name in Harry’s mouth undoes something inside you. Through your tears you finally lift your head to find his eyes. His expression seems torn, like he wants to comfort you but doesn’t know how. You’re not sure which one of you bridges the gap, but your forehead lands in the warm slope between his neck and shoulder and that seems to be all the confirmation Harry needs.  His hands slide up your back to hold you as you all but collapse into him, crying with enough force that Harry draws you off the bed and onto the floor with him. He smooths one hand up and down the length of your spine as the other wraps so far around your back that you can feel his fingertips hooked over your hip. “S’ok,” he murmurs, his lips pressing into your temple like he intends to seal the words to your skin. Harry doesn’t try to shush you. “S’gonna be alright. ‘M here… I’ve got you. You’re safe… I’ve got you.”  When your wracking sobs give way to hiccups and finally to something halfway controllable, he stops talking and just holds you, rocking ever so slightly in a sort of motion that only a parent can do. You have no idea how long you sit like that, a tangle of limbs and soaked collars and cheeks, until you’re finally able to speak.  “I’m sorry,” you choke out. “You—”  “None of that,” Harry says immediately. You feel his nose dig into your hair, his breath warm as he sighs. “I mean it, alright? No more apologizing for any of this. Might have to make you a jar like the one Annie has for me in her flat.” The thought is strange enough to pull you, however briefly, out of your current misery. “You have an apology jar?”  He exhales sharply. “Swear jar, actually.”  Your laugh bursts out unexpectedly, sort of wet and weak, but there nonetheless. You feel the soft stroke of his thumb on the back of your head. “That’s more like it.”  You draw back and Harry’s grip tightens, just for a moment, before he releases you. He brushes your damp cheeks with the side of his palm before you can do it yourself. You see the same concentration he wore when he’d pinned that Remembrance Day poppy to your jacket. It takes effort to silence the instinct to be ashamed and keep his eyes.  “They said it might be a bit before an officer can get up here,” he says, searching your face. “They’re puttin’ together a couple patrol teams to canvas the building and stay outside the rest of the night.” All you can think to do is nod. “Can I get you anything? Water?” “Please,” you reply, grateful. “I should—” you make a vague gesture at yourself— “clean myself up a bit.” Harry opens his mouth like he wants to comment, but just nods instead. You use his shoulder to push yourself to your feet; his hand covers yours and you feel his thumb running across your knuckles.  You say, “Thank you,” but it’s not nearly enough. He squeezes gently, staring up at you and saying nothing. You walk on unsteady legs to the bathroom. You can feel his eyes on you even when you close the door. Lacing your fingers atop your head, you sigh at the tearstained, swollen-eyed version of yourself staring back at you in the mirror. After blowing your nose and splashing a few handfuls of water across your face, you join him on his side of the bed. His phone is in his hands. He finishes sending off a long, blue bubble of text before looking up and passing you a water from the nightstand. He runs the tip of his index finger around the rim of his own glass.

You bring the drink to your lips, then lower it immediately; the glass clacks against your teeth with the tremor of your hand. You can feel Harry’s eyes on you even though he doesn’t turn his head. Again, you try taking a sip with the same result and sigh. “I think I’m gonna try my parents again.” “Sure.” You set your water on the nightstand and head to Sylvia’s room, shutting the door behind you. You take a deep breath before collapsing back on the mattress. The stars rotating on the ceiling like a merry-go-round make you nauseous so you unplug the nightlight before dialing. Your mom answers after the first ring, emphasizing your name like a scolding. “Hi, Mom.” “What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night in England. Is everything alright?” “That’s actually what I need to talk to you about.” You hardly get a sentence in before you hear her rushing to get your dad and the three of you have an hour-long, emotional crash-course on the last five hours of your life. There isn’t too much to fill in as you’ve kept them more or less updated on the blue-eyed man and your previous trips to the police department. You assure them that you’re in one piece and that you couldn’t have wound up with a more generous host, but that doesn’t assuage your mom from insisting on speaking with the police herself. She makes you promise to stay on the line until the authorities arrive. Before long, you hear a light rap on your door. “Yes?” Harry cracks it open without peeking his head inside. “Police are here—take your time. I’ll go out and speak with them.” “Thanks, Harry… Mom, some officers just arrived I think.” You pinch your phone between your cheek and shoulder, softly close the door behind you. “I’ll call you back once we’re done with everything.” You rush through a quick goodbye and meet Harry in the entryway. He’s thrown on some gym pants and a sweater and his arms are folded across his chest. The fully-uniformed men seem bulky and out of place in the sixth-floor hallway, as though they couldn’t squeeze in Harry’s modest apartment. It’s not like you’re the one in trouble, but your heart skips a little anyway. “… every floor of the building and searched the surrounding perimeter with no sign of anyone matching the description, and from the security footage we seized, we can see that he pulled out of the car park about forty-five minutes ago.” “Okay.” Harry nods, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Alright. Great.” The officer who had been speaking turns to you. “And you must be the young woman who—” “Yes.” You jerk your head quickly. It’s more like an anxious spasm than a nod.  “That’s me.” “We were just filling your neighbor in that we were unable to find the culprit, but the building and surrounding area seem to be clear. If at all possible, we think it would be best for you to stay here just for the night, then come straight to the station in the morning to make a plan.”  You simply nod again. “I will.” “You’re flat 8F, is that right?” “That’s correct.” “Were any of these marks on your door before this evening?” The officer pulls a cell phone out of his pocket, unlocking it to reveal the last few pictures in the camera roll. Your stomach drops. He flips through several photos of a long, black streak above the handle of your front door, and a sizable ding in the wood by the door jam. The impact was hard enough to scratch the paint. “No,” you manage. “I don’t recognize those. Did he, um…” “The door didn’t give,” the officer says. It’s just reassuring enough to keep your knees from buckling. He turns to face Harry again. “And you’re certain that the man showed no signs of knowledge that she—that the two of you were in this particular flat?” “Yeah. I watched him make his way down, knocking on a couple more doors.”  “Was he stopping by every door?”  Harry takes a moment to think. “No,” he replies. “It seemed a bit random if I’m honest.” “Right. Well, keep an eye out for any unusual activity in the next few days, especially on this floor. Don’t hesitate to let us know if anything changes.” The officer looks to you again. “In the meantime, we’ll see you at the station tomorrow?” “Yes, um… ” You clear your throat as your cheeks warm. “I’m sorry. Would one of you be willing to speak with my parents on the phone? They’re a bit worried and want to talk to a professional.” You hold up your cell. “Of course.” After dialing for him, you hand the officer your phone and he begins to engage your mom in what sounds like a very animated, reassuring dialogue. You and Harry are leaned against opposite walls in the hallway, spaced out in exhaustion. You cover a yawn with your hand and catch him doing the same. Do you dare check the time? Your hands absently pat your front and back pockets, and you frown in trying to recall where you’d last set your phone. You roll your eyes in glancing up at the officer pacing in the entryway on the phone with your mother. “S’ just gone two,” Harry mumbles. You make a light noise in the back of your throat. “I’m sorry, Harry.” “That’s a tenner in the apology jar.” You breathe a laugh without humor, shaking your head back and forth against the wall. “I just can’t wait for this day to be over,” you whisper. “Would you like to speak with her again?” The officer’s voice clips into your half-conscious conversation. You hold out your hand and tuck the phone between your cheek and shoulder again as Harry thanks the officers one last time before showing them out.  Apparently satisfied with the conversation she’d had with the police, your mother circles back to the matter of your current state of limbo. “You’re sure you’re comfortable staying with this neighbor? Where are you sleeping?” You can practically hear the alarm bells from across the Atlantic. “It’s fine, Mom. We’re friends… sort of.” Friends that drunkenly make out in the lift. “He has a spare mattress. I’m staying in his guest room.” She digests this information in silence. “I’m alright, I promise. It’s just for tonight.”  There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “I want you to call us, alright? No matter what time it is here or there, I want you to check in with us every day until we know for sure you’re absolutely safe.”  “I will,” you vow. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? I’m exhausted.”  “Right yes, go get some rest. We love you.”  You swallow with a little difficulty. “Love you too.”  Harry’s idling by the sink with your empty glasses.  “Sorry about that,” you say, and then wince when he gives you a sidelong look. “They can be a bit protective.” He shakes his head, his expression somehow more grave than you were expecting. “I know exactly how they feel.” Harry rubs his eyes under his glasses. “I’m sorry,” he says into his palms. “I’m knackered.” “Yeah, of course… Get some sleep.” You hesitate. “You sure there’s not anything else I can get you?” “I’m sure.” He pinches softly just above your elbow. “See you in the morning.” Harry disappears into the hall. You listen to the sound of his bedroom door click shut before tilting your head to the ceiling and letting your eyelids close, literally twenty feet below your own apartment. You could probably throw a basketball higher than that. You sigh and look back down at your phone on the counter, quickly drafting a text to India and then deleting it. For a minute you stay like that, a statue in the pale light of Harry’s kitchen—the relic of a girl who woke up this morning unscathed. It’s probably for the best that you get some sleep tonight, but standing in front of the nursery with your hand on the doorknob, you can’t bring yourself to face the pitiful air mattress again. You turn to Harry’s bedroom door in defeat. Who on earth are you trying to fool? Heart hammering, you swallow your pride and crack open the door to Harry’s bedroom, stepping gingerly inside. It shuts behind you with a delayed click-click, impossibly loud. Nothing apart from blackness is visible before you, but suddenly comes the sound of a long breath in from somewhere in the room. Blankets rustle. Your fingers tighten on the doorknob behind you. With a tink, soft, yellow light spills over every surface in Harry’s bedroom. His nose scrunches and eyes squint. His hand flounders once against the nightstand before he locates his glasses, pushing them swiftly onto his face. Harry’s expression relaxes as he props himself up on one elbow to get a better look at you. Your face stings with heat, but you hold your ground. His eyes are soft, careful, yet strangely unaffected. Without a word, or the slightest suggestion of ambivalence, Harry reaches out an arm to the opposite side of the mattress, and tosses the corner of the duvet halfway down the bed before meeting your gaze from across the room. It feels like a weakness, to cave and accept his offer. You want to explain yourself, suddenly, but there are no words for this time of night and the chasm you’re hanging over by your fingertips. So you approach the bed in silence and slide beneath his covers.  Backs turned to each other, you curl up so far from Harry that your knees hang over the edge of the bed. You hear the cool sliding of blankets once more before absolute stillness. The last image of your day is the dim, golden glow of Harry’s lamp vanishing on the ceiling. • saturday, 5th january 4:07 am • It’s disorienting, adjusting to a room you can immediately tell isn’t your own, momentarily teetering between asleep and awake. It’s even more disorienting when you realize that you are not alone. There’s a knee between yours and a heavy arm slung over your waist. You’ve migrated to the center of the bed somehow during the night, flipped on your back. But what draws your attention the most is the warm breath in the curve of your neck. “Harry?”  It was the asleep-half of your brain that had thought to croak his name. You don’t know what kind of reply you’re expecting to receive in this blue, small morning hour. Perhaps you won’t get one at all. Perhaps you’re dreaming. You stare up at the ceiling.  If you close your eyes now, would you even remember this come dawn? But the grip around your waist tightens, just for a moment, before you feel his body slide up against yours, a sigh fanning over your cheek.  “Yeah.” Harry’s voice is low and gravelly, but unmistakable. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest through the fine cotton of the shirt he’d loaned you, and he sounds surprisingly alert. A small silence lingers. “Alright?” Your eyes stay trained on the ceiling. Are you?  Part of you wants him to clarify the question: are you alright after everything that happened tonight? Are you alright… with this? “Yeah,” you breathe.  Harry doesn’t say anything else. For a moment you think he’s fallen back asleep but then he shifts closer to you. You watch as the shadow of his arm reaches over your body for your hand—you had left it open and maybe a little vulnerable beside your head on the pillow. You can feel the calluses on Harry’s fingertips as they slide up your palm and find the space between yours. You don’t dare turn your head because there is a question in your eyes that you realize you can no longer ignore, and you are afraid of his answer. So you close your fingers around his and do not speak. Harry exhales. You’re hyper aware of the way his body relaxes as he squeezes your hand. You take a deep breath. You know it’s no use wondering whether or not Harry is going to remember this in the morning. Even if this is a dream, you cannot deny that you’re warm and you’re safe and that you will remember, possibly forever, regardless of whatever happens or doesn’t happen between you. It’s a vaguely scary thought.  You close your eyes.

[obwjam]

Ooo how about - 2. “It’s like you’re trying to get hurt at this point.” - maybe with obi wan? xx

“It’s like you’re trying to get hurt at this point.”

oh yes anon this is the STUFF. local sassy man is exhausted, sources say

from this post

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“It’s like you’re trying to get hurt at this point.”

“Obi-Wan...” you sighed, looking down at your legs dangling in the air. You weren’t too fond of being grabbed, so Obi-Wan’s solution was to use the Force when you fell — and you fell often. “Do you have to do this every time?”

Obi-Wan didn’t even look up from the book he was reading. “Yes.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes. “I was totally gonna make that jump!”

“It certainly didn’t look like it.”

“You always say that!” you protested, now crossing your arms as you jerked your body to face your Jedi friend. The light of the Coruscant sunset was bathing you in a pink and orange glow. “And you weren’t even looking this time!”

“Even you’d have to admit your track record is less than stellar,” Obi-Wan ignored your comment and smirked, hand barely outstretched as he kept you hovering a few feet from the ground. “Wasn’t it just last week that you tried to swing from the bookcase to the table and ended up on the ground instead?”

You huffed a breath. “That was a miscalculation.”

“And how many more miscalculations until you seriously injure yourself?”

“Come on, you know as well as I do that borrowers don’t get hurt as easily as humans.”

Obi-Wan finally looked up from his book. His expression wasn’t irked like you thought it might be — it was concerned. “(Y/n). That isn’t an excuse to do dangerous things.”

You shut your eyes as Obi-Wan stood up from his chair and kneeled down in front of you, pulling you from midair into his open palm. In all the time you had known Obi-Wan, you still could barely look up at him. The sheer size difference was something you figured you’d never get used to.

You refused to look up at Obi-Wan as he took a seat.

“Your stunts get more and more wild by the day,” he said quietly. “Is something the matter?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you grumbled. “Why would something be wrong?”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “You’re not the first one to try getting one’s attention by acting out.”

You grimaced as you wrung your hands together.

“It’s not easy, you know. Being around you all the time.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, trying to get a read on your expression. “(Y/n), what are you talking about?”

“You know! You’re—you’re this great, powerful Jedi master, who—who can move things with his mind and do incredible things. You think just because I’m small that I’m helpless and can’t do anything!”

“Missions are far too dangerous for you, and you know that!” Obi-Wan said sternly, rolling his eyes. It was another one of these conversations. He didn’t even notice your flinch when he raised his voice.

“But I could help!” you cried, standing up and balling your fists at your side. “I could—I could be a spy, or—or I could crawl into places you normally wouldn’t be able to reach!”

“(Y/n), people die on these missions! All the time! The clones who are bred for battle don’t often make it back. I can’t let you take that risk!”

“You don’t let me do anything! Sure, I’ve gotten hurt before, but you get hurt too! Everybody does!”

Obi-Wan groaned. This had to have been the fifth time this week you begged him to take you on a mission. He wasn’t in the mood to keep rehashing his decision, and guilt-tripping wasn’t going to work. “It’s different for you and you know it.”

“Oh really? How come? Because I’m so small, I can’t be trusted? Because I’m just a pathetic little thing you took pity on?!”

It was like all the air disappeared from the room in an instant. Obi-Wan gasped softly while you covered your mouth, utterly horrified that you has let that slip. In an instant, he had gone from annoyed to embarrassed. In the months that had passed since Obi-Wan found you, he had mostly kept you confined to his quarters. He had left you alone when he went on missions, but he figured that was for the best — the fewer giants you had to encounter, the better. He failed to consider the possibility that sheltering you would just make you more afraid.

“(Y/n),” he started, lifting his hands up to his eye level. He could barely see the makings of a tear track on your cheek. “Is that really how you feel?”

You crossed your arms and turned your head down, giving it a small shake.

“No? Then why would you say that?”

Your stomach felt like there was a lead weight resting inside. “People say things.”

“What people? Other Jedi?” Obi-Wan had to suppress the rage that was bubbling up.

“I dunno!” your quavering voice shouted in defense. It was times like these that you hated being confined to his hand. “I just... I hear it sometimes, okay? When you’re not around.”

“It’s not Anakin, is it?”

“No, not him,” you scoffed. “Though he does seem to look at me like some sort of helpless pet.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He needs to learn some manners.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Sometimes it just feels like you’d be better off without me here.”

Obi-Wan almost screamed. If he ever found out who was saying those things to you...

“(Y/n), what are you trying to say?”

You finally looked up at Obi-Wan and felt a pang of guilt at his hurt expression. You didn’t think he would be so... offended by your words.

“I’m just... I don’t understand why you keep me around. I just get in your way, don’t I? You’re always worrying about me, even when I don’t need to be worried about. I’ve fallen from treetops to the forest floor. This is the safest place I’ve ever been — you —you won’t even show me around the temple! — but you still feel the need to—”

“—to protect you?” Obi-Wan finished. Embarrassed, you nodded.

“Yeah. To protect me. When I never even leave this room. I can’t be the only person you ever saved from danger. You... you have far more important things to do than save me when I fall.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment as he steadied his breathing. It was never lost on him how small and vulnerable you were compared to the environment around you. Even in the safety of his hands, his curled fingers loomed overhead. How could he not worry when even he was an inherent danger to you? You were his responsibility now — just as Anakin and Ahsoka are. When he rescued you from your old planet, you were injured and afraid. The temporary shelter he promised had turned into a permanent solution because he enjoyed having you around. You were a friend.

