#but when I try i had a panic attack and left early | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

faeriekit · 4 months ago

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Health and Hybrids (XXV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Tim pulls a fast one on Batman for their mutual benefit. Everybody giggles. Danny goggles.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

(Additional TW: I think this counts as a panic attack ngl)

On the one hand. The room Danny’s in has a killer view of the earth from the moon.

The wall is basically just one big window. Danny is also apparently permitted to mash his face into the glass and ogle the Earth from Space for as long as he wants until the stinky dad, whoever he is, finally emerges from the depths of the building.

Diana’s the only one beside him today. She looks nice—nicer than usual, in her armor and bright clothing rather than soft scrubs and hair net. She can push his chair without getting tired—she could probably fly and carry him too, if she had to, so. Danny’s maybe counting on her liking him if this stinky dad tries to be mean.

So. Diana (nice lady) and Danny (half-dead ghost boy) are quietly seated in a dim, peaceful board room, absorbing the early morning (?) space radiation when the door hisses open across the room.

In the doorway is a long, dark, shadow of a man.

…And the green guy!!

Okay, if the stinky dad man brought a friend to this meeting the same way Diana’s meant to supervise him, Danny feels like he’s been lawyered up for the sake of some kind of court trial. This is not fair. Danny wasn’t able to review his case with his legal representation before this.

Well. Danny fumes. Whatever. His lawyer is Diana, the most powerful living being he’s seen ever in his life, and she can totally kick the green guy’s ass. Hell, Danny could probably kick the green guy’s ass.

...You know. If he wasn’t. Sick.

The stinky dad guy looks a lot like the blob his kid drew him as. That’s kind of neat—his suit is all black with little to no variation, which sort of just washes out the colors Danny might have been able to see if his eyes were still good. He’s very quiet, which is nice, and he’s very not-trying-to-read-Danny’s-mind, which is even better.

The two sit. Danny’s already in a wheelchair, so he just lets Diana wheel him to the table. The lady sits beside him in the spinny office chair.

Hello, the green guy opens with, already toying with the edges of Danny’s aura.

Danny sends back an abundance of ass-kicking emotions.

…Alright then, the green man capitulates, the barest hint of bemusement quickly stifled.

Good. Danny is mean. He’s awake enough to be mad about other people touching his aura from any end of his personal bubble.

But then the green guy…says stuff to the dad guy? And it’s very? Quiet?

Explanations, the green guy says. The image of a sign language translator at a baseball game floats over to him, and—

…Oh. He’s translating. For Danny.

That’s…nice? Nicer than Danny expected, honestly? Most of the time, people are perfectly happy to misinterpret him. It was kind of the way of the world at this point. Getting blamed for stuff, getting accused of stuff…

Man. If they turn out to be indoctrinating him for secret war purposes, at least they’re going all in. Danny might actually. You know. Like it here. A little.

He squirms in his chair, and tries not to look at anyone in particular. Diana—the lady who’s been nice to him—makes as if to straighten his hair for him, and remembers at the last second that he doesn’t like to be touched.

And sure. Danny doesn’t want to be touched. By bad guys.

…But Diana’s been really nice to him, so. Maybe. He scratches at the back of his neck, and ducks his head down—and remembers to use his words. “Yes,” he consents verbally. He can’t make eye contact. But he can…let her. Brush his hair back. A little.

Diana asks something long and complicated—and the green guy presses an image of Wonder Woman asking permission, being kind, being gentle—up against the edges of Danny’s awareness.

Danny nods at the floor instead of at the lady. It’s fine. She’s fine. It’s fine.

And her fingers carefully brush through the front end of his fringe, and Danny. Danny is so normal about it. He doesn’t even cry or anything. Not even in front of his friend’s stinky dad.

And she doesn’t do it like Mom did it. And she doesn’t ruffle his hair like Dad did.

But it’s. Nice. And she doesn’t pull.

…And she doesn’t hit.

Danny eventually leans back into his wheelchair. It’s a little bit embarrassing to be halfway in and halfway out, but. Whatever. The scary-looking-dad with the earsies on his helmet has his own teenager. He should understand what it feels like to get emotionally weird with your teen in a public place. If he doesn’t, well...he wouldn’t be a great dad, then, and his opinion would suck anyway.

Based on what Danny knows about the masked kid, Danny isn’t sure the guy would tolerate a bad dad. The teen seems kinda unhinged.

The man says something, and the green guy presses a number of translated feelings against Danny’s awareness: Greetings. Questions about Danny’s wellbeing. Curiosity, but not demanding.

“…Hello,” Danny says back, and. Waves.

The man waves back. He’s got little claws on his gloves.

…Like a cat? Is it to go with his ears? Danny wonders about the possibilities of the guy being cat themed. It’s possible, presumably.

So…they want to know how Danny’s doing? Danny shrugs, and he glances at Diana, since, you know, she could probably fill them in? She does speak their language. And she’s been here the whole time.

The lady leans in close to him, black hair falling out from behind her ear. “What do you want to say?” she whispers into her ear, hand covering her mouth from their watchers.

Uh. It’s up to…Danny?? Somehow??

Danny winces. “…Good?” he tries, unsure if the word he uses means okay or fine or well. “…Not…hungry?”

“Very good,” Diana agrees, a little louder. She looks proud. Being not hungry must mean a lot to her, then. It means a lot to Danny too—he can remember the sensation of his stomach rubbing against itself, friction pulling raw at his insides as acid ate at him.

It was. Bad.

It was bad.

Danny’s glad he’s not there anymore. Anyway, there’s a guy in the room who reads minds, and Danny doesn’t really want to share that memory with anyone ever; especially someone who could turn it back on him.

The stinky dad says something else, but he uses words too thick and long for Danny to understand. The green guy translates, pure conceptual recall brushing against Danny’s outer aura—Needs? Wants?

…Danny frowns.

Danny looks at Diana, who looks back at him. Wants, needs…? What?

“Do you need aniþing?” Diana whispers to him, which. You know. Mostly makes sense.

Does Danny…need anything? He has medical care, he has food, he has water, he has toys and brain teasers, even…he has people to hang out with, he has people who stretch his legs with him so that he can go back to normal…heck, he doesn’t even have to clean his own waste bag. There’s people who do that for him.

Like. What more could Danny ask for?

Danny shrugs. He just wants to heal up and run away. Maybe…maybe, if Diana is real and not just pretending to like him to keep an eye on him, she’d let him visit her later or something. Danny would do what Dani doe—did. What Dani…did. And he’d just go a bunch of places and come back when he wants to.

But. No. There’s nothing he really needs right now.

The pointy-eared guy and the green guy share a look and a couple quiet words. Danny flares his annoyance into the silence, but all he gets is a silent Apology/Apology, which isn’t answers.

Ugh. Danny leans over the arm of his wheelchair. This is kind of super boring; it’s more boring than it is frustrating, even.

The stinky dad guy says something else, and Danny feels the push and pull of something double ended tugging on the outer edge of his aura. Additional/information, giving/take?

Danny really wishes he’d brought a fidget toy or something. His nerves are ramping up but all he can do is contort his fingers together, feeling the strain in and the joints click as he pushes them together and twists them apart. They want…to ask him questions? No, they’re already asking him questions. They want Danny to…give them questions??

…Danny doesn’t really want to. Still, he probably…should.

“The…space station,” he says, using the wrong word for their big space building but not knowing the better one; “Is this…where…why is it?”

The black-caped dad grumbles something vaguely approving. A tablet pops out of the table—spooky—and the guy starts drawing on it, explaining all the way. The green guy simplifies more of the verbally complicated concepts for Danny as they go.

Anyway. So they’re in space because it’s their…job? Danny thinks? They do…fighting stuff. Which Danny knew. Because he’d seen them on the news.

But it looks like they do a lot of things—they clean up after storms, and chase regular bad guys and super-bad-guys instead of just big ones. And they stop bad aliens from hurting people on Earth.

The green guy shifts from a green-looking, pointy-headed, red-eyed form to a warm, brown, human skin tone. And even. Like. Human clothing.

Danny stares.

…And the guy immediately takes back his natural form, his body physically shifting and morphing, which, fair, but holy crap. He’s living, on Earth. He passes as normal, on Earth. No one snitches on him. No one’s selling him to the government for parts. No one’s trapping him in a cage and not feeding him.

This guy works here, and everyone lets him.

Danny shifts in his chair. He…he wants that. He wants that. He wants to pass as human and not have to worry about…about anyone getting rid of him. He wants to go back to school. He wants to hide, and never ever not ever be found by anyone or anything when he does.

“I want that,” Danny says. There’s no inflection. He feels dead. He is dead, but usually he doesn’t feel it. “What do I do for…that.”

Help/Searching/Finding? the green—alien—questions, but there’s nothing for Danny to find. He knows exactly where everyone he loves is—and unless they’re already fully formed in the ghost zone…

…Well. Danny has forever to wait and see if he’ll see his friends and sister again. Maybe he’ll find them again one day, in a world purely green and glowing.

He shakes his head.

The next question comes…softer. Gentler. The mental push feels more like a breeze than a gale. Friends…Home/family?

The question comes tinged with all sorts of sensations that Danny’s suppressed—warmth, security, happiness, oxytocin, fondness, pride and being the source thereof, warmth and love, love, love—

Danny’s sweating. He can’t stop. His hands are shaking faster than usual—he kicks the brakes off his chair with the heels of his palms, and jerks the wheels back, pulling away from the desk—

He’s halfway across the room before he hears the noise. It’s just. Noise. It’s Diana, carefully shushing the loud heartbeat churning in his ears, hands on his hand, trying not to cage him but trying to keep skin on skin contact. Her hand is on the back of his hand, and on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Diana whispers. Danny’s shaking. His whole body is shaking. “Shhh, sh sh sh. It’s alright, it’s okay.”

It’s not it’s not it’snoit’snotit’sNOT. His sister is dead. His friends are dead. His parents sold his captors the equipment to catch him and they didn’t care if he got hurt doing it and now they’re DEAD. They tore open his hometown down the middle just to catch him, they stole him—they took his dead parent’s things as tools to hurt him—they HURT HIM and there isn’t—he can’t—he can’t—

Something is holding him down, and Danny thrashes. He has arms, but they’re injured—he has legs but he needs a tail and he—and—

He cries into Diana’s arms, sobbing and wailing. It’s a miracle that the building stays together. She holds him tighter, and he cries even harder into her soft under-layers.

He wants to run away. He needs to run away. Someone is holding him, and he can’t even flicker through her the way he wants to; his core is already too strained just from talking.

Danny’s sick. He’s dying. He’s—

“Take a breath,” Diana whispers, calm and sure. She models it for him. Danny gasps in air. “Good. Lete it out slow. As bobbels in a straw.”

He tries to copy her he does and she’ll be so angry if he can’t do it right on the first try but she lets him try, over and over again, until Danny’s able to stop hiccupping and leaking tears and ectoplasm all over her and realize that she’s holding him like a baby. Like. Actually cradling him against his body armor.

…You know what. He’s too tired to even be embarrassed. Screw that. Danny leans all the way over her and goes completely limp. Someone else can deal with his him for a little bit.

She does. Diana just…holds him.

It’s nice. Mom and Dad used to do that for him, when Danny was still…more human, he supposed. More than he is right now.

Something else touches his hand. Danny looks blearily downwards.

The teenager’s dad gets to his knees and takes Danny’s hand—and he doesn’t need the translation to understand.

“I’m sorry,” the man says, over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Danny blinks sleepily. What does his friend’s stinky dad have to be sorry for? He didn’t even do anything to Danny in the first place.

Danny won’t remember, afterwards, being wheeled back to his room for a nap. They must have wheeled him back, though, because the alternative is that Diana tucked him into bed like a baby, and that’s just kind of embarrassing to even think about for too long.

#Diana: I have been allowed to touch him. Ergo I can pick him up now. This is permission #Bruce (in the meeting review later): ...no #Diana: why not??#Bruce: that is. most certainly not how human trauma works. Keep asking before you try anything.#Diana: ah. Understood.#health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dcu crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw medical #tw body horror #tw gore #although tbh at this point we're mostly a recovery fic #faer fic

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idioticbat · 6 months ago

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Idk how to write this, but I got caught in the south Brazil floods. My partner and I have been homeless since last Saturday, we've stayed until this Thursday at a shelter, but things were getting worse and worse, and my partner's company paid a hotel stay in another town till the next week or two.

Thursday/Friday on the week before the last (may 2nd and 3rd) we were housing two friends, who were already homeless due to the flood which had just started. They're also both trans and have no family to support them.

Friday morning the power went out and our friends left for a shelter. In the evening, my partner and i went for a walk to check how bad things were, and it was already flooding a mere 3 and a half blocks from our house. On the time it took for us to walk across that block, the water was already covering our feet.

We rushed back home and the street in front of where we live was starting to get covered in water. We carried everything we could to the attic, mostly my art stuff, computer, etc. We originally planned to stay home and survive a couple days until it got better. I barely slept that night because I knew the water was coming, so my brain was on maximum alert. I woke up after 3 hours of sleep, from a dream that I was trying to escape the flood.

When I woke up, we organized a bit more and ate lunch for breakfast. On the time it took for us to eat, the water was already at our doorstep, and we rushed to pack. I had a panic attack as the water rushed into our house, and a police officer rescued us and carried our bags inside a barrel. I only got a few clothes, medication for two weeks, basic hygiene stuff, plushies and some food. My partner got clothes and their laptop. I regret not picking my computer.

We had to swim and waddle through 1.60m+ (5'3") deep water for two blocks. On some places it was probably close to 2m. It felt like an eternity passed while we found our way through the cold water. Some neighbours who were also helping us recommended us a place for shelter. After we crossed a bridge, some person gave us a ride, so at least we didn't have to walk 3km to the shelter.

We got there really early on Saturday, the university which was one of the places being used as a shelter had just opened, so we were able to shower and eat. They also gave us new clothes. As it got more packed, we got help from volunteer psychologists, who gave us a separate room in another floor, since both my partner and I have autism.

I had more panic attacks but we got some help from other volunteers. Things were otherwise fine throughout Sunday and Monday, we managed to shower once more. Stuff started getting worse on Tuesday, as the place went from sheltering some 100-200 people to around 700. We were seeing the psychologists only once a day for a couple minutes and food started getting delayed for hours. Water was also scarce and we started having power outages.

Wednesday we were without food til 4pm, and since we also had pretty much lost access to the psychologists, we accepted the offer from my partner's company to take us to a hotel in another town. Thursday we left for the hotel, I showered for the first time since in four days, had lunch and finally changed my patreon password so I can post from my phone, as I do pretty much everything from my computer. Yesterday and today (friday/saturday, one week later), i finally managed to have computer access on my partner's laptop and log in to tumblr, cohost and so on.

I'm still not sure what we'll do about the future. Our place was rented and all the furniture that belonged to the house will be lost. Our landlord lives in another country and it's almost impossible to contact her. The kitchen and laundry appliances are still underwater and I guess we'll lose all of these. We can't afford to renew a house that isn't ours, and buy new appliances on top of that. We have nowhere to go that's nearby after this is over, no family, and our few friends are worse off. I'm not even sure I'll be able to recover my computer since the roof on the attic is leaky, and there'll be even more rain this weekend.

I feel absolutely crushed inside. Some people have tried to get me art supplies and I did draw a bit on a whiteboard in the classroom we were staying at in the shelter, but it's not the same thing. I can't feel any kind of inspiration knowing I might be completely homeless in two weeks, knowing the only two friends we have here might also be homeless, knowing I might have lost more than 15 years of art and music that were on my computer, that I might have lost thousands of physical drawings and so on. But I'm just trying my best to not think about any of that, so I just feel numb, occasionally I cry and feel anxious. My partner has also been trying to cheer me up since we got to the hotel, but i still feel pretty terrible. I haven't slept more than 5 hours straight in some 10 days. A lot of the time I dissociate and everything feels surreal.

I'll leave my ko-fi here in case anyone wants to donate. I also want to help our two friends with at least 100usd if possible, since they're even more vulnerable than my partner and I. If you have me on discord, please dm me instead and I'll give you my paypal address.

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 8 months ago

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Voicemail

A Seams oneshot, but can be read independently of the series

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: T

Summary: You find Joel's old Nokia at the back of a drawer.

Warnings: Angst, description of a panic attack, grief, comfort, no use of Y/N, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has no physical description, definitely incorrect description of how mobile phones work, very lightly edited.

As always, Seams oneshots are set on a relaxed timeline. Voicemail can be considered to take place at an unspecified time after Part IV.

Word count: 1.8k

Notes: I don't know if anyone has written anything similar, but I've always wanted to write something about Joel's Nokia (the idea for Butter actually came from the phone scene in episode 1 - can't you tell? lol). This idea took me by surprise one night and didn't let me go.

Important note: I know voicemails don't work this way, but let's pretend that they are saved onto the mobile phone itself and can be accessed decades later, and that a Nokia can indeed survive the apocalypse.

After the outbreak, after Sarah, after missing his shot - he doesn’t remember much of those early, blurry days. Tommy barely managed to drag his catatonic ass to an abandoned house somewhere on the outskirts of town, where he had to punch him in the face to snap him out of it.

It being a cocktail of shock, grief, pain and numbness that should’ve killed him, could’ve killed any man. And for the longest time he wished that it did.

It was in the aftershock of that punch, left cheek snapped to his shoulder and his eyes downcast, that Joel saw his Nokia was still clipped to his belt, by some miracle unscathed when everything else had fallen apart.

And he keeps it all these years.

He hadn’t meant to take it with him when he packed up his meagre life to leave Boston behind. But the grubby afternoon light glanced off the screen when he was grabbing maps and hammers from under the dusty floorboards, and with a fuck it, he shrugged and shoved it into the bottom of his backpack.

If he was being honest with himself, it didn’t feel right leaving it behind.

And so the phone made it to Jackson, and survived the detour to Salt Lake City, largely forgotten. Joel was almost surprised by the sight of it when he finally unpacked his bag in the house that was now his and Ellie’s.

With a wry smile, he tossed it into a nondescript drawer in the garage, never to see the light of day again.

Until one weekend, Joel asks you to help him find some obscure screwdriver in his garage, not able to get up from where he’s on his back, stemming the flow of the perpetually leaky sink in Ellie’s bathroom.

The space is cool, the shutters down and the air dank from the lack of sun. Under the flickering fluorescent light, you go through a frankly ridiculous number of toolboxes without sighting the elusive screwdriver. With a sigh, you try the middle drawer in the workbench, which is clogged with what looks like everything under the sun.

Your lips twitch - Joel Miller is a messy man.

Digging around the random clutter, you startle when your fingers brush the long-forgotten, yet instantly familiar plastic case of the Nokia.

Wrapping your hand around the rectangular frame, you smile, in disbelief that you’re holding a mobile phone. You had a similar one that got lost in the confusion of the first days of the outbreak, and you haven’t seen one in the years since. At least not one in such good condition.

Joel’s faraway voice jolts you out of your thoughts. ‘Found it, sweetheart?’

‘Just a second!’ you call back.

Tucking the phone back where it came from, you grab the nearest screwdriver and hope for the best.

It takes you a few days of asking around town, poking around dusty storerooms and untangling twenty year-old electric cords, but you eventually find what you’re looking for, and there’s a spring in your step as you cook dinner that evening.

Joel seems to pick up on your energy, and he grins, amused, when he brings in the empty dishes after you eat.

‘You’re buzzin’ out of your skin, sweetheart,’ he teases, grabbing you by the waist. ‘What’s up with you?’

You cock your head to the side. ‘Well, I have a surprise for you.’

‘Is that so?’ he hums, then lets his voice drop an octave in playful insinuation. ‘What kind of surprise, hmm?’

‘Not that kind of surprise,’ you huff with a smile. ‘It’s - it’s hard to explain.’

‘Try me.’

Twisting out of his grip, you open a cabinet and pull out something that fits neatly in your palm. Joel frowns, confused by what looks like - a charger.

When you speak, it’s slow, as if you don’t want to startle him. ‘There’s a whole warehouse of wires and things down by the canteen. A patrol stumbled across an electronics shop in a nearby town a few years ago.’

He gives you a crooked smile. ‘And what am I s’pposed to do with it, sweetheart?’

You take a moment, making sure that his eyes are on you before the words come out. ‘I found the Nokia in your garage the other day, when I was looking for the screwdriver.’

You watch as Joel processes your words, and he goes still, stiller than you’ve ever seen him.

Then he blinks and shuffles his feet, glancing down at the charger. ‘I - I didn’t expect this.’

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. ‘I know. And you don’t have to do anything with it, really, but I just wanted you to have it.’

He nods, slowly. ‘Ok.’

Hesitating, you stutter, ‘So, um, do you - want to take it -?’

Joel holds his hand out, calloused palm quietly upturned. You half expect him to jump at the contact, but he doesn’t move a muscle when the black wire lands in his grasp, and his thick fingers curl around them.

‘I got the dishes, if you want to go first,’ you prompt softly.

Joel swallows, then nods. ‘Yeah, I think I’ll do that. If y’ don’t mind, sweetheart.’

‘Of course,’ you smile, pressing a kiss to his lips.

It’s cold outside, but he doesn’t feel it, not when the charger seems to be burning a hole in his hand. When he gets back to his house - empty, Ellie is at Lucy’s for dinner - he heads straight to the garage, and tugs open the drawer.

The Nokia stares back at him, screen blank.

Flinging the charger into the drawer without seeing where it lands, he shoves the drawer close with a snap.

Weeks pass. It hangs in the back of his mind like a spector, even though you don’t bring it up again, and he doesn’t either.

He’s not sure if he’s afraid of it, or dreading it, or worst of all - hopeful of what he would find on it.

It’s been twenty years. Electronics don’t last that long. It’s gotta be wiped clean.

One Wednesday night, Ellie is upstairs, music blaring, doing ‘homework’ or whatever she does on a weeknight (he doesn’t believe in helicopter parenting), and Joel finds his thoughts drifting to that damn drawer.

Feeling reckless, he reaches for the top shelf in the kitchen, pours himself two fingers of whiskey, and charges into the garage.

Hopping onto a workstool, he takes a big gulp of liquid courage and sets the tumbler on the work surface. Before his resolve slips completely out of touch, he yanks on the handle, and he winces when the drawer yawns open with a screech.

The Nokia feels foreign to the touch, like he’s forgotten how to hold a phone. It was, of course, glued to his ear almost all hours of the day and night once upon a time. He turns the plastic case over and the other way around again, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the buttons.

There’s no putting it off forever.

In goes the plug into the electric socket, and he looks down, phone in the left hand, the end of the charger in the other.

He thinks he’s seeing double until he realises that his hands are fucking shaking.

In one determined motion, he slots the charger into the bottom of the phone and drops it like it’s acid.

Then he downs the rest of his whiskey.

He’s not sure how long he stares, the very air around him as unmoving as himself, and he feels the alcohol spread its warm fingers through his veins.

Just when he’s about to look away, it happens.

The battery sign appears on the screen.

Joel almost chokes on a chuckle. He can’t fucking believe it. You really can’t kill a Nokia if you tried.

It doesn’t take long for the familiar home screen to pop up, the time on the top right corner, the battery in the bottom right. The bright green glare casts a cool glow in the dim. Joel picks up the phone, only to be nearly knocked backwards off the chair when the words flash across the screen.

1 NEW VOICEMAIL.

He’s sure his heart has stopped, it definitely feels like it, a deadweight in his chest sinking into his stomach. But he hears it, the relentless beat of it, pounding violently in his ears. Too fast. Gripping the edge of the work surface, he tries to breathe, mouth open, but air isn’t getting in.

It could be nothing. Could be a voicemail he missed from a client that night, or a junk call.

He’s not sure if he’s afraid of it, or dreading it, or worst of all -

He’s trembling so badly that he needs both hands to hold the phone steady, just so that his thumb presses the selection key.

He doesn’t hear the pre-recorded message, his brain skips it entirely. Then there’s five seconds of silence, and his life flashes before his eyes at the familiar beep -

Dad, are you on your way home? Please tell me you remembered the cake. Uncle Tommy bet me ten dollars that you won’t and I kinda need that lunch money tomorrow. See you soon, love you dad -

And everything goes white.

When Joel comes around, he’s on his knees, the empty tumbler in crystalline pieces around him. The phone is no longer attached to the charger, clutched so tightly in his hands that he feels the imprint of every button in his palm.

He won’t know that his face is wet with tears until you thumb the streaks off his cheeks on your doorstep minutes later, no memory of how he got there. You draw him into you, but your embrace barely contains his broad frame.

You can’t get him far in his state, whiskey on his breath and shivering all over. You drag him across the living room and onto the couch, where you curl up against him, warming him up with your body heat, cradling his head on your chest. The candlelight bounces off the phone screen, which glows green in his grasp.

It will take him weeks to get his head around what you have given him. And when he does, he will ask if you want to hear Sarah’s voice - shyly - as if you would ever say no.

Watching him watch you, Sarah’s warm, fun-loving voice in your ear, the seams of your lashes sting with tears as your heart clenches, swells, breaks for him - and then put together again by his hand finding you, fingers filling the gaps between yours.

But for now, he lies prostrate, his weight pinning you to the couch, as you comb soothing fingers through his hair, anchoring him to you.

‘I got you, Joel,’ you whisper in his ear, and his eyelids droop and his breathing evens out, as if he’s run a thousand miles. ‘I got you.’

As he drifts off to sleep - his baby girl's love you dad echoing between his ears - he knows that you do.

More notes: I don't lean too hard into angst in my fics as a rule, so this took me places I haven't been for a while, but it's ok cos Pin's got our man 🥺 Thank you for reading, as always! ❤️

#fuckyeahseams #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller oneshot #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction

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littlerequiem · 1 month ago

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we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 2

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Descriptions of the Rumbling (WC: 7k)

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It’s past curfew when you catch a glimpse of Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary. He's been coming up here this past week, though this is the first time you approach him.

“You gonna tell anyone?” Levi asks. He’s playing with a small pocket knife, twirling it in his hand.

You consider his question. No doubt Erwin would want to know that his new gamble is sneaking away from the barracks every evening. Then again, knowing Erwin, he might already know and chooses to just let it slide anyway.

You lean your weight over the edge of the window sill, gazing at the way moonlight crowns Levi's hair. “Are you going to hurt anyone with that knife?”

Levi's eyes twinkle in the night. “What, just because I’m from the Underground means I’m gonna stab someone?”

“Actually,” you say carefully, “I was more worried about you hurting yourself.”

His eyes lose their fire; he focuses back on his knife. “I won’t.”

Freedom—it is the ability to glimpse at endless blue skies; it is horse riding until dusk; it is choices and opinions and being able to voice them.

These days, Levi takes it for granted, his freedom. He’s an ungrateful asshole like that.

If the people from his childhood would hear him now, they would spit in his face. Try to beat him to a pulp. Here he is, lacking gratitude, when some poor lowlife was born and died in that shit hole that was the Underground.

Levi hears that the Underground doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve told him that the Rumbling caused earthquakes to fracture the ground, that much of the subterranean city has been buried under. There were some casualties, of course, but the worst could be avoided since Historia had ordered a gradual evacuation years prior.

Levi wonders if the people now discovering life above ground still have violence in their blood the way he once did when he first saw the sun.

“Levi, where is your secret tea stash?”

Your question muffles over the sound of the kettle groaning awake on the gas stove, blending with the sound of waves crashing outside. It tears him right out of his thoughts and away from the headline he'd been reading: 'More than 75% of refugees in Marley now rehoused, much work still remains in the mental aftermath of the war'.

Levi has been up for several hours now, breakfast long since consumed. You, on the other hand, just got up, the whisks of sleep still present in your cadence, in the corners of your eyes. An anomaly to be sure—Levi remembers you being an early riser, but he supposes that habits, just like people, change.

“Why would I have a secret tea stash?” he counters.

You yawn, a hand covering your mouth. “Well... you always had a secret tea stash, didn't you?”

“To hide from cadets and their grubby fingers. I’m all alone here.”

“Mm," you shrug, words a little slurred, "you could still want to hide a thing or two from me.”

“Then I wouldn’t tell ya where it was, would I?” Levi leans one elbow over the kitchen table, chin lazily resting on the center of his palm. His index finally pokes out to give directions. “S’on the left side, second cupboard.”

Your gaze follows his directive, only to look at him with a slightly more straight posture. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” You stick your tongue out, like a damn child. “Words. They help.”

Levi refrains from rolling his eyes. He watches you open the cupboard, grabbing the tin of loose tea leaves.

On the chair next to him, Scout is curled up and fast asleep. The kitten's muzzle scrunches as she dreams.

“Are you sure I'm allowed to drink this?” he hears you ask.

Levi's eyes flicker back towards you. “Yeah."

"But isn't this special? Isn't this tea from Paradis?"

It is tea from Paradis, courtesy of Armin. It's one of Levi's last boxes, in fact. He knows he'll eventually run out of it, and while he supposes he could ask for more of it, he thinks his taste buds will just need to adapt to something else. That's just the way life goes.

"You know," he mutters, "if you’re gonna be like this about every little thing around the house, it's gonna get tiring real fast.”

You focus on preparing the tea. “I’m just being polite."

“Why? You never bothered before."

A grimace splits across your face. "Ouch. Harsh.”

"S'not," Levi mumbles, running a hand through his hair. It’s freshly washed, still a bit damp. "I mean, no need to act all fake and shit."

"Okay... but this isn't like life in the Survey Corps. This is your house."

His house. Levi doesn't know if he should be more possessive about these things, the way he's seen some townspeople be with their possessions, but Levi's just never been one to care about these things. He never has.

Levi flips his newspaper to the next page. "So long as you keep the place clean, I don’t care about the rest."

“You don’t care?”

His eyes meet yours. There's a spark in your gaze.

Oh you’re taunting him.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest. "Drill this into your head, Adler: anything that’s mine is yours, so just treat this place as such.”

That seems to shut you right up. You blink with a dumbfounded expression, apparently startled by his (accidental, Levi swears it was accidental) turn of phrasing. It’s soon replaced by words uttered beneath your breath, words Levi doesn’t quite grasp because his own ears are whistling. He returns his attention back to the newspaper, attempting to shrug off the weight of the innuendo.

Anything that’s mine is yours. What a stupid thing to say. That almost sounded like a confession or some shit.

For the next minute, Levi tries his damn best to focus on his newspaper.

“Getting her beauty rest, huh?”

You've placed two cups of tea on the table, one pushed towards him, along with a plate for the infusers. You're eying Scout.

“She seems glued to your side,” you add, sitting down.

“Kittens sleep a lot,” Levi supplies lamely.

“In any case, it’s cute to see the two of you together.”

Levi turns the handle of his cup to his left side. “Please.”

“Can you imagine what everyone would say? The fearless Captain Levi, succumbing to a cat—”

"Quit talking and just drink your tea, would you?”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Aye, aye, captain."

For a moment, silence does fall, and his peripheral catches your chest rising and falling, something oddly quaint and peaceful about witnessing your breathing. You’re staring outside the window, looking at the view of the sea glimmering in the distance. He follows your line of sight, noting that there’s a buildup of crusted salt around the windows; Levi should really clean it off before summer ends.

“Hey, so,” you interrupt after a while, “I was thinking of going to the market today. Get a few things. Maybe find a job.”

Levi locks eyes with you. You’re holding onto your cup with two hands.

“A job?” Levi asks.

“Mm. Yeah. Something that makes sense for me...”

You want to get back to the medical field, already? You just got here.

“Why the hurry?"

“Well…" you say, "I don’t want to leech off you forever—”

“You're not.”

“Still, it'd be good for me, right?” You shoot a bright smile—something too bright about it. Levi eyes narrow. “Anyway, you wanna join or what?” Your eyes crinkle with softness. “You know... I’d love to meet all the nosy people you’ve told me about.”

Levi purses his lips, feeling as though you glossed over that subject much too quickly. A part of him wants to nudge you a bit, though his usual habit to just let you be kicks in. Whatever you're hiding, you have your reasons.

Levi considers your proposal. He knows it would be better if he didn’t join, seeing how damn foolish he’s already acting around you. He should try to set clear boundaries with you.

And yet—

“Sure,” comes out of him all the same.

Well, so much for that, anyway.

“You flew.”

You stand there, staring at the sight of the man as he finishes his round of training.

Levi shoots you a look, grappling with the hand grips. “I’m just using the ODM gear correctly.”

You take a step towards him. “No, but you’re amazing. You must know that, right? I’m not a soldier, but… I know talent when I see it.”

He gives you an odd look then, and before you have a chance to say anything else, propels himself in the air and disappears in the shadows of the forest.

At the market, Levi follows you around like a brooding shadow.

He’s in his wheelchair today. Behind him, you’re pushing him and asking questions about the scenery and the people and all sorts of trivial things.

(“Look, look there, all these teas. Have you tried any of them?”

“Some.”)

(“I'm gonna buy some flowers to plant in the gardens. Is that alright?”

“Do what you want.”)

(“Is the sea always as pretty?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, there's shit that gets carried in.”

"How poetic.")

(“Look, Levi! A car.”

“It looks dangerous.”

“I think I’d like to try driving. Get over my fear, you know?”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Hey, give me some credit! S’not so different from riding a horse, right?”

“You’ve got a few screws loose up there, you know that?”)

Well, Levi was never great at talking. Not that you seem to mind; you’ve always liked to ask him questions and fill in the blanks when needed. Most of the time, it’s the silence that sits comfortably between the two of you that Levi appreciates so much anyway. It just is, filling the space between the two of you like a soft cloud fills the sky with shapes.

You're moving next to him, calmly taking in the sight of the buzzing market. It's a little too busy for Levi's liking, but the sight of you distracts him: you’re wearing a sunhat with ribbons today, coupled with your cotton overalls. Levi’s never seen you wear a hat like this one before, but he thinks it suits you.

“You should protect your skin from the sun,” you’d said earlier. “That’s why I wear a hat.”

“I didn’t come to the surface to run away from the sun,” he’d grumbled back, even if he did notice how warm summers in Marley truly are (and yes, he’d gotten sunburned on several occasions, and also yes, his injured eye stings every time the sun shines too brightly... but, still, Levi wouldn’t budge).

��Good morning, dear boy! What a surprise to see you here!” someone says, tearing Levi out of the thoughts. Attached to that booming voice is none other than Levi's boss, Adam Jakowski.

Originally an Eldian from Marley, Mr Jakowski was one of the first residents that settled here in Mare. He quickly opened his carpentry shop, and when Levi moved in, he found a job there.

Today, however, Mr Jakowski isn't here for any carpentry-related trades. Every week-end, the man likes to come here and share the goods his wife makes.

"What brings you here?" Mr Jakowski asks.

“I was dragged out, believe it or not,” Levi answers, head bobbing towards you.

Next to him, he hears you snort.

“And who might this pretty young lady be? Are you the missus Ackerman, per chance?” Mr Jakowski asks, his tone carrying a curiosity only people genuinely interested in others are capable of mustering.

Levi feels his cheeks burn at the idea, but you just chuckle, swatting a hand in the air to dispel the notion. “No such thing, sir. But I am new to town and it pleases me all the same to make your acquaintance. Miss Adler, charmed to meet you.”

Levi’s thin brows knit together. It’s the first time he hears you introduce yourself without your profession tied in.

Miss Adler. Not Dr Adler.

Strange.

“Well met, Miss Adler… Well met, indeed! Ah, it is a pleasure to see new faces in Mare, especially a lovely one such as yours. Will you be staying here for a while?”

“Mm. Who knows?” You smile. “I can’t quite say yet, to tell the truth.”

Levi’s throat suddenly feels a little thick.

“Anyway, what are you selling here, sir?” you ask, peering over the stall of the merchant, gazing at all the products and zeroing on a particular one: a red paste.

“The one you're eying is a paste from the eastern part of Marley, ma'am. It’s made with paprika and bell-peppers, you see. Great for inflammations and stomach issues,” the old man explains. He makes you smell it, then turns around to sprinkle it onto something. “You can coat it like so,” he raises a piece of bread that he smears with the red paste, “or add it to your cooking.”

He hands you the toast.

You bite into it, chewing for several moments as you raise a hand over your mouth. “Walls! It does have such a particular taste. It’s the aftertaste, right? Spicy.”

Your eyes wander to meet Levi’s, and you raise the bread slightly in his direction as if to inquire if he wants to taste it as well. Levi shakes his head, and you shoot him a smile, gulping down the rest of the food.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, drumming his left index in a series of five taps over his forearm—tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Next to him, he hears the way you engage in easy conversation, talking about the weather, how the region has adjusted to the influx of settlers, how you're looking for a job and how, yes, you’d love to meet his wife and daughter!

The rest flies over his head. Instead, Levi looks up at your sunhat again, admiring the way it hugs the shape of your skull, the way the ribbons flow gently with the breeze.

Levi wonders if he could buy you a hat. Or sew you a new ribbon. Would you accept his gifts?

At last, you seem convinced of the product and order three jars. This is the moment when Levi comes back to his senses, seeing you rummage through your pockets to find coins to pay for your purchase.

No such luck.

Levi beats you to it, slinging out the leather pouch his first squad gifted him many years ago, placing the change in Mr Jakowski's hands.

You blink, mouth parted, but Levi just plops the jars he receives into your bag, wheeling himself back.

He hears you fumble your goodbyes to Mr Jakowski, thanking him for his help, and at once, your voice is in his ears.

“Levi, why did you just pay?” you ask, tone bewildered.

“Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.”

“I’m not." You stop in front of him, all stern-looking, hands on your hips. "You didn’t have to do that.”

Levi raises a defiant brow. “But I did, and it’s done.”

“Don’t make it sound so simple. You’re already letting me stay in your house for free. I intend to pay my dues, you know. I have money.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“You—”

“Complain again and I won’t let you pay for a damn thing.”

You close your mouth, glaring at him.

Levi swears he hears something along the lines of ‘I’ll just sneak it back into your pockets later’ whispered under your breath, but when he narrows his eyes in your direction, you feign a look of innocence.

After purchasing everything you wanted to purchase—a book on art, flower beds for the garden—you finally settle in a cozy little café on the town’s square. You order some pastries, while Levi takes his usual tea, the closest thing that resembles the tea from back home. You watch people from everywhere bustle by, while Levi sips on his drink.

“Hey, look!” you point out suddenly. “I’ve never seen those birds before.”

You've pointed to a flock of birds of all colors, no larger than a fist. They’re hopping on the ground, scavenging for food. You get up, asking for some seeds from a waiter to feed them.

“Why did they migrate to this part of the world?” you wonder as you lay out food for them.

Levi doesn’t know what to say. He stares at the birds, nibbling the seeds, admiring the way their feathers seem foreign in this strange land.

Maybe, Levi thinks to himself, just like all the rest of this town, the birds were looking for a new home.

“You know, you should try to teach them.”

Levi’s bored expression swerves in your direction. You’re back to leaning on the window sill, while he sits on the rooftop. A routine, these last weeks.

“What?” Levi mutters.

“Your combat skills. I saw you at training again. I’ve never seen anything quite like the way you handle yourself. You should teach the other cadets.”

His eyes narrow. “And why would I do that?”

“You’ve been out there, right? Seen what the titans are like? You could save their lives.”

The square of Mare is quiet at this time of the evening. A half-moon hangs lazily over the black sky, casting its silver glow over Mare.

You’ve both been drinking. Cheap, bubbly, acidic. Cremant, a drink native to Marley. It was given to you by a shopkeeper when you picked up bread earlier—all it took was seeing you by his side and hearing you were new in town. The woman practically threw the bottle at you, offering it as a welcome gift. You tried to refuse, many times over, but the woman wouldn't take no for an answer (“We need young blood around, so anythin’ to convince younglings like yourself to settle down!”).

Now, here you are, finishing the bottle together in a park. Levi sits with you on a bench, his wheelchair tucked behind it.

Silence.

Levi thinks there’s something on your mind. You’ve never been easy to read; you’ve got a tendency to hide and scheme, to play it off like it’s no big deal, but it’s always your lips that give you away. You bite them when you’re worried, you pout when you’re deep in thoughts.

“Hey.” Levi raises your attention, only to find gentle eagerness on your face. It makes him frown for some reason. “Say something.”

You seem a little taken aback by his directive. It’s rare for Levi to actually seek conversation after all, much less to be the one initiating it.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask.

Levi shrugs. “I don’t know, just anything.”

“Like… what?”

Levi mulls it over. If it were him, he’d hate to be put on the spot and asked outright what to say. So he decides to try a tactic he’s seen you use on others—starting with something light before finding the right angle to tackle the actual subject.

“What was your favorite sight?” he inquires. “On your travels.”

“My… favorite sight?”

Levi gives you a look that makes it clear he’s not gonna repeat himself.

“The sea, of course.” You raise your feet on the bench, hugging your knees as you stare off pensively. “It’s funny, really. With every nation we visited, we saw mountains, deserts and forests… but I kept coming back to the sea.”

Levi remembers the first he saw the sea. The water, glimmering like thousands of silver gems. The blue sky, coming to meet its shine. The 104th brats, with awestruck wonder. Hange and their brazen curiosity.

And you, the way you’d looked at him…

If ever there was a moment of peace during Levi’s years as a soldier, it was those blissful hours spent by the sea. It felt like the world had grown so big, and that there was only wonder to be discovered.

Of course, reality had caught up.

“I’m glad you’ve picked a place like this one to settle down,” you say. "It kind of feels like a homecoming, you know?"

"Yeah."

“The stars are so bright out here.”

Levi follows your line of sight.

This past year, Levi has rediscovered an admiration for stars. Back inside the Walls, they reminded him of Isabel and Furlan, of his dreams from another life. This past year, they’ve started making him think of you, too.

All because of one of your letters: 'Levi, do you ever think about the fact that, despite the distance that separates us, every night, when we look at the sky, we see the same stars?'

“What else,” he finds himself asking, “what else do you have to say about your travels?”

“Hmm… what do you want to know exactly? I wrote so much in my letters, I’d have thought you’d be tired of hearing about that topic.”

“Yeah, but you only described random shit. What was it like?”

What was it like without me?

That thought hangs on his tongue, begs for relief, but Levi bites it down. It’s not right for him to ask; it's none of his business.

And yet, your answer still takes him by surprise, “It was… hard.”

To that, Levi does raise a brow, looking at you.

He finds your gaze already on him.

“The sights were... nice, of course,” you continue. “I got to witness all manners of landscapes. Those were the photographs I sent you in my letters. But then, well, the rest came.”

You swallow loudly. Levi finds his heart squeezing, though he doesn’t fully understand why.

“Seeing the aftermath of the Rumbling…” Your lower lip quivers as the volume of your tone decreases. “It was horrifying. The emptiness was the worst. It’s not like murdering someone in cold blood, see. There, you have to deal with bodies. But, what Eren did…”

You shudder. Levi thinks you’re trying to even out your breathing, and a part of him wants to reach out to you and squeeze your hand. And yet, he knows there’s nothing he can do to really alleviate those images flashing in your brain. That nothing he does can make it right again, that the pain you feel is the cost both of you need to bear for the rest of your lives.

“After that, I went with Armin because I knew he would need help, because I always believed in diplomacy… because I still believe in it. Even now," you say. "But many nations hate the Eldians from Paradis. They hate us and maybe they have every right to hate us.”

You stop talking and close your eyes. For a while, the lull in conversation allows Levi to stare at you unabashedly, to commit your features to memory.

“Why did you never say any of this in your letters?” he asks mid-silence.

“I guess it felt easier not to mention it. I don’t know. I wanted you to hear hopeful things in my letters.”

“I’ve seen how shitty the world can be.”

“I know, but that’s exactly why.” Your eyes somehow find his own again. “That’s why I didn’t want you to know it’s still the same out there.”

It makes Levi’s blood rush, like he was some breakable thing that needed to be protected.

“You don’t need to coddle me.”

And yet, you don’t even seem to notice the snap in his tone, your crossed arms tightening around your knees.

“I know, Levi,” you whisper. “But that doesn’t mean that my pain is your burden to bear.”

Seeing your deflated expression, dipped chin resting over your knees as you lose yourself to your thoughts, Levi’s defense mechanism fizzles away.

That’s the thing about you.

No matter how harshly he reacts, you never seem to rise to the same level as him, the way others did in the military, and it might be why Levi always found it easier to stay by your side.

“You dumbass,” he says with a sigh. Despite telling himself to hone it back, Levi can’t help but raise a hand to the back of your skull, ruffling your head gently—the only comfort he knows how to hand out right now. “Of course that’s my burden.”

The knot in your throat bobs. “Levi, you don’t—”

“Don’t give me that.” He pauses, the words heavy on his tongue. “Even I no longer have the rank to prove it… what does it matter? Nothing’s changed.”

Your voice comes out grated. “Nothing’s changed?”

Levi hesitates. So much hangs on this question. Of course, things have changed.

And yet…

He retreats his hand, patting his stiff leg. “Some things did.”

“Does it still hurt a lot?”

“Some days more than others. The doctor has helped.”

“I’m glad... I'm so glad. Are you still seeing him every other week?”

He nods.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

His eyes narrow. “You said that already.” You shoot him a lopsided smile. He sighs. “Anyway, you gonna tell me why you stopped calling yourself a doctor?”

Different degrees of surprise flash across your face. Your eyes are wide as saucers, while your mouth stays slightly open.

Levi waits. And waits.

“Hey, you’re not trying to catch flies, are you?” he says, lifting a finger to poke at your chin.

His physical reminder seems to bring you back to the present.

A pout forms on your lips. “How did you know I no longer want to be a doctor?”

Levi shrugs with one arm, pressing his back against the bench. “I guessed, and you just confirmed it.”

“I didn’t think you’d notice so quickly." You let out a wry snort. "Should have known; you’re always so perceptive.”

“And you’re beating around the bush.”

You hum. “Indeed, I am. It’s just… I’m scared of your judgment.”

Levi frowns.

“Don’t give me that look, Levi Ackerman. Your judgment, yes. You’re a very scary man, just not for all the reasons people think you are.”

In the distance, the sound of seagulls drifts from the skies.

“When I asked you if I could come here…” you say after a pause, “I kept on thinking to myself: What will Levi think of me?” You raise one hand to your face, glancing at the scar that runs from your index to the lower part of your palm—a memento left by the Yaegerists. “What will he think of this hand?”

Levi stays silent.

Your smile turns bitter. “You always said my hands were made for healing. But after everything that happened, everything we did, they’re not anymore. They can’t be.”

“Hey—”

“—and the question kept playing in a loop in my head. Will Levi think I’m a coward? Will he think less of me for giving up on this? Is he gonna be done with me?”

Levi ignores all the ways you seem to include him in your insecurities and focuses on one thing only: “You’re a lot of things but a coward isn’t one of them.”

You shake your head. “But I am a coward. I don’t have it in me to heal people, not like that anymore.”

Levi doesn’t know why, but there’s a sense of dread forming in his pit of his stomach.

“Is that why you’re here?” he asks.

Your eyes fire back on him. “No, I didn’t come here to escape, or as a last resort.” You glance away. “But I do feel… lost.”

That makes him backtrack. You? Lost? The doctor who blazed through the Survey Corps’ ranks, making her demands known to the Interior and Erwin like it was no big deal, who pushed for changes to save soldiers' lives?

That doesn’t align with the person he knows.

“I don’t think it’s right anymore, the path I chose.” Your tone is suddenly more frail, more vulnerable. “The first three years after the Rumbling, it felt like the right thing to do, giving my skills in helping others but now… Now I feel like a fraud. To arrive here, I had to end lives.”

Levi’s throat is heavy. “We all did.”

You ignore his words. “The attack in Trost, the one in Liberio, and so many others…. I killed people there. I did. And I remember your words, Levi, about it being us or them but I… now, whenever I look at my hands, all I see is the stain of blood. After all of that, I just don’t think I’m fit to call myself a doctor anymore.”

“You shouldn’t regret the past.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“Is that why you’re now calling yourself Miss Adler?”

You nod.

Levi purses his lips. He cannot understand your perspective, not truly, because his own moral compass has never been set right. To him, killing was always about survival and there was never good or bad. There simply was the act and the aftermath. There was the fact that he needed to keep on pushing, for humanity.

Despite this, Levi wants to understand. He wants to tell you that your hands did heal, that they continue to heal in invisible ways.

He wants to tell you that however you want to become want, it’s all fine to him.

“Then start over,” he declares, throwing an arm to the back of the bench.

“Yeah.” You snort, fiddling with a loose strand of fabric of your overalls. “It’s not that easy, starting over, is it?”

“Never said it was.” Levi would know. It’s not like he’s here to preach the moral high ground—he’s lost, much more lost than you are. “But if you want to, you’re the only one that can make it happen.”

“Yeah, I know.” You raise a hand to press against your right eye. Levi has the strange urge to tuck it away, to take it in between his own, but he holds himself back. “It’s just… hard. You know, when we were fighting titans, then humans, then nations… I just never considered who I would be after all of it. And when I found myself trying, I found I wasn’t the person I once was, that I couldn’t do what I would have done any more. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“Old me would have kept on going. Old me would have continued to heal people and traveled and helped Armin with peace negotiations. And I tried. Walls, I tried, Levi. But at the end of the day, I just find myself… tired. I’m just so tired.”

Something heavy fills Levi’s chest. He understands, to a degree, what you’re going through. He knew his role was over the moment that the fighting stopped, but for you, the war hasn’t stopped raging—conflicted on where your place should be.

“Sorry," you say, "I know I’m wallowing here, that I’m throwing my own pity party. But, shit, it’s hard, you know?”

“Yeah.” Levi hardens his expression. “But it’s fine, to wallow. No one expects you not to have setbacks.”

“You don’t mean that. Weren’t you always telling soldiers not to linger and look back? Besides, I don’t get to say any of this in front of you. Not with everything you went through.”

Levi’s jaw clenches. “Hey. It’s not a competition.”

This time, he reaches for your hand and unclasps it, noticing you digging your nails into your skin. He forces you to squeeze his hand instead—only, now, you treat him with such care, not even applying pressure.

He continues, “I only said what I said because a Scout’s life was a battlefield every day. But we’re not soldiers anymore.”

Levi sucks in a breath at those words; it’s the first time he acknowledges it out loud: We're not soldiers anymore. He’s a hypocrite, saying these things, when he himself hasn’t let go completely. And yet, for your sake, he wants to pretend—he wants to pretend that there’s a way out for the both of you.

“So I’ve told you, the offer still stands," he adds. "You can stay here for as long as you want."

“Careful what you promise, Levi." You snort. "I’m going to be a real burden to you.”

“Only when you don’t clean.”

Your weak snicker turns into laughter. It might be the most enchanting of sounds Levi’s heard in a long while.

Levi lets go of your hand, despite the fact that he wishes he could hold on, but he tells himself that friends don’t hold each other’s hands for prolonged moments. And that's what the two of you are. Friends.

“You know, when it came down to it… after months of introspection,” you say, voice soft, “all I knew is that I wanted to be near you.”

Oh.

“I stayed away for a year, thinking I could prove to myself, to you, that I wasn’t the needy person I once was," you say. "That I could, I don’t know, manage on my own. But all I got was… how much I missed you.”

Levi thinks his breathing might have stopped entirely.

“Levi, you’re… you’re important to me. You know that, right?” Your eyes find his own, glimmering under the moonlight. “I think… I just don’t want to not have you in my life anymore. Is that a strange thing to say?”

Levi is speechless. He stares at your lips, how plump and lovely they seem, glistening with moisture. He feels sweat on his back—damn this hellish warm weather—and he thinks perhaps he should act.

He forces his mouth open but instead of words—

Bang.

An explosion blasts in his ears.

Levi screws his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact. There’s screams echoing in the back of his skull, bullets ricocheting against concrete. He smells the charred scent of bodies, sweet and off-putting.

But the fighting never comes. When he evens out his breathing, leaning his weight onto the bench, he notices—

You’re on the floor.

Your hands are covering your ears, your lower lip wobbling. You’re muttering things under your breath, things Levi can’t recognize, but there’s tears brimming the corner of your eyes, and Levi realizes then what happened.

You’re hyperventilating.

At once, Levi is by your side, bending down. The action causes his legs to scream in pain, but he promptly ignores it. He sees you and only you.

You, on the other hand, are unable to look at him; you whimper erratically.

Levi can deduce the source of your panic, because he’s had his own moments like this. It’s the way certain noises, smells, and others pull him back into the past. It must be the same for you.

“Hey,” Levi’s voice comes low and clear, trying to muster it all for you, “take a deep breath. It's not guns. Just fireworks some teenagers are toying with.”

But you seem unable to follow his advice, shaken as you are. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears clumping, streaming thick down the valleys of your cheeks. He sees your fingers pull at the strands of your hair.

Before he can think about it, his arms reach out of you, looping around the small of your back, where he draws you in. He presses you firmly against him. At first, you attempt to fight him back, muttering “no, no, no,” beneath your breath, scratching him, but when Levi finally manages to smooth over your words with his own, you accept the embrace.

Your head slumps down into the crest of his shoulder, like you were just a ragdoll gone limp. Levi tries to ignore the way his worry doubles down.

“Adler, listen to my voice,” he urges, trying to use things that have helped him during his worst panic attacks, during his worst episodes. Of course, Levi never allowed anyone to see him like this, but if he had, he thinks this would have helped. “Your ear’s pressed against my heart right now. Do you hear my heartbeat?”

“Y-yeah,” you answer, voice barely a raw whisper. The sound is enough to shatter something in Levi. It’s so small, so fragile.

“Focus on it," he says. "Focus on me speaking. Pretend that it’s the only sound in the world.”

You seem to attempt to laugh, but it comes across as another nervous sob, hiccups strangling your words. “S-someone thinks h-ighly of his v-voice.”

Levi just clicks his tongue, tightening his hold on you.

Your hands interweave with the collar of his shirt, and you bury your face deeper into his neck. It takes several moments, but he feels the tension in your spine untangle, vertebrate by vertebrate.

“Steady,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. “You’re alright.”

Your warm lips, drenched with tears, move against his neck. “I just can’t do it, ‘Vi… I just can’t.”

“You can.”

“I’m fucking stuck and I feel so guilty there’s always noises in my brain…” A sob cracks out of you. “I’m so fucking lost.”

“But you’re not alone.”

Your knuckles tighten, but your breath falters.

“You’re not alone,” Levi repeats. His three-fingered hand weaves through the hair at the back of your skull, mingling between your locks. He’s reminded of another time, long ago, when he did this after Nanaba died. “Even if you feel lost right now, you’re not alone.”

“I just—I don’t want to be a bother. I don't want to overstay my w-welcome.”

“You’re not.” His hands have fallen onto your ribcage, slotting over every bone like they were made to belong there all along. “You can stay as long as you want.” Until you grow tired of me. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

You’re still hiccuping for air as you draw away from him. You seem to be searching for something, dazed and blurry.

“Y-you don’t mind?” you ask.

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?"

"I guess not."

For a while, neither Levi nor you say anything else. He watches as your eyes cast down, eyelashes still full of tears. Your breath is back to being steady, though no less frail.

Eventually, your digits settle over his forearms, looking back at him with puffy eyes.

He offers you his clean handkerchief from his breast pocket.

You take it with a crooked smile, staring down at the white cloth. “Thank you, Levi. I mean it.”

Levi looks away; he doesn't think he's done much.

“Walls.” You hiccup, lifting the handkerchief to your eyes. “I’ve made a scene, haven’t I? It’s the alcohol, I s-swear. I barely d-drink these days.”

“You were always a lightweight.”

“Pff, don’t remind me.”

“Well, judging by the brats walking towards us," he says, looking over your shoulders, "they’ve come to apologize.”

Sure enough, moments later, as you help Levi up and you both sit back down on the bench, three snotty kids approach the scene with a look of apology plastered on their faces.

One of them, a boy with vibrant ginger hair, takes the lead. “Ma’am… are you alright?”

You sniffle, eyes still red. “Fine—”

“She’s not fine, brat,” Levi interjects. “Don’t light this shit up in public.”

The boy grimaces with the kind of juvenile innocence only kids can muster.

“Don’t listen to him,” you say, giving Levi a look. “But hey, do try to be careful, ‘kay? Don’t light up things like this all on your own. Fireworks are dangerous, not to mention they’re scary when they’re up so close.”