“It seems I have failed to properly convey my feelings,” Obi-Wan said softly, almost sounding disappointed in himself. You looked at him, confused.

“You matter to me a great deal. I wouldn’t have let you stay if you didn’t. You’re a wonderful companion and an even greater friend. You’re right, you’re not the first person I’ve saved from this horrible war. It’s... not often that Jedi get the opportunity to let themselves care so deeply for someone. I want to protect you because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you get hurt.”

You gawked up at him, almost not believing what you were hearing.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, or think any lesser of you.” You could have sworn Obi-Wan’a cheeks flushed red for a moment. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“You... you really mean that?” you blushed, gently resting your hands on his thumb. His hand didn’t seem so imposing anymore.

Obi-Wan didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, I do.”

“It’s just... I dunno,” you frowned. “You travel all across the galaxy. You meet so many amazing and powerful people. Why me? Why do you care about me so much?”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard for a moment. He had never thought about it concretely, but it didn’t take long for the words to come to him.

“Well, for starters, you’re far more observant than I am. And quite good at understanding people and their feelings.” He smiled to himself. “And I must admit, you are very agile. If you were my height, you certainly would have no problem holding your own.”

You rubbed your eyes, foolishly hoping you could conceal how red your face was. No such luck.

“Look, I know I can’t do everything I wish I can. Or act like I can. But I spent my entire life living by myself in a forest. I got by just fine until the war came. I’m—I’m not used to just sitting around all day doing nothing. I... I can help. I want to help! I owe it to you. You saved me, and I should be doing more to show my thanks. Nothing crazy, or-or anything, but maybe I could—”

“Tenacious.”

“What?”

“You’re tenacious, too. I like that about you. It reminds me of...” he trailed off. He didn’t need to say for you to know. “You don’t like to accept the circumstances given to you. You’d rather be the one setting the terms.”

You shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Perhaps I am a bit overbearing at times. But it’s because I care, not because I don’t think you’re capable. But even I can admit when I’m in the wrong.”

You sniffed a laugh. “Can’t imagine that happens all too often.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “No, not really.”

There was a comfortable silence as Obi-Wan thought over what he was about to say. He could only imagine how you felt — ripped away from your home, forced to sit inside all day as you recover from everything you saw and went through. Nobody in their right mind would want to return to the war after being rescued from it, but Obi-Wan supposed he underestimated how you were just his kind of crazy.

“How did you like being in space when I brought you to Coruscant?”

You cocked your head. “Um, I liked it just fine. I was kinda scared, but I thought it went well for my first time on a ship. Why?”

“Well, as you know I’m due to leave for a relief mission to Corvo tomorrow. I don’t suppose you’d like to join me?”

Your eyes lit up. “Really? Yes! I mean—yeah, if—if you’re offering, I’d really — I’d love to.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Good. The people of Corvo are allies of the Republic, and very kind. If you’re to make Coruscant your new home, it might be nice for you to meet the Corvoian Prime Minister.”

It took a great deal of discipline to contain your excitement, and Obi-Wan knew it. You leaned into his thumb in sort of a makeshift hug, and he flexed his fingers to reciprocate the action as best he could. For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. The moment didn’t need any words.

“Obi-Wan?” you said finally.

“Hmm?”

“How come you changed your mind so quickly?”

He shrugged. “I know when I make a mistake. And I like to fix it as soon as possible so people don’t realize it happened.”

You laughed. “How very humble of you.”

“Oh, you know me.”

“Yeah,” you said, resting your head on his thumb as Obi-Wan leaned back. The sun had just about set and the hundreds of brilliant lights were beginning to pop up along the horizon. You would never get tired of its beauty.

“I do.”

[angelikook]

Pas de Deux

Pairing(s): Dance teacher!Hoseok x reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff

Word Count: 6.7k

Warning(s): Profanity

Summary: Your dance teacher, Hoseok, might teach you a bit more than just dancing.

A/n Moral of the story, never seek validation from anyone. You can do whatever you want as long as you're happy and you're not doing anything wrong.

There will be a mention about Blue Side and its meanings. Check this link for the complete analysis (it's in Indonesian). Shout out to the writer for the in-depth analysis.

There were days when you wished you were more flexible. Or athletic. Or both.

Like today for instance.

Your weekly Friday-night private dance class didn’t look too good as usual. First of all, you had a literal dance God stood in front of you as your dance teacher. In front of him, you looked like a baby giraffe learning how to stand on four wobbly legs.

During the past few months you’ve been his student, through ups and downs that had more downs, his smile never faltered, his energy never died out, and his patience never ran out.

Every time you fell on your bruising butt, he only held out his hand to you and put on that million-dollar smile of his. Sometimes- Scratch that- Most of the times, you felt bad when you fell for the nth time in the span of an hour. Other times, you felt bad after your first fall. You definitely didn’t want him to think you were unworthy of his time and attention. That was the worst way a person can embarrass themself.

Your teacher, who went with the name Hoseok, and stage name j-hope, once again danced real slow in hope you could follow him. You both moved at a snail’s pace, but of course, your lack of athleticism wouldn’t let you go for 10 minutes without falling.

Out of nowhere, one of your feet caught up in the other one and made you stumble. And with that, your body unceremoniously collapsed. It was like any other times you had fallen, but unlike those times, you heard a loud crack coming from your foot.

“Oh, shit! Are you alright?” Hoseok stopped instantly and squatted beside you. “Of course you’re not fine. Why did I even ask that?” He mumbled more to himself.

“Which foot was fractured? Can you try moving them?”

You, ever so carefully, tried to move each of your feet. Weirdly enough, you were pretty sure your left one was the one fractured, but you felt a sharp pain when you moved your right one.

You voiced your thoughts, “Umm… I’m not sure which one is fractured. I think it’s the left one, but the right one is more painful.”

Hoseok sighed. “We need to go to the hospital. Here, let me carry you.”

“Wait, I-”

Like you weighed nothing, he heaved you and carried you bridal style. Instinctively, you circled your arms around his neck, his very sweaty and veiny neck. But during this critical moment, a sweaty neck wasn’t on the top of your priorities.

“I don’t think this is necessary,” you said even though the pain on your feet had subsided a bit from being lifted off the ground.

“Absolutely.” He grabbed your bag and turned off the lights. “It would be better if we can use the stretcher, but since I’m alone, we have to settle with this. Sorry if this is uncomfortable.” He walked out of the studio and locked it before walking off to the parking lot.

You estimated that the entire walk from the studio to the parking lot must’ve taken around 10 minutes. At this point, you were 100% sure you felt like a dead weight for him. Yet, he still kept walking while holding you as if it was nothing. It was either you overestimated your weight, or he was stronger than you thought. Your bet was on the second one.

During the ride to the hospital, you racked your brain for a way to say thank you while actually sounding like you were grateful instead of just for formality. But after minutes had passed, you came up with nothing so you just settled with the old “thank you so much”. You just prayed he could see your sincerity through you.

“Don’t mention it. This is what I always do every time someone is injured.”

True to his words, when he entered the emergency room with you in his arms, a nurse yelled his name and directed you two to an empty bed.

“What happened?” the nurse asked as Hoseok carefully lowered you on the bed.

In an instant, the comforting heat radiating off of him disappeared. In exchange for his warmth, you felt the cold mattress and the typical freezing hospital room.

“The usual. But she said that both her feet hurt.” He gestured to you.

“I’m going to call a doctor, okay?” Without waiting for an answer from you, the nurse left.

Once the doctor came, you explained in detail what happened with Hoseok butting in sometimes to add completely unnecessary details. He said things like, “we were almost done with the class”, or, “we were alone there.” Lucky for him, your pain stopped you from wanting to strangle him.

You talked more about possible treatments, how long it would take, and most importantly, how much it would cost. In the end, it was decided that you needed an x-ray.

“You can leave now if you want. I’ll be alright,” you told him right after the doctor told you to wait for the x-ray. The guilt of making him do all of these was starting to eat you inside out.

You had felt guilty from falling multiple times, and now you fell to the point you broke your ankle. If it was possible, you felt ten thousand times more guilty. And the fact that he wasn’t even complaining at least once made you feel like a disappointment.

Maybe it was better if the earth swallowed you whole right now.

He shook his head as he sat on the chair beside the bed. “No way. How will you get home?”

Crap, he was right. There was no way you could walk by yourself after all this. Or call a taxi. Just imagining you had to wear a cast and a crutch already made you shudder. This was going to be a long month, or months, for you.

“You must feel tired now. You’ve been here for-” You glanced at the clock behind his head. “-around an hour now.”

“Do you have a friend you can call over?”

The question hit you more than it should’ve. Your friends, the same people who indirectly forced you to try dancing, all lived across the city. You knew there was no way they would be willing to spend their Friday night at the hospital with you. In your mind, you could already imagine them going out on a fancy dinner, cuddling with their partner, or watching a movie.

Your lack of response was an answer in itself.

“It’s okay. I don’t have anything to do anyways.”

“You don’t have any more students? Tonight? Tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “You’re my last student for the week.” He stopped for a while before continuing, “And my most interesting one.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Interesting? How?”

“You made me think of… things, basically, clearly.”

“Like what?”

He took a deep breath before answering, “I’ve been the best dancer, performer, whatever you wanna call it. And after I started teaching too, I became the best dance teacher in the city. Like, you must’ve already known that from the tariffs of my classes.”

You nodded.

“But since you came to my class a few months ago, things have changed. I just lost… my confidence in my teaching. Maybe my methods are wrong or I need a different approach or maybe-” His words caught in his throat. “-I don’t cut it to be a teacher.”

Your eyes widened at his words. He had mistaken your inability to do athletic stuff for his bad teaching.

“I think you got it all wrong,” you said urgently.

You didn’t want him to think he was a bad teacher. He was, in fact, far from that. So far, you’ve never met a teacher even half as nice as him or half as understanding as him.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “How?”

You hesitated for a moment. Were you really going to out yourself? Your heart screamed, “yes!” at that.

“Well, you see, I’m not the best at, you know, physical stuff. I was actually setting myself up for failure by trying out dancing.” You saw him frowning even further. You let out a nervous giggle. This was a bad idea, but you were already in too deep anyways. “I know this is confusing. My friends have told me that a lot of times.”

A few seconds of silence passed. Hoseok just stared at you, probably trying to figure you out, who knew. You were just weird like that.

Finally he broke the silence. “Can you drive?”

The question caught you off guard. “What?”

“Driving?”

“Of course I can.” You looked down on your injured feet. “Well, not for a while, I guess.”

“And I take it you never accidentally kill someone, right? Or else you wouldn’t be here, you’d be in jail.”

This time, you were the one frowning. Where was this conversation heading? Nonetheless, you nodded your head, answering his question silently.

He, for the first time after you broke your ankle, broke into a grin. “Then you’ll be fine. And I don’t think you set yourself up for failure.” He pouted. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You smiled back at him. “Okay.”

A few moments later, you were called to do an x-ray.

Wordlessly, Hoseok hoisted you up and put you on a wheelchair he found nearby. With that, he pushed you towards the x-ray room. You weren't going to lie for the fact that it kinda felt nice to be pushed by a handsome guy. On the other side, it only made you feel even more guilty.

Once you arrived in front of said room, a nurse took you in and told Hoseok to wait outside.

With your clumsiness, this obviously wasn’t your first time getting x-rayed. So you didn’t really feel nervous, not at all. Plus, you were significantly older than the last time you got x-rayed. There was nothing to be scared of, right?

Who were you kidding? Of course you’d be scared. Your heart thumped loudly against your chest, you wondered if the nurse could hear it. Probably she could, but even if she could, she didn’t say anything.

Okay, then. Maybe you should focus on something else. What about something to tell Hoseok about his fear? You didn’t do a great job of comforting him. Instead, he was the one comforting you. The hell was that about, Y/n?

Without you even realizing, since you were so focused on Hoseok’s fear, the x-ray was over and you were pushed out of the room. Phew… Wasn’t that easy? But you still haven’t thought of something to tell Hoseok, though. Nevermind, you’d probably be better off improvising.

Hoseok sat on the long bench in front of the x-ray room with a small plastic bag in his hand. You were sure he didn’t have that before. Beside him, sat the nurse who accepted you into the emergency room who now was talking animatedly to him.

For the first time since you entered the hospital, you got the chance to take a good look at the nurse.

Her outfit hugged her curves perfectly, no weird bumps or creases. It was as if the fit was tailored just for her. Her hair was up and away from her face in a tight and neat bun. Her makeup faded here and there from the long hours of working, no surprise there. And her glasses only complemented her whole look, making her look beautiful yet strong at the same time.

Looking at her made you wonder about how you looked in comparison.

You were still in your work out clothes that you designated for dancing. They were saggy in weird places as a sign of old age and definitely had been left forgotten in your wardrobe for a long time because you didn’t work out. The leather in your shoes also flaked in some places, indicating that you needed to buy a new pair. You knew not to buy them, though, remembering you weren’t athletic.

As you looked down on your clothes, you realized there was a giant blob of sauce stain just in between your boobs. Where- What? How did you get that? And why hadn’t you realized it until now?

You abruptly stopped yourself from self pity as the nurse pushed you closer to them. If you didn't have beauty or grace or sexiness, at least you had confidence.

The nurse Hoseok was talking to was the first to notice your arrival.

She stood up and asked you, “Are you alright? Do you need a painkiller?”

She was nice, too. No wonder Hoseok would be interested in her.

For a second you imagined what it felt like for someone to be interested in you. You haven’t felt that in a long time. Not that you missed the feeling, you were content with being single and had no intention to date anyone. At least not while your ankles still hurt.

You shook your head. “It’s not that painful.” You turned to the nurse who pushed your wheelchair. “When will the result come out?”

“In a few minutes. For now, you can wait here or in the emergency room.”

You looked at Hoseok, expecting him to answer for you.

He immediately took the cue. “We’ll wait here. Thank you.”

“Alright. I’ll direct you to the doctor’s office once the results are out.”

You mumbled a “thank you” before the nurse left.

The other nurse, who talked to Hoseok earlier, though, didn’t leave as much as you wanted her to. Instead, she sat back beside him and continued the conversation like nothing happened. Like you weren’t even there.

“When I get off my shift later, do you want to grab supper?” she asked while batting her thick lashes. Were nurses allowed to wear fake lashes, you wondered.

Just like the Hoseok you knew, he turned down the offer politely. “Sorry, I don’t really eat supper.”

She pouted in an attempt to look cute. But honestly, with the makeup and sexy clothes, her cuteness was uncalled for.

Gosh you wished you were as sexy or pretty as her, surely you could get any man you want. Nope, you were still happy with being single.

“What about tomorrow? I get bored on Saturdays.”

“I-” His eyes flicked around the room. “I need to check my schedule first.”

Her face lit up. “Text me, okay?” And just like how she didn’t wait for your answer earlier, she left without waiting for his.

You grimaced at their awkward conversation. “She seems… nice.” It came out more like a question.

He exhaled long and hard as if he held his breath the entire time. “And too much.”

“What-?” you sputtered. “She was blatantly asking you out.”

“Yeah, I know that. That’s why she’s too much.”

A question crossed your mind. “Have you known each other for a long time?”

“Not really. But since the number of my students blew up, injuries became more common, so...”

“Oh.” You nodded understandingly.

You suddenly remembered that you had to comfort him.

“You’re actually a great teacher, you know. At least that’s the review from Google. You have 4.8 stars! That’s awesome.” At this point you just blurted out anything nice to him. “My favorite restaurant only has 3.6 stars.” And by anything, you meant everything.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Thanks?"

“No problem.”

“What about you, though? What do you think of my teaching skills?”

Once again, his questions caught you off guard.

It was still fresh in your mind about the day you signed up for a class with him. How he answered all your questions with his smile never leaving his face. The day of your first class with him, he explained the basics with so much patience. He never said no whenever you asked him to show the moves again and again and again. And today, he took you to the hospital and even waited with you through all the procedures.

He was an extraordinary teacher. And person.

But there was no way you could say all that. It would only embarrass you more.

“I think you’re… nice.”

He furrowed his eyebrows deeper at your words. He surely would get wrinkles early if he kept frowning like that. And that would be so bad for his handsome face.

Okay, maybe it was better if you said all that in the first place.

“I mean,” you spoke up again, trying to redeem yourself. “You’re the best teacher I’ve ever met. You’re nice, understanding, and patient. Something I rarely see in other teachers.” And handsome, you wanted to add, but it was a story for another day.

He finally no longer furrowed his eyebrows.

“May I ask you a question?” he asked quietly.

Another question from him wouldn't hurt, right? “Sure.”

“Why did you decide to try dancing if you knew you weren’t good with ‘physical stuff’?” He did the airquote thing. “Sorry if it’s too personal.”

“No, it’s alright.” You chuckled. “Remember the friends that kept telling me I’m clumsy?”

He nodded.

“Well, they were kinda the reason.”

“Okay…”

You took a deep inhale. “We’ve been friends since the third grade of primary school. We’re basically inseparable. But as close as we are, we have different lives.”

“I understand.”

“One is an athlete. She’s a swimmer and takes part in a lot of national championships. The second one is not as athletic, but she does golf in her free time. She’s extremely good, though. The last one is a pole dancer and she really takes pride in it. So far, I’m the only one who doesn’t really do physical things. In fact, I’m not into physical activities at all.”

“That’s alright. Everyone is different. What do you do?”

“I loved studying.”