“I... I won't do it no more, ma’am…" the boy says. "I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s alright. You couldn’t have known.”

The boy nods before finally fleeting up and meeting Levi's glare. The child instantly cowers back.

“Mistakes happen," Levi grumbles with a softer tone. "Just be more careful.”

“Y-yeah, mister. Won’t happen again.”

"Good."

Erwin finds you in the stables one day. “Levi is integrating with the squad.”

You stop cleaning your horse, raising a brow at the man. “Is he now?”

“Mm." There's wistful amusement on the Erwin's face. "He's started giving advice to his comrades.”

"Is that right?"

That night, when you greet Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary, you don't say a thing about this exchange, but you'll smile just a bit brighter at him anyway.

Levi comes back from his evening shower to find something waiting for him in his bedroom. A piece of paper, carefully folded in three, is placed on his cabinet. Next to it is a medium-sized, black pouch.

Levi first unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find that it’s a letter and that it’s from you.

Levi, You’ll excuse me for coming in without asking, but you insinuated I should make myself comfortable, so… Here I am. You know, if you're going to let me pay for things, then it’s decided: I’m going to bribe you with new tea! No, you can’t fight me on that. As you know, I’m a force of nature—unstoppable. Here’s a new blend for you. I know for certain you haven’t tried this one because it’s straight from my travels. I don’t know why I waited a week to give it to you, but I hope you like it. Your amazing new roomie,- A.

Levi’s lips twitch. He can just picture you scribbling those words in your room, a grin on your face, waiting for him to take a shower just so you can place this handout in secret.

He briefly puts the letter back down, moving to open the gift. The black pouch hides a tea tin of simple design, with an etiquette that’s handwritten. White pu-erh tea. He slowly unscrews the sealed top, bringing it close to his nose to inhale its potent fragrant. Tea aromas, rich in citrus, fill his brain with a lovely buzzing effect. It smells nice, unlike anything he’s encountered before and Levi thinks its taste will be to his liking—that you picked it knowing it would.

His eyes stray back to the letter, picking it back up. He loves the way you write his name, the way you loop the letters together. It's elegant.

With his heart just a bit lighter than usual, Levi adds your letter to the chest under his bed, filled with the rest of your correspondence.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I was really touched by all the engagement the first chapter got, truly, so thank you for that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hey, if you have a minute, I'd love to hear your thoughts in any shape or form! Take care <3

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writerslittlelibrary · 10 months ago

Text

So, I'm not a prisoner?

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 extra

summary: you did not expect that your mission to take down the traitor, could end in such a difficult situation for you…

pairing: Natasha x Red Room teen reader

warnings: fighting, weapons, stabbing, blood, implied sexual abuse

genre: fluff, angst

words: 3073

a/n: I wanted to do a fic like this for so long!!!! anyway, I just kept scouting tumblr trying to find fics like this, so I figured I’d finally write one myself :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

A quick in and out. That was your mission. How on earth did you manage to screw it up so bad. In and out. Assassinate the traitor and come right back.

Dreykov would’ve been so proud.

But that didn’t happen. No. Every single aspect about that night failed to go according to plan. You snuck into the event Stark had hosted, was able to blend in with the other party goers, and you were able to hide when most of the people started to leave.

Once it was just the Avengers left, you stayed in your hiding spot, observing them. You were here to kill Natasha Romanoff, and Natasha Romanoff only.

You could not afford any casualties, so you had it all planned out.

You’d wait until the Avengers would leave, and you’d take Natasha out before she could make it to her living quarters. You knew that once she made it to the living space of the Avengers tower, getting to her would be a lot harder.

However, against all odds, Natasha excused herself from the group quite early, saying she wanted to get a good nights sleep.

You internally cursed yourself, hating that this wasn’t something that you had planned for.

Around the couches were still some Avengers sat. You recognised all of them. Clint Barton shouldn’t be too much trouble. He was only a guy who’s good with a bow. For Maria Hill could be said the same thing, except she’s very skilled with a gun.

No, you were worried about the other Avengers still seated. Tony Stark could call upon his armour in mere seconds. Thor had the power of thunder for god’s sake. Wanda Maximoff has exceptional powers, and therefor, if you were to attack with her still in the room, you’d be immobilised in an instant.

You were fairly certain you didn’t need to worry much about Bruce Banner. Sure, he could turn into the Hulk, but he didn’t turn often, and lately, the Hulk hasn’t been spotted in the battlefield, meaning he probably had many trouble turning into him.

Pietro Maximoff shouldn’t bring you a lot of trouble either.

Your main concern were Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. One Super Soldier you could handle, but two? While fighting the rest of the Avengers? That wasn’t going to work.

Lucky for you, Wanda Maximoff had excused herself from the gathering a while ago. If you didn’t make to much noise, she wouldn’t be much of a problem. You could be outside before she’d even make it to the party deck.

Your original plan was to just wait. Natasha Romanoff would have usually sat through a party until far into the evening. You’d know, you’ve been watching her for weeks.

However, now that Romanoff has announced she was returning to her bedroom, a slight panic ran through your body.

Dreykov gave your 5 weeks to finish this assignment. That’s longer than any assignment you’d ever been on. You could not disappoint him with this. You had to kill the traitor.

You figured now was your only chance, and so, as Natasha Romanoff made her way towards the elevator, you followed her.

However, not even to your surprise, she stopped in the middle of the hallway.

“You know I’m an assassin, too? You’re good, but you’re not un noticeable,” she states, calmly turning around, being met with a gun to your face. The moment she stopped, you were wise enough to draw your gun, holding her at gunpoint for any sudden movements.

You could see a slight surprise appear on her face, before her face returned to her poker face once again.

“You’re just a child…” Natasha spoke slowly, seeming almost disappointed.

“You’re a traitor,” you spoke, loading the gun, taking a step closer. Natasha simply shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she spoke, before leaping towards you. You shot your gun, but Natasha was too fast, avoiding your gunfire as she ran past you, back to the other Avengers.

How on earth could you have missed that shot? She was right there.

Pathetic.

You don’t hesitate to run after her, determined to finish this tonight.

Very much not to your surprise, the moment you run back into the party hall, the Avengers are already standing up and ready. Ready to fight you.

You don’t hesitate to move forwards, and after fighting Clint Barton for mere seconds, you quickly realise they have no intention of hurting you. You could use that to your advantage, and you do.

You kick Barton hard, leaving him on the floor, heaving for air as you move forward, taking on Maria.

However, the moment you get close to Maria, two strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you back. They’re holding you tightly, and it doesn’t feel like they’re planning to let go.

You struggle in the hold, fighting against who ever is holding you as you try to break free. A small panic runs through your body. The fear of being captured by the Avengers taking place in your mind. You do not fear the Avengers, but the thought of being seen as a traitor by Dreykov hurts your heart more than words could describe.

“Stop struggling. We can help you,” you hear a voice behind you speak, and you soon come to realise the person you’re fighting is Captain America himself.

No wonder you couldn’t get loose.

Knowing it’s a Super Soldier, you’re quick to outsmart him, making him think you’re getting tired, relaxing your body is his hold. Because of this, the Captain lightens his grip a bit, giving you enough room to wiggle your arm free, moving it backwards to hit him in the face with your elbow.

Because of the surprise, he lets you go, allowing you to stand again.

The moment your feet hit the ground, you dash forward, holding up your knife as you use everyone’s shock to your advantage.

Everyone is surprised by your capability of escaping Steve’s grasp, not realising your already moving towards Natasha again. You reach her quickly, stabbing your knife into her stomach as far as it can go.

Natasha gasps, and you pull the knife out, watching as all the blood starts to seep from her stomach.

Slowly, Natasha sinks to the ground, Maria catching her, helping her down.

You move towards Natasha again, determined to get the job finished, but are quickly stopped by another pair of arms wrapping around your waist. You immediately recognise the metal arm, knowing that the Winter Soldier holds you in his grasp. You can’t escape him. You never have.

He pulls you backwards, pushing you to the ground as he tries to punch you. However, you regain yourself quickly, rolling away from under him and kicking him in the face.

Suddenly, you’re moved across the room. You forgot the damn speedster…

You raise your knife quickly, stabbing him before he has a chance to make another move.

“PIETRO!” you hear a voice yell, and you turn your head to the right. Shit. Wanda Maximoff must have heard the commotion and went down to take a look. You have to get out of there. You will never win a fight with her.

You move quickly, running towards the stairs. However, before you could reach them, you felt a stabbing pain in your left shoulder, the sound of a gun shot following soon after. You had been shot. Bucky Barnes had shot you in an attempt to slow you down.

But you didn’t let it.

Instead, you went towards the stairs a little quicker, dashing down the hundreds of flights of stairs to get to the main floor.

Of course, all SHIELD agents on the main floor were already expecting you, and you were followed by Steve Rogers, but you were quicker than him. You knew that.

You dashed past all the SHIELD agents, avoiding their gun fire as you made it towards an emergency exit.

The moment you stepped outside, you started your escape route. You already planned it, knowing exactly which way to go, no matter which way you would exit.

Steve followed you outside, but the moment he set foot outside the door, you were gone. You had disappeared into the night, leaving no trace.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Back in the Avengers tower, the team was recovering from your attack. Natasha was in bad shape. Your strike had been an attempt to murder her, and you didn’t miss any organs as you pierced your blade through her abdomen.

Pietro was much better. He was back on his feet quickly, seeing as though you stabbing him hadn’t been a murder attempt. You merely wanted to distract him.

It didn’t take long for Natasha to get back on her feet either, even though she was advised to stay on bed rest after the surgery.

Natasha was determined to find you, and she quickly got to work.

Even though you had made it out of the Avengers tower quickly, you were still hurt, and some of you blood had fallen on the floor as you made your escape towards the stairs. Clint and Maria had collected that blood, running multiple tests, only to find out you were not registered anywhere.

There was no record of your existence. Were you just another ghost story?

What they did find were traces of the Super Soldier serum. However, they were modified, almost as if they were genetically a part of your system.

Did that mean you were just another Hydra experiment? Natasha did hear you calling her a traitor. That had to mean you knew Dreykov, right? Who else viewed her as a traitor. I would make sense. Sending a modified teenage assassin after her, knowing Natasha was above killing children.

Even in the Red Room, she always hesitated when sparring against the younger students.

Dreykov must have had a lot of faith in you to send you after her. Natasha can only hope you’re not a graduate yet…

-------------------------------------------------------------

After the incident in the Avengers tower, you had fled to Germany. You figured it was best to leave the United States completely. And why would they ever search for you in Germany?

You had rented an apartment, loving the small town you had chosen. Dreykov had given you 5 weeks to finish the assignment, and now, you had only 1 week left. There is now way that you’re going to succeed in killing Natasha within the week.

They know you are after her now, and they will be prepared for you to make a return. You screwed it up.

Sloppy.

Right now, you were just heading back to your apartment. You had taken a walk, deciding to make the most out of the freedom you had in the moment. The week would be over soon, and the moment Dreykov would send for your return you are certain you will not be seeing daylight any time soon.

After you arrived in the apartment building, you instantly felt watched.

Had the Avengers found you?

You made your way up to your apartment, pushing the key into the lock and walking through the small hallway. Someone was in here, you could feel it.

You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, keeping your back towards the living room.

“There are not a lot of places to hide in this apartment,” you spoke aloud into the emptiness of the apartment. Soon you heard a set of footsteps, and you felt another presence enter the room.

“You’re very skilled for your age,” you heard a voice behind you say, and you immediately recognised it as Natasha’s.

“And you are stronger than you look. I mean, even for you, I didn’t expect you to be on your feet so quickly,” you stated, turning around slowly. Natasha wasn’t holding a weapon in your face, something you were definitely expecting.

You scanned her quickly, seeing the weapons she held on her belt.

She didn’t come unarmed. Good. She’d be stupid to.

“I don’t mean you any harm,” Natasha said, taking a small step forward as she held her hands in the air, showing you her every movement.

You didn’t look impressed, instead just staring at her as she moved.

“Then you are a fool,” you told her, and you spotted a small smirk flashing over Natasha’s face. “And you are very full of yourself,” she said, moving towards the kitchen island, leaning on it.

“I can’t say I blame you. You took on a lot of the Avengers on your own. Even two Super Soldiers. That’s impressive,” she stated, giving you a small smile. You didn’t return it.

“What? Jealous someone better took your place when you betrayed us,” you asked Natasha, determined to get on her nerves.

Natasha’s smile dropped quickly.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I hoped no one would ever have to go through it again,” she told you, a hint of regret almost identifiable in her expression. Now it was your time to give her a small smile.

“You think you’re so important that everything should’ve ended with you?” you asked her, moving towards the kitchen island as well, setting your glass down, still holding onto it.

Natasha shook her head.

“What I am curious about, however, is the genetic Super Soldier serum that runs through your DNA,” Natasha paused, adjusting her stance before speaking again. “Tell me, was your dad a Super Soldier?”

You let out a huff of amusement, surprising Natasha.

“You think I believe you’re just here for a conversation? There are SHIELD agents placed on every corner of every street. Don’t think I didn’t notice it. The lovely young couple, drinking coffee at the restaurant downstairs? Amazing disguise, if you were trying to trick nine year olds,” you stated, finishing your glass of water.

Natasha smiles, clearly impressed with your observations.

“You’re right. I’m not here for just a conversation, although I do hope we can prevent violence,” Natasha started, but before she could continue you interrupted her.

“You’re here to bring me in.”

Natasha nodded, and the look on her face was almost apologetic.

“No one needs to get hurt. If you just come with me, there’s a big chance you could avoid confinement,” Natasha explained, yet you just scoffed and shook your head.

“Avoid confinement? Yeah right. There is no way, that after what I have done, your people won’t lock me away.”

“I can be very persuasive,” Natasha simply replied.

There was a small silence. Natasha knew you were debating your options. You didn’t seem like a brainwashed sheep. She knew that you knew better than trusting Dreykov’s lies. Sure, you still believed she was a traitor, but there is no way that you didn’t see that what Dreykov is doing is wrong.

“You know going back after a failed mission will result in punishment,” Natasha started, trying to get through to you. Trying to give you that little push you needed to go with her. “If you go with me, you’ll never be punished like that ever again,” she finished.

You looked up, deep in thought.

“How could you be so sure?” you asked her, and Natasha didn’t hesitate to respond.

“We can keep you safe-”

“I found you. I nearly killed you. Who’s to say some other Widow won’t come after me as well?” you replied, and Natasha gave you another small smile.

“I escaped the Red Room when I was 20,” Natasha started. “It took him 12 years to send someone after me. We will make sure we’ll take him down before he even has the chance to come after you.”

“How many times, did you try to kill him, exactly? Because I believe you attempted his murder twice already, both of which you failed. You blew him up in Budapest, and then another time when you took the air facility down. Do you honestly think you’ll succeed now?”

Natasha shook her head, seemingly recollecting her thoughts.

“I failed twice, and that was sloppy, but both times I didn’t have the Avengers on my side. You ran the moment you saw Wanda. You know what she is capable of. Taking down the Red Room for good shouldn’t be too difficult with the Avengers on our side,” Natasha explained, yet you just shook your head.

“I’m not like you,” you told her, yet Natasha just looked at you in confusion.

“I’m not some disposable widow like you were. I’m more important,” you explained, and Natasha gave you a sad smile.

“Everyone is just a disposable widow to him,” she started, but you interrupted her.

“I’m not. You tested my blood. You know I carry the Super Soldier serum. I’m not just some girl he picked up from the streets,” you explained, and Natasha gave you a small nod, encouraging to keep going.

“I can’t explain it, but he won’t just let me walk. He put too much time in my creation. He would never just let it go to waste,” you finished, looking down, avoiding Natasha’s gaze as you turned around, putting your glass by the sink.

“We’ll help you. I know that we can,” Natasha tried.

“Is it worth the risk? My life is not great, but it’s not terrible either. Dreykov values me, and I am not treated like a piece of meat, unlike you might suspect.”

“So the punishment is worth it, then? Knowing that in three days time, Dreykov will have you be recollected, and once you return to the Red Room, you’ll be punished severely for a failed mission,” Natasha paused, allowing you to let her words sink in.

“Or, in three days time, you could know you can go to bed without worrying about someone joining. You could know you can be safe, and sleep through the night without anyone disrupting you. Knowing that, is the choice really that hard?” Natasha finished, and you were almost at your breaking point.

Was it worth it? Was going back the best decision? Dreykov would hurt you, you knew that, but you deserved it. Didn’t you?

“Please, just come with me. We can help,” Natasha spoke, nearly begged.

You sighed deeply.

“Fine, but if you put me in a cell, I will go on a murder streak,” you told her, and Natasha let out a chuckle, before seeing your facial expression, and realising you were dead serious.

“Duly noted,” Natasha said, before motioning you towards the door.

What had you done…

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @mxximoffswifey

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dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months ago

Text

Irresistible {5} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: You’re finally accustomed to life in the paddock but still have no interest in the sport. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, panic attack, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 3.3k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

Charles liked to watch you sleep. He could happily spend all his time memorising the way your eyelashes fanned out, fluttering now and again with whatever dreams you faced. He found peace with your relaxed state, your head on his chest, your legs tangled with his.

That peace was broken with your phone's vibrating alert.

Charles should have ignored it, let the call go to voicemail but he was angry that his time with you was disturbed. Easing you on to your own pillow, he spared a glance to check you were still asleep before swiping your phone up.

“Hello Max,” he answered as he closed the bedroom door. “How can I help you?”

Max ground his teeth at the idea of asking anything from Charles, but he took a calming breath first. “Can you pass the phone Y/N?”

“No,” Charles replied after a long pause meant to torture the Dutch driver.

“Why not?”

“Because she is asleep.” Charles pulled the phone away to hang up but Max’s voice sounded in the quiet room.

“It’s never going to work out,” he stated bluntly. “If it’s not your career, it’ll be your family, but one will be ruined.”

Charles' hand tightened around the phone and it was a miracle the screen didn’t crack from the force of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then you are as stupid as you act.”

The call ended and Charles liked to think he hit the red button first before he tossed the phone onto the couch and collapsed down beside it. His peace was well and truly gone as Max’s words repeated in his head, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t already told himself. He had tried to listen to reason and failed miserably. He had to have you, and it was more than just infatuation. He wasn’t just tempted by you, he was consumed by you.

He could never let you go.

“Who were you talking to?” you murmured as Charles climbed back into bed. Sensing the cold space beside you, you had woken to hear Charles on the other side of the door.

“No one, ma biche,” he soothed as he pulled you back where you belonged. You cozied your head on his chest and listened to his rapid heartbeat begin to slow. “Sleep now, we have an early flight.”

—

The room spun at a dizzying speed and you closed your eyes as you held on tighter.

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Charles chuckled, catching the office chair and jolting you to a stop.

“I’m so bored,” you complained as the room still continued to sway. “Do you ever get to finish early and, I don’t know…do something fun?”

Charles massaged your shoulders, the most he could get away with as a friendly touch. “It’s busier this weekend,” he apologised. “It’s the 70th anniversary of F1.”

You might not know much about the sport but you knew that. There were signs everywhere to remind you.

“We’ll do something fun after the race,” he promised before his and was called.

Something had been happening with the car, so the readings or data said, and it took all of Charles' attention between practices. More than usual. You were left to try to form your own entertainment but it was a losing battle.

It appeared the party was moving from the garage to the hospitality building so you followed, clutching Charles shoulder with instant regret for spinning in the chair.

“A little dizzy?” he teased quietly in your ear. “Or are your legs still weak from this morning?”

You lightly slapped his chest and as the motion of the earth moving under your feet subsided you put a respectable distance between you both. Charles just couldn’t help himself when sat beside you as the meeting continued over plates of food, his hand finding your thigh after ‘dropping’ his napkin.

“Why don’t you go for a drive and I’ll meet up with you for dinner?” he offered, seeing your eyes glaze over when his engineer started talking statistics. He slipped his keys into your hand and kissed the air beside your cheeks. You would have preferred a French kiss but the friendly one would have to do.

You were grateful for the escape he offered and clutched the keys as you stood up, excusing yourself from the table. “What’s the speed limit around here?” you teased as you backed away.

Charles' eyes narrowed in warning but it only made you smirk as he growled, “Bambi…”

Xavi cocked an eyebrow at the nickname, his eyes looking between the two of you like he was trying to connect the dots. “Why do you call her Bambi?”

“Because my mother is dead,” you answered, knowing how quickly questions were dropped when death was mentioned. Charles choked on the drink he was sipping but you were already out of the door before he could say anything.

You could taste the freedom on your tongue as you rushed through the paddock but it came to a halt when Max stepped out of the Red Bull garage. Decked out in his navy shirt and matching trousers, you couldn’t actually recall seeing him in anything except the merch.

“Should I tell security that the woman who looks remarkably like you went that way?” he asked, pointing in the opposite direction. “You are running from them, aren’t you, schat?”

You laughed at the idea and leaned closer. “Someone may or may not have let the air out of Lewis’ tires...”

Max’s eyes sparkled with mischief and he grabbed your hand, tugging you back into his hospitality unit.

“What are you doing?” you asked between giggles.

“Can’t have this someone getting arrested, not on my watch,” he promised as he led the way through the building to a private room similar to Charles’. “We can hide in here.”

“Let me guess, the name on the door will protect me?” you joked as you took a seat on the couch and picked up the PlayStation controller. “What are you playing?”

He turned the tv on as he sat beside you. “FIFA, but there’s other games over there.”

You reached for the stack of plastic cases and rolled your eyes at the F1 game as you shuffled through the titles. You hadn’t heard of half of them, but the ones you knew of were what Charles played at home.

“Don’t you have a debrief or whatever?” you asked curiously. He seemed like he had been relaxing in the room for some time given the half full bottle of water and protein snack wrappers on the coffee table.

“Not for me, my car is running good. Is that what Charles is busy doing?”

You sent him a peeved look at the mocking tone and he sent an innocent smile back. “If you don’t have a meeting, does that mean you can leave?”

“I probably shouldn’t stray too far, but I don’t have to stay here. Where were you thinking of going?” he asked as he saw you toying with the key to a Ferrari.

“I don't know,” you admitted, “anywhere that is a change of scenery.”

Max sat up and swiped the keys. “I know somewhere. It’s not much of a change but it’s close by.”

“Can I have my keys back?”

Holding them over his head, he backed away to the door and opened it. “Come and get them,” he dared.

Your faux huff of annoyance only made him smile more before he pulled his facemask on. “You’re a child, you know that!”

He chuckled as you followed him out of the room and when you drew level with him he dipped his head down. “If you really think that I’m a child then you shouldn’t be dreaming about me.”

“Gross,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“You didn’t deny it though.”

A laugh bubbled up and you elbowed his ribs. “Shut up. And just to confirm, I don’t dream about you.”

Max looked straight ahead as he turned out of the hospitality building and down the path that went to the car park. “No, you probably dream of brown hair and green eyes.”

You stumbled over a crack in the concrete before you recovered with heated cheeks. “Yes, Harry Styles is frequently in my dreams. You don’t happen to have his number by any chance?”

“Even if I did, I don’t think I could give it to you,” he said after a few steps.

“Why not?”

Blue eyes burned as he stopped to face you, his fingers reaching for your cheek before he caught himself and pulled back. “I’d be too jealous, schat. That’s why. Now are we breaking out of here or what?”

Less than fifteen minutes away Max pulled into another racetrack and you groaned as you heard the whizz of engines flying by.

“I thought you were taking me somewhere different!”

“It is different,” he argued with a laugh as he was given entry by someone in a Red Bull shirt. “MotoGP is way more insane.”

“Moto…w-we should head back.” The high scream of the motorcycles tore past again as you stepped out among the almost empty grandstands. Your eyes could barely track them with the speeds they were reaching, but you couldn’t look away.

“We still have plenty of time,” Max said, clearly interested in the race that was going on. “Do you want to get a closer look? We can go down to the team.”

Your hands began to shake and you buried them in your pockets as another pair of riders flew into a corner together. The tail of one motorcycle clipped the other and they both went crashing to the ground, skidding across the track and into the gravel. Nausea knotted your stomach and you dropped down into the seat, burying your head between your knees as you drew ragged breaths into your lungs.

Engines idled and sirens rang, but your heartbeat was louder than it all.

“Schat? Hey, talk to me,” Max called out but you couldn’t hear him over the throbbing beat in your ears. He tried a few more times before he fumbled for his phone and for the first time he hoped he would answer.

Charles apologised for his phone interrupting the meeting and usually he would have turned it off or on silent but you weren’t with him. Paranoia, protectiveness, call it whatever, but it made him leave the phone on loud.

He nearly declined the call when he saw Max’s name come up but something turned in his stomach as he innately knew it would be about you.

“Scusami,” he said as he left the room to take the call, dreading what he would hear. You assured him that Max was only a friend, but doubt ate at him every time he thought of the two of you hanging out. He knew Max wouldn’t keep you in the shadows, he knew Max could give you the relationship you wanted. He hated Max for reminding him constantly when you weren’t around to hear it.

Charles accepted the call and lifted his phone to his ear but he wasn't prepared to hear your sobs.

“What the fuck, Max!” Charles growled as he arrived, having sped from the nearby Silverstone track.

Max was stressed and combed a hand through his hair, grateful that Charles answered the call. “I don’t know what's wrong with her.”

Warm hands tore your face mask away and the air was no longer as hard to breathe. Those same hands cradled your cheeks and wiped away the tears that ran down them as they lifted your face.

“Breathe, biche,” Charles whispered as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Big breaths. In and out, that’s it. In and out. Good girl.”

You missed the touch of his skin as he pulled away to glare at Max. “What the hell were you thinking bringing her here?”

Max wiped his face, his cheeks coloured from the worry he felt as he watched you fall into a state of cold panic. He had called Charles, not knowing what else to do and your broken whimpers went silent as soon as he arrived.

“I didn’t know this would happen, obviously,” Max growled back. He hated how quickly you calmed at another man’s touch, how you hadn’t even reacted to his attempts to help. “Is she afraid of motorcycles?”

Charles softly brushed his hands over your hair, feeling the damp sweat from your fear, before he cupped his hands over your ears. It didn’t stop you from hearing his soft words. “Her mother died on one.”

Charles wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his lap, cradling you close as he glared at Max who looked ill. You couldn’t imagine how you looked, but you figured it was worse. “I swear I didn’t know,” Max muttered, reaching for you only for Charles to shield you in his arms.

Charles scoffed. “Because you don’t know her, so stop trying to and just leave her alone.”

Your strength was slowly returning and you shifted in an attempt to stand up but he held you closer. “He’s my friend, Charles.”

Charles' lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered, “He wants to be more, ma biche.”

The crash wasn’t as severe as your mind had assumed when you heard the sirens and the race was restarting, the engines revving as they left the pit lane. The sound had a shudder run down your spine and Charles felt it before realising why.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Charles soothed as he stood up.

“I can carry her,” Max offered, but Charles cut him off with a glare.

“She’s mine- uh, my step sister,” he stammered as he kept walking further from the track.

“Put me down, I can walk,” you said as you arched your back and he was at risk of dropping you. When your feet were back on firm ground you turned to Charles and your eyes softened at the protective look in his. “Thank you for coming here for me-“

“Always.”

“-but I’m fine now,” you continued as you took a step closer to Max. “We’ll meet you back there, okay?”

Charles' head snapped side to side with a sharp shake, “No, not okay.”

Max’s ego seemed to be revitalised with the small step you took and he moved half in front of you. “Mate, you’re not her boyfriend or her father, so stop thinking you have a say in what she can do.”

“She’s here for me, she’s travelling with me,” Charles stated coldly before he looked around the MotoGP buildings with distaste. “And I know what’s best for her.”

“Enough!” you shouted and you put yourself between them. “I just want to go, please.”

Charles sighed at the soft plea and nodded reluctantly. “I’ll see you in the garage.”

You watched him leave in another Ferrari that he had likely borrowed from his teammate, Sebastian, while Max opened the passenger seat of Charles’ car for you.

“I didn’t know about your mother,” he said softly as he buckled his seatbelt and turned the engine on.

You turned your gaze out the window and shook your head. “Don’t worry, it was years ago. I barely even knew her.”

You felt his hand on your thigh and you closed your eyes as they stung with fresh tears. “I’m so sorry, schat. Let me make it up to you, tonight. Let me take you out on a date, a proper date this time.”

“I can’t,” you mumbled to your lap.

“Why not?”

A fair question, you thought, but not one you were prepared to answer when neither of you had been so bold as to admit what both of you knew. “I can’t date you, or anyone.”

Max’s hand retreated and he scoffed. “Charles.”

“I can’t date anyone when I am in love with someone else. What I need is a friend.”

The tension in the tiny interior grew and Silverstone approached, before Max finally nodded. “Friends, okay. I can be your friend, schat. I’ll be the best fucking friend you have, and when this man you love fucks up and breaks your heart - I’ll be there to put it back together. Okay?”

The declaration had been weeks in the making and you choked down the sudden lump of emotion in your throat. You prayed the day would never come that Charles broke your heart but still found yourself nodding. “Okay, but Max…a friend wouldn’t call me schat.”

He smiled and shrugged, content that you hadn’t just shut him down completely - which would have been the kind thing to do. “I’ll just have to find another name for you then.”

Max walked you back to the Ferrari garage, ignoring the looks he received from the mechanics questioning his presence, but he wanted to make sure you arrived without incident. He was still feeling guilty for the panic attack that had left you drained and you promised you would rest once you were inside.

Charles barely looked up from his seat on the couch in his room, but you knew he knew you were there from the way his shoulders stiffened. Sitting beside him, you took one of hands and inspected the short nails and the ruined cuticle before enclosing it in yours.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to come back,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.

“There is only one place I want to be. This…friction between you has to stop. He is my friend and nothing more,” you said as you tipped your head onto his shoulder.

Warm lips pressed to your forehead. “It felt like you chose him over me. I could hardly think clearly enough to drive.”

“Never, Charles. I love you, as crazy as that may be. No one will know me like you do, Charles. No one else could make me crazy enough to think we could ever have a happy ending - but you do.” His shoulders bounced with a small laugh and you shifted onto his lap so you could cup his face in your palms. “Max knows my heart belongs to another man, to you. He knows friendship is the only thing I can offer him.”

“I don’t like it,” Charles grumbled, his hands finding their way to your waist.

You laughed and kissed his pouting lips before pulling back. “You don’t have to like it, but I need friends. I moved to a new country and then spent four months with one person.”

“Two,” he interjected before zipping his mouth shut.

“I haven’t been able to meet anyone except for your friends and there is a pretty big shortage of females around here.”

Charles inhaled deeply before sighing. “I understand, Max is the closest to a female you could find.” His lips kicked up in a smirk and he tensed, expecting your punch to his shoulder as he laughed. “No, no, I do understand. I didn’t even think about how lonely you must be, I’m sorry, ma biche.”

You accepted his apology with another kiss and smirked when he pulled you closer on his lap. “Is this the cure for my loneliness?” you asked as you felt him growing hard beneath you.

“I don’t know, but I think we should test every possibility.”Your response was stolen by a knock at the door and Charles groaned as he was told to start warming up for the next practice. He dropped his forehead to yours before shifting you back onto the couch as he stood up and rearranged the bulge in his trousers. “Fuck, I was warming up.”

Chuckling, you made yourself comfortable on the couch with his jacket as a pillow. “Put all that energy to good use and wake me when you are done.”

“Oh I’ll wake you, ma biche,” he said with a wink, “but you didn’t say how.”

Click here for part six.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n

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chefkids · 4 months ago

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Feel like it’s impossible to continue to ship them after that cold open with Carmy thinking about her at 5am. If he’s in love with Sydney he doesn’t know it - and I don’t think that’s even a thing. I don’t see how they come back from that.

Claire is not Carmy's future. She's "Wednesday".

Being in denial about feelings and trying to repress them is definitely a thing. And if there's one thing Carmy has ever consistently done is be in denial and suppress. Like he did with Mikey, the NYC Chef trauma, his mother's alcoholism, Sydney when she quit etc. Part II was all about Carmy using Claire to avoid the restaurant/Sydney, even when we saw him being riddled with panic attacks every time he was with Claire. He was trying to make Claire his present/future but every time it kept pulling him back to his past. Part III was all Carmy trying to mentally rewrite his relationship with Claire and conveniently ignoring all the weird times and the panic attacks. Carmy does not think about happy times with Claire to feel happy. He thinks about them to stay in his cold pit of despair and to keep himself from moving on and accepting amusement or enjoyment in his life again. He's addicted to thinking about Claire like he's addicted to cigarettes. Both were not good for him and "a waste of time", and he "quit" both of them but he continues to think about them all the time because he is a self-destructive person.

That long scene with Claire that he thought of at 5 am established several things. Primarily that Carmy is still in "Wednesday", both the literal day that it took place but as a concept. He's stuck in the past with Claire. Frozen in time. He says he used to love Wednesday's as a kid, just like he used to love Claire. Now Sydney is just trying to get past Wednesday, while Carmy tries to avoid thinking about his legacy and the future.

His least favorite day is Sunday because the restaurant is closed and he has nothing to do and he can't turn off the "buzz" at night. Conveniently the only day he doesn't see Sydney. And it's also what Sydney lied about in order to get him to give her a job at The Beef. Then after thinking of Sunday's, Claire noticed his heart was beating really fast, in a seemingly calm situation. Buzzing one might even say.

Then they talk about his hand scar from grabbing a hot pot. He really grabbed it and it's really deep, but he wasn't paying attention. In the very first episode when Sydney arrives, he's arguing with Richie and grabs a really hot pot and burns his hand. Syd is a hot pot that he hasn't been paying attention to and that is going to leave a very deep scar on him once she leaves him.

Claire tells him a story about the girl who came into the ER on the 4th of July with a bunch of cuts, and that she almost killed her by not paying attention to her chart, but when she woke up from surgery she didn't even feel pain because it hurt so much that it didn't hurt at all yet. Then in that same episode Carmy cuts his hand and Sydney walks by, then she cuts her hand after telling him he is not communicating or paying attention. A small cut to the many that he has been adding to his relationship with Sydney. That scene remembering Claire was about how he is hurting people and himself but can't stop because he doesn't feel it yet, because he is frozen in the past, and despite his denial, he still can't "turn off" the buzz of Sydney from his head.

In Apologies after Sydney left him when he realized he was thinking about her while making a dish and starting to allow amusement/enjoyment back in his life by asking Syd to come to Ever, he went back into the fridge to distract himself by thinking about Claire again the same way he did when he was trapped in the fridge, to try to turn off the "buzzing" from Sydney.

Natalie had a similar early morning blue light flashback about her own unresolved issues, thinking about Marcus's mom's funeral and Donna. But by the end of the season we see that she has made peace with her past and Donna and has moved forward with being a mother.

How does Carmy move on from a Claire obsessed season? He faces her reality and what his relationship was her was actually like, not just a highlight reel. He might feel guilt but does he actually want to even be with her again? Doesn't seem like she does based on her conversation with the Fak's.

How does the show establish his feelings for Sydney have always been there? He actually explains to Syd why he wanted her as his partner at the end of Part I, why he was avoiding her/why he thought he could make his feelings for her go away by being with Claire in Part II, and why he was not letting Claire go in Part III and not letting himself feel amusement or enjoyment with her. The same way he explained why he wanted to build a restaurant with Mikey, why he avoided grieving him, and how he accepted the reality of the situation at the end of the end of Part I at al anon and the same way he opened up to her under the table to her in Part II. He is capable of using his words when he really wants to. Losing Claire might have put him in a funk, but if he loses Sydney? Everyone around him is going to be painfully aware of how much she actually means to him compared to Claire. Cause that guy could barely stay alive after she quit the first time. Mikey and Sydney are the only two people Carmy has ever made plans with for the future.

#the bear #the bear meta #sydcarmy #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #the bear fx #claire the bear #the bear season 3

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writersblockedx · 5 months ago

Text

Something Inappropriate: Chapter Two

Read Chapter One here

Pairing - Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - When Y/n's becomes endangered and has nowhere else to go, Spencer is the only one who can offer her the security she needs. Warnings - Panic attack, mentions of a past toxic relationship, stalking, some violence words - 2.3K

A/n - If you have any requests please put some in my ask box, I'm running out of ideas but I am obsessed with this man.

Masterlist

The morning after was one brought with embarrassment and regret. Y/n hadn't expected to get so drunk that her behavioural analysis professor was the one taking her back home, his hand at her waist, guiding her from his own car almost to her room. It was a memory she wished she could choose to forget. Alas, Monday morning rolled around quicker than she wanted.

Her first lecture was on victimology with the one and only Doctor Spencer Reid. And that morning was the first morning she didn't take one of the seats in the front row. Rather, she hid herself between fellow students and kept her head down. What she hadn't been aware of however, was the fact Spencer had been watching her from the moment she wandered into the lecture hall.

The truth was, the man had grown worrisome once he left the girl. She was an intoxicated young woman - there was a scary amount of danger which came with that. He knew so, he had seen it, he had seen so many bodies that were exactly like Y/n.

When an hour passed and students began filtering out of the lecture hall, Y/n found that the time to give the man an explanation - along with an array of apologises. Having her professor walk her home drunk certainly wasn't her finest moment.

The girl drew towards the desk where he was seated at the front, watching carefully at the other students who were paying no attention as they left. "Hi," Her voice was barely even a whisper.

But Spencer had offered her a smile which assured her that he hadn't any negative feelings from Friday night. He stood from his desk, "How are you feeling? I hope you had gotten enough sleep Friday."

She returned the smile. But her's was weak in comparison, "I certainly didn't wake up early Saturday." A moment passed and the man clocked the way she was checking the people around her as the very last students dawdled out the lecture hall. "I erm- thank you for what you did, you didn't have to but well, I'm glad you did."

"Any of your professors have a responsibility for your well-being and care, I'm sure any one of them would have done the same." But that was just it - they wouldn't have.

This was more than that. "It's not just that," She swallowed and double-checked they were alone. "I erm- I have this ex-boyfriend you see...scary, aggressive." Y/n's voice was beginning to shake; this wasn't a topic on which she was keen to speak about. "Even still, I mean it's been almost six months. He's determined to get to me, anyway he can. Friday night was my first night out since I left him. It's why I didn't go with the others to the club. He's well, risky and I have to be careful." Spencer had been listening ever so intently, his eyes pooling with sympathy from the moment she started opening up.

And then she shrugged as if what she had just said was nothing, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, had I walked home alone last night and he- he knew, well..." She didn't want to finish her sentence, nor did she have to.

Spencer understood. In the sense that he had hunted stalkers and resentful exes. He knew how they thought and more importantly, he knew how the victims felt. He knew exactly what she was going through. Now more than ever, he was relieved that he had taken her home. Before now, he wondered whether it had been inappropriate. But now he had reason for his actions.

"If anything ever happens, with him or anyone, anything, I'm always here." He assured with the tug of a grin.

She nodded, "Thank you, sir." She awkwardly crossed her arms over her stomach, barely able to meet the man's eyes. "You truly don't know the help you gave me that night."

"Always."

And them words echoed throughout her mind.

The professor was not only smart but kind. Far too kind. The way he spoke to her, the offer of support, it had made her heart weak. And for the rest of that month, she had spent it at the front row, asking for extra help on her essay, anything she could do. And maybe it wasn't just about needing support with her academics, but also finding security in someone. Something of which she had never really had. Especially after him.

It was just expected something was going to kick off. A week prior to the incident, Y/n had several facebook messages all from different accounts from her dreaded ex-boyfriend. All of which she had blocked. But they kept coming. Every morning she would grasp her phone, finding another request, another thread of messages. All of which were blocked, ignored, and tried to erase from her memory.

And then, on what seemed like the first day of Summer, it happened.

She was sat outside a bar with a couple of friends, drink in hand, giggling at something her male friend, Zack, had said. Everything was bliss. Drinks, conversation, friends. It was almost too perfect.

And then the ex-boyfriend wandered over. He had noticed Y/n from afar, storming over, yelling and anger forced from his lips. It had all happened in a flash. Zack stood to Y/n's defence. The next thing that happened, he had a bruised eye. Everyone was yelling. But he, the ex, he was yelling at her.

A punch.

A slap.

A scream.

It was all to quick for Y/n to keep up with. Things escalated and actions were chased. Not one of them were thinking things through. And when everything was all over, when one of the bartenders at the venue dragged the man away, Y/n could barely move. Tears were spilling from her eye line, pooling down her face. And when the chorus of 'are you okays' followed, she couldn't move her lips.

"I should walk you home," Offered one of close friends.

But even after the girl had registered her words, her head shook, "No, no I can't." One thing about this certain ex-boyfriend was that he hadn't never gone quietly. Too many times than she could keep count of, the man knocked on her door, found her in college, even a couple of times went knocking at her friend's houses and accommodation.

She couldn't go home - she couldn't go anywhere.

And then, her mind ran back to the most recent place in which she had felt safe: Doctor Spencer Reid. She swallowed and sniffled at her fallen tears, "I'll message you later," She told her group.

Zack, who had been nursing an early bruised eye, spoke first, "Where are you going to go?" He questioned as the concern for his friend was written over his tone.

"To get some help," She replied with the weakest smile she could muster. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," She gave them each a glance before turning her back. She didn't dare stay at that bar, she didn't dare go home, but she wanted somewhere safe. And that some place just happened to be a certain professor.

Y/n weaved through the college. Though with the time and the weather, it was practically empty. A few faculty members whom gave her a second glance when they caught the sight of her tears. And when she finally reached Doctor Spencer Reid's office, she didn't even bother knocking. Luckily, he was alone, grading papers and creating lesson plans. But at the sound of his door clicking open, his head lifted. Within a millisecond, his expression moulded into one of utter distress and worry.

He stood from his chair, watching as the flood gates opened from her pupils. "Y/n," He spoke her name like it was a prayer. "What- what happened?"A gentle hand reached out to her shoulder before he gestured for the girl to take a seat at the leather couch which faced his desk.

The girl followed him, not yet able to get breath out - never mind words. Her tears trailed down her cheeks as Spencer returned to the couch with her, a tissue in his hand, "Here," He gazed over her, attempting to try and find any suggestion to what might have happened. "Hey, you need to try slow down your breathing, in for four, out for six, okay?" He soothed, "I'll do it with you."

Y/n watched Spencer's chest a he gulped in a breath, holding it and then letting the air slowly exit his lungs. She followed along. And while it was a struggle at first, slowly, her breathing calmed and her tears dried. "That feel better?" The man questioned.

She nodded, "Yeah, yeah," The girl could only mumble. "Thank you."

"Of course, I used to have panic attacks at work sometimes," He admitted before standing, grasping a bottle of water from his wooden desk and handing it over to her. "You don't have to tell me, but if something happened, I'd like to know."

For a moment, her eyes fluttered away, finding the floor more interesting than he. She at least needed to explain to him why she had turned up at his office in such a state - it wasn't as if he didn't know the background anyway. "You remember that ex boyfriend I told you about?" Spencer nodded in understanding; it was almost like that was all he needed to know. "He spotted me in a beer garden with some friends and well...he snapped. I couldn't- I didn't-"

The man watched as her breath itched like she was unable to catch up with it once again, "It's okay," He calmed as his hand fell atop of her's. The girl's eyes shot up at the movement, to his skin falling over her own. It was supportive, she told herself. "Take your time."

And she did. A minute or so had passed and, when she felt ready, she continued to explain: "It happened so quick, I couldn't do anything but watch." She swallowed the lump which had grown harsh in her throat. "He knows where I live, he knows my friends, he knows everything." She wanted to point out how he didn't know Spencer but chose not to. "That's why I came here...I didn't have anywhere else." She explained.

Spencer was taking it all in. He glanced at her and he realised this sudden need to keep her safe, to protect her. The man tried to excuse that as his teaching duty, but this was more. She was more. "You know you can always come to me when you ever have any concerns." He reassured. "It's what I'm here for, and, personally, I believe you should talk to the student wellbeing team, they have the connections that will keep you safe." That's who should protect her - not him.

But Y/n's response suggested that wasn't an option, "Trust me I tried last year, they tried too, went to the police and anything - ironically enough." She scoffed ever so slightly as she leant back onto Spencer's couch, "They had a 'stern talking' to him, but it only made things stop for month." She went over, the memory of which still agitated her. And Spencer could tell such with the way her eyes were fighting to roll. "I don't know what to do now, I mean, I can't go home." If history had taught the girl anything, her ex-boyfriend would already be waiting for her at the accommodation hall.

"Y/n, I do hope you understand the severity of this," Spencer started, "This is text-book stalking. If the wellbeing team talking to the police didn't do anything, than maybe an FBI agent talking to them might." He offered.

Her brows raised, "You'd do that?"

"Only if you wanted me to."

Y/n thought it over but it was an easy answer; anything to get this to stop. "Please."

"Okay then, tomorrow, I'll go with you to the police station, we'll talk to them together and this time, i swear to you, they will put a stop to this." He seemed to promise. But this was no promise he should be making to a student - this sense of protection was one of which was questionable.

She offered him a smile and a, "Thank you." But a question still nagged at the both of them.

It was that desire to protect the girl which urged Spencer to speak, "Do you have somewhere safe you can stay tonight?"

Not her flat that was certain. Even a friend's house was out of the question. A motel...maybe. Y/n sound herself shrugging, "Not at mine no, he's been known to go to my friend's places too and my parents, they're travelling." They were always travelling - spending her inheritance money you see. "I've got some cash, I'll probably go stay at a motel for the night."

The thought of Y/n tossing and turning in a scratchy, stone-like mattress only made Spencer's heart ache. He didn't dare to let them thoughts consume him. So, instead, he offered an alternative solution. "I understand if you're not comfortable, but I have spare room, you're more than welcome if you need."

Her eyes shot up to his, almost like she didn't believe him, "Are you- are you sure?" Surely that wasn't allowed. Though, Y/n (and Spencer too), decided to tell themselves this was different. This situation was well...it had room for things that would otherwise seem inappropriate.

"Of course, you need to be safe and I won't let you sleep in a motel room." Spencer doubted she would even get any sleep at all.

And in that moment, in the aftermath of her panic attack, she accepted, "Okay then."

Taglist - @tonystankhere Let me know if you would like to be added for this little series / any future spencer fics :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #professor spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #x reader #fanfic #imagine #oneshot

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krirebr · 7 months ago

Text

More Than This 4

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~6.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, Linda being Linda, a panic attack, p in v sex, sex in maybe not the best mindset, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: I thought this was gonna be a short one. 😂

Gigantic thanks as always to @paperweight91 who helped me figure out what the problem was when I was really struggling to feel inspired on this one, and then later on when the narrative took a bit of a turn that I wasn't expecting, she helped me navigate it and come out the other side. Chelsea, you continue to be the very best!

And an additional hat tip to @thezombieprostitute, who left a comment on the last part that inspired part of Linda's visit here. Thanks, dear!!

Unsurprisingly probably, this is another sad one. But I hope it'll be worth it!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You’ve reached the phone of Steve Rogers. Please leave a message after the beep.

“Hey, Steve. It’s me. Again. Your sister. Um, shit. Yeah, you’re at work now, aren’t you? Sorry, I still haven’t gotten used to the time difference. I got your texts, and, uh, everything is fine. I’m– I’m doing good. But I miss you. And it’d be nice to hear your voice. But I’m fine, I’m good, I promise. I just– I’ll try again soon. Love you. Ok. Bye.”

You hung up and sighed, setting your phone down beside you. You hadn’t actually spoken to Steve since you’d gotten on the plane a week ago. Which was fine. You were doing fine. He’d texted you. And he was busy. You knew he was. It’d be easier, you thought if you were too. But everything had been unpacked. The housekeeper took care of all the upkeep of the house and you got the distinct impression that she didn’t much care for your “help,” so now when she was here you mostly tried to stay out of her way. Even Lola was getting tired of going for walks around the neighborhood.

You’d barely seen your husband since your disastrous attempt at sex. He’d been avoiding you, leaving early in the morning and coming home late at night. You hadn’t talked about what happened. You’d barely talked about anything.

You looked at your laptop on the coffee table and exited out of the WebMD entry on erectile dysfunction. That wasn’t helping. With nothing to do and no one to talk to, all you could do was think about what would happen to you if you couldn’t get Ransom to fuck you. If you didn’t get pregnant. You still hadn’t seen the contract and weren’t sure what the actual terms were, but you knew the consequences would be nothing good.

Steve had had an aunt on his mother’s side who’d been found in breach of contract and had her marriage dissolved. You never really knew her, but you remembered how Joseph talked about her, about the desperate arrangement she’d eventually had to settle for, the sadness in Steve’s eyes whenever she came up. That wouldn’t be you, couldn’t be you. You knew you wouldn’t even start to feel secure in your arrangement until that part of the contract had been fulfilled. You just needed to figure out how.

But, dwelling on it wasn’t helping. Googling possible causes of Ransom’s issue wasn’t helping (although it was better than listening to the voice in your head that wouldn’t stop telling you that he just didn’t want to touch you). You needed something to do. Back in LA, you’d worked part-time at an art gallery Steve had introduced you to. You’d mostly answered the phones and greeted people as they came in, but you’d liked it. There had to be something like that available in Boston. And at least trying to find it would give you something to focus on.

So you lost yourself in compiling a list of galleries you could try to contact, sitting on the couch with Lola curled up beside you. When Ransom came home late that night, that’s how he found you. You looked up, startled when he came in the door, and found a similar expression on his face.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re still up,” as he took off his coat and shoes.

“Yeah,” you said, not knowing what else to say.

He nodded and came as far as the beginning of the living area, then stopped and just stared at you for a moment. You waited for whatever it was he was going to say. Then, finally, “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” then, gathering your courage and hoping you wouldn’t be shut down, you added, “I started to look for a job.”

“Oh,” he looked mildly surprised. “Do you have any experience?”

You pushed down the tinge of hurt that bubbled up at that. The question wasn’t completely uncalled for. Many of your friends back home had never worked a day in their lives. But you couldn’t help feeling a little defensive when you answered, “Yes, I worked at the front desk of an art gallery back home. I liked it. I’d like to find something like that here.”

Ransom hummed thoughtfully as he nodded. “Well,” he said, looking off into the corner of the room, “uh, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”

“Oh,” you said, too surprised to say anything else for a moment. You’d been sure he’d say no. You weren’t quite sure what to do with an offer of help, of all things. And you would need his help if you got the job, with a way to get yourself there at the very least. But you didn’t want to jinx it or push things too far right now, so you just said, “Thank you. I will.” And then, “Uh, how was your day?”

“It was fine,” he said, stiffly. “Busy, I’ve been really busy. And I’m, uh, I’m exhausted now. So I’m going to go straight to bed. Feel free to stay up as late as you want. Obviously.” And just like that, he turned on his heel and left the room.

You should’ve gone after him, maybe. Made him talk to you about it. Or just taken your clothes off while he was talking (although that hadn’t worked the first time). Something. But you were tired too and you just didn’t have it in you, as important as you knew it was.

So, you gave it about half an hour before you went to bed yourself, going through your nighttime routine as quietly as you could in the ensuite. When you went back out to the bedroom, you found Lola already on the bed, curled up against Ransom’s side. You stopped, wondering if you should move her. She’d slept in the bed with you for the last four nights, ever since that awful night, and Ransom hadn’t said anything about making her stop. And he obviously hadn’t noticed her snuggling up next to him, so maybe it was fine. You climbed in next to her and wrapped your body around hers, ignoring the way it made you brush up against Ransom, too.

The next afternoon, you were busying yourself with trying to reorganize your walk-in closet, when you heard someone moving around downstairs. It wasn’t one of the housekeeper’s days, so you made sure you had your phone on you and started down the stairs with caution.

When you got about halfway down, you saw Linda standing in the middle of the living room. “Linda!” you exclaimed, unable to hide your shock at her standing before you. “Ransom didn’t tell me you’d be stopping by. I didn’t know you had a key.”

“Of course, I do, I’m his mother. And I’m the one who set him up with this house.” She cast a judgemental eye on the room. “I see you’ve been moving some things around.”

“Oh,” you said, now at the bottom of the stairs and looking around a little worriedly. You’d tried so hard to disrupt as little as possible. “Not much, I don’t think. Just a little to make room for my own things.”

Linda hummed in a way that made you want to shrink inside yourself. “Well,” she said and held out a gift bag. “I brought you a little something.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, forcing a smile as you took the gift, slightly afraid of what might be in it. You glanced inside, moving aside the tissue paper to find about a dozen pregnancy tests. “Oh,” you said, afraid if you said anything more you might burst into tears. It was fine it was fine it was fine.

“Just want you to be prepared,” she said.

“Thank you,” you forced out. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“Well,” she clapped her hands together, “why don’t you get us some coffee?”

You forced another smile, trying to cover the panic you felt that she was staying. “Yes, of course.” You took your time getting the coffee prepared in the kitchen. Once it was ready, and you had the cream and sugar and everything else gathered on a tray, you couldn’t delay it any longer and brought everything out to the living room. Linda helped herself to a mug, finishing it to her liking as you did the same. You caught, though, the little face she made at her first sip. That was fine, it was her son’s fucking coffee.

“This is nice,” she said, in that particular syrupy tone of voice she had that meant she was trying too hard to seem friendly. “Just the two of us. Overdue.”

You made yourself nod. “Yes,” you said, “It’s great to see you.”

“I was talking to Ransom this morning, and he mentioned that you’re looking for a job?”

“Oh,” you started, something about her tone making you cautious, “yeah, you know, something to keep me occupied. I used to work at an art gallery and I’m hoping I can do something similar here.”

She took a sip of her coffee, then pursed her lips. “Well, that sounds lovely. But are you sure it’s a good idea with a baby on the way?”

You did your best to chuckle, trying to keep things light as you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. “I’m not pregnant yet, Linda.”

“Maybe not, but you will be soon. And do you really think it’s fair to get a job when you’re just going to have to quit in a few weeks anyway?”

You stared at her confused, your own coffee now forgotten. “We don’t know exactly when I’ll get pregnant.” You may not care for Ransom much, but you certainly weren’t going to discuss his possible impotence with his mother. Or the fact that he just didn’t want you. “And I don’t understand why I would have to quit once I got pregnant anyway.”

“Well, I’m sure Ransom won’t want you working once you’re pregnant. He’ll want you to focus on growing his child and getting everything prepared for the baby.”

You felt the air go out of your lungs. All you could do was gape at her. What? You flashed back to the wedding, to Harlan telling you how good you were going to be for Ransom. To your mother telling you to keep him happy. To Joseph’s speech barely even mentioning you. It was like you as a person didn’t exist anymore. You were just here for him. Your whole life set up just to cater to him. You felt the tears starting to gather in your eyes, but you would not cry in front of this woman.

“But,” you started, “you worked all through your pregnancy and Ransom’s childhood, didn’t you? I don’t understand why I wouldn’t be able to, too.”

“Oh,” she said, as she gave you the most condescending look you might have ever received, “I see. You think you and I are the same. Sweetheart, no. I helped my father choose my arraignment. I came into it with my own money, having already established myself. A real career, not some silly part-time gallery job. I’m the one who supports Richard. I’ve always had the power. I was never you. And you will never be me. So, how about you let Ransom take good care of you and you focus on the things that you can give him, hmm?”

You just stared at her, feeling suddenly numb. What the fuck were you supposed to say to that? You’d only spoken to her a few times and every single time she’d made you feel so small, insignificant, weak.

She placed her mug on the table and stood up. “I’ll get out of your hair now, dear, but this was so nice. We’ll have to do it again soon.” She stood in front of you as all you could do was sit and stare. She raised her perfectly manicured eyebrow at you and you finally realized that she wanted you to stand. You robotically did so, still so numb from this short visit. As soon as you were upright, she gave you a stiff hug and patted you on the shoulder. “I’m so glad we were able to put this silly job idea to bed,” she said. “I’ll show myself out. Have a good rest of your day, darling.” And then she was gone and you were left standing alone in the middle of Ransom’s living room.

You spent the rest of the afternoon running Linda’s visit through your mind, over and over. The thing you couldn’t understand was why, if Ransom was so against you working, he hadn’t said anything about it last night. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just tell you no right away, rather than siccing his mother on you the next day? Why would he say yes? Was it just so that he could look like the good guy before he had his mom do his dirty work for him? Was he really that much of a chickenshit?