“Loved?”

You took multiple deep breaths to prepare yourself to come with the truth. “They always make fun of me for liking reading over physical activities. Until one point I can’t even look at books anymore.” You bit your bottom lip. “They even made a different pact and left me out.”

Books were an important part of your life. And reading was the only time when you could let yourself go from the harshness of the world. The time when you could forget your problems, or even who you were, for a little while. Knowing your friends didn’t like that made you question yourself.

“I think studying is important.” He commented. “If no one is studying, no one will get to be anything.”

“I know that. And I wanted to learn how to be more physically active. That’s why I took this dancing class.” Then you added, ”It’s actually my last resort. I’ve tried and failed other activities.”

“I don’t think you should listen to them. Even your oldest friends can’t be right all the time.” He smiled reassuringly. “Thanks for sharing your problem with me. I’m gonna show you just how amazing non-physical activities can be.”

He looked down on his lap and immediately handed you the plastic bag he'd been holding. "The nurse gave it to me, but you can have it instead."

You accepted the bag and peered inside. There was a loaf of bread, still looking fresh and warm.

After that, everything just flew by. Maybe because you were tired and the day was almost over, or maybe because you had Hoseok beside you, who made waiting felt fun. Or maybe both, who knew.

Soon the results came out and the nurse took you to the doctor’s office with Hoseok following in tow. The doctor explained everything and helped you, along with Hoseok, to get used to walking with crutches. You were also given some pills to ease the pain. And after all that, off you go.

You were back in Hoseok’s car, heading home. Somehow, the smell of his obnoxious orange car freshener smelt comforting compared to the hospital’s disinfectant.

“You really shouldn’t have waited for me.” You glanced at the time on your phone. It was almost midnight. “It’s really late now. I’ll have to give you a big tip later.”

He laughed. It sounded like heaven in your ears. “There’s no need for that. I’m just concerned with your health. Plus, I do this to all of my students. Think of it like part of my service.”

You giggled. “Alright, if you say so.”

He snorted. “One time, a student was even left all day in the hospital by their parents so I had to wait overnight until they came.”

“That’s horrible. Don’t they care about their kid?”

"They do. But they care more about their alcohol."

"I take it they were drunk while their kid was injured?"

"Apparently their stress response is getting drunk."

"Oh my…"

"When I say you're not even half bad as my other students, you have to believe it."

Proving to you one more time about how much of a gentleman he was, once you arrived at your apartment building, he parked his car and helped you out of the car. He guided you all the way to your apartment, making sure you weren't hurt on the way. Maybe you really should find a man like him. Or maybe… him himself?

Nah, you weren’t looking for a partner, remember?

He helped you settle down and was about to leave when he stopped in the middle of the doorway.

He turned around. “Wait. Do you live here alone?”

“Why?”

Instead of answering your question, he blurted another question. “Does your family live nearby?”

“They live outside of the city. Why?”

He looked like he was deep in thought before shaking his head. “Nothing. I’ll just come back tomorrow to help you since you’re alone.”

You weren’t one to stop a handsome guy from helping you, but you already owed so many favours for him.

“You have a date with the nurse, remember?”

He scoffed. “I told her I need to check my schedule. Looks like it’ll be full.”

Okay…

A question suddenly came out of your mouth, "Why do you keep helping me? I have no use for you. I can't attend your classes anymore."

It was true. You wouldn’t be able to do any physical activities, including dancing, for a few months. Not to mention your lack of athletic abilities that would demotivate you from trying to dance again even after you recovered.

At first, he looked startled. His eyes widened and mouth agape. But then he quickly regained his composure before answering, "Is it wrong if I think of us as… friends? Are we not friends after all of this?" He gestured to your leg.

You gestured to your surroundings. "But friends don't do this. My friends don’t do this.”

"Don’t base your understanding on them. They're not good friends, Y/n. I'm sorry.”

“But-” You really wanted to counter his argument, defend your oldest friends. But you knew deep down that he was right and there was nothing you could do.

“Let me be a good friend for you, okay?" he said as he linked his pinky to yours. Marking his promise and the start of your friendship.

He wasn’t one to break promises and you knew it firsthand. Had you known him before, you would’ve tossed your friends long ago.

Over the course of a week, he’d shown you care more than what you’ve gotten from your friends your entire friendship.

He cooked you breakfast, because he said that you had to stop eating junk food if you wanted to recover fast.

“Athletic or not, health is very important,” he said.

“Yes.”

“That means you need to eat healthy, Y/n.” He rolled his eyes. “And don’t even try to give me the puppy eyes, it won’t work on me.”

He force fed you your meds when you intentionally forgot about them.

“I put your meds directly beside your glass and you still managed to forget?” he yelled. “Drink it, or I’ll leave this instant.”

At his threat, you immediately took them. You enjoyed his company and weren’t ready to have him leaving you.

Because he noticed how sullen you looked when you realized you couldn’t go out, he tried to cheer you up by dancing crazily to a song playing on the TV. He waved his arms randomly and went around you while yelling incomprehensibly.

“Can you feel the energy, Y/n?” he asked in between his yells.

“No. Stop before the neighbors complain! You’re too loud!” You cupped both ears with your hands.

“Tell me you feel the energy then I’ll stop.”

You chuckled. “Fine. Yes, I feel the energy. Now, stop!”

He abruptly stopped and threw himself beside you on the couch.

“Ew, you’re sweaty. Get off of my couch!”

Among everything that Hoseok had to help you with, adulting was the hardest. In particular, the working part of adulting. Obviously, you needed to take a leave for a month and in order to do that, you first had to go through your boss’ wrath. Fortunately, a certain man with the stage name j-hope was ready to help you.

“It’s gonna be easy. I mean, how scary can bosses be.” He dismissed your worries with a wave of his hand.

“Very scary, I warn you.”

Contrary to his belief, after the phone call with your boss ended, Hoseok was scarred for life. Bosses were indeed scary, especially your boss.

With wide eyes, he whispered, “Never ask me to call your boss again. He’s literally a devil in disguise.”

“But did I get permission to take a leave?”

“Oh, shit! I forgot about that.”

“Hoseok!”

When he had a class to teach, you tried to fill the void by texting your older friends. But as expected, they instead made you even worse.

One said, "Hope you get well soon. We'll come back once we're not too busy."

What about the two others? Well, they only read and liked your messages.

That was alright, right? They all had their own lives and were probably busy. It wasn’t like your injury was a big deal anyways… right? There was no need for them to be worried about you or shower you with attention or visit you. Yeah, that was absolutely normal… not.

There was no need for moping around, though. The next day, your old friends and your knight in hypebeast clothes came over. Yes, said knight was Hoseok. Yes, they came at the same time. It was okay to have a handsome man and your way-past-hormonal-stage friends to be in the same place at the same time. Or at least that was what you initially thought.

"Y/n," one of your friends said with a frown on her face. "What happened? We were so worried."

You almost wanted to roll your eyes. They didn't seem that worried when you texted them yesterday.

“And who’s this?” another friend asked while staring at Hoseok. And it wasn’t a nice stare either, more like a judging stare.

You scowled, but still tried to keep some decency. “This is my friend slash dance teacher, Hoseok. Hoseok, these are my friends that I told you about.”

The last one of your friends was the first to shake his hand. “Wow. Is that so? I hope you only hear nice things.”

At that, both you and Hoseok faked a laugh. Your friends didn’t seem to realize though.

“Yeah, nice things indeed,” you commented once your laugh died down.

You were in the middle of talking and catching up with your friends while Hoseok interjected here and there when you needed to go to the restroom. Both to relieve yourself and to hide from the awkwardness for a while. It always felt weird to merge two friend groups.

“Guys, Imma go pee for a bit, okay?”

Hoseok instinctively stood up to help you, but you gestured to him to sit back down. “I got this, don’t worry.” You gave him a small smile and went to the bathroom.

Sure it did take longer for you to just pee compared to when you weren’t injured, but it still didn’t take too long in your opinion. The cast made everything more complicated, but not particularly harder. However, when you were flushing down the toilet, you heard some talking noises, way louder than usual. It sounded more like angry yellings. And as you were washing your hands, you heard a slam of a door. What was happening?

Couldn’t stand to not know what just happened any longer, you quickly finished your business and went out, only to find your once full-of-guests living room now bare with just Hoseok in it. All the while, Hoseok was cleaning up the coffee table while humming a tune.

“Where-?"

You didn’t even get to finish your question when he answered, “Your friends left.“

“So soon?”

He shrugged as he tossed away the cloth he used to clean. “They probably have things to do.”

“And they didn’t even say goodbye to me.” You sighed and plopped yourself on the couch. “I only heard loud noises and a door closing. They didn’t say anything to you?”

“Nope. But, I told them to get their life together before criticising people.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Never in your friendship with your friends had you ever told them off like that. Sure they weren’t that nice, but you didn’t feel it was right to do that. Yeah, you were pretty much a coward. You scared your friends would leave you.

But to have Hoseok said that? Sure it was nice for your friends to know they were jerks, but you were surely going to lose your friends now.

You huffed and your shoulders sagged.

“What did they even do?” you asked as you watched him taking a seat beside you.

“You’ll find out. It’s better if you know it first from them.”

His answer only made you more curious and mull over what could have happened. What did they do that made a nice person like Hoseok say such a thing? Why did they leave abruptly? Would they end your friendship because of that? Would they ever explain to you what happened? So many questions were running through your head, but you couldn’t even guess the answer for any of them.

Hoseok knew how much you were distraught by what happened, so he, being the sunshine that he was, took you to watch him teaching dance to little kids.

“I’d be the oldest student there,” you whined.

“You come not as a student.” He laughed. “You come as my friend.”

“They’d be embarrassed if I watch along.”

“No way. They’re cool with it.” Then he added, “And cute.”

He wasn’t one to lie. The kids were indeed adorable. And their parents were also nice. While you were talking to the parents, the kids occasionally went to you to show you or ask you something. Mostly to ask you what happened to your foot. But one asked you a question that made your cheek heat up for the rest of the class.

“Are you Uncle Hobi���s girlfriend?”

“Oh- Umm…” you stuttered. “I-”

The parent quickly cut it before you could answer. “Don’t ask a question like that!”

“But I’m curious since he said he likes someone.”

You wondered who he liked, but you knew better than to gossip about romance with a kid. So in the end, you refrained yourself from asking.

Once the class finished, Hoseok came up to you with a proud grin and a sweaty body.

“How was it?”

“You were right. They were cute. But one little birdie told me something.” You smirk.

“Oh, no. I don’t want to see that face.”

“C’mon. Just answer me. Who are you crushing on, Hobi?”

He groaned. “You knew about my crush and the nickname. I shouldn’t have brought you here. This was a bad idea.”

“I think it’s fun,” you teased. “Now, entertain me.”

He sighed. “It’s a girl I know from one of my classes.”

“Not the nurse, huh?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Never the nurse. Did that answer your question?”

“Not really. But I’ll take it for now since you’re stinky. Go take a shower!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He laughed.

His Friday schedule, that used to be filled with a class with you, was now empty. He was a high-demand teacher, his empty classes were almost instantly filled, but no one really wanted to have a class on a Friday evening. That was reserved for laying in bed and nothing else.

So, instead of letting you mope around during the time which you should have been having a class, Hoseok took you to his secret space on the other side of the dance studio. Secret space because no one in the world knew what was inside aside from him and one curious student that accidentally found it.

Hope World was the name. Such a fitting name for a place with a warm atmosphere, two huge speakers, several smaller speakers, and two giant monitors. There were also a lot of hypebeast plushies and decorations. On the couch, on the table, even on the floor, covering most of the surface in the room.

You took a seat on the couch while feeling its soft surface beneath your hand. “What is this place?”

“This is where I make music. I’m a dance teacher by day and a music producer by night.” He grinned.

“Why did you decide to show me this? This seems… personal.”

“Because I want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with doing the things you like.” He turned on the computer and played a song.

“The song is called Blue Side. For a long time, I have had problems finishing this song. But then I found the final piece.”

“What was it?”

“I needed to let go of my past happiness for a greater happiness,” he answered without hesitation, as if he already rehearsed that. “That’s kinda the gist of the song, too. And I think you need that advice right now.”

He was right. Sacrificing your past happiness that was your old friends would probably change your life drastically. You needn't seek their validation in anything you do. Only you mattered because you were the one living your life. Question was, were you ready to let them go?

You looked at him in his eyes. A small smile played on your lips. “Thank you.”

He smiled back before going back to his computer to change the song.

“Okay enough of depressing shit. Let’s dance!” He carefully took your hands in his and pulled you up on your feet.

“I can’t dance,” you whined. “With or without the cast.”

“We’re not doing that kind of dance, you doofus. We’re just swaying along to the song.” He wrapped an arm around your waist so you could follow his sways easier. On instinct, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He swayed ever so slightly, following along the rhythm of the song. The melody filled around the room, into your ears, and out of it again. Hoseok’s strong hands held you, making sure you were steady and wouldn’t topple over. The smell of the room that was so Hoseok, you were pretty sure he used his own perfume to freshen his room. Yet, among all of these foreign things, you felt just right. You felt home.

Once you got the hang of it, you laughed. “This is the easiest dance move you’ve ever taught me.”

“Glad you think this is the easiest because I don’t know any other easier moves.”

“Well, I’m sorry for being unathletic,” you defended yourself. “I didn’t ask to be born like this.”

“What? Born naturally gorgeous?” Soon after those words left his mouth, he looked anywhere else but you, totally pretending like nothing happened.

With cheeks burning, you complained, “You can’t say that and pretend nothing happened.”

He looked back at you and laughed. “Why? Are you shy?”

You punched his chest in a joking manner.

It was when the song stopped when you realized how close you were to Hoseok. You could even smell his cologne, see his tiny freckles scattered on his face, and feel his breath that smelled like mint, a sure sign he ate too many mints. If he was handsome from a distance, he was mesmerizing up close.

Your eyes found his and you saw how captivating his eyes were. Pools of warm brown eyes, deep enough to drown and hypnotize you. And when he smiled, they turned into crescents with wrinkles at the side. Simply put, he had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen.

Your mind snapped back into reality and you immediately let go of him in a panic. Just as you let him go, he also let you go on instinct, making you unable to keep your balance and struggle to find your footing.

“Oh, shit!” He steadied you again with his hands on your waist. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes widened at the event that just unfolded. “Yeah. Thanks for saving my life again.”

“Just so you know, I don’t mind saving you repeatedly if that’s what I need to do to keep you alright.”

It was safe to say that his words echoed in your mind for the rest of the day.

The next day, your questions from the previous days were answered.

“We’re very sorry about what we did,” one of your friends said as soon as they entered your apartment.

“Is this about when you guys left a few days ago?”

“Yes. But we have a reason for that,” another friend answered.

“And the reason being?” You raised an eyebrow, anticipating what was coming next.

You were no longer sure if you wanted to hear it.

“We-”

“We talked shit about you to Hoseok,” the last one interjected. Always to the point, that one.

“We’re very sorry. I know it was wrong and stupid of us to do that. We get it if you don’t want to befriend us anymore,” the first one spoke up again.

Sure you felt sad, but a part of you knew that this had been happening long before. It was more like you waited for them to finally come clean and confess to them, so you weren’t surprised at all. And with them coming clean, you were relieved. You could finally let them go in peace. Just like what Hoseok had said.

You nodded your head slowly. You didn’t have the strength to even look at them in their eyes. “Thanks for being honest with me and for being my best friends all this time. But everything has an end and I think this is ours.”

“I assume they have apologized?” Hoseok asked after looking at your bright smile. The smile of a person who could finally let go of their burdens.

It was Sunday, the day after your friends confessed, and you were stuck in the library with him. While you wanted to listen more to his songs, he wanted to take you to the library. It took a bit of bickering, but he won in the end since you both had never been to a library together before.

“Yes. Thanks for defending me. You didn’t need to do that.” You reached for a book that was too high.

Hoseok came behind you and grabbed the book before handing it to you. “Hadn’t I done that, they’d still walk all over you.”

Oh how true his words were, but you weren’t going to admit that.

“Whatever. I’m still grateful, though.”

“You’re very welcome.”

You sat at a corner and he followed suit, sitting right beside you.

“And what did you say to them?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t remember, but what’s important is that I cut ties with them. I did exactly what you had taught me.”

“I know you’re a good student. Always diligent and curious. And a fast learner, too.”

“Aren’t you proud of me?” You grinned at him.

“I’m always proud of you, ever since the first day you joined my class.”

Sure, there were days in which you wished you were more athletic, but if it weren’t for your lack of athleticism, you wouldn’t have been this close with Hoseok. Or ending your toxic friendship. So you gotta give the credits where it was due.

“Last lesson, enjoy the things you love to do unapologetically.”

“One question, what was your past happiness?”

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[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU Pt. 7 (1...6)

tw: general Howard Stark warning

----

So, here’s the thing.

Peter meant to ask May about the letter the night he got it back from Tony, He really did. But then everyone was in such a good mood, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter that to satisfy his own curiosity.

So then he meant to ask the next day.

And he tries, he really does.

But the letter feels as heavy as an anvil in his desk drawer and Peter is too nervous to ask about it. Something always comes up or he gets too scared to shatter the image of the good, obedient nephew he is, one who doesn’t go rifling through mail not addressed to him, prying into personal business.

So he flusters and stumbles pretty badly for the first couple attempts. He changes topic quickly, pretending like he was going to ask about something else, asking himself where exactly his business ends and where his curiosity begins.

Once during a gymnastics comp he stopped mid routine to check on a rival who had fallen from the rings and injured themselves. His coach asked when he was going to stop being a goddamn martyr.