When you got to a point when you thought you might actually drive yourself crazy if you thought about it anymore, you got your phone out and tried, once again, to call Steve.

You’ve reached the phone of Steve Rogers. Please leave a message after the beep.

You wanted to scream. You were so fucking tired of talking to his machine. Every time you thought you couldn’t feel more alone, you just fell deeper.

“Hey, Steve. Um, I’d really love it if you could call me back. I know you’re busy. I don’t mean to– I’m sorry. I just– I just really miss you. I’d really like to talk to you. I love you. Ok. Bye.”

You hung up and then just stared at your black phone screen for a moment. You couldn’t just sit in the house anymore. “Lola!” you called out into the house, not sure of where she’d gotten off to. “Want to go for a walk?”

Ransom didn’t come home that night, the absolute fucking coward.

When you woke up the next day, you couldn’t tell if Ransom’s side of the bed had been slept in or not. Lola was sprawled across it, taking up much more space than her tiny body would indicate. You decided not to dwell on it.

There was a text message from Steve, sent in the middle of the night.

Hey chipmunk. I’m so sorry I keep missing your calls. I’ve been absolutely slammed this week. I’ll try to call you soon. Hope you’re doing ok. I miss you so much. Love you.

You couldn’t stop staring at it. The childhood nickname combined with the distance the message represented made your whole chest ache.

As the day wore on, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. The housekeeper didn’t want you around. All the unpacking was done. You couldn’t look for a job. You tried to read but you couldn’t focus. You called Steve but he didn’t pick up, again, and you just didn’t have it in you to leave another message.

You felt like you sleepwalked through the whole day, so when Ransom walked in in the evening, you were startled to realize the day was gone.

Lola lept off your lap on the couch and ran to him as soon as he came in the door, hopping up and down and prancing in front of him. He froze, his scarf halfway off his neck and caught in his hands. “What is it doing?” he asked, turning to you, absolutely bewildered.

“I– I don’t know,” you said, staring at your dog. It was stupid, you knew it was so stupid, but you couldn’t help the frisson of betrayal that ran through you. She was supposed to be yours. She was supposed to love you, only you. And now she was consorting with the enemy. And you were jealous of a dog. But what else did you have? Your husband wouldn’t touch you, your brother wouldn’t call you back, and now your dog loved someone else. It all made you want to sob. “I think she’s happy to see you.”

He looked at you aghast. “Why?!”

“I don’t know,” you said again. “Lola,” you called, but she was still hopping up and down in front of Ransom. “Lola!” She turned at your stern tone and reluctantly ran back to you. You picked her up and cradled her in your arms. “Sorry,” you said to Ransom, then quietly murmured, “What were you doing?” into her fur. You glanced at the time. “You’re home early.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, somewhat sheepish. “Finally got out of work at a decent hour.”

“Oh.” It felt so weird to have him here. “I guess we could have dinner. Have you eaten?”

“Uh, no. Dinner sounds great.” He finally came out of the entryway and began digging through his fridge, pulling out two of the pre-prepared meals his housekeeper kept there.

As he put them in the microwave, all you could do was stare at him. You’d had the last twenty-four hours to stew in your anger and sadness and now all you really felt was tired. There was nothing you could do. It was his house, his family that held the strings. You were far from home with no one to back you up. He’d seen to it that you didn’t have a job to fall back on. All you could do was go along with what he wanted. The only thing you could do was make your place here more secure. As he bent down to get a plate out of the microwave, you blurted out, “Why won’t you fuck me?”

He straightened up quickly and stared at you. “What the fuck?!”

“I just–” you tried, “Has that happened before? Your problem. I’ve read that as men get older that happens sometimes.”

“I’m thirty-five, not fucking sixty. What the actual fuck?” He loudly dropped the plate down in front of you. “Eat your fucking food. I’m not talking about this.”

You sullenly started in on your food, it was pasta. You barely tasted it. You needed to keep talking about this, but doing it while he was angry probably wasn’t the best approach.

He heated up the other plate and then joined you, taking a seat next to you at the island. You both ate in silence, until he finally said, “I just don’t think this is anything we need to rush into. We have plenty of time.”

You looked up at him. Of course, he wouldn’t think there was any rush. Of course, he didn’t have any personal stakes in you getting pregnant. Of course, he could forbid you from working but then deny you the one thing that would give you something to fucking do here. Something that would take a portion of your anxiety away. “We don’t actually,” you growled. “We have no idea how long it’s going to take me to get pregnant.”

“You keep saying that, but I just– I think rushing it would be a mistake. We have more time than you think and putting this off until we know each other better is a good idea.”

And suddenly, you saw red. Every single fucking thing was on his terms. His hometown, his family, his house, his things, his staff, his single car, his timetable. “And how are we supposed to do that, huh?” you yelled, standing up now. “When you’re gone before I wake up and you cross your fingers I’m in bed before you get home. If you even come home! When exactly is this getting to know each other supposed to happen?!”

“Hey!” he yelled, standing up as well. Lola ran upstairs at the sound of his stool scraping against the hardwood. “Calm the fuck down! What is the big fucking deal if we wait a few months rather than doing it right now?”

“Because the longer we wait the less time I’ll have to get pregnant! And the more likely it’ll be that it won’t happen and we’ll nullify the contract and our marriage will be dissolved. And you’ll be fucking fine! You’ll still be your grandfather’s and your mother’s heir. Nothing will happen to you. But I’ll be sent back to Joseph. I’ll have to accept a second arrangement with anyone who will take me. I’ll– I’ll–” You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. The room was getting smaller, pressing in on you, and you couldn’t breathe.

You sank down to the floor and suddenly Ransom was in front of you. He called your name, but it was hard to process it. He called it again and you made eye contact with him. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re ok. You’re alright. I’m here.” He was speaking so quietly, so gently. “I’m here to help you, ok? I’m going to stay with you.” You nodded as best you could. “Can I touch you?” he asked, and you immediately shook your head. “Ok,” he said quickly, “that’s fine. That’s ok. I won’t touch you. You’re breathing too fast, ok? You need to slow down. Can you breathe with me? Come on, do it with me.” And then he breathed in slowly and you tried to match his rhythm. In and out, in and out, so slowly. At some point, he started counting. In 1 2 3 4 5. Out 1 2 3 4 5. Eventually, you could do it on your own, without him coaching you.

You spent a few more minutes on the floor with him, you both just breathing at each other. Then finally you were able to find your words. “I’m ok,” you said. “I’m alright. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he said, still so gentle. “Nothing at all. Can you get up?” You nodded and he helped you up. “Are you hungry?” he asked and you shook your head. “Ok, I’ll clean the food up later. Can I help you upstairs?” You nodded and he, very carefully, put his hand on your back, so slowly that you had all the time in the world to pull away. His touch was warm, soft. His touch was always so soft with you.

He guided you to the bedroom where Lola was already on the bed, shaking steadily and looking at you with big, fearful eyes. You climbed on and curled up next to her. “You’re ok,” you whispered to her. “I’m sorry we scared you.” She scooted so she was snuggled up right against you and you carded your fingers through her fur, scratching gently.

Ransom hovered at the foot of the bed. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

“Of course,” he said. “Has that happened before?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t think so. How did you know how to help?”

“Oh, uh,” he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, looking down at the floor, “I used to get them when I was a kid. I had a nanny who, uh, she was really good about them.”

You just nodded, feeling like you should tuck away that information. You knew so little about him, real things that hadn’t been in the binder. You wanted to file away everything you could.

“Are you– Will you be ok if I go take care of the food?”

You nodded again. “Yeah,” you said, softly. “I’ll be fine. Lola will take care of me. Won’t you, baby?” Lola flopped onto her back so that you could give her tummy scratches and you let out a soft giggle. You smiled up at Ransom, to reassure him. And he just sort of stopped. And stared at you. Your brow furrowed as you became self-conscious under his gaze and your smile started to drop.

He suddenly shook himself out of whatever had been happening and nodded. “Yeah, ok. Yell if you need me,” and he darted out of the room.

You weren’t sure exactly how long he was gone. You passed the time snuggling with Lola, taking comfort in her. You felt shaky and raw. And scared, still scared of everything that could happen, everything you’d yelled at Ransom about. And Ransom himself, how he would take to being yelled at like that, once he was done being worried.

You heard his heavy footfalls at the top of the stairs and looked up as he came back into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed and turned so you could see half his face. “I didn’t–” he started and stopped. Then, after another moment, “I didn’t realize you were so worried about all of this.”

“How would you?” you asked, your eyes cast down, locked on Lola as you continued to pet her. “You’re never here. We never talk.”

“I’ve been really busy,” he said, just a tinge of defensiveness in his tone. “Work’s been awful.” He paused, then repeated, “I’ve been really busy.”

“Sure,” you said.

Neither of you said anything for long minutes. You just kept petting Lola, your hand moving over her body rhythmically.

Then finally, Ransom said lowly, “We can work on it. Getting pregnant. If that will make you feel better. Make things easier for you.”

“Can we?” you asked. “I don’t know if what happened– if that was something that happens to you a lot, or if,” you looked back down, “or if you just don’t want me.”

He moved his hand so that his fingertips grazed yours on the bed. “It’s not that. It wasn’t ever that, ok?” You couldn’t help the way your whole body heated, just a bit, at the implication. You looked up just as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “I just– You were clearly so scared. You wanted to be anywhere else, I could tell. You wouldn’t let me touch you, you wouldn’t even look at me. I can’t do it like that. I just can’t.” He opened his eyes and looked right at you. “I just can’t.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “That’s– I’m sorry, I–”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not– I just thought you should know.”

You sat quietly together for a few moments. Then you took a deep breath and said, “I think we should try again.”

He gave you a surprised look. “Now?” You nodded resolutely but he shook his head back at you. “You’re still coming down from your panic attack. This can wait til tomorrow.”

In the aftermath of your anxiety, the anger you’d felt had mostly faded away, but now it bubbled back up again. You were so tired of him dictating how everything would go. “No,” you said firmly. “I don’t want to put it off anymore. I’m fine now. This will make things better.”

He just looked at you, searching your face for something. You tried to show him how calm you were now, how sure. Finally, he let out a long sigh. “Fine,” he said. Then he got off the bed and started taking off his clothes. You scrambled up onto your knees to take your top off, gently coaxing Lola off the bed. She looked up at you, waiting for you to join her, but Ransom, now clad only in his boxers, picked her up, gently you noted, and deposited her in the hallway, shutting the door behind her. He looked at you as you continued to strip down to just your bra and panties, his eyes running over your body, and for the first time, you felt it. Maybe he did want you.

He climbed back on the bed. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. You froze for just a second, then nodded. He slowly brought his mouth to yours and caressed your lips with his own. His lips were soft and warm. The kiss was hesitant on both sides, not exactly passionate, but not chaste either. Nowhere near the worst you’d ever had. A quiet arousal began to pool in your core. Not need, not exactly. But it would be enough, you thought. You broke the kiss and laid down on your back. “I’m not trying to shut you out,” you said, trying to keep your tone kind, “but it’ll be faster, I think, if we both just get ourselves ready.” You started the same as last time, one hand on your breast, the other slowly traveling down your body to play with the hem of your panties. “But you can watch,” you added. “If that’s something you like.”

He cleared his throat and nodded. Then he reached over and lightly grabbed your underwear with both hands. “Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed, trying to push down your nerves. Everything was ok, this was what needed to happen. You were fine. You were ok.

He pulled your panties down your legs, then tossed them on top of his own clothes. You closed your eyes to focus again on your goto fantasy. The man standing over you. His voice in your ear. And again, you heard the sounds of Ransom getting himself ready. The snick of him opening the bottle of lube. The wet sounds of his hand working over his cock. This time you didn’t let it bother you. This time, you willed yourself not to flinch when you felt his hand on your leg. You had two fingers in your cunt and you worked yourself open, your thumb rubbing over your clit. Once you were wet enough, stretched enough, you opened your eyes and sat up. Ransom was staring at you, one hand on his hard cock, kneeling in front of you.

“Ok,” you said, “I think I’m ready.” He started to move forward, but you stopped him with a hand on his bare chest. “Can I be on top?” you asked. “Is that ok?”

He looked down at where you were touching him and then back up at your face. “Yeah,” he grunted. “Yeah.”

You switched places as he laid down and you moved over him, straddling his pelvis and then carefully lowering yourself onto his cock. You tried not to grimace as he stretched you. He grunted again, as you slowly took more and more of him. Both of his hands came up to grasp your hips as you began to ride him, slowly at first, then picking up your pace. He was staring at your body and it was– it was a lot. Too much. You closed your eyes against it, hoping you just looked like you were into it. As he got closer, he started to buck up into you. You couldn't help but gasp at it. One of his hands moved from your hip to rub circles with his thumb over your clit, the rest of his hand splayed over your pelvis. You breathed through it, trying to let go enough to let yourself come, but you could tell that wasn’t going to happen. That was ok. That didn’t need to happen. Only one of you needed to come tonight.

He continued to buck up into you, his movements becoming more erratic. You balanced yourself with your hands on his shoulders. “Can I–” he grunted. “I’m gonna– Can I move you?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah.”

He sat up and tucked you into him, rolling you both over so that you were now on your back and he was on top of you. He thrust back into you, once, twice, three times, and then he was coming, filling you up. His whole body stuttered over you and then collapsed on top of you. He breathed into your neck for countless moments and you didn’t know why, but you brought your hand up to gently stroke at the short hairs at the base of his skull. “Do you need me to–” he started to ask.

“No,” you said, knowing he was offering to help you finish. “I’m fine. Good. I’m good.”

You felt him nod, just a little, but he didn’t say anything else. It was so quiet, just the sounds of him catching his breath. Then he placed a soft kiss where your neck met your shoulder and lifted himself up and off you. You whimpered, just a little, as he pulled out.

You quickly lifted your hips up to keep his cum inside of you. You reached blindly next to your head until you found a pillow that you shoved under your lower back to keep your pelvis canted up. Ransom moved around the room, picking his underwear off the floor, and then into the bathroom. A few minutes later he came back out with a washcloth. He moved it towards your cunt and you shot a hand out. “No! Wait.”

“Hey,” he said softly, “it’s ok. Just for your thighs. I know. I understand.” He gently moved the warm washcloth over your legs. “Are you alright?” He asked, not quite meeting your eyes. “Was that ok?”

“Yeah,” you said, moving your hand to brush along his forearm. “I’m alright. That was good.”

You lay in bed as Ransom lightly snored on his stomach next to you, Lola curled up between you. You couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning for about an hour, probably. You sat up. It was no use. Your mind was too busy. Sleep wasn’t going to come.

You grabbed your phone and got out of bed, moving downstairs to the living room as quietly as you could. You curled up on the couch and hugged your knees. You weren’t sure how you felt. It had been fine. Parts of it had even been good, maybe. It’d just, it’d been a long night. You’d gone through so many feelings, and now– Now, you just felt a little empty.

You looked at your phone. It was just before midnight. That meant it’d be a little before nine in LA. Steve hopefully wouldn’t still be working, but he wouldn’t be asleep yet either. He might be out, or painting, or busy some other way, but. It was worth a shot.

It only rang once. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Steve gasped. “Work has been a fucking nightmare, but that’s no excuse. I was going to try to call you tomorrow, but I’m so, so glad you called me now. How are you? Are you ok?”

The tears had started as soon as you heard your brother’s voice. “Steve,” was all you could get out before you were full-on crying.

“Oh, chipmunk, no. What’s wrong?”

You wiped your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get yourself together. You finally had your brother on the phone. You weren’t going to waste the whole conversation crying. “Nothing,” you managed. “I’m ok, I just– I’m just so happy to talk to you.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, and you thought that maybe his voice sounded a little thick too. “Me too. I’m so happy to talk to you. I’m so sorry it’s been so long. How are you doing? Your messages, you sounded– Are you ok?”

You sniffled as you tried to nod and then realized he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m good. It’s just a little lonely here. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too. Everything’s so different here without you. Shit, it’s late there. What are you doing up?”

You shrugged. “Just couldn’t sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Steve hummed and there was a tone to it you couldn’t quite decipher. “Is Ransom there?”

“Yeah, he’s asleep upstairs.”

“And how is he?” Steve’s tone was decidedly cold now.

“He’s fine,” you said, ignoring it. “His work’s been really busy too.”

“And how’s he been to you?” he asked and you definitely didn’t miss the challenge there.

“He’s been fine, Steve,” you said and you weren’t sure whether or not it was a lie. “Everything’s fine.” You’d already decided you weren’t going to tell him about the job thing. That wouldn’t do anything but upset him. Get him on a plane here, maybe, so he could try throwing his weight around. You rolled your eyes. It was better this way. “I’ve just been unpacking mostly. Nothing too exciting. What about you? What’s going on with you? I want to hear everything.”

“You’re sure it’s not too late there?”

“No, not at all. I’m wide awake. And nothing much to get up for in the morning anyway. But if you’re busy or need to go to bed or something, you can go whenever you need to.”

“Not a chance. I wanna talk to you as long as I can,” Steve said. And you knew he couldn’t see it, but you grinned into the phone anyway.

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lewmagoo · 2 months ago

Text

we own the sky | rhett abbott

part two: under pressure

read part one here

series info: read the synopsis here. find the series masterlist here. listen to the playlist here. see the posting schedule here.

description: in which you decide to face your fears

warnings: 18+ only, heavy themes, mentions of character death, grief, blood and injury, angst with a positive ending, panic attack, allusions to sex, eventual smut, inaccurate weather terms, please do not check my science lol this story requires some suspension of disbelief. i usually try not to say anything about reader's family in fics but i do mention them having an unnamed great-aunt, as it was necessary to the plot

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

word count: 11,838

notes: this story is inspired by twisters. you do not have to watch the movie in order to understand this story, because aside from the storm chasing aspect, it has nothing to do with the twister universe. i've been working on this story for 2 months straight, and it is my pride and joy. i am so excited for everyone to read it! without further adieu, here is we own the sky!

You curled up beneath the covers that night, eager to get some much-needed rest after a day spent cleaning and socializing. Your body was so weary, and as you snuggled into the softness of Rhett’s bed, your eyes grew heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow, and you drifted off into dreamland.

But a few hours later, you woke to the sound of your name being sharply whispered into the gray morning light. It took a moment for you to draw yourself to consciousness, climbing your way out of layers of dreams, before your eyes flew open and you found yourself staring into Rhett’s face.

“Hey, sorry t’ wake ya so early, but there’s storm activity over by Sapulpa. Wanna come with us?” He asked, voice low.

You squinted, glancing over at the small digital clock on the nightstand. It was barely five in the morning. It had only been a few hours since you’d pledged to go on a chase with Rhett. You had certainly not been prepared for it to be this soon.

“Fuck it,” you grumbled, tossing the covers off. “I’ll come.”

“You don’t have to if—”

“I’m comin’,” came your sharp reply. You hurried to your suitcase, where you dug out some clothes to change into.

“Alright, I’ll be in the truck.” He kept his voice at a whisper, but there was an excitement in his tone, electricity in the air.

When he left the room, you let out a breath, a shudder running through your body. The beginnings of adrenaline had begun to course through you, and your heart rate picked up as you realized what was happening. This was it. You’d made a bet and now you had to follow through with it.

So, running off of four hours of sleep, with a body that ached from exhaustion, you got dressed, shoved your feet into your shoes, grabbed your phone, and quietly scurried out into the hall and down the steps.

You were surprised to see Cecilia in the kitchen doorway, waiting for you. “Take this,” she said, placing a paper bag full of breakfast goods such as granola bars and homemade muffins in your hands. Then she patted your hand. “And be careful, you hear me? Both of you.”

“We will be,” you assured her.

She didn’t seem at all surprised that you were going. Either Rhett had already told her, or she’d simply assumed you would end up going at some point.

After you bid her goodbye, you burst through the front door and onto the porch, shoes scraping against wood as you bounded down the steps. You jogged to the truck, and in the distance, you could see an F150 and an RV coming down the road.

The team was coming together. It was time to chase down some twisters.

With your heart pounding in your chest and your hands trembling, you climbed into the passenger seat of Rhett’s truck, shoving the bag of food down onto the floorboards. Rhett was already in the driver’s seat, fiddling with the radio dial, trying to find a weather broadcast.

“Y’ready for this?” He asked you.

A shuddering breath escaped your lungs. “As I’ll ever be.” A lie. You were nowhere near ready for this. But you’d already made a promise, so you had to stick it out.

“Hey,” Rhett continued, bumping your arm gentle with his own. “If you need to stop at any point, just let me know, alright?”

You mustered a smile. “I will,” you promised. You folded your hands in your lap so they’d stop shaking.

Moments later, after the team pulled in, you glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Zara jump out of the Ford, headed for you and Rhett. With her thick curls piled into a bun atop her head, a pair of smart denim shorts and a tucked in button-down with the sleeves rolled up, she looked ready to get down to business.

When she saw you, her face broke into a grin. “You’re coming!” She exclaimed, speaking through the truck window Rhett had just opened.

“Yeah! Had to carry out my end of the bargain,” you told her, trying to sound humorous, but you were certain that your trepidation overshadowed any attempt at being funny.

She held up an iPad. “Here, I’ll let you monitor the radar, if you’re comfortable with that?”

You looked at weather radar screens for a living. You were more than capable of monitoring the storm path, but you still felt your chest tighten with uncertainty. Even so, you reached out and took the device from her. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Great! All of us communicate through walkies, so if you have any questions, just radio me.”

“I will. Thanks,” you replied with a nod. And then, “Oh! Here, have some breakfast for the road.” You reached into the bag from Cecilia and pulled out some muffins and breakfast bars, thrusting them into her hands. “Give some to Finn and Danny too!”

“Thank you! See ya on the road!” Then she was off, jogging back to the truck.

You settled back against the seat, breathing out a sigh. Beside you, Rhett leaned closer. “Hey,” he hummed, “you’re gon’ be just fine.”

You tried your best to believe him.

As he pulled onto the main road, headed toward Sapulpa, you unlocked the iPad, familiarizing yourself with its layout before you located the radar app. With trembling fingers, you put the location into the search bar and waited for it to pull the correct screen up.

Seconds later, there it was. A large, red colored cloud moving over the map, indicating severe weather activity. Sapulpa wasn’t too far away. A fifteen-minute drive and you’d be there.

As Rhett drove, accelerating ten miles over the speed limit, you found yourself secretly hoping that you would not encounter a twister on this run. Maybe it would only be a storm. But you knew this area. You were more than familiar with the weather patterns here.

You looked up at the sky, noticing the angry gray clouds in the distance, roiling with thunder and lightning, full of raindrops, just waiting to unleash their fury upon the earth below.

It felt as if you were driving straight into the belly of the beast, and essentially, you were.

Forcing your eyes back down to the screen in your lap, you studied the radar, taking notice of the severe weather banner that had just popped up across the screen. In your pocket, your phone buzzed, and you didn’t have to look at it to know that a tornado warning had been issued for the area.

Oh, god.

“Y’ still with me?” Rhett’s voice pulled your attention to him.

“Yeah, I…I’m fine,” you lied right through your teeth. You glanced out the back window of the truck, and eyed the trailer full of nitrogen tanks, metal rattling loudly.

It was up to you and Rhett to get these tanks into position. You had to face the danger head-on, get ahead of the potential twister, and make the drop, all while trying to avoid being blown off course by the wind.

This was a suicide mission.

But you refused to back out, swallowing your terror and keeping a close eye on the radar. You were getting closer to the brewing storm. Although it was early morning and the sun had just begun to rise, it was eerily dark, clouds casting a shadow over the rolling plains.

As your gaze flickered to the fields that framed the stretch of highway, you watched the grass ripple in the wind. Without thinking, you moved to open the window, and a blast of humid air hit you in the face.

A flash of lightning tore through the sky, and seconds later, a deafening clap of thunder made you jump.

Beside you, Rhett eyed you briefly, unbeknownst to you. He was watching your body language, looking for any signs of distress. Just a few days ago, you’d sworn to him you couldn’t stomach the thought of chasing again. And now here you were, sitting beside him.

He questioned if you were ready for this. But you seemed fine, so he left it alone.

“How’s the radar lookin’?” He asked you.

You tore your gaze away from the sky, quickly pressing the button to shut the window before you looked at the screen. “It’s moving fast. Rain will probably hit soon.”

Before you even finished your sentence, the first few drops began pelting against the truck. Thunder rumbled. Your heart skipped a beat.

You could hear Zara speaking over the radio, but you were too busy focusing on the sky, searching for any sign of funnel activity. Your limbs buzzed with adrenaline. Your chest felt tight. Your breathing was rushed.

The rain gave way to hailstones, clattering against the truck, and the sky above took on a sickening green hue.

Sirens began to wail, a haunting sound that made you want to cover your ears. You hadn’t heard those sirens in so long. Hearing them now transported you back to the day you’d lost your dearest friends.

You could hear Rhett speaking your name, but he sounded so distant. You were too busy staring at the sky. And then the hail stopped, and aside from the sirens, the outside world was deafeningly quiet.

You thought your terror was going to swallow you whole.

“Talk to me!” Rhett finally exclaimed, grabbing your arm, pulling your attention to him. His eyes were wide, searching your face.

But before you could speak, a loud roar drowned out any possible conversation. You turned back to the window, and you saw it. A funnel protruding from the sky.

A twister had touched down.

Rhett stomped on the gas, headed east, trying to get ahead of the twister so the trailer could be put in place. You were frozen, staring up at the phenomenon, body cold with fright.

“I need you t’ stay with me, you hear?! You gotta keep an eye on it, I need to know where to drop the trailer!” He called out to you.

“O-okay!” You managed to shout back.

The truck moved faster and faster as Rhett fought to stay on track. You wanted to guide him. To communicate with him and tell him exactly what to do, where to go. But you couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. All you could see was that tornado, coming right at you. This was how your friends had died. Staring into the face of this vicious funnel.

Was this how you were going to die?

“Rhett.”

“Am I at a good distance?!”

Had he even heard you? “Stop.”

“Talk to me! Can I drop the trailer now?!”

“STOP!”

Rhett glanced at you and he saw the distress on your face. He knew what he had to do. “Shit,” he swore. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he made a split second decision and violently yanked the wheel to the left, veering off the road and into the cornfield on the other side.

He nearly lost control as the truck careened forward several miles, jostled against the uneven earth. You thrust your hands against the dashboard, fighting to hold yourself steady. The iPad in your lap went tumbling to the floor.

“Rhett! What’s going on?!” Jeslyn shouted over the radio.

He was too busy trying not to overturn the entire truck. When he slammed on the brakes, the force sent the entire trailer of nitrogen tanks on its side, snapping the hitch right off.

Your fight or flight response kicked in, and in a desperate attempt to escape the situation, you threw your door open, unable to spend another minute in the claustrophobic truck cab. Rhett yelled your name, but you didn’t hear him over the roar of the wind.

As soon as your feet hit the ground, you were running, eyes searching for a ditch or any sort of shelter. The wind whipped around you, its force pushing you along. You couldn’t see the twister over the high stalks of corn, but you didn’t need to see it to feel it.

Raw power, so overwhelming it took your breath away.

And then, all of a sudden, something solid collided with your back, and a pair of arms cinched around your waist. “Are you insane, girl?! Gon’ get yourself killed!” Rhett yelled over the storm.

You let out a shriek of surprise as he wrangled you to the ground, his body on top of yours, shielding you from the danger.

And then, all at once, everything went silent. You heard the sound of crying. It took you a moment to realize the sound was coming from you.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, I’ve got ya,” Rhett’s voice was in your ear, breathless and gruff. He moved to sit on the ground, pulling you up with him, tugging your body against his chest. You buried your face against the side of his neck and sobbed.

He held you tight, listening to you cry. The residual breeze from the storm blew through his hair. He’d lost his hat when he jumped out of the truck and ran after you, he realized. But that didn’t matter now. The danger was gone, but you were falling apart.

He should have known this was a bad idea. But you’d insisted you could handle it. And now he was cradling you in his arms as your tears soaked into the collar of his shirt. He remembered so vividly holding you this way when Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia had been killed. He was hit with a deeply rooted pain, blossoming through his chest as he relived the memory.

It still hurt just as badly as the day it happened. And here he thought he’d buried that grief long ago. It had been there all along, just waiting to rear its ugly head.