He shakes the Magic 8-Ball on Monday morning and asks the universe if it’s an appropriate time to approach May.

Reply hazy, try again.

Well, that’s not what his flagging courage had hoped for. He shakes it again.

Ask again later.

One more time, harder.

Better not tell you now.

“What the hell,” he whispers, placing it haphazardly upon where he took it. “That’s bullshit.”

“What’s with the potty mouth,” May asks suddenly from behind him. He turns as she’s affixing some dangling earrings to her ears. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just - do you have a minute?”

She checks her watch. “I have about forty seconds. Is something wrong - are you okay?”

“No - I mean yes, I’m okay. Are...are you?”

“Top of the world, bubby,” she scoops her keys from the bowl, approaching him with a curious expression. “Why do you ask?”

There’s no easy way to ask without blatantly admitting to going through her things, and the last thing he wants her to think is that she can’t trust him.

“I just mean. If you weren’t. If there was something wrong, you would tell me, right?”

“Of course,” her face falls. “You’re acting strange, Pete.”

“I just worry, that’s all.”

You’re all I have left, is what loops over and over in his mind, but doesn’t say. She seems to hear it anyway, rushing forward and kissing his forehead, her perfume filling his nose.

“Everything is fine, bubs. The second it isn’t, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

“I gotta go, but stop worrying okay? That’s my job. You have a good day.”

She hurries to scoop up her handbag and closes the door before he’s broken out of his thoughts long enough to reply. He sighs and shakes the stupid ball again before he leaves as well.

Cannot predict now.

Of course.

Just for once he’d like fate to be firmly on his side.

---

Something smells weird.

It’s sharp, chemical and not entirely unpleasant. Noticeable, however, sharp enough to cut through the usual musty smell of the library. It’s like apple cider, but overpowers the usual library smell of old books and dust and pencil shavings, a scent Peter has long associated with study, solitude, and the easing of his anxious heart from a gallop to a steady stride.

It’s not a bad smell, just misplaced.

And Tony’s been acting strange all study period. Like, weirder than normal - and his resting state of normal is already ineffably frenetic and bewildering, so this was an entirely different carton of eggs.

Peter doesn’t exactly want to bring it up, they’re kind of on a tenuously peaceful truce, a silent lay down of arms, so to speak.

Well, as peaceful as a truce can be while they call each other all sorts of names and rib each other over literally any sign of weakness, but still. They have some sort of an understanding now, and it’s all relatively innocent, good natured banter.

Mostly.

Peter for sure could have done without being called fuck-face-mcgee upon entering the library, but he’s willing to let it pass. He was late, after all.

“Anyway,” Peter says, sitting across the table from Tony, “so I think if we removed the monthly gym membership, we’d have an extra sixty per month that could go towards other stuff.”

“Like what?” Tony’s face pinches.

“I don’t know, like a college fund?”

“Ridiculous idea. I need that membership,” Tony rebukes, shrugging his leather jacket off, hooking it over the back of the chair. “When else am I supposed to get a reprieve from you and the cabbage patch?”

“When do I get a reprieve? I’m the money-maker. When do I get my break from work and childcare?”

“At work. What are you, like an art teacher or something? Your whole day is like a rich, white woman's vacation. Parents don’t get a lunch break.”

“Right. I’m sure watching Dora and burping an infant is as hard as teaching a class of thirty.”

“Wow. So dismissive. I mean, if you were a good spouse, you would give your withered and weary husband a break from screaming babies and shitty diapers.”

“Mhmm. That would mean I’d have to do something nice for you, and that doesn’t sound like me.”

Tony shakes his head. “We’re getting a divorce as soon as Molly is old enough to pick me as the superior parent,” he points to Peter’s papers. “Put that in the notes.”

Peter closes his eyes and sighs, willing himself not to lean over the table and smack the other boy.

“You are not the superior parent. You’re the deadbeat that forgets to pick her up from school and day drinks.”

“And yet, she loves me the most. You’re just the breadwinner who comes home grumpy every evening. I’m the cool dad.”

“Fine, keep your druglord baby. I never wanted kids anyway.”

“Fine. I’m keeping the car.”

“I’m keeping the apartment.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They snicker quietly in a rare moment of camaraderie before a lightbulb goes off in Peter's head.

“What if we used the membership, but cut costs elsewhere, like, cutting our own hair and stuff. We could save for a yearly holiday, go to the beach or something.”

“Florida! Disney, roadtrip, yes,” Tony clicks his fingers towards Peter, smiling wide. “Look at you getting all savvy. Call the judge, the marriage is back on.”

“You can’t go to Disney for a few hundred dollars, dumbass, that’s barely the price of admission,” Peter scribbles on his pad, making note of their ideas. “You ever been?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Not even once.”

“That’s surprising. Isn’t that where all rich white people take their baby sociopaths to beat up their first mascot?”

“One, I was never a baby, I emerged fully grown, and two, could you imagine Howard Stark within a mile of the happiest place on earth? He’d have a fucking stroke,” his face changes like he’s had an epiphany. “Not a bad idea, actually.”

Peter doesn’t mention that he doesn’t personally know Howard Stark but is willing to take Tony’s assessment at face value. That being said, he can’t imagine Tony, now, voluntarily heading to Disney without coercion or the promise of copious quantities of alcohol. He’d probably smoke and cuss and scare away small children.

He mind lingers on that particular characterisation, and for a moment tries to picture what Tony looked like as a kid, if he was a chubby, toothless little brat, can’t help then imagining him with Mickey Mouse ears, gleefully running through his gigantic home, harried caretakers running after him.

He must have been the worst.

“I’ve never been further than Washington,” Peter offers, “but that was for AcDec, so it wasn’t like we got to see much.”

“You did Academic Decathlon?”

“Yep.”

“Ew, why would you do that to yourself.”

“I still do it. It looks good on college applications and it’s fun,” he shrugs. “I like it. I’m good at it.”

Tony’s hands cover his mouth, but it doesn’t stifle the rising apple of his cheeks or the mirth in his voice.

“I’m feeling so much second-hand embarrassment for you right now.”

“Shut up,” Peter huffs, kicking him under the table, satisfied when the other boy winces. He fails to smother his own wince when he gets a kick in return, right in the kneecap. “Nothing wrong with being an intellectual.”

“You’re a fucking nerd, four-eyes.”

“What about you?” Peter rolls his eyes, keen to change the subject. “Been outside New York?”

Tony shrugs, tapping his pen on the pad, looking anywhere but at him. “When I was younger I’d sometimes go on my dad's business trips to Europe or Japan or whatever. And we have a house in Malibu.”

“That sounds awesome.”

Tony snorts. He shuffles on his seat, sliding their notes over and making further amendments in quick strokes, the cheap pen spurting bright red ink over the paper like arterial spray.

“Oh yeah, it was a real blast.”

Spoiled brat.

“Are you going anywhere for Thanksgiving?”

“With my family?” Tony looks up. “No, I’d rather stick my head up a turkey’s ass. You?”

Without warning, Peter’s hand flies to cover his mouth, unable to  but snort at the imagery, He’s not sure if Tony just doesn’t get along with his family or if he’s still stuck in that churlish, ‘too cool to be around my parents’ stage of adolescence. It’s one the idiosyncrasies that would have annoyed Peter before, his ungratefulness of having a family that’s still alive would be just another thing for Peter to hate him for.

Now, he thinks, he’s beginning to parse out when Tony’s being sincere and when he’s  hyperbolic, finally recognising the latter as a mechanism to throw someone off a topic that makes Tony uncomfortable. He sees it - the warning lights and stop signs in barbed coding, wrapped up in dry wit and sarcasm.

Peter is like that sometimes, too.

And what the hell would Peter know about having a normal family.

“Yeah, actually, for once,” he says softly. “My aunt - not May - and uncle have a holiday home up north, so we’re staying with them over the long weekend.”

“S’cool. May’s family?”

Peter shakes his head. “Sort of - they’re not actually related, but May and Margaret have been best friends since college, so.”

“Is Margaret a babe, too?”

Peter throw a chewed-up pencil at him that he catches easily.

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not,” he throws the pencil back, overshooting and hitting the shelves behind them. “What are we talking, on a scale of haggard to hottie.”

“I don’t know, man. You seem to have questionable taste in the people you are attracted to.”

Tony grins crookedly, eyes shining with something Peter can’t decipher. “Ain't that the truth.”

“What’s the supposed to --” he stops himself, suddenly recognising what the strange scent was that he’d been picking up. “Wait - dude, are you wearing cologne?”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he responds. “No,” he denies, just as the bell rings. “Oh, look at that, time to get to class.”

Saved by the bell.

“So, this is it,” Tony nods, shutting the lid of his laptop as the bell signals the end of their free period. “We’re done. The assignment. That’s the last of it, right?”

Dazedly, he watches Tony stuffing his laptop and notes into his backpack, brow creasing as his mind catches up.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Send me your notes tonight, I’ll stitch them together with mine and send them back.”

“Okay,” he sluggishly collects his own notes, picking up the bag by his feet. “That’s - that’s good.”

“Well, Parker,” Tony slings his backpack on his shoulder, shuffling backwards, “we didn’t kill each other. I mean, not for a lack of wanting on my behalf.”

‘’Yeah, from Wednesday we’re free. We can go back to normal.”

“Yeah,” Tony’s grin fades. They stare at each other for a long moment that could have been seconds or hours, he doesn’t know, until the second bell rings.

“Hey, um --”

“I’ll send you the notes later,” Tony interrupts, sotto voce. “I gotta get to class. See you around.”

Something in his stomach deflates, sadly and slowly, like a balloon with a pinprick, emptying itself until it’s an uncomfortably hard to digest crumpled mass at the base of his stomach. He pastes on a smile and looks out the window, hoping the feeling doesn’t show in his eyes.

That’s when he notices the leather jacket Tony has left behind, still slung over the back of the chair.

“You left your…” he trails off, turning back, but Tony is already long gone, probably already halfway to his next class. Like a bat out of hell, Peter thinks wryly, picking up the jacket, the leather smooth like butter under his touch, still warm around the collar where Tony’s had been leaning against it.

No good leaving it here to get stolen or be tossed into lost property. He decides to take it with him, folding it gently over his arm. He’ll give it back when he sees him again, maybe after school.

“Nice jacket, Parker,” Flash says approvingly when Peter bumps into him out in the hall.

At first he thinks he’s referring to Peter’s ratty hoodie, and it confounds him for a moment because it’s decidedly not nice, but then he realizes he’s referring to the leather in his arms.

“It’s not mine,” he replies a little too late, because Flash is already down the hall, out of earshot.

Peter sighs. It’s beginning to become a depressing theme.

---

The weird feeling in his chest doesn’t subside all afternoon, and into the evening Peter is starting to think maybe he just has indigestion, like acid reflux or something. Must be the chilli surprise from lunch. Maybe he’d missed his meds.

He sends his portion of the final notes to Tony’s email, turns off his computer and switches on Colbert.

---

It’s not until hours later, well after midnight and the infomercials are playing, only then does his phone buzz against his thigh with a response.

Figures that Tony would be a night owl like him.

> soz was distracted > youtube spiral

Peter shifts downwards on the bed, holding the phone over his face. < s’ok  < what were you watching  > say yes to the dress  < lmao really > lol no > anyway, looks good. ur notes > will print off for u to sign tomorrow < is that a compliment or an admission u were wrong about me 

> neither. One subject does not a genius make  > unlike me, an actual genius

In your dreams, dipshit, he wants to type, but doesn’t, not really keen to provoke a muddy discussion on who is the smartest (it’s definitely Peter).

< u left ur jacket in the library btw, I have it, he texts instead, his pulse jumping when Tony replies with crying emoji’s.

Tony sends him a snap, unexpectedly, a sad face that makes Peter snort. His face seems distressed, the caption reads, thought i lost it for good.

Shifting down further on the bed, he’s feeling suddenly and inexplicably courageous, fire burning up from his belly button to his fingers.

Peter takes a silly photo of himself and sends it back. > didn’t want it to get stolen < aw u care

“I do not,” he whispers to himself.  > i do not. come collect it after school tomorrow or im throwing it out. < u wouldn’t do that to me > there’s a lot of things i would do 2 u  > ....  > um  > lol 

 Peter’s face flames at the implication. He reads over what he just so carelessly typed, stomach positively knotted with embarrassment. Oh god, that is not what he meant. His fingers fly over the screen at record speed as he types out a response. < NOT LIKE THAT < I MEANT IT IN A THREATENING WAY < I’M LITERALLY GAGGING > yikes > ur dirty talk needs work < no it DOESN’T bc we’re not sexting > sure jan > damn. didn’t kno u had it in u bubs < i don’t have it in me > not yet > ;)

Despite the deep blush still heating his face and his heart galloping in his chest, a laugh breaks out of him. The phone in his hand vibrates again. > jk jk, not ever > need to bleach my brain now 

Slowly gliding back to earth he types out a response. < ikr me too < ugh.

He puts his phone down on the bed, looking up at the water-stained ceiling, amusement slowly fading. His pulse though, that doesn’t return to normal.

How could it when his mind suddenly runs away from him, evoking short-lived, but nonetheless strikingly vivid images of intertwined legs, planes of pale skin, and lush lips. How can the heat in his stomach escape when his thoughts conjure phantom sensations of a soft mouth sucking on his neck, the punishing grip of hands on his hips and the warmth and weight of another body on top of his own.

A forehead leaning against his, brown eyes that knocked his pulse off kilter.

The taste of nicotine.

Stop it.

That is dangerous territory right there. And a line he doesn’t want to cross.

Shaking his head, Peter swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, looking anywhere for a distraction; his window, the posters on his wall, his figurines on his shelves, anything to douse the low-burning fire in his gut.

Standing, he heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed, banging their crappy old heater with his fist to get it working again.

He takes a very cold shower.

----

It’s not that Peter doesn’t enjoy sex.

Not that he’s had it.

But he enjoys jerking off, at least. Like a regular amount, whatever that is for a teenage boy. He likes kissing. Likes thinking about one day being in a real relationship and exploring someone's body and he likes exploring what turns him on and what he doesn’t.

It’s just that he doesn’t let himself think of anyone he knows personally that way, no matter how conventionally attractive they are - not Thor, and especially not him.

Typically, his fantasies are people with vague features, sometimes with bodies like those he has seen in porn, all shapes and sizes. And that’s safe for him.

He doesn’t want to have to look anyone he knows in the eye and wonder what their lips would feel like pressed against his own. If they’re any good at kissing. If they’re the type to take control or cede it.

He does wonder, sometimes though. No matter how much he denies what or who he wants.

Because it doesn’t matter if it’s a person or a thing. Want is never superficial in his experience, it doesn’t feel good most of the time. It’s deep and sometimes dark, it sinks itself into him with its hooks and it tugs, and keeps tugging. It yields to craving and yearning.

Back in his bedroom, his eyes land on his wall-mounted mirror. It’s small. Like the Mona Lisa. Small enough that he doesn’t have to see his whole reflection if he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to crave and yearn for anybody, because he knows it will always be one sided. He’s well aware that he isn’t exactly centrefold material.

Who is gonna look at his weird ears or thin lips, and think, shit, that’s the guy of my dreams. Not with his big glasses or the way his hair twists itself into frizzy, unruly curls once the gel wears off and he starts looking like an unkempt labradoodle.

Who would want to wake up next to him? No one.

So it’s better not to risk imagining anyone real. It’s only in his head that anyone could ever want him back.

His eyes go from the mirror to the jacket folded and placed on his desk. It was intended to be plain sight so he remembers to bring it in - out of sight, out of mind, is what Ben would say. He can still smell the cologne Tony denied wearing earlier.

Once he’s in bed, he turns to face the wall.

Out of sight, out of mind.

---

Maybe Tony subscribes to that mantra as well.

Peter forgets to bring the jacket in all week and Tony doesn’t ask.

---

Danvers wants him fit and ready to be harpooned into the mud by next week; that’s why she looks the other way when Thor and Peter take their informal training in the boundaries of the field, stretching out on the grass as the JV team runs their usual morning drills - drills Peter would have been a part of before his stupid injury and his stupid wrist-brace.

This school is stupid too. Now he has to pay to see a doctor so he can get medically cleared for a sport he doesn’t really care that much about.

Like he didn’t have enough medical bills to deal with.

In any case, he’s not really in a position to complain, because he has the opportunity now to run through his warm-up with Thor, who is taking his direction to spread his legs into a butterfly position so beautifully, even as his knees raise from the ground to make a v-shape, whereas Peter’s lie flat on the grass.

If the last few days had been different, he might have blushed and used the situation at hand as an opening to place his hands on Thor’s knees and applied pressure. But now he just smiles encouragingly and reminds himself that he has no chance - no place - and his hands do not belong anywhere but his own body.

And surprisingly enough, he’s okay about it all.

Thor was a good guy. Peter will never say no to having more friends.

It’s a dreadful, bitter morning. Icy cold, wind biting into his shirt, the grass below them is damp. He has to keep rubbing his hands together so he can restore feeling in his fingers.

To make things worse, Tony is back on the bleachers. White v-neck, jeans and dark sunglasses. Sprawled out over a set of steps, legs askew, arms behind his head, unmoving as if he were napping or sunbathing, appearing like a cocky main out of an eighties movie.

Or a king surveying his kingdom.

Rhodes and Potts slouch on either side of him, swapping phones over his idle figure, taking pictures and laughing amongst themselves.

“It burns,” Thor says lightly, hands on his thighs in an attempt to aim his knees to touch the ground.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, despite the ease in which he can lean in. “It just takes practice, dude. Twenty minutes a day, warm up and don’t over-do it. You’ll be limber in no time.”