“It’s gon’ be okay,” he whispered against the top of your head. “I’m right here, you’re safe, nothin’ is gonna hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

You lifted your head to wail out, “I-I ruined it! I should have ne– never come!”

“No, darlin’. Y’ didn’t ruin anythin’,” he tried to reason.

“A-all of Zara’s hard work! It’s messed up because of me!” You were spiraling, filled with regret. This had been such a colossal mistake.

At that moment, voices could be heard in the distance. Rhett lifted his head, listening. He could hear his name and yours being called. Thank god the rest of the team was alright.

“Found ‘em!” It was Danny’s voice, full of panic as he burst through the wall of cornstalks, eyes wide. “Holy shit, are you guys alright?!” He slid to a halt, lowering to his knees beside you both.

Behind him, Finn, Zara, and Jeslyn all appeared, looking just as disheveled and frightened.

“Oh my god, what happened?!” Zara exclaimed. She eyed your trembling form, crying into Rhett’s shoulder, and her face softened.

Rhett caught her gaze. The two shared unspoken communication. She knew what he was trying to convey with just his face. You hadn’t been ready for this.

You managed to bring yourself to look into Zara’s face, tears streaking down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come with you guys.”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize,” she said, reaching out to touch your shoulder. “You’re safe, that’s what matters.”

You shook your head, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “No, I…I ruined everything, I’m so sorry.”

Finn and Danny stepped away to check on the equipment, while Zara and Jeslyn remained with you and Rhett.

“No, honey. You didn’t ruin everything. Trust me, those tanks are fine,” Jeslyn assured you. Her eyes were kind, and her voice was gentle.

Thunder boomed overhead again, and you jumped, pressing yourself even closer to Rhett. He held you just a little tighter. You were safe with him. He would make sure of that.

“Everything looks alright!” The sound of Finn’s voice carried over the field as he and Danny jogged back over. “The hitch snapped, but we can fix it. I figure Rhett can weld it back on since it’s his truck and all.”

“Yeah, it ain’t a big deal to fix,” Rhett replied.

“Tanks are okay too, they even stayed in the trailer, nothing fell out.” Finn looked at you, making sure to catch your eye. “No harm, no foul.”

“It was a quick twister anyway, not even that big. We probably wouldn’t have been able to get the tanks open fast enough as it was, so it really isn’t a big deal that we didn’t get ‘em into position. Don’t beat yourself up,” came Zara’s words.

Sniffling, you managed a nod. You were deeply grateful for everyone’s kindness and understanding. You still felt terrible, however. Part of you felt like a scared little child, and you hated it. You were angry at yourself for being unable to handle it.

“So what’s the plan now? We gotta get those tanks back to Rhett’s place, plus it’s gonna downpour any minute, so we should probably work fast,” you heard Danny say. “There could end up being another twister in the area if the storm keeps at it.”

As the girls and guys put together a plan, you tried to calm yourself down. Rhett hadn’t let you go yet, choosing to remain on the ground with you curled safely against him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Hey, look at me.”

You brought your eyes to his. The blue was so intense, it nearly took your breath away.

“Don’t go sayin’ you’re sorry. You got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“I just kept thinking about that day, and I…I froze,” you whispered, throat tight with a knot of emotion. “I was so stupid to think I could do it.”

“At least you tried, alright? That’s what matters. Nobody expects you t’ just jump right back into it after all these years.”

“I know, I just–”

“No, don’t you start spiralin’ on me, y’hear? Stop beatin’ yourself up about it. Nobody got hurt, and that’s what we all care about at the end of the day. When it comes down to it, if I’ve gotta choose between makin’ sure you’re safe, or stoppin’ a twister, I’m gonna choose you every damn time.”

His words made your chest grow warm, and your bottom lip quivered. He hadn’t changed in all this time. He was just as caring as ever.

When you threw your arms around his neck to hug him, he hugged you right back, rocking you from side to side before he finally released you. Cool drops of rain began to fall from the sky, interrupting your moment.

Quickly, Rhett stood, reaching for your hand to pull you to your feet. “C’mon, let’s get to the truck.” With his hand still wrapped around yours, he pulled you along, and you ran back through the field to the place where he’d stopped the truck.

When you reached the old Sierra, the team was just finishing putting all the nitrogen tanks in the back of the truck. It appeared that Danny and Finn had managed to jury-rig the trailer so that Rhett could get it back home.

Hurriedly, Rhett guided you into the truck in an effort to shield you from the rain, slamming the door shut and stopping only for a moment to talk to the guys before they parted ways. He jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine, maneuvering through the field and back out onto the main road.

The drive back home was silent, save for the sound of rain pounding against the roof of the truck. You stared out the window, still upset at the way you had reacted.

“You don’t have to hold up your end of the deal now, since I couldn’t hold up mine,” you finally told Rhett, referring to the promise he’d made to ride in the rodeo that weekend.

But he shook his head. “Nah, you still did, even if ya didn’t hold out for the whole thing. If you had to face somethin’ that scares you, it’s only fair that I do it too. I’m gonna get on a bull this weekend, because that’s what I said I’d do.”

You let out a breath. “Well, I’ll be in the stands cheering you on then.”

“Jus’ like old times, huh?”

“Yeah…like old times.”

You were choosing not to dwell on the fact that during ‘old times’1, you’d felt his blood seep through your fingers as you fought to keep him alive after that bull had driven a horn into his stomach. That was a freak occurrence. It wouldn’t happen this time around.

At least, that’s what you hoped.

Later that morning, you arrived back on the Abbott farm, feeling weary from the adrenaline crash, as well as the lack of sleep from the night before. Once Rhett stopped in the driveway, you stumbled out of the truck and onto the red dirt.

The sky was gray, indicating that the storm was following you, and would surely dump buckets of rain on the property. It seemed to have calmed down, so it didn’t appear as if it would turn into anything serious. You knew your poor nerves could not handle another twister that day.

The team converged as you headed toward the porch, but you paused when you heard Danny speaking to Rhett. He was trying to keep his voice low so you wouldn’t hear, but you caught it anyway. “There’s more damage than we thought. Specifically to the wiring on the trailer. It’s gonna take longer to fix,” he explained.

You felt an aching pang in your chest. This was all your fault.

You didn’t stick around to hear what Rhett had to say. You simply trudged up the porch steps and into the house. You just wanted to be alone, but to your dismay, Cecilia was in the home office, which had a full view of the entryway you were currently in.

She saw the bleak look on your face, and she immediately rose from her seat at the desk. “Honey, what happened?”

Her concern was what broke you. Instantly, more tears welled up in your eyes, and your shoulders shook as a sob left your throat. Without hesitation, she came to your aid, wrapping her arms around you. “Hey now, you’re gonna be just fine.”

You didn’t believe that.

When Rhett stepped into the house, he took in the sight of his mother comforting you, and he spared her a saddened glance. She nodded in understanding, though no words were shared between the two of them. He headed into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee, deciding it best to give you space.

A few minutes later, after you finally excused yourself to head upstairs and get some rest, Cecilia joined her son in the kitchen.

Rhett stood at the sink, idly stirring his coffee as he stared out into the water-washed scene unfolding outside the kitchen window. “She wasn’t ready, Mom,” he murmured.

“I can see that,” she replied. “What happened out there? Radio said a twister touched down.”

“It did. We were tryin’ to get in range so we could drop the tanks. But as soon as it touched down she started panicking. Like full-on hyperventilatin’. I had to swerve off the road and as soon as I stopped, she jumped out. Scared me to death. Thought the twister was gonna take her from me.”

Saying those words sent his heart quickening in his chest. He had to face the fact that he still cared so deeply for you, and couldn’t stomach the thought of losing you.

“Glad you both made it outta there safely,” Cecilia murmured, moving to pour herself her second cup of coffee for the day. “Just give her time, Rhett.”

“I will,” he agreed. He downed the rest of the bitter liquid in his mug before he set the ceramic in the sink. “Gon’ go out and fix some of the stuff that got damaged in the twister. We won’t be goin’ out again for a bit, not ‘til we get everythin’ up and runnin’ again.”

He said this to give his mother peace of mind. He knew how much she worried whenever he went out on a chase. The fear of losing her boy was a very real one.

Meanwhile, you were curled up in bed, curtains drawn, swathing the room in darkness. You hoped you would be able to get some sleep, but you were wide awake, mind racing a mile a minute. So, instead of wallowing in self-pity, you forced yourself to get up. Might as well busy yourself to get your mind off of things.

You decided to head to your great-aunt’s house to continue your cleaning project. As you ambled outside, you caught sight of Rhett, Danny, and Finn in the barn, working on getting the trailer repaired. Grimacing, you averted your eyes and instead climbed into your car.

For the next few days, you avoided Rhett, because you felt so terrible about the entire debacle. But there was never any judgment in his eyes when he looked upon you. He truly did not blame you for what had happened.

In the end, he was the one who came to you, unable to deal with your withdrawn demeanor. He approached you one morning as you were getting ready to leave.

“Hey, I, uh, was wonderin’...I know you’ve got a lot of stuff to haul outta your aunt’s house. Want some help? I can bring my truck.”

You began to protest. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he insisted. “Y’ shouldn’t have to do it all by yourself.”

He looked so earnest, his eyes pleading, his mouth curved into a hopeful smile. How could you say no to him? “Okay, sure. Why not?”

He tried not to appear too eager, but it was written all over his face. “Alrighty, I’ll bring the truck ‘round!”

That was how you found yourself in the passenger seat of the Sierra again, happy that you were headed somewhere that didn’t involve a raging storm that could potentially kill you both.

When you arrived at the house, you led Rhett up to the porch, where you stopped to retrieve the spare key from beneath the welcome mat.

“Some things never change,” he murmured upon seeing you locate the key. “She always kept that key there, didn’t she?”

You smiled as you unlocked the door. “She did.”

As you stepped into the house, Rhett paused in the entryway to glance around. A lot had changed since you’d arrived. Many things were packed away in boxes. But it still held a nostalgic feel.

“Remember when she’d let us crash here in between chases?” He asked.

How could you forget? “Do I ever. Those were the days.”

You remembered so vividly, curling up in sleeping bags around the living room floor, too excited to sleep, knowing a storm cell could be developing at any moment. Oh, to be young and naive again, endowed with a feeling of invincibility.

“So…weather analyzin’. How’s that treatin’ ya?” Rhett continued in an effort to kill any awkward silence.

You shrugged as you set about organizing the kitchen, motioning for him to get involved. “Pretty well. I actually really like it.”

“Yeah? Must be a lot cushier than facin’ the storms head-on. At least you got a screen separatin’ you from all the destruction.”

“Yep. It’s a lot safer, that’s for sure.”

“How’s livin’ in Silver Spring?”

“I can say we don’t get many twisters. Which I’m happy about.”

“Guess that’s a plus,” came his response.

You opened up the pantry, preparing to sort through all the food that remained there. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Rhett said as he grabbed the box of garbage bags you silently pointed to.

You continued speaking as he placed the box in your hand. “How’d you meet Zara and all them? They all went to OU together. You’re the odd man out.”

He smirked. “What, think a dumb hick like me can’t hang around educated folk?”

You rolled your eyes as you opened one of the garbage bags. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I know,” he assured you. “Actually, Zara heard about us. She read the news stories about what happened. She got a hold of me a couple years ago and started askin’ questions. Wanted to see if I’d like to get involved with her project. So I said, why the hell not? She introduced me to her team and had me come to OU to see how their setup worked.”

“You got to see it in action?” You were intrigued.

“Yeah. Jeslyn’s pretty fuckin’ brilliant when it comes to building things. She and Danny and Finn are the ones that put together a machine that can simulate a twister. Zara used a tank of nitrogen to stop the twister. Obviously it ain’t the same as the real thing, but I thought it was pretty damn cool. Figured I didn’t have much to lose, so I teamed up with ‘em, and we’ve been workin’ together ever since.”

“Have you guys been testing out the nitrogen stuff for very long?”

“It ain’t been field tested, if that’s what you mean. We’re tryin’ to see if it works on an actual twister first. After that, Zara wants to get a grant so she can start testin’ on a larger scale. Plus, Danny and Finn are workin’ on this new radar equipment, once it’s ready we’re gonna take it out on a chase with us. The idea is that it’ll help us track storm cells better, and hopefully let us know what we’re up against faster.”

“Huh, I didn’t know they were working on that,” you mused, intrigued.

“Yeah, they’ve been puttin’ it together for months now. I think they don’t wanna jinx it, so they haven’t said anything. But Finn just told me the other day that it’ll probably be ready for the next chase we go on.”

“Wow. They’re all weather geniuses.” Knowing they were doing so much sent a pang of deep longing through your chest.

Part of you wished you were doing more than sitting behind a screen at work, watching the weather ravage the country, unable to do anything more but issue warnings and hope for the best. If only you had the guts to actually get out there and take action against the phenomenon that had taken your friends from you.

“They sure are,” Rhett agreed. “Sometimes I feel pretty damn inadequate because I’m just a farm boy from Oklahoma. But they still wanna hang with the likes of me, for whatever reason.”

“Because you’re pretty great,” you heard yourself say. You hadn’t meant to speak it aloud.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he smiled a crooked smile, the apples of his cheeks rounding.

In an effort to change the subject, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did anyone talk to Beau about you riding this weekend? After what happened on Monday I, uh, was so frazzled that I forgot to track him down.”

“Zara talked to him. Said she wasn’t gonna let me get out of it so easy. So, I’m on track to ride after the rest of the contestants. Beau said it was gon’ be an honorary thing, ‘cause apparently it’s been ten years on the dot since I rode last.”

Ten years. Had it really been that long? So much had happened since then, it felt like both a lifetime and no time at all had passed.

“Are you nervous?” You questioned.

He shrugged, suddenly finding an old box of crackers very interesting, avoiding your gaze. “Kinda.”

He was scared to death, you realized. You could see it in his eyes. But he was pushing himself to do this. At this point, it wasn’t just because he’d made a deal with you. It was because he wanted to prove to himself that he could do it. That he could face his fears and come out on the other side. Perhaps not unscathed, but a better person because of it.

“You’re gonna do great,” you assured him, offering a vote of confidence.

“Sure hope so.”

The rest of the morning carried on with quiet conversation as you worked to clear out the kitchen. A few hours later, you were feeling accomplished, and hungry. So Rhett offered to take you to the diner in town for lunch.

That was how you found yourself sitting in a booth across from him, a spread of food between you both. You reminisced about the past, talking about times before everything had fallen apart. Good memories that you could both share laughter over.

You found yourself gazing at Rhett, at his easy smile and his sparkling eyes, illuminated by the early afternoon light shining through the windows, and you were transported back to a time when you were so in love with him. A time when you promised him you would be his forever.

“You listenin’?” His voice, low and velvety, pulled you back to reality.

“I…I’m sorry, I was distracted,” you sheepishly replied.

He looked at you, brow pulling together, as if he knew you’d been admiring him. But he didn’t acknowledge it. “I was askin’ if you wanted to get outta here and head back to the farm.”

“Oh, um, sure. Yeah, let’s get back.”

With that, he opened his wallet and pulled out some cash for a tip before he stood to his feet. You followed suit, and once he’d paid for the meal, you made your way back out to the truck. Things were comfortable between the two of you again. The events that had happened earlier that week during the chase faded into the background, nothing more than a memory.

You were glad you had agreed to let him come and help you. It had cleared the air and made way for your friendship to continue blossoming, slowly repairing after so much time apart.

The rest of the week went by in a breeze. You kept busy with working in your aunt’s house, allowing Rhett to tag along when he had the chance to. When he wasn’t with you, he was working alongside his father on the farm, or he was repairing the trailer so it could be reattached to the hitch on his truck.

Strangely enough, the weather had calmed down, despite it being storm season. There had been some rain showers here and there, but no storms, and no twisters, either. You were glad, because you weren’t sure if your poor nerves could handle another storm that week.

You were glad for the lighthearted distraction of going to the rodeo. You hadn’t been to one in such a long time. You were looking forward to all the sights and sounds. Aside from Rhett’s near fatal injury, you had nothing but good memories of attending rodeos.

You couldn’t help but catch on to the joy emanating from Amy at the prospect of watching her uncle ride a bull. She was over the moon about it. She had never seen him ride before, as she hadn’t even been born yet when he was still competing. All she knew about that time of his life was through the stories that he and her grandparents had told her.

“Hey! You wanna help me make a sign for uncle Rhett?” The girl asked you as you came downstairs that Saturday morning.

You could see that she had all of her supplies ready, spread out across her grandmother’s office floor. An assortment of colored markers, glitter glue, paint, and poster board. You couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness.

“Sure! Let me get a cup of coffee and I’ll come help,” you told her.

Her eyes went wide with excitement and she bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yay! Okay, I’ll be in here waiting for you!” She said, scurrying into the office.

Her childlike wonder warmed your heart. You were happy you’d agreed to stay at the Abbotts, if only for the whimsy Amy brought to the experience. Her personality was almost too big for her small body. It was clear that she was the greatest joy in both her grandparent's and Rhett’s lives.

You were more than happy to help her make a sign for the rodeo. After you poured yourself a cup of coffee, you settled on the hardwood floor of the office, right beside Amy. She handed you different supplies and even allowed you to write the words she wanted to say on the poster board.

“You write better than me, so I want you to do it. I want the words to be really big, so Uncle Rhett can see ‘em!” She explained.

“Okay, what do you want me to write?”

“I was thinking ‘you got this Uncle Rhett!’”

“I like it!”

You settled into the carefree fun of making a glittery rodeo sign, enjoying Amy’s creative little touches here and there as she added stickers and designs.

Halfway through, the screen door squealed open, and Amy jumped up in a panic when she realized it was Rhett.

“What’re you gals up to?” He asked as he strolled into the house.

“Don’t come in here!” Amy cried, rushing to push him away. “We’re workin’ on a top secret surprise!”

His brows shot up, and he stole a glance at you, currently holding the poster board at an angle so he couldn’t see what it said. “Oh yeah? You in cahoots with my niece now?” He asked you, smile playing on his lips.

“Maybe,” came your playful response. “Don’t go spoiling your surprise now. We’ll let you see it later.”

His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Alright, alright. I’m goin’,” he said as he held his hands up in surrender.

You kept the sign hidden until you knew for certain he’d gone upstairs. Amy bounded back over to you, pretending to wipe sweat from her brow as she exclaimed, “Whew! That was close.”

“Let’s hurry and finish it so we can hide it until later,” you suggested, voice hushed and playfully urgent.

The girl agreed, and you both set to work, hurriedly finishing up the sign. Once you were done, you put it in an inconspicuous place, hidden away from Rhett’s prying eyes. As you helped Amy put all her art supplies away, you were struck with a warm feeling, blossoming through your chest. Here you were, making signs to cheer Rhett on, anticipating his ride later that night, just like you used to not too long ago.

You were always his biggest fan at the rodeo, that was for certain. You’d made many a sign in your day, with his name scrawled across the poster board, decorated with curlicues and glitter. You never thought it was something you’d be doing again. Oh, how things had changed. In the short time that you’d been here, your fondness for Rhett had returned. You supposed it had never left, to begin with. It had just been lying dormant for six years.

You should have known the blue-eyed cowboy would win you over again. You never could resist him.

Later on that day, as evening time approached, the excitement was palpable. Amy was bubbling with it, and it was rubbing off on everyone else. Zara, Jeslyn, Finn, and Danny arrived at the house to wish Rhett good luck before his ride.

Cecilia was fretting, making sure Royal and Amy were ready, never one to be late to anything. Royal was amused at her behavior, and you caught him smiling fondly at her, a glimmer in his eyes. He, too, was eager to see his son ride, he just had a much different way of showing it.

He never could fully accept that Rhett had walked away from riding. In fact, there had been a time when he was even disappointed in the boy for doing so.

Royal himself had once been on top of his game as a bull rider, when he was but a young man. He had suffered many injuries during his time in the riding circuit, but he’d always gotten back on the bull. He had chastised Rhett for quitting, and although he never said it, part of him felt that his son was too soft. He needed to toughen up and get back in the ring.

It had been a point of contention between father and son, but they had since moved past it. However, now that Rhett was getting on the back of a bull again, Royal was very pleased. He might even go as far as to admit that he was proud.

Rhett, on the other hand, was riddled with anxiety. He remembered so clearly the way he used to feel before a ride. It was as if electricity was thrumming through his veins, driving his every movement. It was deliciously exhilarating. But now, all he felt was fear.

He kept replaying the night of his injury. It was just a freak incident. It wouldn’t happen again. But there was still the question of “what if?” in the back of his mind. He didn’t remember the pain he felt when it happened. He’d been too hyped up on adrenaline. It was almost an out-of-body experience. As if he wasn’t the one being gored by a bull. That was someone else. Another unlucky rider.

Even as he stumbled backward, his body colliding with the sand beneath him, it wasn’t real. It was a dream. A figment of his imagination. Until he was being dragged to safety and you were above him, voice filled with terror as you begged him to stay with you. That was when reality hit him like a ton of bricks, and the pain began to radiate throughout his entire body.

But that was then. This was now. Things were different. He’d long since healed from his injury, though its scar remained, a constant reminder of what he had endured. But after losing his brother and sister-in-law, along with one of his dearest friends, he had learned that oftentimes, the pain of grief was far worse than any sort of physical pain.

If he had been able to survive the agony of loss, then he could survive a brief ride on an angry bull.

Having the people he loved most there to cheer him on made it a little easier to stomach the thought of riding. But most of all, having you there was the most wonderful part.

“You’re gonna do great. We’ll all be cheering you on the whole time,” you assured him, voice soft, as you shared a moment alone.

He mustered a smile, humming lowly. “Y’really think I can do it?”

“I know you can.”

Your vote of confidence meant the world to him. It was his driving force as he climbed into his truck and headed to the rodeo grounds. He was going to be just fine.

Later that night, you were all arriving at the rodeo, spirits high as you all climbed out of your respective vehicles. You’d ridden with Royal, Cecilia, and Amy in the beat up old Ranger that had been in the family for years.

As soon as you climbed out of the truck, Amy was pulling you along, talking a mile a minute. “C’mon! We have to get some kettle corn before it starts!” She urged. She waved the rest of the group along.

You all found yourselves in line for the aforementioned kettle corn. The different food smells transported you to rodeos past, and the pressing weight of nostalgia took your breath away.

“How you doing?” Came the voice of Zara, who stood behind you in line.

You turned, offering her a smile. “I’m okay! Kinda nervous for Rhett, but I know he’ll do great.”

She nodded in agreement. “Oh yeah, he’ll be just fine. I’ve never seen him ride before, so I can’t wait! He tells us all stories sometimes about his riding days. It’ll be cool to finally see him in action.”

“He was awesome,” you told her, “really, he had such a knack for it. I’m glad he’s getting back out there, even if it’s only for one night.”

“Yeah. It’s brave of him, I think. Facing his fears and all that.”

“It is.” Or maybe it was foolish. Either way, it was happening, and you were going to support him if it was the last thing you did.

Once everyone had their own respective snacks, you all followed Royal and Cecilia up to the stands. The voices of those around you overlapped. Fragments of conversations. Old friends catching up. Church ladies gossiping. Young girls giggling over the cute cowboys who would be riding that night.

You took your seat, eyes flickering across the ring, searching for any sign of Rhett behind the gates. Your belly was fluttering with butterflies. Your heart was racing. Your palms were sweaty. When it came time to stand for the National Anthem, you could hardly sing along, voice coming out shaky and breathless.

The late spring air was cool against your heated skin, but you hardly noticed it, hand swiping at your forehead where perspiration had begun to form. As you sat back down after the anthem, you felt Cecilia’s hand on your arm.

She shot you a reassuring smile, but you could see the wariness in her eyes. She was worried, too. “He’ll be fine,” she said, more so to convince herself.

You nodded. “Yeah, he will be.”

Then the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Good evenin’, Amelia County! We’ve got a fantastic lineup for y’all tonight!” He began listing the names of the boys who would be riding in the circuit. “We’re changin’ things up a little with an honorary ride. Want you to give a warm welcome to Rhett Abbott, Wabang native, who used to ride regularly in our rodeos! He’ll be closin’ out the circuit for us tonight with a final ride. So sit back, relax, and get ready to cheer on our riders! Let the fun begin!”

His choice of words was amusing. Watching bull riding was the least relaxing thing out there.

“We have to wait for everyone to go before we can even see him ride?” Amy complained.

You were inclined to agree with her dismay. Your anxiety was only going to increase as time passed. You knew you wouldn’t be able to focus on any other riders because you would be too busy thinking about him.

With each contestant that was called up, your anticipation mounted. You tuned out the rest of the crowd. All the voices, all the sounds, the reverberation of the loudspeakers. None of it mattered.

You used to be behind those gates, when you were working in the first aid tent. You’d witnessed Rhett’s pre-ride jitters more times than you could count. He would often seek you out for comfort. He loved when you’d come up to him and wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head against his back. It would always ground him.

He didn’t have that now. He was behind those gates by himself. Part of you wished you were back there with him, but you quickly pushed that thought aside. He was a grown man, he could handle it alone.

You instead tried your best to focus on each rider, attempting to enjoy the rodeo.

Subconsciously, you were counting down the minutes until Rhett’s ride.

Much to your relief, it all went by quickly, and before you even realized it, it was time for him to come out. Beside you, Amy jumped to her feet and held up her sign, hoping to get his attention as he climbed into the chute. You leaned forward in your seat, and at that very moment, he lifted his head, and locked eyes with you.

You gave him a reassuring smile, placing your hand over your heart. He nodded, and then bowed his head. Sitting atop a creature teeming with virile energy sent his pulse pounding in his ears.

He was surrounded by handlers, all making sure he was securely in place. Some of these guys he’d known his entire life. A few had even worked alongside him when he was still riding regularly.

“Y’ready, son?” One of them asked. Jason McGowan.

Rhett let out a breath, shifting his gaze straight ahead. His gloved hand was wrapped securely in the rope beneath him, keeping him in place. The animal he was seated upon shifted, snorting loudly, growing antsy and impatient.

“As I’ll ever be,” Rhett murmured. His chest felt tight. His thighs were trembling. Was he even strong enough to hold on for this? Could he really do it?

He counted down in his head. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Then he nodded, and in a split second, the chute burst open, and he was lurching forward as the bull jumped out into the ring. The beast writhed and roared beneath him, bucking furiously, tossing him about like a rag doll.

In the stands, you shot to your feet, holding your breath as you stared at Rhett. Come on, come on, come on. He held on for dear life, free arm in the air. The clock was ticking, but you never dared to glance at it. You would not take your eyes off of him.

Cecilia grabbed your arm again. You held tightly to her, both of you watching your boy, silently praying for him to succeed.

Just a little longer. You can do it.

And then he let go. His body sailed through the air, and he hit the dirt, but he kept running, stumbling away from the raging animal as a pair of rodeo clowns directed the bull’s attention elsewhere.

Rhett straightened, shoulders squared as his eyes flickered up to the large screen to see his time. His name soared to the top of the scoreboard.

He had the best time of the night.

Around him, the crowd went wild. But he didn’t care about any of them. Frantically, he searched for you, electric blue filled with pride and shock all at once. He finally saw you, cheering for him at the top of your lungs, screaming his name from the stands. He swore he could hear you. Over everyone, there was your voice, praising him, calling for him.

His cheeks were wet, and he realized there were tears pouring down his face.

But he was grinning, teeth flashing white, beaming in the golden light cast upon him.

I did it. I fuckin’ did it.

He wasn’t sure when his legs started moving, but before he knew it, he was running, boots kicking up sand as he threw himself over the barricade separating the stands from the ring. He took the steps two at a time, making a beeline for you.

Your beautiful face was full of adoration, and the moment you saw him coming at you, you pushed your way through the crowd, nearly tripping over your own feet as you rushed to meet him. You heard whistles and cheers around you, friends and strangers alike urging you both on.

As soon as you reached each other, he was throwing his arms around your waist, crushing you to him. You laughed musically, despite the tears that were running from your eyes. You held him tightly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head.

“I did it,” he whispered in your ear. Then he laughed. “I did it, honeybee!”

You pulled back to gaze into his beautiful face. Honeybee. Oh, how you’d missed that nickname. “You did, Rhett,” you echoed. “I’m so proud of you.”