“You can do this better than I can,” Thor argues, accent thick as he tries to lie flat like Peter.

“And you can lift a hundred pounds better than I can,” he tries to rebut, even as they switch positions, hip flexors aching with old injuries.

While the stretches are like second nature, he doesn’t miss the pressure of training for competition. The eagerness to get into a flat butterfly or oversplit. There was no argument that he spent nights on crunches back then, and he was somewhat toned - but he was shit at weight training. He hated lifting. Reps were more boring, more tedious and difficult and the diet required to give them any value was frankly not worth giving up a great hotdog or a loaded sub from Delmars. He wouldn’t go back to it now.

None of that old heat is there when he inspects Thor’s form. That quick simmer, the call to be closer. That terrible thing, want. All but gone. awe is still there, as he suspects it always would be with someone as outstanding as Thor, but the butterflies have very much flown away.

As he suspected would be the case. He has someone and they’re happy. With the cat out of the bag Thor had shown Peter pictures of his boyfriend all morning. He’d gotten a puppy, apparently, which just tickled Thor. He was so happy it was almost sickening.

When is it gonna be him that sickens someone with photo’s of his partner?

“Hey, Parker,” Tony yells from the stands, “you suck!”

Looking over, the idiot is raised on his elbows and grinning, like he’s proud of himself for a spectacularly unoriginal insult.

Rolling his eyes, Peter gives him the finger and he gets one in return.

His stomach twists and he has to duck his head to conceal his smile.

“Your husband is somewhat rude,” Thor says, following Peter’s example and switching from a pike to a lunge.

Peter looks back over to the stands. A cigarette now dangles between Tony’s full lips, sunglasses slid to the tip of his nose.

That’s how Peter knows he’s looking at him too.

Even from afar his eyes are round and mirthful, framed with ridiculously long lashes like a cartoon mouse, far too outlandish for any real person to have.

“He’s the absolute worst,” Peter bites his bottom lip, quickly averting his gaze. “It was an arranged marriage, to be fair.”

---

Wednesday comes and goes.

Their assignment gets handed in, Peter signs it off to say he did his fair portion of the work and Miss Ahn beams at the both of them when she is handed the thick binder, looking all too pleased with herself.

They have a presentation of their work next week, after Thanksgiving, each pair expected to give five minutes of their life pretending that they’re passionate about schoolwork in front of their fellow students who don’t care.

After that they are completely unburdened. No study sessions, no car rides, and no fries dipped in milkshakes.

They’re embarrassingly hailed as a prime example of people working through their differences, as if they had come together and were now friends or something.

From the front row Tony sneaks a furtive glance at Peter when she applauds them to the class.

“See, kids,” she says, “it wasn’t so bad working together, was it?”

Their eyes meet briefly.

“Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Tony declares, brash and loud, kicking his combat boots onto his desk in a leisurely display.. “That guy is the human equivalent of watching paint dry. Awful.”

“Oh, come on,” she chides. “Be nice.”

Not one to be outdone, Peter lets his horse out of the gate too.

“Singular worst experience of my life. I once had a root canal without anaesthetic and it was less painful than working with him.”

“Alright, boys, that’s enough out of you,” Miss Ahn sighs deeply, walking to the front of the room. “Mr Lang, how did you find the assignment?”

“Very informative…”

From the front row Tony turns in his seat and winks at him.

----

“Thanksgiving plans?” Natasha asks, leaning beside his locker, smothering a smile as he struggles to get his locker open for the nth time that day with one functional hand.

“Visiting my Aunt and Uncle,” he says, finally prying the damn thing open. “They’ve got a place up at Otisco Lake, so. Probably watching old movies and swimming all weekend.”

“Oof,” his friend winces. “That’s a trip. Think the May-Mobile will make the distance?”

The May-Mobile of course to the ancient, ‘89 Volvo 240 that May has been driving ever since Peter was born. She adores it and refuses to trade in, despite the fact that it rarely gets driven, practically haemorrhages gas, and has cost more in repairs in the last five years than the actual value of the car. But May really loves it. It's sentimental. She says it was the car Ben and her picked out together.

“It better make it,” he dumps his books in, closing the locker. “I don’t want to spend the weekend waiting for AAA in the middle of nowhere. What’s your plans?”

She shrugs, walking with him down the hall.

“Probably go and annoy Yelena. Was supposed to spend it with Bucky and his mom, but that ain't happening.”

He bumps her shoulder sympathetically. “Do you think you two will get back together?”

“Probably. But he’s got a shitload of grovelling to do first.”

“Don’t maim him, please. We need him on the team.”

“No promises.”

“Speak of the devil,” Peter adjusts his glasses, spotting Bucky at the base of the stairs talking to somebody. He gets startled, heart jumping when Natasha grabs him by the waist, pushing him towards the wall and inching them closer to the stairs.

“What are you --”

“ -- Shh, I want to listen. Who is he talking to?”

Craning his head, he finds himself in for another surprise when he sees that the other person he’s talking to is --

“He’s… he’s talking to Stark - what...?”

She shushes him again and Peter listens, curious now too.

“... what do you want, Barnes?” Tony visibly grimaces, taking a cigarette from his pocket and tucking it behind his ear. “Make it quick. I got places to be and your noxious stench gives me headaches.”

An announcement goes off over the loudspeaker over their head, calling for Brendon Bennett, a dick of a senior, to move his car from where he has blocked a teacher from leaving. It would be funny at any other time, but as it goes, he misses a chunk of their conversation.

“...Rogers isn’t the boss of me.”

“Yes, he is, and I’m not getting suspended again because you’re a pussy and he has roid-rage.”

“I just need an ETA. C’mon, pal, I really need this.”

“I’m not your pal and I don’t give a flying fuck what you need.”

Ever the easy going guy, Bucky puts his hands up placatingly as a group of students file down the stairs, causing enough noise that Peter misses whatever is said next. As he strains to hear he tries to draw the line between the dots, but comes up short on exactly how these two are connected.

“That fucker,” Natasha mutters near his ear.

By the time the students clear, Tony’s descended the stairs and begun to walk away

“I have better things to do than to sit around and wait for you,” Bucky calls out, giving him the finger.”

“And yet you will.”

Not in any possible lifetime was Peter going to address that he was weirdly relieved that Tony didn’t flip him off in return, some part of him petulantly thinking that’s our thing, but that’s wrong - Peter and Tony are not friends and they do not have things, even when they do, it’s not like a thing thing.

Nat grips his hand and pulls him along when Bucky leaves as well, swiftly walking away to avoid being caught. His backpack jostles at the speed and he realizes he’s still clutching Tony's jacket from where he had retrieved it from his locker.

“What was that about?” He asks, struggling to keep up with his friend's furious pace as he’s led down the hall. “Tash?”

She drops his hand once they are outside, her disapproval near palpable, voice laden with fire and fury.

“That’s Bucky being a world class idiot, he’s gonna get himself expelled, I swear.”

Peter stops on the spot.

“Expelled?”

Something dark curls unpleasantly in his gut, heavy and not leaving.

“They have a thing,” she explains hotly, mouth turning down. “Bucky and Stark.”

“What?” Peter breathes, uncomfortably thinking back to the party and the way Bucky overtly complimented Tony’s body. “Like a.... like a sex thing? Did he cheat on you?”

“What? No.”

“Then what?”

Red strands whipping in the wind, his friend looks around to see if there is anyone nearby before leaning in to speak low. He leans in too, unabashedly curious.

“Do you remember when Bucky was having issues with his parents when school started?”

He nods, thinking back to the times Bucky slept over in the late days of summer and early weeks of the school year, once or twice a week to get away from the shouting in his own home.

Natasha continues.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he got really depressed and fell behind with his work and everything he was handing in was terrible. Danvers pulled him up and said if he didn’t get his grades up, he’d be risking his spot on the team. So Bucky paid Stark to write up a few assignments for him, apparently he was doing it for a few kids, like it was a thing.”

...Okay.

That was not good, and definitely disappointing, but -

“Rogers found out. He gave Bucky a warning, but with Stark he threatened to go to Fury.”

Peter thinks back to the fight between their captain and Stark and their fight not long ago. “That’s why they…”

“I’m told Stark snapped, but I don’t know. I found out about the whole paper thing after that and me and Buck fought about it. I just got so mad - he’s - he’s not stupid, you know?”

“I know.”

She exhales heavily through her nose. “He’s going to get himself kicked out of school and I’m so -- I could kill him. We’re supposed to graduate together and get away from our families and go to college, and then he does this.”

“I’m sorry, Tash, I didn’t know,” he hugs her, her body going stiff before relaxing in his hold. “That’s shitty. For both of you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking you were in on the loop.”

He smiles, self-deprecating.

“Nope, I’m as clueless as ever.”

“No, you’re just too good for that,” she shakes her head. “Look, I gotta go and blow off some steam. Please don’t tell anybody about all this.”

“I won't, I swear - but text me later, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

She ruffles his hair before stepping back.

“You’re a bleeding heart, PP. Keep an eye on that, will you?”

Hearing a squeal of tyres, he whips his head around to the parking lot, the source of the noise. The Firebird squeals out of the lot and onto the road, the sound as angry, the glimpse Peter gets of Tony’s face, even angrier.

He turns back to Nat, but she’s already walked away. Which means she isn’t there to hear him mutter to himself.

“What are you getting into, Tony?”

----

His thumbs hover over his phone that night, as he writes i saw u with barnes today.

He quickly deletes that, not wanting Tony to think that he was following him or spying on him - or worse, thinking that Peter actually cares about what he does. He doesn’t. They’re not friends.

A dread settles in the spaces between his ribs, like thread trying to squeeze them together too tight, his lungs feeling compressed. Maybe it’s his asthma, or allergies.

It’s not and he knows it. He’s disappointed.

He rubs at his chest on his way home thinking about the scene they just saw and about what Natasha said. How is it that so many people in his orbit had this entire entanglement going on without Peter having any whiff of it? It really makes him wonder if they were they good at hiding it or was he just really fucking stupid. Stupid enough to think Bucky was doing okay, that Rogers wasn’t as sanctimonious as he appeared to be, and that Tony was --

Nevermind.

It’s none of his business and it’s not his place.

He knows better than to ask. It’s not as if he can forget all his own secrets that he clutches tightly to his chest, so tight it feels like he constantly walks through life with his fists clenched.

That and, like May, the real truth is that he can’t claim any entitlement to their trust. He eavesdropped in more ways than one these last two weeks. He tries to brush off that dry, sobering thought; it’s none of his business anyway and he has enough on his plate without getting involved.

When are you going to stop being such a goddamned martyr.

So then he thinks about the sheer fury on Tony’s face, how his - how he used to look at Peter the same way, and how Peter used to think that angry and bitter was Tony's default mood. That was that. The status quo.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair, was it. It was easier to dislike Tony when he was distant enough that Peter could pigeon-hole him into a stereotype.

Because Tony got into fights, sure, countless and petty, but he was the guy who pet puppies and snuck them food under the table. Not the guy who kicked them.

He looked like the puppy that was kicked, though.

Not angry.

Wounded.

And that’s what confuses Peter. Turns out he doesn’t really know anything about his friends.

Or Tony, it would seem.

----

May closes the drivers-side door and throws a packet of snacks into Peter’s face.

“Pretzels.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he adjusts his glasses where they'd been knocked askew.

“Sorry, I thought your reflexes were better,” she says, and by way of apology, lobs a packet of sour gummies more gracefully on his lap. “Your favorite.”

“Apology accepted.”

From a plastic bag she fishes out two cokes and places them in the centre console, a bag of red licorice and crackers follow, also making their way onto his lap. She always buys too much food.

Then they’re turning back onto the highway that leads them out of where they paused at Monticello, the radio jacked up loud enough to be heard over the tiny droplets of raindrops sporadically hitting the windshield.

They’ve left early enough that it’s still dark.

Fog still hangs low on the roadside, intangible pale wisps that seem to disintegrate upon crossing, the road dotted with other travellers, but not too crowded, enough so they can easily cruise the speed limit and sometimes over. The Bangles play on a cassette tape and, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, May looks so carefree, driving her sentimental car with the noisy engine, singing along to the same cassettes she’s had since she was his age.

Peter can’t bring himself to say what he wants to. About the letters. One in particular. He knows something isn't right but who is he to break the peace?

So, he doesn’t and they keep driving.

The fog lifts and the tunes continue, both of them singing familiar tunes from ABBA to George Michael and Peter let’s go of what he can’t control and loses himself in the buoyancy of nostalgia - neither of them can carry a tune for shit and it’s funny, and when he rolls his window down he sticks his hand out to feel the frigid air, it’s the most free he’s felt in a long time.

Football and his after-school duties and everything else just drifts away with the wind, at least for this moment.

It was like when he was a kid. The route itself is mostly dark and dull, and this time without Ben, but their usual car games of ‘dollar every time you spot a windmill’ and ‘how many minutes until the next town’ are fun and easily pass the time. This will be another memory that he will gloss over with fondness, how even the boring roads will seem like rapture.

When the sky starts to turn from black to grey they stop for early breakfast at a diner just slightly off their trail in Windsor, both of them famished despite the hoard of snacks and in dire need of coffee.

The car is beginning to emit pale plumes of smoke from under the hood as they arrive at Davis Grove, Otisco Lake in the early morning. The sun rises low over the horizon, a slow ascent that turns the sky grey and brushes wriggling streaks of color over the lake.

The house is exactly as Peter remembers it.

Panels painted slate blue, brown-tiled roof. Two-storeys with a wrap-around porch and a private dock only a short distance away from the entrance. A swinging chair on the lawn that comfortably fits three and a half people.

It looks exactly as it did when Peter first came here as a kid, plucked straight out of his memories in perfect form, like it was set in a liminal space that time refused to touch. A piece comes back to his being at this moment, something that he didn’t know was missing.

Aunt Margaret is already standing at the door when the pull up. She doesn’t look a day older than when Peter last saw her years ago.

“Oh, look at you,” she coos, wrapping Peter up in a tight hug, curls brushing his cheek, “my darling little Petey-pie.”

“Hey, Aunt Margaret,” he returns the hug.

“You’re so tall now, let me look at you,” she holds him at arm's length, warm eyes roving over his form. “Oh my goodness, haven’t you grown a handsome young man? Last time we met you only came up to my shoulders and had braces.” She turns her attention to May. “Isn’t he handsome?”

His aunt nods, smiling at them, both women gravitating into a tight embrace. “It’s good to see you, Peggy. Thanks for having us.”

“Our pleasure. You look even more beautiful than the last time.”

“Oh, stop,” May releases her, wiping at her eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

She tilts her head to the porch and takes May’s duffle from where she has dropped it to the ground. “Come on you two, inside. We’ve got the fire going and scrambled eggs on the table.”

Inside it smells like the best parts of his childhood. A burning fire and butterscotch and lingering musky-but-floral scent from the bowl of potpourri high on the mantel. Even the sounds are the same, the same coo of early birds in the burgeoning daylight, someone humming by the stove.

Margaret leads them into the living room, where her husband meets them halfway from the kitchen, oven mitts still on his hands when he spreads his arms wide to welcome them.

“My goodness,” he beams, “look what the cat dragged in.”

He wears a cravat at the same time he wears an apron, looking every bit the formal yet whimsical man Peter remembers him to be and a crushing wave of nostalgia comes over him so suddenly he can’t help but rush forward and embrace him.

“Welcome, Peter. It’s so good to have you here.”

“Thanks for having us, Uncle Ed.”

“What have you taught him,” he points his query to May as he releases Peter to hug her. “You know you can call me Jarvis.”

---

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter and Edwin Jarvis had been young twenty-somethings when they first met. Both were born in England before moving to the US, but it wasn’t until they met at Margaret’s first college that their paths crossed. They worked in different departments, Peter thinks Ed was an engineer or something and Margaret an analyst, but the universe pulled them together eventually.

Margaret asked Ed out first and then a year later, May was the maid-of-honor at their wedding and Ben was reportedly a teary guest in the squeaky church pews.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

A photo of that day sits framed upon the mantle. May and Margaret have their arms around each other, Uncle Ben and Ed standing awkwardly at the sides of the frame, holding up flutes of champagne.

They look so young. Happy.

Peter observes the photo, smiling. He would have been a baby back then. Before his parents and Ben had -- well.

His mind does these weird calculations sometimes. Like, the May in this photo is only nine or so years older than how old he is now, and this moment, suspended in time, makes them closer than they have ever been, even though in real life they are over twenty years apart.

Looking at this picture, it makes him wonder how many people he knows now will live full lives and die of old age. How many people his age will stay forever young, and who will be in the future looking back at their time now, wistfully staring at pictures of those who only exist suspended in that time.

It’s funny, being a teenager. His peers are too young to die so they assume they won't. Even in their twenties and thirties or forties, death seems like an elusive thing that doesn’t apply to anybody until it does. It’s for the decrepit, the sick.

But in Peter’s case death comes like poorly aimed darts, always landing badly and scoring low. In his pockets, his hands turn in fists. He hopes the three people left alive in this picture get to grow old.

He smells her perfume before he sees her. Margaret approaches, bumping their hips together.

“This was a nice day,” she says softly, wistful. “I wish we’d kept more contact over these last few years.”

“Me too,” he smiles sadly, her expression reflecting his. With a hand on his back she leads him to the couch.

“Come on, munchkin, come sit. Tell me how you have been.”

---

“We weren’t planning on the big dinner,” Uncle Ed says as he finishes peeling a potato, handing it to Peter once he’s done. “But we’re so glad you two joined us. Neither of us have a lot of family here, you know.”

“Us neither,” Peter runs the peeled potato under running water to rid it of dirty residue before chopping it into quarters. “It’s really nice to see you again, it’s been way too long.”

“You really have grown into such a nice young man,” the man smiles. “Ben would be proud. Your parent’s, too.”

“Thank you.”

They haven’t got together like this since Ben died a couple years back. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Shit happened and it got harder to try. May got busier with looking after Peter full time and working more - and Uncle Ed quit his job and opened up a garage and Margaret lost a baby - all at the same time.

It was a lot for everyone. Even college best friends moved apart when fate put up walls at every turn.

It seems everyone in his circle is just does their best to survive. Or maybe that’s just what growing up is.

The remainder of their morning is spent eyeing the oven and skedaddling while Margaret prepares her pecan pie, ejecting them out of the kitchen with a forceful shoo.

“May says you’re playing football,” Ed says, leading him out to the lounge, passing him a can of soda. “How’d that happen? Last I checked you were doing splits over a pommel horse.”

Peter shrugs, tapping his can with his fingernails, idly paying attention to the football on the old TV. “Needed an extra-curricular, there was an opening and for some reason they accepted me.”

“You were so good at gymnastics,” Margaret comments from the kitchen, whisking away at her bowl. “I’m sure you’re exemplary in anything you do. They’re lucky to have you.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, sculling back the rest of his drink, bubbles burning down his throat. “Looks good on college applications in any case.”

“This kid,” May points to him with her beer bottle. “He does it all, I don’t even know how. He’s brilliant.”

I could do more, he thinks. He wonders again in that moment what it is that makes him so deficient that May couldn’t rely on him to accept the truth about their situation, that maybe he was just too naive. But he’s not. He’d drop his after-school activities and get a job in a hot second if he thought it would help. And for just a split-second he’s mad about that, about being kept in the dark.

But then he sees the strain around her eyes, how the bottle in her hands trembles ever so slightly, how much she makes the hard world soft around them. And it’s easy for him to let that feeling go.

“You’re still freelancing?” Peter asks Margaret, momentarily distracted when Ed’s phone lights up with a call.

“Excuse me, terribly sorry,” he says suddenly, picking up the phone and answering it, rising to his feet to converse in the adjacent room.

“Yes,” Margaret says, eyes lingering over where her husband has gone, his voice carrying over the walls in worried, muffled tones. “Well, consulting. I can work from home, which makes it easier to take care of all my non-existent children,” she gestures to the empty room around them.

“You could go work with Jarvis,” May retrieves a new bottle, popping the cap. “Look after the books, help him replace tyres.”

“Tempting,” Margaret says dully, rolling her eyes. “Can’t understand why I haven’t done that yet.”

Jarvis re-enters minutes later, hands held out apologetically; whispering to Margaret first before he addresses the room.

“Um, we have another guest coming up for dinner, if that’s alright,” he winces at their blank faces. “He works for me. Has a difficult family arrangement and needs a bit of respite. You know how it gets over the holidays.”

Peter meets May’s eyes and shrugs. Anyone working under the business and is vouched for by his surrogate uncle is good by him.

“The more the merrier,” May raises her bottle.

After that, the kitchen needs his hands again.

---

The afternoon is spent preparing the sides, checking in on the truly gargantuan turkey and indulging their cat with nibbles and head scratches. May and Margaret spend the time drinking beer and cider, reminiscing their college years. It’s nice to hear the house full of laughter, given how somber the mood was when they were last all together.

“When did you get a cat?” Peter directs his question to Jarvis, accepting a peeler from him to attack the carrots.

The cat in question is completely black and delightfully plump, not overly so, but enough to indicate it’s decently fed but probably also a little lazy. Or maybe he just thinks that now that it lies tall on the peak on its scratching post, tail flicking idly while it watches them work tirelessly in the kitchen from above.

“Oh, about a year ago. Gives Peggy some company while I'm in the garage. She’s a sweetheart, this one.”

“What’s her name?”

“Friday the Thirteenth. Friday for short.”

“That’s, um, unique.”

“Was the day we adopted her,” Jarvis reaches up to scratch her. “And she’s a black cat, so, you know; spooky.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, considering it. “I like it.”

“Not bad, huh.”

“Yep. It’s a better name than Molly,” he mutters, shaking a slimy carrot shaving off his fingers.

Jarvis pauses. “As in Ringwald?”

Peter sighs and continues peeling.

----

“Did I ever tell you about the time May came to class in a bathing suit?”

“I don’t think they need to hear that --”

“So we have this exam,” Peggy says, ignoring May, “Super important. Fifty percent of our overall grade. She comes in late, dripping wet, the biggest hickey on her neck I have ever seen --”

“Peggy.”

“-- Only thing saving her modesty was Ben’s shirt over her shoulders. I had to lend her a pen so she could sit the exam.”

“Did you pass though,” Peter asks curiously, shovelling a large lump of mashed potato into his mouth.

“Top grades,” she winks at him.

“She sat there for two hours, dripping water onto the ground and got flying colors. Meanwhile I’m the idiot who studied for weeks and got marked down twenty points for --”

The end of her sentence gets cut off by the sound of a car approaching the property, headlights flashing through the windows.

Then, a knock at the door.

“Ah, that must be…” Ed trails off, wiping his hand on a napkin before standing. “Excuse me.”

He goes to answer the front door, Margaret continues her story albeit much more quietly until the voices of Ed and their guest filter through, becoming progressively louder.

“Sorry to intrude, I know it’s the holidays --”

Wait. That voice is familiar.

“Nonsense,” Ed interrupts, “you know you’re welcome anytime. You’re practically family, kid. Come in, we’re eating now, you’re just in time.”

Peter’s fork clangs loudly on his plate when he sees their visitor, unable to keep his grip on the utensil as his limbs start to tingle. He forgets how to breathe for a second, entire body going hot.

Ed’s arm is around Tony Stark and they’re approaching through the living room, heading right for them. There’s a fresh cut on his lip and an ugly, wreath of bruising around his jaw and neck, deeply purple, speckled spots of burst capillaries visible from even where he’s sitting.

The worst part isn’t the intrusion. It’s how Tony looks unlike himself; he looks small and skittish, gaze flicking nervously around the room, arms curled around his waist. Something in his chest starts to feel the closer he gets, weird, hot and unwieldy, burning, like a hot poker has been drawn across his sternum.

“You’re the best, Jar...vis,” Tony trails off when he spots the Parkers, eyes zeroing in on Peter.

“Um,” Peter says, sharing a surprised look with May, not knowing what else to say.

But then suddenly Tony is shaking his head, shrugging out of Ed’s embrace and backing up, the skittish look gone and replaced with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No fucking way.”

Then he turns, and leaves.

----

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers@starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen, @chaos-with-a-pen, @notnormallaura, @portiamarie02, @bloodymisanthropist, @ser-no-tonin, @staticwhispersinthedark

[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (15/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” And Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: Feedback is very much appreciated!

Link: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

“Belated happy birthday.” That first greeting was underwhelming in the deafening silence.

The room had been strangely quiet and it had been that way since he first entered, a far cry from the air during their past sessions. Shela should have waved one hand as he closed the door behind him. Even before he got to the seat, she should have been throwing multiple questions in succession.

What else did you get written?

Anything happening in school?

How’s Hange?

Oddly enough, Shela had only followed him with her eyes as he entered the room. The silence had felt like something pounding in his ears and her gaze had become something worth trifling his own consciousness with.

To top it all off, it had ended so anticlimactically with one greeting that Levi was left utterly confused as he sat on the chair in front of her.

What do you want her to do? Levi found himself asking silently as he matched Shela’s stare with his own.

Her blue eyes though were still warm, her eyes wide with what could have been curiosity. Levi started to suspect that it had all been a figment of his imagination that only a while ago they were watching and observing. Even as he settled on his seat, he sensed there were still questions up in the air that Levi could have grasped if he reached hard enough.

“Is that why you called me here? A free birthday session?” Levi asked.

“I just thought it was a good first greeting.” Shela’s voice was casual, innocent, and almost annoying.

Something wanted to burst out from inside him. That excuse of a greeting had only done the bare minimum to help it. In fact, it had done worse. It poked at him, whispering to him to figure out for himself what the hell that something was..

He was in no mood for a guessing game though. And he hadn’t been for the past few weeks. “Then why did you call me?” He asked. It had been a tall order to match her gaze, to come up with the right answers to questions she hadn’t even asked yet.

Shela shrugged. “I just wanted to check on my favorite patient.”

“I haven’t been your patient in a while.”

“We had scheduled sessions. You just didn’t go to them.”

“I was busy…. Besides, don’t you have anything better to do than chase one patient?”

Shela raised one eyebrow. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to come here? You had a choice to answer that message and believe me, you’re free to leave if you want to Levi.” She gestured her hands towards the door in one long exaggerated movement.

One movement that only served to sink Levi deeper into the sofa chair. In those few seconds as Levi leaned back, he saw once again the gradual shift in her gaze from something innocent to something cold and observing, and it was as if she was studying some sort of a specimen. And he was the specimen.

He was certain that was the exact same gaze he felt as he went through the door. But it wasn’t at all unfamiliar. Those had been the eyes she gave after all when she had asked the precise questions that broke the icebergs inside him into chunks instead of winnowing through the hard surface.

Why did that gaze in particular have him tense up at that exact moment? Levi didn’t have to wait too long for an answer though.

“You haven't written in a while,” she said.

“I deleted it.”

Shela didn’t look too surprised though. “Why?” She asked.

“It just seemed like a useless thing to do.”

“Why would you say it was useless?

“I was wasting a lot of time with it.” “So you did continue writing after our last meeting.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Just a guess… You only deleted the file a few weeks ago so it must mean you were thinking about it.”

Levi’s eyes widened and soon, he was starting to rack his brain for an explanation. “I don’t remember sharing you the file…”

“Hange told me what happened.”

“So you asked her about me?”

Shela shook her head. “No Levi, she approached me. She was worried about you.”

Hange. Levi found himself taking a glance at his phone in the silence that followed, the third message from the top of his inbox. Last touched weeks before.

He had decided to spend the holidays and his birthday back home. He liked to tell himself that he had only done that because with his hectic student-athlete schedule the past few years, he never had the chance to spend more than three days worth of holidays back home. When at home though, all he had done was lock himself in his bedroom for days on end.

Levi couldn’t convince himself for long. He had only gone home to avoid Hange, to avoid any reminder of the past few months and to avoid the almost nagging regret at having deleted the file.

With the file gone, he had felt like something was missing, painfully missing.

“And I’m concerned about what’s going on between you two,” Shela said.

“You’re paid to be concerned.”

“Oh? So you think I only became a therapist to get paid? Believe me Levi if I didn’t care I wouldn’t have called you here today. I could have gotten another patient and have been paid this extra hour.”

“Then why are you here? Why did you ask me to come here?” Levi felt stinging behind his eyes and a knot in his throat as he spoke up. A part of him actually contemplated leaving at that moment, yet it had been brushed away so quickly by something else, an odd feeling of desperation. He wanted something from her. Hell, he wanted something but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was.

“I told you, I was worried and I wanted to make sense of this with you,” Shela answered. The answer had been underwhelming to say the least especially with the way she narrowed her eyes at him.

And if Levi hadn’t been so desperate for any sort of closure, for that particular reaction he so looked for, maybe he would have just stood up and left.

Shela wasn’t done though. “Are those memories trapping you?”

Memories? Since when had it been about memories? “What memories?”

“Memories of Commander Hange. Captain Levi,” she said confidently, as if they were her memories to begin with. She spoke in such a way that she could have even been talking about real people. Very real people.

Such confidence, such forcefulness and her attempt to shoehorn all that into his reality sent a sudden sting through his chest. If Commander Hange was real, that meant she really died, that meant she really burned alive up there in the sky.

Levi would have preferred that image to have just been a figment of his imagination. “They’re stories.”

“Yet for a while you wanted to believe they were memories right? So what happened in between Levi? What did I miss?”

“I realized… They weren’t real…”

Shela let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re still trying to deny it huh? You’ve always been difficult to crack…” She cleared her throat. “So, Hange told me, the commander died. Then you deleted the file and now you don’t wanna talk about it right?”

Levi didn’t reply.

Shela continued to speak, seeming unfazed. “Here is something I noticed about you. When you injured your knee, your first instinct had been to insist you’re okay then soon you shut up and find something else to cling to--- writing. When writing started to hurt, suddenly you decide to delete the document then tell me everything’s fine. What are you gonna do now? You’re gonna find a new hobby?”

Academics, jumping. He thought to himself. Levi had spent the past few days isolated in his room back home, finishing his own thesis and following the jumping tournaments of his own teammates. As if there was much else to do anyway.

Shela rested her chin on her hands and stared straight ahead. Her eyes seemed to focus on something behind him, as if the answers were found beyond the wide window behind him. “I started to think to myself… Why did Hange’s death of all things hurt you enough to cause that same grief? I read your story, you could have mourned Erwin’s death, you could have mourned your Petra's death, mourned Isabel or Farlan’s death. Why Hange’s? Why did she push you to the edge enough to delete the file?”

“It built up,” Levi answered. That was the most natural explanation right? Or at least the most natural he could think of.

Shela nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. “Let’s move on to the next question then. Do you think that Hange’s death was any special? If there was something that made it the tipping point in the first place?”

“Can’t a tipping point be something small?”

Shela shook her head. “Tipping points can be small I agree but remember, when you told me you weren’t going to write anymore? It was as if you knew what would be happening next. You looked terrified.”

Somewhere along the way, the remnants of Shela’s gentle facade had completely fallen, replaced by something stone cold, yet confident and almost mocking. Levi was starting to get a little more irritated at such assumptions. Regardless of whether they were true or not.

“So tell me Levi, what makes Hange so special? What made Captain Levi so hesitant to write the next part? Then what made this Levi here want to delete it soon after writing it?”

Levi only had to look behind him, at the sky just outside the window to articulate it for himself. It was surprisingly easy to grasp. It was a simple feeling after all that never left. “It hurt,” he admitted. He could have said more but he had found himself at a loss for words a second later as he imagined the rumbling before him and that one silhouette that disappeared into the blue.

“And if you’re that invested in Hange’s death. I’m sure Erwin’s death, your special squad’s death, should have hurt as much right?”

“They hurt too,” Levi added. He started to become a little more aware of himself. They hurt too but as much as Hange’s death? Not enough for sure to even have him consider deleting the file.

“Then why didn’t you delete the file if they hurt? From what I could tell Captain Levi was inseparable from Erwin.”

Levi let his eyes fall to the empty coffee table in front of him, searching for something worth a distraction among the pockmarks of the wood. Shela’s eyes were getting sharper by the second.

“I’ll ease you into my theory slowly and feel free to tell me if I’m wrong...you and Hange were inseparable right?”

Captain Levi and squad leader Hange Zoe. They were from different teams but they did hang out a lot together. With that quick recall, Levi nodded.

“And you lost a lot of people in your life… So I started to wonder, if Captain Levi spent so much time keeping his distance, being aloof, completely aware that the everyone could end up dead, why did he cling to Hange?”

“Captain Levi cared about a lot of people.”

“I wasn’t denying that Levi. I was asking you, why did he cling to Hange? Why were they inseparable? Attraction? Mutual Support? Love? All three at once?”

The last three words had been things Levi found himself musing over as she continued to talk. But then, he couldn’t figure out for himself the answer. “We couldn’t fall in love. There was a war.” Those words had come out on their own. He only realized seconds later that it didn't answer the question.

Shela gave him a cat-like grin. “We? Huh?”

Levi cleared his throat. “They---,” he corrected.

“Okay, you’re beating around the bush a little too much. I’ll tell you my theory and if you don’t make the effort to figure it out for yourself, this will be my assumption. You didn't think she’d die. You didn’t expect her to die so you took her for granted. Am I wrong, Captain Levi?”

“Took her for granted…” Levi almost spat out those words as he said it. “You can’t just assume that…”

“By take for granted, I meant ‘I can get past pain, death, loss, as long as she’s there’ and for what? You just assumed she was immortal didn’t you? That she couldn't die, since she's always been there. And so the moment she died, suddenly grief hit you like a bus.” She straightened herself up on the seat. “Maybe you thought you would have died first?” Shela pressed.

“I was dying in the woods. I thought she’d be the one to survive the whole time.”

“But you know, it’s not uncommon for people to be this way. To have this person there and just assume that person's immortal, or to think ‘as long as this person is here’ I’ll be okay. It’s only natural that humans find hope in the living. For example,a lot of parents do that too with their own kids and that’s why parents losing their kids are one of the most devastating cases of grief I’ve encountered…” She trailed off. “But I digress, There’s one question about you I’ve been exploring for a while and I’ve always wanted to ask. You might not know the answer yourself but it’s worth a try.” Shela paused and looked at him expectantly.

Even when he sat on her chair, frozen by her cold stare, he still managed to force a nod.

“Why do you remember? Why is Captain Levi forcing his own memories to live on? Unless he had some unresolved feelings right?”

Attraction? Mutual Support? Love? You took her for granted.

Even when moving, Levi let those words, those suggestions run free in his mind. The feeling, the ache in his chest, the weight on his shoulders and the knot at his throat that only evolved into some tremble in his lips. It was everything at once, Levi was sure.

Maybe, I took her for granted. Maybe I should have stopped her. Levi thought to himself. But he wasn’t going to say it out loud yet.