He lingered, shining eyes locked with your own. The surrounding activity faded into the background, and it felt as if you were the only two people in the entire world. You were suddenly very aware of the warmth of his body against yours. The feeling of his chest heaving in time with his breaths. The beating of his heart. If only for a moment, you were transported back to a time when you were so in love.

It hit you like a punch to the gut, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs in one fell swoop.

Oh my god, I’m still in love with him.

You let go of him as if you’d been stung, and before he could react, he was flooded with congratulatory hugs and pats on the back. You faded into the background and watched him receive showers of attention. But you were reeling, trying to process the emotions swirling through you, much like the tornadoes you used to chase.

What were you going to do with this knowledge? You supposed it had always been there. From the moment you saw him when you returned to Wabang, the feelings that had been dormant for six years were brought back to the surface.

You were supposed to have moved on. But the truth was, you never had.

You couldn’t do anything about it. It felt like the worst possible time to realize you loved him. You had a job and a life back in Maryland. You couldn’t make a relationship work with him, even if you wanted to.

It was no surprise that you found yourself in the parking lot, wanting to be away from the crowd. Wanting space. If you’d driven yourself to the rodeo, you would already be leaving. But you were dependent on other people to get you back to the Abbott's. And you certainly weren’t about to walk back by yourself.

Instead, you found yourself leaning against Royal’s truck, your mind moving a million miles a minute. Why couldn’t you just move on? You’d had plenty of time to do so. What was it about Rhett that rendered you unable to let him go?

He was your first love. Your only love. You had tried dating other people, but nothing had worked out. You always chalked it up to you having high standards, but you realized that perhaps all this time, it had never worked with other people because you were still in love with Rhett.

What a predicament to be in.

You were still reeling slightly by the time the rodeo was over. It wasn’t long until you heard the sound of familiar voices. Amy’s voice rang out over the parking lot as she praised her uncle.

“You were so awesome! I knew you would be! You looked so cool on top of that bull!” She rambled on.

Rhett was grinning, face flushed, as he tugged Amy into his side for a hug. “Thank y’, Ames,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

“The kid’s right, you knocked it outta the park, man,” you heard Danny say as he clapped Rhett on the back. Everyone else chimed in with their own two cents.

You pushed yourself off of the truck and came into the light, integrating yourself back into the group. You wondered if any of them had noticed your absence.

“I think we should go out for ice cream to celebrate,” Finn suggested, at which Amy turned to her grandmother with wide, pleading eyes.

“Please, Gramma, can we?!” She begged, folding her hands beneath her chin.

Cecilia relented, a smile on her face as she leaned over and patted Rhett’s back. “Since it’s not a school night, why not?”

As Amy clapped in excitement, Rhett lifted his head, and he caught you looking at him. You held his gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he opened his mouth, as if to say something, but his attention was pulled away again by the sudden weight of Royal’s hand on his back.

A wordless “I’m proud of you, son.”

Rhett didn’t get to speak to you until after you’d all settled in at Marigold’s Ice Cream Parlor. After everyone had ordered their respective ice creams and milkshakes, and you stood nearby with two scoops of chocolate in a small cup, he approached you.

He had a cone of rocky road, his all-time favorite ice cream flavor. “Hey there,” he murmured, speaking lowly. He’d taken his hat off and left it in the truck, and he now sported a head of hat hair.

“Hi,” you answered. You suddenly felt like a pair of shy teenagers.

“Are y’alright?”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” You didn’t mean to sound defensive, but that was how it came out.

Rhett shrugged, licking at his ice cream. “I dunno, you ran off after my ride. You looked kinda panicked. Just thought I’d check on ya and make sure you were alright.”

Should you tell him? Would it be foolish to do so? “Well, I…”

“Hey Rhett, c’mere!” Jeslyn’s voice suddenly sounded across the parlor, cutting you off, and he glanced over. She was waving at him, encouraging him to hurry.

“One sec!” He responded before he turned back to you, expectant.

“Sorry…sorry, yeah, I’m totally fine. The crowd was just a lot.”

You could tell he didn’t quite believe you. “Okay. Just, uh, just wanted to make sure.” He offered an endearing smile, and your heart clenched in your chest. “Anyway, you wan’ come join us?”

You nodded and followed him to the table where everyone was seated. You found yourself sitting between him and Danny, and if only for a little while, you pushed aside all the stressors and uncertainties and allowed yourself to melt into the lighthearted atmosphere created around that table in the little family-owned ice cream parlor.

You found yourself laughing along with Rhett’s family and friends, listening to stories and anecdotes, sitting through Amy’s dramatic retelling of an anime she’d watched. You realized that you felt like you belonged here. As if this was where you were always meant to be. Your story was supposed to intersect with the stories of those around you.

Your life was always supposed to intersect with Rhett’s.

No matter where you went, or how far you ran, he would always be part of you. He was ingrained in your bones. In the very cell makeup of your being. The red string of fate tied you together for all eternity.

It was time you accepted that, and stopped trying to escape it.

So you chose not to fight it anymore. You let yourself care about him. Let yourself love him. And perhaps somewhere along the way, you would find it in yourself to tell him how you felt.

For now, you relished in the peace you felt with these people. And as you followed Royal, Cecilia, and Amy back out to the truck after your ice cream was long finished, you felt at ease for the first time in…well, as long as you could remember.

Maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

That night, you found yourself in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of herbal tea to help relax your body, which was tense and sore from the events of the last several days. As you idly dipped the chamomile sachet in the mug full of hot water, you were alerted to the sound of the front door opening.

You turned to find Rhett stepping into the house. He’d come home around the same time you had, but he’d remained outside for a while, tinkering in the barn with the nitrogen trailer. It was completely repaired, and he was eager to get it back on the road for another chase soon.

As he toed his boots off quietly, he was made aware of your presence, and he offered you a sleepy smile. “Hey. Didn’t know anyone was still awake,” he murmured, socked feet padding against the floor as he walked into the kitchen.

“I couldn’t really sleep,” you replied, “figured I’d make some tea. Want some?”

He shook his head as he opened the fridge, leaning down to glance at its contents. “Naw. Ain’t a tea guy, remember?”

You couldn’t help but smile. Of course you remembered. The only tea he liked was sweet iced tea. Instead, he pulled a jug of milk from the fridge and poured himself a glass. You longed to occupy the silence, so you spoke.

“You were great tonight.”

He took a swig of milk and then gazed into his glass, swirling it in his hand. Then he looked at you, bashful smile on his face. “Thanks.”

“Think you’ll do it again?”

At that, he scoffed. “Hell no. I loved it, I gotta admit. But my arms and legs are so fuckin’ sore right now. I’m too old for it. My days of bull wranglin’ are over, that’s for damn sure.” He downed the rest of his milk before he set the glass in the sink. While he gazed out the window into the night, he continued. “Storm chasin’ is my calling now.”

You hummed softly, eyes falling to a random spot on the floor. You toed it with your slipper-clad foot. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

He turned to face you. “It wasn’t. But I’m glad I did it. Showed me I can face m’ fears and still come out stronger on the other side.”

“Yeah,” you quietly agreed. His words struck something in you. A strange ache in your chest. A yearning for something.

He pushed away from the sink, how forehead crinkling as he raised his brows. “Welp, I’m gon’ jump in the shower and head to bed. See ya in the mornin’, girl.”

Before he could leave, you called out to him. “Rhett?”

He paused in the doorway of the kitchen, the orange glow of the counter lamp casting shadows over his handsome face. “Yeah?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you considered what you were about to say. “At the rodeo, after your ride, you, um, you called me honeybee.”

He hesitated, his body language stiffening slightly. “Oh, I did?” He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Didn’t realize it.”

If the light had been brighter, you might’ve seen the tips of his ears turn pink.

“What I’m trying to say is, I…I liked it.”

His sheepishness gave way into a small, crooked smile. “In that case, I meant t’say it then.”

You couldn’t hide your own smile. “Reminds me of…” You trailed off.

“Before. I know,” he agreed.

You took a step forward. The words were on the tip of your tongue. The realization you’d come to when he held you in his arms after his ride. You could confess it to him. Tell him everything.

“Uncle Rhett?” Suddenly, the small, tired voice of Amy cut through the tension in the air.

The spell was broken. Rhett turned, seeking out the source of the voice. “What’s wrong, Ames?” He asked, moving to her aid.

“I just need a glass of water.”

He stepped toward the staircase and held his hand out to her. “C’mon. Let’s get ya some water.”

He guided the girl into the kitchen, and you took that as your opportunity to sneak out while he tended to her. When he turned to look for you, you were gone.

With your tea in hand, you crept up the stairs, careful not to spill any of the hot liquid as you went. When you made it to Rhett’s room, you set the cup down on the dresser and hurried to shut the door behind you.

Letting out a breath, you closed your eyes. You had almost admitted everything to him right there in the middle of his kitchen. Part of you was glad for Amy’s interruption, while the other part was upset.

You knew your feelings would come out into the open sooner or later.

But you also had some other things to consider now. More than just rekindling feelings for your first love.

What Rhett said had struck you. Face your fears and come out stronger on the other side.

You still had a deal to carry out, after all. If he could face years of trauma and fear and live to tell the tale, so could you.

You made your decision. You knew exactly what you needed to do. It was time to stop running from the danger, and instead, run toward it.

The next morning, you woke to the sun streaming in through the window. It was Sunday morning, which meant Cecilia would be rushing about, getting ready for church. You allowed yourself a few moments in bed, staring up at the ceiling, before you finally swung your legs over the edge and stretched.

You quickly readied yourself for the day, throwing on some clean clothes before you padded across the hall to brush your teeth. You could hear activity happening downstairs, and the smell of breakfast cooking reached your nose.

Eager to join everyone, you finished your routine and then scurried down the squeaky old steps. In the kitchen, you found Rhett, Royal, and Amy all around the table as Cecilia flitted about the kitchen, finishing breakfast preparations.

Rhett saw you first, and his face broke into a smile, eyes glimmering in the golden sunlight that streamed in through the window over the sink. “G’mornin’,” he greeted.

Amy’s head popped up, and she grinned at the sight of you. “Oh, good! You’re up!” She exclaimed, rushing over to take your hand and usher you to the table. You giggled at her eagerness, and you didn’t miss the fact that she guided you to sit in the open chair next to Rhett.

“Mornin’, hon,” Cecilia called out as she stepped over to the table with a skillet full of bacon. “Get yourself a plate and have some breakfast! Was rushin’ this mornin’ so I forgot to set one out for you, I’m sorry.”

“I got it,” Rhett volunteered before you could even stand. He rose from his seat and retrieved a plate from the dishware cabinet.

“Thank you,” you told him, taking the plate from his outstretched hand and nodding to show your gratitude. His eyes lingered on your own before he took his seat beside you again.

“Are you guys in love?” Amy blurted from across the table.

Rhett nearly choked on the sip of coffee he’d just taken. You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Cecilia made a chastising sound, tapping her granddaughter’s shoulder in disapproval at the question. But you could see that even she was barely hiding a smile. Luckily for Royal, who was beside you, he could hide his own smile behind his coffee mug.

“What makes you ask that?” Was what you finally settled on as your reply, trying to sound nonchalant. You grabbed a biscuit from the bowl in the middle of the table, busying yourself with pulling the bread apart to be buttered.

“Gramma says you are.”

“Amy.”

“What?! You did say that.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should repeat it,” Cecilia scolded.

The girl huffed, shaking her head as she poked her fork at her scrambled eggs. “I just wanted to know.”

“Leave ‘em be, Amy,” Royal said, despite the amusement still on his features. He glanced at you. Even he knew the answer to the question Amy had asked. Thankfully, he’d saved you or Rhett the embarrassment of answering. You knew what you would have said, but were you ready to admit it out loud? Was Rhett?

Aside from the slightly awkward question from Amy, breakfast carried on without a hitch, but you were distracted, so many things heavy on your mind. Everything was about to change, you could feel it. Building in the distance, like an impending storm.

You volunteered to do the dishes to allow the rest of the family, sans Rhett, to get to church on time. Cecilia expressed her gratitude as she rushed Amy out the door, and soon, you were all alone in the house with Rhett.

“Y’alright? Got kinda quiet at breakfast,” he murmured as he helped you clear the table.

Your heart skipped a beat. You turned, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him.

You stood there together at the kitchen sink, staring into each other’s faces.

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

He leaned in closer. “Because if Amy’s question bothered you…”

He was so close you could smell his cologne. The proximity took your breath away. “Oh, um, it…it didn’t.”

“Good.” Did his gaze just flicker to your lips?

“Yeah. Good.”

He’d definitely looked at your lips. You caught him that time. A look of longing swirled in the deep blue, and you suddenly felt as if you were drowning, swallowed up in an ocean. Your chest went tight. You could barely breathe, and yet, you’d never felt more alive.

“What would you ‘ve told her, if you answered her question?” He inquired.

I would tell her that I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I never will.

“I…”

You lost your train of thought, dizzy at his proximity, at his smell, at the sound of his hitched breaths. It was as if an invisible force was between you, pulling you toward each other. Your mouth parted, but no words came out.

He was going to kiss you, and you were going to let him.

And then, as if the universe was playing a terribly cruel joke on you both, the sound of pounding on the door made you both jump apart as if you’d been struck by lightning. Your hand flew to your chest, pressed over your racing heart as a shock of fright sizzled through you.

“Jesus,” Rhett grumbled under his breath as he whirled around, crossing the floor in a few big strides before he threw open the front door, only to reveal Danny on the other side of the door.

“Didn’t you get my text?!” Danny asked, chest heaving.

“What? No! I ain’t even looked at my phone since this mornin’!” Rhett answered, breathless.

“Nasty storm’s rolling in! Up in Coal County!”

“Shit, gimme one sec, I’ll meet you guys outside!” He turned on his heel and rushed to grab his phone from the living room, where it was charging. Then he retrieved his hat from the peg near the door.

You watched him scramble, preparing to meet another storm head-on, and you knew, it was now or never. Before you even registered what you were doing, your feet were carrying you forward, out of the kitchen, right to the door.

“Rhett,” you heard yourself call out his name.

He stopped in the doorway, turning to look at you, one foot on the floor, the other on the porch. “Yeah?”

You squared your shoulders and spoke more confidently than you ever had in your life. “I’m coming with you.”

A silent understanding passed between you both. He nodded his head, and simply replied, “Let’s go.”

read the next part

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#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott imagine #we own the sky

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itsnevercasual · 5 months ago

Text

RISK PART I

pairing: mafia!harry x singer!reader

summary: Harry is in town for some.. less than legal business, and you're a local singer trying to get your foot in the door, and also planning your wedding. And maybe Harry is a little too interested in you.

warnings: cussing, slight hints at abuse, panic attacks, ptsd, talks of death, guns, murder, lots of illegal things, alcohol, drugs, me writing with autocaps (ew ik) (this is the worst one)

It was far too early for you to be awake, and yet there you were. 7:30 AM on a Tuesday morning in Daytona, standing in a convenience store with your best friend because your boyfriends got drunk the night before.

Well, her boyfriend. Your fiancé.

"Ni was so fucking drunk," Jodie laughed.

"God, I know. I wouldn't be surprised if he wakes up with alcohol poisoning."

"Connor was also pretty fucked up, but it wasn't as funny. He's such an ass when he's drunk."

You sigh, it took her about ten minutes to bring it up. "I know. He's been better though. Just.. I dunno, he gets drunk, and it makes him grumpy," you shrug.

"Yeah, but he kept snapping at you. Seriously, it was pissing me off and killing the vibe."

"Ni shut him up eventually."

You'd long since came to terms with the fact that the man you were planning on marrying was... more or less, a dick, when he was drunk. And when he was sober, but especially when he was drunk.

"You think Advil is enough, or should we just.. grab everything?" you ask as you look through the painkillers. You didn't get drunk enough to ever really find out the best hangover cures. You would, if Connor didn't hate when you were drunk.

"Just grab a pack of those," Jodie told you, gesturing with her hand to a box.

Goody's Hangover Cure.

Well, if he says so.

You turn your head as you hear the telltale bell that signaled someone else had entered the otherwise deserted convenience store. You only looked over for three seconds before the sight of a gun had you dropping the box as you resisted the urge to scream.

There were two men, both with ridiculously large guns, standing in the store. Masks covered their faces.

"Jodie.." you whisper. You were close enough to the back that you were hidden by the shelves, but you could see them.

"Y/N, get behind me. Now," Jodie whispered quickly. She grabbed your wrist and yanked you behind her.

"Give us everything in the register!" one of the men ordered as the clerk frantically opened it.

"Hurry up!" the other one shouted. You flinched.

Jodie slowly pulled both of you to the floor. You both moved so your backs were rested against the shelf, but you might've moved too quick, because your back hit the shelf, and a bunch of boxes topple over.

You squeezed your eyes shut and slapped a hand over your mouth. Jodie tugged you into her shoulder as she squeezed your free hand.

"Who the hell's there?"

Neither of you moved. You weren't even sure you were breathing, actually.

"Go check it out."

Murdered by Robbers at 7:30 in the Morning was about to be the headline about your death.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as one of the men approached. They stopped in front of you two before moving on. You assumed he'd made it to the other guy when--

"There's no one, man."

"You sure?"

"Faulty shelf."

You nearly cried out of relief. You weren't necessarily religious, but you were thanking every God ever at that point.

It was a few more minutes until the doors slammed shut and they left.

"The hell are you freaking out about?" Harry asked as the two men stood in the alleyway. Niall was pacing back and forth, running his hands over his face.

"My girlfriend was in there, man."

"What?" Harry asked, sticking a cigarette in between his lips and lighting it.

"My girlfriend! She- I got fucked up last night, and I think she was trying to get me some pills or some shit. She was sitting behind a shelf with one of our friends. Fuck!"

"She doesn't know it was you, Ni, calm down."

"That's not the problem! The problem is that I probably traumatized her! And our friend!"

"We didn't even go near them."

Harry didn't understand what the big deal was. He liked Niall's girlfriend, but she was relatively unbothered about everything.

"Our friend's brother got shot and died during a robbery, H. That's who Jodie was with."

"Oh. Well, that sucks."

"Jesus Christ. Would it kill you to have some empathy?"

"Probably," Harry shrugged.

Niall groaned, "Whatever. But you better be nice as hell whenever we get there."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's fuckin' go before they beat us there and start asking questions."

When Jodie and you got back to the house, Niall and Connor were passed out on the couch. You expected to be more shaken up, but you were relatively fine. You weren't having a panic attack, at least.

"I'm gonna go get water," you told her as you tossed her the bag. She nodded as you sighed and walked towards the kitchen. You pulled the fridge open, grabbing a water bottle. You opened it and took a generous sip. You turned and locked eyes with a man you'd never seen before.

"Hey."

You spit your water out all over the counter.

"What the fuck!" you shrieked.

Jodie came running in, "What, what happened? What's--"

Jodie saw the intruder, and instead of losing her shit, she smiled.

Holy shit, my childhood best friend is helping me get murdered, you thought.

"Harry!" she exclaimed as she hugged him.

"Jo! Don't hug the intruder!"

"He's not an intruder," she laughed, turning to face you as they broke the hug. "He's Ni and I's friend. I forgot to tell you he was coming into town."

"Clearly."

"Harry, this is Y/N. Y/N.. Harry."

"Ah, so this is the infamous childhood best friend?"

Once you realized he wasn't there with the intention of stabbing you to death, you relaxed. "Talk about me, much?" you asked Jodie with a teasing grin.

"Only every second of every day," she grinned.

"Fuck Connor and Ni, how about we get married?"

"I was just thinking that!"

You laughed, and turned to Harry, "Sorry I spat water all over you. And screamed at you. And called you an intruder."

"All is forgiven," he laughed.

"I swear I'm normal. I also usually know whenever people are in my house, though."

You glare at Jodie.

"I forgot!" she defended herself.

"Mhm. I'm going back to bed. Wake me up whenever we need to get ready, yeah?"

"Mkay," Jodie laughed as you walked towards the bedroom you shared with Connor. You rolled back into bed and went straight to bed.

"She seems.. interesting."

"Yeah. She's real sweet, you'll like her.”

“Isn’t she married?”

“Engaged,” Jodie corrected with a roll of her eyes. “He’s such an ass.”

“He can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, no. He is.”

“Who’s bad?” Connor asked as he slowly walked into the kitchen.

“Uh.. the.. President.”

He gave Jodie an odd look. “… Right..”

“Shut up and go back to bed, Connor.”

“Jesus, good morning to you, too. Who’s the rando?”

“Connor, this is Harry. Harry, that’s Connor. Harry is Niall and I’s friend we were talkin’ about. Connor is… Y/N’s fiancé,” Jodie grimaced as she said the word.

Connor rolled his eyes, “You gotta get over it. You know how upset she’d be if she knew you actually didn’t like me?”

“That’s why you’re gonna keep your mouth shut, asshole.”

“The only reason you don’t like me is because of some stupid shit I did years ago.”

“Yeah, well, where I cone from, we find… that.. unacceptable.”

That had piqued Harry’s interest. What exactly had Connor done to make Jodie hold a multiple-years-long grudge?

As Connor flipped her off and left the kitchen, Harry turned to Jodie. “So, what’d he do?”

Jodie opened her mouth, like she was about to tell him, before sighing. “I can’t say. I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell anyone or bring it up again. She still gets upset about it. Sorry,” she gave him an apologetic look.

“‘S’fine. I’ll just find out myself. I’m sure I could convince her.”

Jodie narrowed her eyes at him, “Be nice.”

“I’m hurt. I’m always nice.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed.

Later that day, Niall had dragged Harry to some dingy club.

“The hell are we doin’ here, man?” Harry scoffed.

Niall laughed, “Calm down, mate, the girls are gonna meet us here. Plus, we’re gonna have a Connor-free night, which means Y/N will one thousand percent get drunk. She’s a blast, honestly.”

“She not get drunk often, or what?”

“She used to,” Niall shrugged. “When we were in college, she was a pro drinker. Took forever for her to get drunk. But… Connor hates when she’s wasted, ‘cause then he has to ‘deal with it’, as he says.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Every single thing I hear about him makes me dislike him more-“

“Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome to the stage… The Diamonds!”

“Where the hell are the girls at? The band’s about to start.”

Niall smirked, leaning against the counter, “You’ll see.”

The band walked onstage and Harry nearly choked on his drink as you and Jodie took the mics. He’d known Jodie for years— since when was she in a band? And you didn’t seem like the band type, either.

“You can beat the heat, if you beat the charges, too,” you began singing as the music started. “They said I was a cheat, I guess it must be true. And my friends all smell like weed or little babies. And the city reeks of driving myself crazy..”

The way you looked was driving him crazy. Black Bell Bottom jeans with stars embroidered on the legs with platform stiletto type heels, and a leather halter top.

Jodie’s outfit was a little different. Platform shoes, black tights, a denim mini-skirt, and a black long-sleeve with a leather jacket thrown over.

“Little did you know, your home’s really only a town you’re just a guest in. So, you work your life away just to pay for a time-share down in Destin.”

“Florida,” you and Jodie sang.

“Is one hell of a drug.”

“Florida.”

“Can I use you up?”

“The hurricane with my name when it came,” Jodie sang, finally singing on her own. The people in the crowd who knew her, cheered, including Niall and Harry. “I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away. Barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine. Well, me and my ghost, we had a hell of a time. Yes, I’m haunted, but I’m feeling just fine. All my girls got their lace and their crimes. And your cheating husband disappeared. Well, no one asks any questions here. So, I did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that gave ever been on my body, and in my mind… they sink into the swamp.”

“.. Is that a bad thing to say in a song?” Jodie whisper-sang with you. He could hear your laugh through the singing, and it was like a drug to him. Sweet as honey.

“Little did you know,” Jodie sang, “your home’s really only the town you’ll get arrested. So you pack your life away just to wait out the shitstorm back in Texas.”

“Florida!” the two of you sang, jumping on the beat.

“Is one hell of a drug.”

“Florida!”

“Can I use you..”

“.. up,” Jodie joined you.

“I need to forget, so, take me to Florida,” you sang.

“I’ve got some regrets, I’ll bury them in Florida.”

“Tell me I’m despicable, say it’s unforgivable.”

The two of you sang together, “At least the dolls are beautiful. Fuck me up, Florida.”

“I need to forget, so take me to Florida.”

“I’ve got some regrets, I’ll bury them in Florida,” Jodie joined you.

You split off to sing by yourself, “Tell me I’m despicable, say it’s unforgivable. What a crash, what a rush, fuck me up, Florida! It’s one hell of a drug..”

“It’s one hell of a drug!” The two of you sang. “Love left me like this, and I don’t want to exist, so, take me to Florida!”

“Little did you know your home’s really only,” you sang.

“A town you’re just a guest in.”

“So you work your life away just to pay—“

“— for a timeshare down in Destin.”

“Take me to—“

“— Florida.”

“Little did you know, your home’s really only the town you’ll get arrested.”

“Florida.”

The two of you sang together, “So you pack your life away just to wait out the shitstorm back in Texas. Florida! Is one hell of a drug.”

“Take me to,” you sang.

“Florida,” Jodie sang with you. “Can I use you up? Florida!”

“Is one hell of a drug.”

“Florida!”

“Go on, fuck me.. up.”

The club erupted into cheers as the two of you finished the song.

“They’re good,” Harry commented.

“Yeah. They’re a force to be reckoned with. ‘specially Y/N.”

“So it seems.”

A/N: AAAAA IM SO EXCITWD FOR THIS OKAY YAYY

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry #harry fic #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #mafia #mafia au #mafiarry #mafia harry styles #mafia harry #mafia!harry styles #singer!reader #x reader

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fanficwriterlover · 1 year ago

Text

My Choice Our Consequence

Chapter 1: The Consequence...

Summary: You're a sniper/medic, part of the team 141. Everyone considers you their light, however, your light has diminished and has started taking a toll on the rest of the team because of a choice you made...now you have to face the consequences of your actions and live with that reminder forever..

Expectations: Slow burn, Breakup, Depression, Panic Attacks, Yelling, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of SA, Romance, Slow Romance, Fighting, Violence, Blood, Killing, Shooting,Stabbing, Smut, Fluff, Flirting, Teasing, etc...

Call Sign: Hera or Lil Light

Word Count: 7.4k

A03 Version

Did you predict this would happen to you ? No...not to your full extent of your brain capacity. Were you regretting that night because you were emotional that night and took a huge risk ? Absolutely ! You wanted to kick yourself so hard for how stupid you were for not being rational, and God for bid even allowing him to keep it in. Yet, there you were, trembling in your bathroom holding a mere plastic with such simple symbols that held so much weight...

"Fuck..." you mumble to yourself. To be honest, you were horrified by this revelation, because you had broken up with your ex over a month ago, and neither of you had sex in well ages... yet during your time of solitude, you took the liberty to drown your pain with another man. Now in some cases this shouldn't be a big deal right ? I mean...just tell the man you laid with, that apparently your birth control didn't really prevent the bastards bloody seeds from entering your womb and creating a growing child. Oh yeah, with that, your ex decided to walk back into your life wanting a second chance, and he's been awfully persistent in stalking and threatening via text messages and more. Oh and to top it off...the possible father to be, had been avoiding you like the plague. So yes...everything is just lovely. You groan out in a choked sob yet you grumbled with anger. Of all people and of all times...why you ?

Over a month ago~

You had to get yourself together though, because unfortunately you weren't some mere woman who just happened to be knocked up...oh to make it worse you just so happened to be a Sargent who is part of the task force 141 as their designated sniper/medic and to make it WORSE. You were supposed to be leaving for a mission in the next hour. You dropped the plastic into your sink as you slouched down onto the cold tile flooring pressing your back to the wall and cradling your head "Oh fuck...what am I going to do" you nearly sobbed trying to hold back your tears from gushing down your cheeks.

God forbid they notice the tear stains on your cheek, or puffy eyes that are blood shot and red nose, your team will definitely be on your arse about what's got you so moody. Honestly when you noticed your mood being more...well gruff you simply thought it was due to stress. Especially what happened a month ago....all you wanted was to be left alone to eat your breakfast especially with how horrible your morning has started, the one solitude moment of peace and enjoyment. Mind you, you loved the company of Soap and Gaz (your teammates) but for some reason, their obnoxious banter and rowdiness was only making you irritable. Honestly you thought it was from lack of sleep considering a week prior your ex has been unrelenting on getting a hold of you, asking for forgiveness and wanting to try again.