“And something tells me you don’t regret much Captain Levi Ackerman,” Shela said. The gentleness in her face was back. “But maybe if you allowed yourself to regret back then, maybe all these feelings of regret, grief… They wouldn’t have bundled up now, you wouldn’t be hurting like this. You didn't let yourself experience grief and loss… You didn’t let yourself regret even in your deathbed. Now, everything just comes pouring out in your next life because you just let it build up inside you?” She had phrased it as a question but as Shela enunciated those words, Levi couldn’t help but see deep thought in them, as if she had discerned and answered the question for herself already.

“How can you assume that?” Levi challenged. It was a weak attempt, at that point he was starting to get more and more convinced. It had just been a matter of reality pulling him away from an almost ethereal concept.

Soon, he did grasp it, the thing he had been looking for, that one feeling he had been desiring since the start of the conversation.

It manifested first as a knowing smile. And before Levi could respond, grip on to some decent comeback to her long winded tirade, he found himself hesitating, focusing instead on how his shoulders dropped and how the wind was knocked out of himself slowly and the quick movement as he shifted his weight to his hands pressed on the sofa.

“I’m not assuming how you feel. I’m laying out some information, coming up with a theory and leaving it in the air for you to decide whether it’s true or not.” She didn’t continue from there. Instead she dropped her clipboard on the table and walked towards one of the bookshelves, pulling out a blue binder.

“What if it's too detailed to pass up as a reasonable theory?” Levi managed to say. He found himself counting the lines on the wooden table in front of him. In a daze, he had been too distracted to reorganize for himself, Shela’s theory. And he started to even doubt his own ability to respond.

“I’ve been seeing other patients, I think I’ve encountered enough to make some fair guesses. Besides, I told you I’ve been studying reincarnation for a while.” She dropped the blue binder in front of him on the table. “But you still think it’s too detailed to be believable huh? What if I told you I experienced it too? That's why I know the details."

Levi could only stare at the blue binder. He only got so far as to hover his hand over it before he hesitated. He looked up at her, following her as she sat back on the chair in front of him.

“What are you waiting for?” She asked.

“Should I open this?”

“I wouldn’t have put it there if I didn’t want you to read it Levi,” She was looking at him expectantly as if she was excited for him to see what was inside.

Levi started to wonder why he even hesitated. Regardless, he still went at it slowly. The plastic cover on the binder was warm to the touch and for a second or so, he allowed himself to pinch at it, see where the plastic would give into the pressure.

Maybe he had been on that for a second longer than he should have. He was still hesitating. He was still nervous.

“What are you scared of? It’s a binder,” Shela said.

“What’s inside?”

“It’s my research on reincarnation.”

“For your PhD?”

Shela paused for a second before answering. “I created two pieces of writing for my PhD, something stomachable by the scientific body and something just for myself,” Shela explained. “Because I honestly don’t think anyone would have believed it either if I was telling them I was seeing very clear visions of a past life.”

Do you really believe these were memories from a past life? Levi muttered. For a second, he had wondered if he had said it loud enough for her to hear. But when he opened the binder, he quickly realized he didn’t need an answer.

The title of the work was generic, easily forgettable. But the subtitle underneath and the author’s name spoke to him in ways Levi couldn’t fully comprehend just yet. Comprehension came quickly after running his eyes over the title then the subtitle underneath

He read her name out loud. Her first name settled at the back of his mouth and he couldn’t be too sure if he had pronounced it correctly. But when he said it a second time, the name rolled off his tongue too easily, as if it was all too familiar. His mind had just taken a split second longer to process it.

From my past life? Levi thought to himself. At that point, he couldn’t be too sure. It had seemed like too distant of a memory. He never had to use her name with her after all. He only remembered her having taught him to pronounce it eons ago.

Her last name next to it was all too familiar, yet surprising. And Levi had little to no problem, saying it for himself, even when still recovering from that small bout of surprise.

“Ackerman’s my maiden name,” she explained. “And I’m sure you saw it already, my first name is a little old fashioned.” She didn’t seem so self conscious though, as if she was aware that many lives ago, she had been teaching him to say it back when it had been just the both of them in the underground city.

Levi said her whole name out loud again. As soon as he looked back up at her, putting name to face, he found himself transported back to that small room, running his hand over her curly black hair and locking gazes with those piercing cold blue eyes. Then, they were his only source of comfort, his sanctuary.

And he never did figure out if he said it right back then in the underground city. Just to make sure though, he read it aloud in front of her again, willing himself to say it clearly and firmly.

“Written by: Kuchel Ackerman.”

***

Bookends. That’s how it seemed at least. Levi had two pages written out by that night.

He had his earliest childhood memories up there, everything as visceral as possible from the sights, to the scents, to her touch. With not too much context though, his earliest memories stuck to him as comforting sensations more than anything. Within an hour of writing, he gave up and concluded that he never did remember much of it.

Right under those early childhood sensations, articulated to the best of his capabilities, were memories after Kuchel’s death, training to fight in the underground. Then, written below that were narrations on life after the war, his remaining years on a wheelchair, travelling around Marley, joining the peace ambassadors on occasional trips.

There was no transition between them, nothing more glaring than paragraph breaks.

They were two sections with little to no connection to each other. But Levi at least knew for himself, that in-between would have been those long winded narrations on his life in the survey corps and his life during the war against Marley.

For some reason, he wasn’t too bothered about the missing parts though. As if he had already accepted for himself that he made the decision to delete it.

Finishing what he started. That’s what it felt like and that’s all there was to it. Reading Shela’s own work after all had him somehow accepting that they were memories more than dreams.

Something that had to be immortalized somewhere/ The acceptance though that the grief, the loss and the pain were memories not dreams was slow going. The dreams had been painful, realizing they were someone’s reality, only aggravated it.

Kuchel’s words echoed in his head. The last questions she said before they separated that day. Back then, she had escorted him to the door of her office and they had stood there for a few minutes before parting ways.

Can you let it go?

I don’t even know what I’m trying to let go of. For all he knew, something died in him back in that day in Odiha. Consequently, there were emotions he couldn’t even access, as if part of life had ended for him in that single moment.

You can’t access or comprehend those emotions because you didn’t let yourself feel it. You didn't ride through it.

And she had pointed it out then. Captain Levi had never been the most emotional person because he had never allowed himself to feel.

That’s your homework. Ride through the pain, the loss, the grief, the regret. And when the time is right, you’ll be able to let it go. I know you will.

Opening the laptop wasn’t easy. Staring at the blank document sheet and deciding for himself the first words to say took ages longer than what he would have liked.

As soon as he had decided for himself that he was going to write though, everything came out so seamlessly. He only had to hover his hands over the keyboard, feel for the right keys, for them to start moving on their own. It turned out writing with little regard for grammar and punctuation or for unwelcome emotional reactions, was oddly liberating.

He had started off with bullet points but soon enough the sentences were too long and the bullet points were rendered useless. Eventually, he scrapped the bullet points altogether.

“There was a peace treaty,” Levi said aloud as he typed it out. “Armin and the others, they became peace ambassadors…”

“And Mikasa…” Levi trailed off as he remembered. She was back in Paradis, back in their old town of Shiganshina where Eren’s head was laid to rest. He thought back to Mikasa and for a second he almost felt guilty for even questioning her decision to stay with Eren. “If this was how it felt for you, I wouldn’t be surprised why you’d be hesitant to leave him,” Levi said, he leaned back on his chair, stretched out his good leg and stared blankly at the ceiling above him.

The pain was similar, he was sure. He had seen flashes of visiting an empty grave as he wrote. The white ceiling above him and the contrast it provided made those dark memories all the more vivid.

The face he had been longing to see though, as he stared at the grave then, was just a phone call away. And before he even noticed it himself, he had reached for the phone next to his laptop, turning it screen up.

He had no one else to call so her number and their message thread was still one of the first on his inbox. Even if he hadn’t opened it in weeks.

Of course, it would. Hange had sent messages multiple times the past few weeks..

December 23 8:15 AM

I heard you went home.

December 25 12:01 AM

Happy Birthday! :D

January 1 12:00 AM

Happy New Year! Wishing you a bright new year and a speedy recovery

January 3 6:21 AM

Wanna talk when you get back?

January 5 2:23 AM

Hey, I’m sorry about everything. I should have been more sensitive to your needs. Even if you don’t wanna meet after this, it’s fine. I had a great time working with you and I’ll remember these past few months :D. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.

Just assure me please. Did you get to talk to someone? I hope you did. I was just concerned. But it doesn’t matter too much now. As long as you’re okay.

Levi didn’t scroll up past those last few messages. The rest had been paragraphs worth of apologies even he didn’t want to ponder.

Besides, there were more important things to him then, like finding the right words to say as a response to that latest message.

He sensed closure there. Yet, he wasn’t ready for closure. His mind was scrambling for some way to reopen the conversation then.

It was late at night though. Levi was exhausted and impatient. He was sure if he sent something and slept it off, he should wake up to a message the next morning.

So the message he sent then had been automatic, typical. It didn’t require too much thought to compose.

January 9 11:17 PM

Hey, when are you free to talk?

He decided then, he could leave it to his future self to come up with another response in the morning.

***

Levi’s sleep was light, light enough that the quick ping of his phone was more than enough to wake him up. He was awake enough to reach for his phone on the side table, pull it under the blankets with him and open his messaging application.

It wasn’t Hange who had messaged.

“Coach?” Levi muttered as he sat up in bed.

Sorry if this is pretty last minute. Mikasa agreed to meet at the track today this afternoon around 3-3:30. You think you could make it?

Levi typed a short text accepting the invite and sent it out.

He pulled at the curtains of his window. The sun was out already. He stared back at his phone at the upper right of the screen.

9:23 AM.

He was oddly disappointed. Other plans meant he didn’t have to think about the ignored message at the top of his inbox. He had sent the message at eleven last night. It had been almost twelve hours since then.

Was she taking a really long slumber? Or was she just ignoring him?

Nothing much to do until three so Levi opened his laptop and worked on his own thesis. Working on something as utterly boring and monotonous as a school requirement though didn’t make time run faster.

Levi was sure he had gone through at least fifty articles of doping cases among professional athletes. When he looked back at the clock though, he saw only two hours had passed.

He ordered lunch. Time went notably faster when he was just scrolling through his social media, yet excruciatingly slower still than what he was used to. And the main culprit? Hange’s online status and her activity on social media.

Hange was still liking photos which meant one thing: She was ignoring messages.

He went down to pick up his delivery from the dorm lobby and on the way up, he took a detour. All the way to Hange’s room on the other side of the building, a five minute walk for most people. For Levi it could have been ten minutes or it could have been ages. He still had that awkward gait which made the journey all the more frustrating.

The hallways were quiet but it wasn’t unexpected. School didn’t start for another two weeks. Hange’s room was along the quiet hallway and Hange had always been loud. So the stark contrast had been unsettling to say the least.

What do you expect her to do? Run down the halls screaming your name? He thought to himself. For some reason, that was what he was expecting and that was what he would’ve liked.

He took advantage of that silence. He padded lightly through the hallway, attempting to segregate the sounds of the creak of the floorboard with whatever he sounds he could make out from the rooms.

Nothing much. All silence. Of course it would be silent though, that wasn’t Hange’s room yet.

Her room was towards the end of the hall, the third to the last door to the right. Eventually he got tired of keeping his footsteps and his awkward gait light and he found himself scurrying--- at least to the best of his own injured abilities--- towards the door.

He willed himself not to make a sound. He wasn’t sure though if he had been the sneakiest.

He was still quiet enough at least to hear something. He had to press his ear to the door to hear it clearly, the rhythmic clacking of the keyboard, the sound of books hitting the desk and a loud yawn that had been very much Hange’s.

The loud yawn in particular sent a twinge up his spine and an ache in his chest and Levi had to swallow hard to get his bearings. He missed her.

He knocked on the door once. Then twice to make sure she heard it. Then he waited five long seconds for any response.

There was no response. He slapped the door. Still no answer.

Within a few seconds more, he started to get self conscious. She didn’t reply to his messages while being glaringly online. She was blatantly ignoring his knocks on the door. Did she actually want to see him?

And Levi was starting to notice the growling of his stomach. It was enough of a reminder that he hadn’t even had breakfast that morning.

A little disheartened, he made the journey back to his room.

***

The coldest point of winter was coming. Levi would have noticed it by just looking at the calendar. It had been a while since he stood outside long enough to let the cold sink deep under his skin.

And he was only reminded of such weather patterns when he stepped on to the open air track which was understandably empty. Two in the afternoon shouldn’t be too cold but that day in particular had Levi shivering, his teeth chattering in such an unfamiliar way.

That would have been expected. He didn’t spend much time outdoors anymore, Maybe that had explained that sudden, unfamiliar susceptibility to the cold. He could never be too sure though.

He scanned the field for any sign of Mikasa or his coach. What first caught his eye then had been the horizontal bar, set up where it always was. He hadn't returned to the field since his injuryand seeing the bar like it always had been, sent a wave of nostalgia and longing through him.

For a while, he was fixated and for a few seconds more, he vacillated between sitting on the bleachers or walking to the middle of the track where it was set up. Alone in the field though with nothing much else to do though, he opted to pass the time reminiscing

The bar was set high enough for Levi to have to reach up but still low enough for him to be able to grip it hard. It was cold to the touch. It was a fair distance away from him and it hovered over him, masquerading as something almost unattainable.

But maybe it was unattainable. Levi found himself strangely sad at the distance, still unable to fathom that only a few months ago, that bar had been a very easy height to clear.

“Hey… Your coach said you’d be here.”

Levi quickly turned towards the voice.

Mikasa stood before him in joggers and a sweatshirt. Her hair clipped back, red blotches on her cheek. Levi only had to listen to her breaths and notice the way she curled her lips as she took steady breaths to conclude that she had been running.

“Coach is training you now? In the middle of winter?”

She shook her head. “No, I wanted to try out your track for myself. He left the club room and the equipment room open and told me to just try it out while he goes out to check on your team.”

“What made you change your mind?”

She avoided his gaze. “To be honest I’m still not completely sure about this yet. Your coach knows I’m not. But I thought I’d try it out, get to know your school more.”

“It’s a good choice,” Levi said.

For a second, the two were silent. Levi chose that moment to look back up at the bar in front of him but he could see from his peripherals, Mikasa still hadn’t looked away from him. So he waited.

She spoke up eventually. “Hey, about what happened at the diner… I’m sorry about that. I know I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I heard about your injury a while back, even before we met. Even if I don’t like jumping that much either, I think it would have hurt too…”

I’m fine. That had been his first instinct and he had opened his mouth ready to say it.

That’s your homework. Ride through the grief, the loss, the pain. Kuchel’s voice tore into his train of thought.

Will that actually help? He had been riding through that grief last night as he wrote, he had let it wash over him then. If he had been a little more introspective, he would have realized although it did hurt, it wasn’t a heavy, crushing type of hurt. It was a pain that still allowed him motions.

It granted him enough control to still function as a person. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not.” But it was still hard to admit. “It takes time,” Levi added as he looked back up at the horizontal bar and behind it the clear blue sky. The color blue was bright, warm yet melancholic.

Mikasa didn’t reply. Her stare though seemed more focused. When Levi looked at her, made eye contact, comprehension washed over him. He knew she understood. And he caught that comprehension quickly like some contagion.

He spoke up again. “Eren means a lot to you huh?”

“We grew up together, lived along the same street. We went to the same school since kinder. And since we were young, he'd get agitated a lot, pick a lot of fights and I always had to look out for him.” Mikasa put one hand behind her neck and craned her neck to look up at the sky. “I almost hesitated to even try jumping since I wouldn’t be able to protect him as much anymore…”

“Why did you start jumping then?”

“After I got scouted in sophomore year, Eren convinced me to try it. He was the one who wanted me to widen my world.”

“And he talked to you again about this?”

“He and Armin did. They told me to consider this.”

“Then it should be an easy decision.”

Mikasa smiled. “I know it’s supposed to be an easy decision. But how I feel about Eren doesn’t make it easy.. I’ve known Eren my whole life and don’t get me wrong, I’ve never lost him but... Somehow, I can imagine how it would feel like to lose him. So I don’t wanna let go.”

“But losing people, losing things that are precious to us is a fact of life. We’re gonna deal with it anyway. Besides, you’re not losing him, he’ll make college in a year or so.”

“He won’t make Paradis University.”

“You’ll have him on the weekends.”

“But will I be able to handle that set up?” Mikasa met his gaze again. She never lost Eren or so that was what she said.

Will I be able to handle it? Yet why was Levi seeing grief in her eyes? Why did such a strong wave of comprehension hit him almost violently in that moment where their eyes met?

Empathy? It was an easy answer to pick up for himself. But maybe it ran deeper than that, because suddenly, Levi was aware of the ground under him, the cold air caressing him, the loud rustle of leaves. He was feeling everything at once. And with it, he felt the twinge in his stomach, the pang in his chest, the knot in his throat.

The grief never left. The loss never left. And the pain gripped him tightly then. Letting himself feel it had left him with a strange bout of confidence, and a wave of liberation that seemed to stick and when Levi spoke up again, he wondered if he was speaking for himself or for her.

“You won’t know if you can handle it until you ride through it yourself.”

Mikasa seemed convinced.

His coach had arrived a few minutes after the conversation, incessantly apologizing about the traffic. The usual pleasant exchange followed.

“How are you?”

“Slowly learning to walk again, focusing on academics.,” Levi answered. “How’s the team?” They were preparing for nationals. He didn’t need an answer. There were still things his coach knew though which couldn’t be researched and he was still invested in any response his coach could give.

“They’re preparing for nationals, training in the indoor gym.” The indoor gym a few minute car ride from their campus. Levi had been training there every winter and it was easy to picture the drills they were probably doing then.

It soon evolved into some unnecessary athlete propaganda which Levi surmised was to entice MIkasa.

“The scouts for the national team have been watching Elijah closely. He’ll probably be getting an invitation soon after nationals are over,” he said, soon after the pleasantries had died out into an awkward silence. Greg turned to Levi. “They were asking about you too. You’d have gotten the invite. No one’s forgotten about you.”

Was that for Mikasa? Or for him? Soon, Levi started to ask. Was that supposed to cheer him up? Levi couldn’t gauge intention though and he found himself looking away as he started to feel the beginnings of a loss of control.

Mikasa may have sensed it. Or at least sensed that moment as a good time to speak up. “Could you tell me more about your athletics program? Levi told me a lot about his experience here and I think I might just be interested.”

The digression and the exchange that followed was quicker and more enthusiastic than something Levi would have easily caught on to. Suddenly Greg was shifting between enthusiasm and relief. And it evolved to some offer to tour her of the school. Then some mentions about dinner.

Levi though was making excuses. The campus was too wide for him to walk through injured. It was getting a little too cold. And with the peak of winter nearing, it might just even get dark in the next hour or so. His main reason for staying wasn’t among those though.

He had been sneaking glances at the bar and at the blue sky behind it. While the field was empty, while the school was lifeless and while the bar and the equipment was set up in front of him, he realized he might just have some unfinished business on the field.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll fix up the equipment here.”

“You sure?” Greg asked as he looked pointedly at Levi’s knee.

“It’s the least I can do. Besides, it won’t be too heavy after I disassemble it.” Or at least it wasn’t so heavy when Levi had carried it before. He turned to Mikasa. “Go ahead, enjoy the day,” Levi said, nodding his head reassuringly.

It didn’t take them much convincing. Greg was too excited and Mikasa started to seem eager as well to see the school.

And Levi wanted them to leave. Alone in the empty field with the equipment all set up, brought forth within him some unwanted feelings yet feelings which Levi wanted to process for himself one last time.

That’s your homework. Ride through the pain, the loss, the grief, the regret.

He was riding through it already and he was at least trying to find hope in that dreadful journey that left him almost desolate. Along the way, as he started to process the emotions, he fixated on the view of the bar, and maybe just a flicker of someone flying through the blue sky behind him. He soon stumbled upon one conclusion, one conclusion that Kuchel had suggested yet he had never really thought too much for himself until that moment.

At that moment, Levi let the emotions speak for him.

Regret is an emotion. Even if you say you don’t regret, even if you come out as the type not to regret, for sure you’ve regretted things right? It was a feeling you willingly chose to brush away. Kuchel had said then, as they had gone through her case study.

Levi had done his part to brush it away, to find something else to entertain him and to only hope that the emotions leave. But they never left. The aches that came with the view in front of him only proved it to him even before, and in that moment, it continued to prove it to him much faster and in more numerous ways than he could count.

So how do I stop feeling this?

You don’t. You can’t control how you feel. You can only control how you process it. The emotions leave when they want.

But when the time is right, you’ll be able to let it go...Before you know it, you’ll find closure.

Around that time, she had mentioned the word 'closure'. But closure had always been a vague word. It manifested as something different for everyone else. Levi soon realized as he started to move, it was a word that could never actually be contained to a black ink on white paper, or to spoken word.

For Levi, it had manifested at something he only sensed as something hazy. He thought he had control of his body then but along the way, it had felt like his body had assessed it for himself, the circumstances that he could only take advantage of at that moment.

He was alone in an empty field, the empty field he hadn’t visited in ages. The equipment was all set up for him. And if he closed his eyes then, allow himself to ignore the biting cold wind, the bare trees. If he just focused on the bar and the blue sky behind him, he could pretend it was summer again and before that, spring, and before that the last summer… Every single season—hell—every single day he had spent jumping over the bars.

His body was moving on its own, as if it understood the concept of closure before he did. He made his way to the clubroom.

I never did clean up after the injury. Levi thought to himself. His spare clothes, his spare pair of shoes and his face towel were all still in the locker, as they had been every time before. It was surprising, he had assumed someone would have cleaned it up.

He didn’t think too much of it though. There were other things he was raring to do. At that moment, he was just grateful nobody had half a mind to remind him, or he probably wouldn’t have been able to go through with his plans.

Levi put on his shoes, his right then his left. He changed to jogging pants and to the sweatshirt left in his locker. And for a second he did some test movements with it.

It was baggier than what he would have wanted, but he wasn’t in a competition, Levi could be as lenient as he wanted about it.

Beggars can’t be choosers. Levi thought to himself as he rolled up the jogger on his left leg and stared at the braced knee underneath. He could walk, he was sure. Yet just imagining himself removing the brace, left an unsettling feeling inside him.

He ended up pondering it for a while, a while longer than he was aware of. Soon enough, he decided on wearing it on the way back to the track, to just give his knee time to prepare.

On the way back, he passed by the equipment storage and he found himself thinking a lot harder about it. He looked back to the equipment in the field. Mikasa had mentioned setting it up. She had set up the pad underneath, but it had been an incomplete set up. Or so that was what Levi recalled.

There’s supposed to be a pad on top. Levi recalled. He opened the storage room to see the weather cover and the top pad, strewn on the side.

Lugging both the weather cover and the top pad would take two trips. Levi approximated. But did he have the time for two trips?

His coach was unpredictable. And just the idea of them coming back to catch him attempting such, was something Levi didn’t want to imagine then. So he folded up the weather cover and dragged the mat behind him, ignoring the uncomfortable twinge in his knee.

“Hey, you need help?”

Levi hadn’t expected anyone to be there. And of all people, Armin? “What are you doing here?”

“Mikasa told me she’s going out to dinner with your coach so she asked me to pick up her things from the club room…” Armin started. “I was here on campus already so…”

Levi softened his gaze, only realizing when Armin had trailed off quickly, avoiding his stare that he had probably been glaring. “You’re meeting Hange?” He asked, willing his voice to mellow.

“She’s been busy with thesis and I offered to help her out… So I’m picking up the stuff and will be meeting her soon after,” he explained. “But I arrived a bit early and I have some extra time." He offered his hand out to help.

Armin was extra hands. Extra hands meant time could go faster. And for sure, he could get Armin to hide his next set of plans.

“So, why are you bringing this to the field?” He asked, as they walked along the dirt path to the field.

Levi shrugged. “I guess I wanna try jumping one more time before I leave it for good.”

“But…”

Levi didn’t have to look at him to know what he wanted to suggest. “You’re thinking about my injury huh? It’ll be fine. I just wanna get a few jumps in.”

“It might be better to wait a few months?” Armin suggested.

“The team is training outside. The field is empty. The equipment is all set up and I’m graduating soon. When else but now?” Levi asked. Thinking back to it soon after he asked though, he could have waited a few months, maybe go back to school to just try it out one last time. But as they turned the corner and as the field opened up before him, Levi only had to look once again at the pale blue sky that stretched endlessly behind the field to be reminded, it ran deeper than that.

“You can wait a few months… I’m sure your coach---” Armin started, as if he had read his mind.

“When else, but now?” Levi pressed. The sky was starting to make its slow transition to purple, then. Orange and bright red were the next colors beyond that. And Levi started to see some of the steam, the colossal titans that marched forward slowly but surely. That one flicker in the sky though, caught his attention. She was concealed behind steam, and flashes of orange and bright red.

How much time did he have?

Armin took a deep breath. “This might sound weird. I’m probably the last person you wanna get advice from… I’m younger than you… and we just met… But Hange probably just rubbed off on me but you know, I guess I’m worried. I heard about your injury months ago, before we even met, Mikasa told me… It was in the rumor mill of the high jump community.”

So what?

“It must have been devastating huh? To lose something like that... Something that has been a constant in your life for five years even ten years…”

Devastating. Was that the right word?

“You must have regretted a lot…”

Did I let myself regret it? He willed himself not to regret then. It was a conscious decision to let the emotions flow free. Soon he had to admit— albeit uncomfortably— he regretted it.

“Then I thought of Mikasa. I actually talked to her about this, about Eren. And you know I was able to convince her that there is a life beyond Eren.”

“So let me predict, you wanna say there’s life beyond jumping?” Life beyond Hange?

Armin nodded. “I know it sounds generic. You probably heard it a million times before but… That was what Hange told us when you left…”

Levi didn’t have to listen to Armin quote it to hear it in her voice.

But… You understand, don’t you? Everyone you meet will be parted from you one day. I know it’s difficult to accept. It’s hard to stay sane, living like that. It’s painful. So painful. I know that.

But even so… We need to move forward…

Armin continued. “Move forward… because the world was wider than Eren. And I guess in your case, the world is wider than jumping. Now that I think about it, maybe you and Mikasa were facing similar things.”

It’s hard to stay sane, living like that. It’s painful. So painful. But we need to keep moving forward.

“Keep moving forward… But that’s what I did,” Levi said.

“But when Mikasa brought up the injury, I noticed it and i saw it still hurt you a lot— I’m sorry if I’m just making wild guesses here. I might be wrong.”

“What else did Hange say?” Levi asked. “After ‘keep moving forward?”

It was easy for Levi to imagine her saying that.

There is liberation in riding the pain through, accepting it will happen and just believing you can get past it.

There is liberation in everything. It’s just a matter of believing that happiness will come again.

“I reflected on it too, with Mikasa…” Armin added as they settled on the lowermost bleachers, closest to the bar. “And I thought of something… What if, the reason it’s so painful is because a part of us dies when we lose something. If Mikasa decides to leave Eren, part of her will die, the part of her that clung to him, her childhood, being with him everyday. They might just fade into distant memories the moment she decides to go to university. But there’s a life beyond him. And exchange for whatever part dies with her, her world widens..."

Levi nodded, glancing subtly at the view of the horizontal bar, the sky was shifting to a bright red behind it.

“Something inside her will be reborn. Maybe like reincarnation? There’s our college life waiting after high school, then our work life after that our family life, then retirement then maybe even other lives after that… Maybe even after we die... There's another life waiting for us.”

Levi shrugged. “You might be right,” he said. There was nothing much else to say. He stood up again and approached the landing pad, dragging that extra pad behind him.

“That’s it. After jumping, after whatever we’re doing now, we’re gonna graduate, move on to our next life. Then we just trust that things will get better, we encounter new things, new people to keep us going. We’ll find something else to keep us going.”

Then an old part of us dies and we’re reincarnated as a new person. That was the last sentence, Levi remembered Armin saying, or so that was the message he remembered.

He couldn’t be too sure about Armin’s exact words. Armin didn’t follow behind him either and his voice started to fade into the background.

Even before Armin’s words could whittle into nothing though, the orange sky started to scream at him, the horizontal bar, only nearer, started to goad him in. “That’s why I wanna enter that new life with no regrets,” Levi said.

Eventually Armin gave up.

Or Levi might just have gotten better at ignoring protests. He got better at creating that world, that consisted of just him, the field, the horizontal bar and the sky. The sky that was still a bright orange, the last flash of light before night blankets it. He didn’t have much time.

So Levi gave up on putting the pad on top. He gave up on the weather cover. He unwrapped his brace and threw it towards the side of the field..

Just one jump. The inhibitor within him promised. It sent a buckle through his knee and a light twinge of pain. It could have been stronger than a twinge, but Levi refused to feel it..

There’s just one thing I need to do for myself and I’ll close this part of my life for good.

Captain Levi never regretted. Or so that was what he had willed himself to do before. But everybody would regret even at least once in their life. Levi was part of that everyone and he had kept his own regret mum inside him. It festered into a wound, then to a scab and eventually it grew to shackles that kept him from moving freely, from moving on.

Ride the pain, the loss, the grief.

So he let the shackles do their work, he let the weight slow him down as he walked towards the starting line.

For a few seconds more, he found himself having to catch his breath as the sun made its way down from the horizon. It glowed a bright red, and along the way it released flashes of orange and yellow.

Soon enough, it was just him and the sky. Then him, the sky and someone else.

“Commander Hange Zoe,” he muttered quietly, yet still loud enough to hear it himself. That word, that name, only made that flicker up in the sky a little more lucid.

The silhouette that flew up in the mountains. The silhouette that flew past the buildings and up at the colossal titans.

That silhouette that burned into nothing up in the sky.

The rustle of the leaves, the biting cold and the distant footsteps though still threatened to pull him out of that world he created for himself. With the sun starting to disappear before the horizon, before the bright red--- the flames--- burned through the flicker. Before the flicker fell to the ground and burned out, Levi knew he would have to move.

Why don’t you want to jump? Levi asked himself. His knees were still buckling. The footsteps were still moving. He could get caught soon if he didn’t do it then.

When else will I be able to do this? Levi pressed, an attempt to push his body forward. His body was starting to disobey, or at least the scabbed knee, his joints, the remnants of bruises in his neck from each painful fall that led up to his injury. The biting cold and the pain at his throat from breathing the dry winter air made him even doubt his ability to run.

Certainly, he was in no shape to jump. But he wasn’t giving up just yet.

Eventually, he did find the right question, the one that had him recalling, then feeling everything at once. And it got his body moving.

Why did you start jumping?

I had dreams. I dreamt I could fly and when I jumped, there was this sense of nostalgia…

Letting himself name the emotions for what they were, he soon realized, the comfort that came with jumping wasn’t borne of nostalgia. It was borne of regret.

Captain Levi had one regret which he never entertained. One regret that ran so deep it could never be summarized with a single question.

Should I have stopped her?

Should I have run after her?

Should I have fought with her?

Back then, he never did go after her. so he never found answers. But in that split second flying feet up in the air with just the view of the blue sky above him, he always found hints to it.

So he continued to jump, higher and higher.

You won’t find the answer, no matter how high you jump. Something inside him nagged.

But I wanna leave this part of my life with no regrets. “I wanted to save you,” Levi said. It was only himself who could have spoken or heard him. So maybe he had said it a little louder, he couldn’t tell.

The flicker in the sky started to burn and like the many times he had envisioned that scene, he expected it to fall over soon. He was certain of that.

I should have tried to save you.

Trying never guaranteed success. But trying always had that special ability of just cushioning a fall, protecting against the impact of regret that followed.

And maybe that was the right thing to do. That alone had been enough to send a burst of energy through him, to bring back the muscle memory that got him succeeding at each height, winning competition after competition.

He wanted to fly. So he ran, like he had done many times before. He let his steps bounce, ignoring the pain in his knee.

The horizontal bar was nothing but a convenient silhouette, a guide towards his actual goal.

If I tried to save you, would things have ended up different?

Commander Hange Zoe was the source of energy that got him bouncing on that knee. It got him ignoring that white flashes of pain that followed. She was up there in the sky, fighting the colossal titans and Levi was determined to fly after her.

He positioned himself to jump in that split second, like he had done many times before. As his body turned to his side though, he saw another Hange Zoe.

She wasn’t a flicker nor a silhouette though She was clearly there, chestnut brown hair, bright eyes, like she had been in every single one of the competitions. He needed a split second more to process her. He was pressed for time though so he opted to look straight ahead, to focus on the jump.

“Levi!”

Levi was already up in the air when he heard her call out, when reality gripped at him and attempted to pull him back. Suspended up in the air, floating, it had been easier to pull away.

That was his last jump, his last attempt to save Commander Hange Zoe and he would see it through

There were things though people can will with all their minds, yet their body would still choose to disobey. If the body hadn’t been such a limiting factor, maybe everyone would have been an Olympic athlete.

Levi only had that crushing lesson on reality, hit him hard when he landed painfully on pad, the bar underneath him.

The flicker that he could have sworn was Hange faded into the sky. Or maybe it had fallen over too quickly, in the few moments it took Levi to blink.

The sky shifted into a deep blue. It would shift to a darker blue, then soon, the sky would be painted black. It took the flicker in the sky that had been Hange and soon it would be taking his surroundings with it.

Right after taking her? He would have wanted to ask. He had learned it before already, reality was cruel. There was no use bargaining with it.

It was starting to get cold. The heat in that moment as he made the jump and the heat of the fiery death he had witnessed, waged war with the winter chill that was starting to eat at him too.

Too many discomforts to process at once and in that second, Levi was almost grateful for the desolation, the disappointment that was also nagging at him then.

So he gave it some traction and soon, some place in reality. “I’m sorry, I can’t fly anymore,” he whispered. Those words should have been between him and whatever flicker had disappeared in the sky.

There had been an intruder though and Levi was slow to notice it. “Levi! What were you thinking?” she asked.

Gentle hands ran through him. Familiar hands pressed at his knees, at his arms. “Just thought I’d try it one last time.” Levi answered as he turned to the voice.

Hange’s face softened as they made eye contact. “Levi… you know the momentum comes from the run… With your injury, you wouldn’t have been able to even jump heights less than two meters..”

“I wanted to. Just one last time.”

Her hazel eyes were on him again, and they could have been glistening, illuminated by the already dim light as the winter sun shone with its last few rays.

“You don’t need to...” She helped him into a sitting position and Levi followed suit, surprised out how his body was still obeying him

Need to what? He hoped to seek clarity in the seconds that followed. Shaken for sure by those bursts of movement, the pain that came and the pain he had expected to come, he found himself unable to speak.

But it turned out, he didn't need to. He couldn't speak so Hange spoke for him. “If you don’t want me to, I won't leave you,” she said.

A minute ago, it had been hot. A few seconds ago it had been chilly. When she wrapped her arms around him though, the war between hot and cold ended with a comfortable compromise. Her tight embrace was lukewarm. “I’m right here… And I'll be right here for as long as you want me to be."