He was a civilian, you knew him since highschool before you enlisted. However, this job demanded a lot and your time became few and few. Which caused a tear in your relationship, even though your ex knew of the reality of your job you always did your best to reach out to him and spend any waking hour to contact him. Sure, there was signs of distancing but you didn't know better....then after one mission, you came back early, and as eager as you were to surprise your once boyfriend, you found him on your couch with another woman. It was an earth shattering moment. In that moment of weakness you did something stupid...

I don't know how long I was standing outside in the rain...shaking and crying. An hour ? Two ? Three ? Did it honestly matter ? The image of your boyfriend in between the legs of a woman you've never seen on your couch shattered you into pieces. You were standing before the gates at your base, debating on whether to return to your bunk, but everyone knew you would be going home to your flat to be with your boyfriend. Yet the idea of confrontation by your team wasn't something you wanted to deal with at the moment. Let alone for them to see you in such a state. So you decided to do your best to sneak past everyone. Slowly dragging your feet, you made your way into the building where all the bunkers were, you could hear members laughing loudly and celebrating as you passed the lounge area. You tried to remain unnoticed and silent, sneaking by, which in the moment you thought you were successful. Drawing near as you kept walking down the halls to your door, however, what you didn't realize was a looming shadow who was watching your every move. Just as you were about to open your door-

"Why are you drenched ?" A deep Manchester voice spoke, that all so familiar voice sent a rush up your spin and it wasn't even from the cold of your soaked clothes. His voice always made you tremble and flustered. Hesitantly you made eye contact with the owner of the voice, seeing the balaclava of the skull man standing dauntingly 6'4" with his blonde lashes partially slitting his almond eyes that took in your features. Even with his eyes on you, you wanted to shrink. Mind you, Ghost and you had no qualms with one another but you always found him intimidating yet together you worked well as a team. "I- went for a walk and ended up getting rained on" you fumbled up a lie avoiding eye contact squeezing your hand on the door knob silently praying he wouldn't notice.

"That so?" He says lowly. It makes you gaze back up at him once more not fully looking in his direction as he had his arms crossed still looking down at you, you heavily gulped "Y-Yeah ?" You could see a partial shift over his eyes, it meant he raised a brow at you before approaching you more as he stood directly behind you now, his chest nearly pressing up behind you, this made you hesitantly turn to face your Lieutenant who was looking down at you more seriously. His head tilting down at your short figure his arms coming down to his sides. You had to put a hand up onto his chest to stop him from drawing any closer as your heart began to race and you immediately averted your gaze from his towering figure.

You didn't even realize he had you pinned into your door with his hand over you gripping the ledge of the doorframe as you could feel the rise in your cheeks. "You 're lying. What did he do ?'" his eyes scanned over your features. Obviously the rain did very little to hide your tear stained cheeks and the redness in your eyes. Yet you still refused to meet his gaze. For what felt like an internity his gloved hands reached up and lifted your chin slowly. The sensation of his rough leather skeleton gloves made your eyes widen as he tipped your chin up to meet his looming gaze. How could you look away now. Your eyes latched on to his menacing gaze. You can see his eyes slightly flickered with some kind of emotion...now you wouldn't consider yourself an expert on reading his expressions but you'd like to think you could a little....yet it was impossible that Ghost...the Lieutenant Ghost was sympathetic for you ?

Don't even think you realized what was happening or that he had slightly lifted his balaclava up just over the bridge of his perfectly shaped nose, that showed the hint of a scar that peeked under his mask across his strong high bone cheeks and perfect lips that has a scar slicing the right corner. You didn't even realize then, he leaned near your ear and whispered "Y/n...snap out of it" ....wait no thats not what he said.

"Oi ! Earth to y/n ! You get any shut eye ? I miss your sexy voice Bonnie" Soap snickered as you were brought back into the moment having been in position, as it seemed your mind was seamlessly going to recall that moment between you and the Lieutenant yet, your body already knew what it was doing. You had your sniper rifle in front of you with the scope brushing at your long eyelashes. You were stationed not that many klicks from where the boys were moving into action. You could see Soap stealthily moving around another building trying to move closer to the targets building without alerting the guards until they've breached their walls. Of course, the living myth and legend was leading them closer to the building, he camouflaged impressively well into the shadows for such a big guy.

Again your mind was drifting and the static in your comms rang through your ear as your Lieutenant spoke "Hera. Take the two on the west building." This snapped you to attention as you shifted your scope as he had directed, your finger moving to the trigger as you took a deep breath to stop your queasy stomach. Pulling the trigger you took down one man, who crumbled down quickly the other becoming aware of his partner down but before he could so much as spread the word you had pulled the trigger already and he was down as well. You radio into your comms "Clear. Proceed with caution Bravo 0-7, there's 4 at the back entry." You locked your rifle as you moved your eyes from the scope "Copy that Hera." He says through the comms. You had to shift positions now, lingering in one spot was dangerous, as you slid back from your spot out of sight hitting your comms "Alpha 2-8 moving positions" you swiftly made your way to another spot that gave you a different angle to where the boys were going to be entering as you got into your knees setting down your rifle.

Yet something felt very wrong. You were frozen to the spot, listening intently, your nose, due to your pregnancy, it was heightened and you could smell someone's sweat from where you were. Over the comms you could hear that Soap and Ghost had already breached the walls making their way to find the enemy hiding within the walls. Behind you, there was nothing but high grass, and you were wearing beige clothing to blend to the tall dying grass.

You pull out your knife and pistol, clicking off the safety and check it's loaded. Even now the scent was more potent, you wanted to throw up, the unwanted man was wearing heavy cologne of sorts and for anyone in the SAS that's a stupid move. Even now you could hear the ringing in the comms as Ghost and Soap updated on their movement and such.

Yet even when you heard them ask "Soap, to Alpha 2-8, what's ya status lass ? " you could hear the slight panic in Soap's voice yet right now you were remaining still observing your surroundings. Even now you can hear how frantic Soap was becoming and the deep booming voice of your Lieutenant sounded through your earpiece "Hera. What's your status." He sounded gruff and annoyed probably not to you but you did catch between the two over the comms that the enemy was not in the building and that it was a setup.

That much you already knew. You reached for the comms pressing the button and speaking softly "This is Alpha 2-8....my post has been compromised" and yet that is when you saw your stalker lunge out from the tall grass, immediately you pulled the trigger, but not before he tumbled into you having a knife in hand slicing your shoulder deeply, you yelped upon impact, tumbling to the ground, hitting the back of your head, but not hesitating to wrap your legs around the man who was trying to stab you hovering over you with him trying to push it down to your throat. You grunted trying to hold his grip as he straddled you down, you can hear Soap frantically calling through the comms "Oi! Hera ! Answer us Bonnie !" You couldn't as you grunted pushing with legs to knee him in the groin which caused him to roll off you. Quickly you reached for your dagger and rolled to where he was stabbing down hitting him then the chest, as you didn't hesitate to grab your pistol that was tossed to the side and shoot him in the head.

Panting hard you held your stomach immediately feeling sick, the blood all over your hands and face, the scent...oh God that potent iron scent. You had to move away to empty your stomach all the whole Ghost and Soap were making their way back to your last known location hearing you hurl your stomach. Ghosts loud booming voice could be heard from a distance while he hit the comms "Hera !" You began to cough more as you tried to take deep breaths. Reaching painful to the comms with your wounded shoulder "I'm good. Just had a tussle."

You were shaking looking away from the dead man, not aware that Ghost and Soap reached you. They took in the scene then you. Soap quickly approaching you seeing you look sick and bleeding "Jesus Bonnie... thought we lost you, you sure ki-" he paused mid saying "Aye...you good ?" You were going to respond but it felt like your stomach was acidic. You didn't even know. But your vision began to blur and you fainted. You could only feel strong arms quickly catch you before the fall but it was numb everywhere throughout your body. You could see the skull mask hovering and the slight glimpse of the Mohawk figure looking over you trying to get your attention. But your eyes closed.

White, a color you probably absolutely hated seeing that blinded you in every corner. Sitting in the chair your legs dangling as you fiddled with your fingers. You had recovered after you've fainted when they loaded you on the chopper, you assured the team you were just dehydrated. But of course, Lieutenant gave you that knowing glare that made you relent. You knew what the doctor was going to say, he drew your blood, tended your wounds, and checked for bruising which was on your hips, wrists, and chest.

Even now your anxiety was high as you nearly jumped out of the chair at the sight of a familiar doctor who you'd often work with around the med base. Dr.Connar. Good looking man, he was slender tallish(no where close to military big like Ghost) tustled brownish black hair, deep brown eyes and genuine smile. He was holding your chart and you knew what to expect. "We have got to stop meeting like this y/n." He snickered seeing you as he pulled up a chair in front of you as you gazed up at him waiting for the inevitable. "So...your wound isn't infected. Just some mild bruising will be gone in a couple days. You hit your head I see. Slight bleeding nothing serious though...." this was when he gazes up at you seriously over the chart we he was reading resting it on the table to the side, he leaned forward his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at you seriously

"As you know... protocol. I have to check your blood to ensure you were not given anything into your bloodstream or got an unknown infection." You nodded your head slowly not averting your eyes from his serious gaze. "Then you also know...I must give this report to your Captain of your condition? " you flinched as he considered it as a condition now looking down. His eyes still boring into you as he let out a sigh "What the fuck y/n ! You should've been nowhere near the battlefield. You could've been seriously hurt or killed !" You flinched a bit more, tears forming in your eyes as you couldn't hold it any longer.

"You don't think I don't Fuckin' know that ?!" You cry out in anger yet he doesn't so much as flinch just simply gives you a sympathetic look. "I didn't ask for this ! Any of it !" You get out of the chair huffing annoyed as you began pacing the room his eyes watching your every movement. " You know since you are my patient I'd have to put in you are suspended from combat, training, or field work. Considering even maternity leave by second trimester." He says so casually but it makes you glare daggers at him, deep down logically you know he's right but...fuck you didn't want to have everyone questioning you why you're being pulled off when you are physically fine.

"Please Peter....don't do this to me." You beg him looking at him, he stands up placing a hand on your shoulders making you look at him "Y/n... believe me. I am not doing this as your doctor. I'm doing this as your friend. If something were to happen to you-" you interjected "Nothing will, I can fight-" yet he grips your shoulders more firmly "No ! You could've lost it or your life ! I will not stand by as your doctor or friend to put your life or that child in harms way !"

Child. Huh. Funny, you just found out... could barely even consider it a child as it's just a mere embryo at this point not even a human body formed yet. But deep down, without so much thought your hand slid down touching your stomach and Peter guided you to sit into the chair. "You're my dearest friend. I know this is terrifying...but you have to think outside yourself now" you glance at him as he was boring into your eyes. You knew he was right...deep down you would want to protect your growing child. However, knowing the horrors of the world and your enemies made you terrified to think the timing was just horrible. You couldn't stop. The tears rolled down your face heavily and you sobbed into your friend's shoulder as he let you, hold you.

The next day, you were asked into the office by Captain Price, everyone was expecting you to have to hand in your medical sheet, yet you begged your friend to allow you to talk it out with your captain. You were terrified. Gazing at the door in front of you that had Price's name plate on it, you tentatively rasped your knuckles onto it. As if immediately you hear the Liverpool accent gruffly acknowledge "Enter." John has always been a comforting Captain despite his ranking he valued every solider it's why you remained loyal to this taskforce especially after being handpicking from him. He glances up from the piles of papers he was signing off seeing you enter as he gave you a content smile "Good seeing you Y/n. How are you feeling?"

He motions for you to sit as you do so nervously, "Good sir...um I brought you my medical chart" you reluctantly stretch it out within hand to offer him to look at it as he takes it, even before he opened it you spoked "Permission to ask a favor sir ?" This caught his attention as he set the file down taking in your nervous features. You looked nervous, barely looking like you've slept and definitely have been crying. He tips his head to tell you to go on "Go on..." you let out a shakey breath. "I'd like to request that...my medical condition not be shared outside this room please ?" You almost whispered the please, your eyes begging him to understand and this was a request he was taken back from. Setting the file down rather to hear it from you then read it himself . Honestly John's heart was beating so hard, it was going loudly in his ears "I'll agree...that is if you tell me what it is you have ?"

Honestly his eyes raked over your form, despite being small, you weren't exactly weak, infact he wouldn't even consider you the type to have an illness so imagine his surprise to your request yet nonetheless he was patient and understanding.

You bite your lower lip gripping at the knees of your cargo pants shamefully looking down starting to shake, John placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. You didn't realize he was sitting in front of you at the edge of his desk leaning forward. He was willing to wait until you were ready to tell, and looking into his ocean eyes you gave in "I- I'm pregnant sir..." his eyes were wide for a moment reeling from the news.

Sure he knew you had a boyfriend but you hadn't interacted with him in months that much he was aware of. He would console you some nights when you'd cry about being distant and how he doesn't treat you or touch you the same. Of course he wanted to support you, you were like a daughter to him, so he spoke softly yet with authority "I can see this is a big deal...then I am to presume..." glancing at your figure he didn't know much about pregnant women but he could tell you were no where near showing. "I will not reprimand you y/n...but I need to know." He looks at you seriously waiting.

You knew what he was asking for and it made you even more scared. Having to tell your friend was already a huge step but to tell your captain? "L-Lieutenant G-Ghost sir..." you looked down with shame.

However Price was more shocked than anything. Their Simon Riley? He wanted to gawk at this news but knew that's not what you needed right now, quite frankly he had to contain to his rank. Sitting back "You are aware of the consequences to such inappropriate conduct ? You could be stripped of your rank and court martial." He frowns at you seriously which you nod your head seldomly "Y-Yes sir" he sighs out pinching the bridge of his nose "Does he know ?" This makes you flinch. You really did not want to walk up to your Lieutenant and tell him you're possibly pregnant with his child. That's a big F no. You glance up at your Captain. "No sir... I don't think I can." He gives you a look as you respond immediately "Please Captain, I don't want to cause trouble. I'm begging you. Please make an excuse to suspend me." You gave him a pleading look.

Now under most cases he would've given into your puppy dog eyes but this was serious. You were asking him not only as a Captain but as the best friend to Ghost. To go behind his back and lie to him. He crossed his arms over his chest letting out a deep sigh "Y/n...I am not keen on withholding information from my lieutenant-" you were about to interject yet he raised his hand, which made you silence blushing heavily heart racing "However...I'll grant this request on ONE condition." You seemed hopeful with this proposition. Yet John gave you a very straight look, "I don't care when you do it. But you MUST tell my Lieutenant." He looks at you daring you to object. Now deep down you wanted to. The fear in your eyes was evident. Approach Ghost ? No way...I can barely handle his intense gaze let alone confronting him about this. You bit the inside of your cheek considering it, before relenting "I-I agree sir...when I find the right time. I will. I promise." He studies you looking to see if you were lying but he found none, if anything he just saw how fearful you were from all this so he had to trust you.

Nodding his head accepting that answer he moved back around to his chair sitting down "I will work on a reason for your suspension until you've well..." he seemed flustered to say the least as he cleared his throat. "I'll have Laswell make sure to come up with a decent reason to keep the other lads off your radar." You smile gratefully nodding you head. As you salute him then take your leave. You didn't realize how much you were holding your breath as you let out a shaky breath. Great...now how do you tell a Ghost that he knocked you up ? Grumbling softly you began walking to your bunker, by now, Price was probably working up a reason for your suspension so it seemed only right to pack. Perhaps maybe you'll find the right thing to say to him...why you....such a big responsibility on your shoulders and yet you have to make a choice. Yet depending on what you choose...will it be good ? Or make it worse ?

You make your way down the hall, heading to the food court where everyone was gathered, grabbing their trays of food. Seeing faces that were unfamiliar or people you recognize but never really got to know. Everyone was chatting with another. You took in the room, it was almost overwhelming. Especially the smell, god, the smell of men was potent. Was it always this musky smelling with different colognes drifting through the air. It made you want to hurl your stomach. That was when you felt a large arm drape roughly over your shoulders causing to grunt from the impact as you look up to meet a familiar blue eyes and Mohawk figure. Soap. “There you been lass ! Save a seat for ya’ !” You sigh inwardly “Jesus Christ Soap, I just got discharged-“ he seems to immediately look at you worriedly “You broken Bonnie ?” he studies you almost inspecting to find the source of your pain “Nah, I’m good. Just bit sick to the stomach” he seems to relax at that patting you gently on the shoulder and pushing you to go up to grab some food “Glad you good, had us worried there for a ‘ec, shoot, don’t think I’ve ever seen LT so panicked.” He wiggles a brow at you which makes you shrink and blush before batting his arm away as you grab a tray to pick out food. “Oh hush Soap…any news since-?” you ask curiously as you grab fruits and a salad then take a glance in his direction.

He was stacking his plate up with everything. Jesus that man could eat. It made you start to realize now that you should probably eat more than you’re used to since now you’ll be feeding for two. You decided based on the selection of food presented that you would think your stomach would tolerate is a simple chicken sandwich. Placing it on your plate Soap mumbles lowly “No…nothing. Fuck’n sucks. Feels like we just chasing shadows.” You look up at him sympathetically and toss and apple at him which he fumbles to catch yet does looking at you “You need to even out your diet Soap. Need some form of fruit or veggies in that belly of yours.” As you look down with a smirk to his tray. Boy this Scottish man can eat, not one not two BUT three sandwiches. You snort shaking your head dismissively walking toward where Gaz was seated at a table waving the two of you over. As Soap snaps back “Oi ! I’ll have you know I gotta feed my gains ! We all can’t be tiny and slender like you” he grumbles. This makes you blush, because already you felt you were more bloated than usual. Sure the bump wasn’t as pronounced if anything looked like you gained a few pounds. However, you were always athletic and physically in shape.

Taking a seat next to Gaz you smile at him, which he returns the gesture “Glad to see you well Hera. Had us all worried.” You blush and smile at him. Oh Gaz was probably secretly your favorite he was charming and sweet and absolutely the best kind of friend you could ask for. He is the definition of blood brother. You two always looked after each other and you were the one who mentioned his name to Price so there was a mutual friendship long before the taskforce. “Sorry for making you worry…by the way where’s Ghost ?” you cock your head looking at both men. They seem to frown at the mention of his name but Soap finally answers “Honestly…’aven’t seen him much lately…LT been very weird lately. But I bet he’ll be happy to see you up and about,” he pats your shoulder playfully smirking at you. You laugh softly. Eventually you finally begin eating, guess they seem oblivious to asking why you fainted which you were glad. They knew exactly how to make you relax, between their bickering and story telling they made you relax and feel normal and forget about the looming secret growing.

Immediately your instinct is to reach to your thigh where you usually wore your strap holding your dagger but of course. You were literally butt naked. Turning fully to look at the figure, you realize it’s none other than Ghost. You breathe out a sigh “Fuckin’ hell Ghost. Why you have to be such a creep !” you hiss out in an annoyance after nearly being scared trying to soothe your heart rate down as you look at his eyes rake over you. “You need to sharpen your awareness then. Could’ve been anyone.” He says seriously, his arms crossed over his chest looking at you. Now not only were you flustered but him correcting you at the moment really triggered you as you snap, “Well I shouldn’t need to be on guard on base !” you glare at him, yet he doesn’t so much as seem bothered by your features. Instead he approaches you, moving closer as he looks down at you. Your back pressed into the edge of the sink as he leans forward-

The day went by so quickly, you went with the boys to shoot some rounds, finally approved by your friend to hold a rifle to shoot some rounds. Of course, your aim is flawless when holding your favorite rifle It made you feel normalize in your life. After that you decided be best to take a shower as there are so few women on this base, and most the building was set up for men, you’d often wait until late as possible to be able to shower in peace. Taking a change of clothes and a towel you enter the shower room setting your bag down and undressing. Immediately your eyes scan over your naked form, for now you showed no signs. In fact you still looked sleek and fit. Yet you knew the wiser. Glancing at the side of your profile, you immediately felt insecure, the idea your body will change and expand that you’ll put on weight made you shiver. Tearing your eyes from the mirror you step into a shower stall and turn on the water. The gushing of cold hits your hand as you wait for it to warm up, now normally your body could handle such, but now you felt it was too cold to tolerate. Even with your body barely been pregnant long it already seems to be shifting to accommodate this unborn form.

You step under the warmth of the water letting it glide over your body. Its almost cleansing feeling the water graze over your body, as you comb your fingers through your scalp down to the end of your hair length. You began rubbing yourself with your bar of soap and sponge taking your time to clean yourself fully. Once you finished you turn off the water and wringing out your hair before reaching for your towel. The bathroom room was now full of your shower steam as it fogged the mirrors. You stood in front of one of them with your towel wrapped around, leaning closer you use your hand, in a circular motion to clear off the fogged mirror only to see a skull mask looking directly at you.

Ghosts POV

When they heard you over the comms tell them your spot been compromised he felt horrified that they wouldn’t have been able to get back to you on time and would’ve found you dead. Yet instead, they found you losing your stomach. It was all weird. You were if anything the most toughest women he’s met aside from Laswell, and that speaks volume. You were someone he let his guard down with, without regret. He didn’t mind showing you his darkest side, his pain, his reminders, and face. You took him in. You acknowledged him. You were patient with him too which is something he respected about you. You were someone who carried them self with such maturity, purity, and selflessness. And he…stupidly took advantage of that. From that night.

The minute you began to faint, he was immediately lunging to your side and catching you before you hit the ground. Judging by your state, didn’t seem like you were wounded extremely. Maybe some bruising. However, he found it unusual that you were losing your stomach after killing a man. I mean, everyone’s done stuff that made them sick, but he’s seen you calm and collected stabbing a man in the neck when you were lunged at one time during a mission. He always found you resilient so seeing you this sensitive seemed odd. Soap disrupted his thoughts looking down at your passed out form “Oi, Bonnie !” he immediately checked your pulse yet he knew wiser “She ‘s alright Soap. Just fainted from the looks of it.”

He then reaches to his vest still cradling her in his arms as he radios in the help, “Nikolai, bring the helo to RV. Coming in hot, Hera fainted.” He immediately picks you up bridal style, despite wearing a vest and armor you were still light. He nods his head, “Keep up Soap” as he already begins running to the rendezvous. Upon seeing the chopper lower, you began to stir in his arms and mumbles hoarsely “I-Im good. You can put me down Ghost.” He doesn’t even look down at you saying deeply “Didn’t look that way Sargent.” Yet you protest more, which he relents to setting you carefully onto the ground. His hands honestly wanted to linger over you longer but Soap came in supporting you with your arm over his shoulder “Aye ! Glad to have you back Bonnie. Gave us quite a scare !” he shouts over the loud chopper blades as they both walk in sync to load in.

Ghost lingers a good distance scanning their surroundings before getting into the chopper. He sits across from you, his eyes not leaving your frame. You seem distant... Like your mind was elsewhere yet you tried to remain present in the moment. He couldn’t help but try to read you as you made your best attempt to assure everyone you’re fine. But he could see otherwise. The way your eyes fluttered, how you forced a fake smile that seemed to work on others but couldn’t fool him. He also couldn’t help but notice how your hand instinctively went to touch your stomach.

He squinted his eyes, ‘Did you get hit in the stomach ? Is she hurt ? She didn’t seem bothered when I had my hand there carrying her.’ All these thoughts ran through his mind during the whole flight back. Once they finally returned, you of course tried to brush off that you were fine, yet Ghost wasn’t having it. You were off. He could feel it. He simply gave you a stern look and a sharp tone, “No. You’re getting checked up. End of discussion Sargent.” This made you flinch with his tone, but he had no choice. You wouldn’t have listened to reason no matter how much Soap begged or even asked you. However one thing he did admire you for, as a soldier, you always obeyed orders. You made your way to the med base, his eyes never leaving you as he wanted to make sure you actually headed that direction, yet Soap pulled him from his line of sight. “Gee, LT, didn’t have to be all ‘trict on ‘er.” Ghost side glances Soap with a slight brow raise. Then huff. “I don’t care. She needed to be told. She listened. ‘nough said” Taking his leave before Soap could say anything else he needed to get his mind off you.

Now he stands in front of you, with you barely covered before him. This was different. He could see the traces of bruising form on your shoulder. One was peeking just above your cleavage. His eyes took you in as your drenched form stood in front of him shying away from his line of sight as he was so close to you. He’d give anything to feel you again like before especially as you stand here practically exposed to him. Yet, as much as he wanted to give into his temptations... “I ‘ear you been askin’ ‘round for me,” his eyes scan between yours as you seem to gulp at this, obviously indicating it was true. “But now you loss for words ?” you bite the inside of your cheek, obviously he hit a nerve. Cocking a brow as he saw the strength in your eyes that always made him honestly want to give in. You spoke-“I was….there was something I wanted to tell you,” he tilted his head to the side narrowing his eyes a bit then nods “Well what is it ?” He takes a step back from you, his broad arms crossed as he gazes down at you.

He was leaning close to your ear, you were trembling before him, your hands out pressing onto his hoodie chest. His heart rate spiked from under your touch. Your lips said one thing but your body said something else. He watched you that day talk excitedly about seeing your boyfriend. Yet, he finds you a mess with tear stains avoiding everyone. He knew. He bloody fucking knew it. Your boyfriend was everything he hated and would even compare to as his own father. You who fought everyday, gave yourself willingly, everything as an amazing women and girlfriend. Only for that selfish prick to break it. It boiled him. To see you this way, you were their light. To see you so diminished was something he'd tear the world to bring that shine out in you. He leaned close to your ear “Say the word love. I’m here.” Your eyes looked up at him, oh those doe eyes. He would surrender to that sight in a heartbeat.

You were his weakness…

...but he also learned to see you were also his strength. You mouth slowly began to parts your eyes seemed to show a since of strength ‘Fuck…even when broken she stands strong. This women…’ he didn’t waste a minute crashing his lips onto your trembling lips. They were so plump and soft. You tasted salty from your tears, which he sucked away but the lingering taste of cherry from your lips made him want to devour you more. His hand sneaked down still holding under your chin, while the other unlatched from above the doorframe to rest on your hip. Pulling you closer to him, he could feel your hand slowly slide up his bicep to his neck. The sensation feeling of your soft fingers fleeting over it made him more riled. He immediately let go of his hold on your chin and opened the door to your bunker. He guides you in his hand pushing you in at your hips as he almost guides you to your bed in the corner. You stop just in front of the bed, his hands cupping your cheeks and neck kissing you more fiercely. You’re the one to make the first move, during the intense heat, you begin tugging at his belt loop. He can feel it. Yet-

Being practically naked gripping your towel around your dripping body was definitely not how you imagined telling him about being pregnant, however, maybe you can ask something else- “What happened a month ago... do you regret it ?” perhaps getting some kind of answer will bring out the courage to tell him. You watch for any kind of shift in his eyes yet you barely see much. However his eyes does narrow in on you, you wonder if he sees you’re dodging what’s the real reason you’ve been asking around of his absence. Just when your mind was planning to handle whatever response he gives, everything hit you like a bullet into a vest-

Wrong, because less then two days later he was making his way to the Captains office, knocking on it and telling him of his arrival. With the Captain deeply grunting to come in. What he wasn’t expecting was to see the Captain, stressed ? The man looked exhausted like he was fighting a battle of some sort. He looked as if he was atlas holding the world over his shoulder, every muscle tensed and jaw clenched using every ounce of power to keep going. Then when the Captains eyes met his, and the words came out, Ghost world came shattering. “Y/n, has quit the taskforce…” his eyes went wide, he was a man to hide any emotions but this…he wasn’t expecting you to up and leave. Did you even say bye to everyone? Were you crying your eyes out when you decided it ? But the one question that bothered in the back of his mind was; Was it because of HIM ?

He grunts a bit “Was a one time thing.” His eyes unwavering and stoic as if this is such a silly subject to be bringing up as he decided it was best to burn this bridge before his feelings got worse for you. He could not allow this to become more. He promised- now swore he’ll never get attached and he stupidly did. It was obvious for Soap to see, and if that was the case, how many others would notice too ? “It meant nothing Sargent. We both needed an escape. If this is what you wanted to waste my time for than we are done.” ‘Fuckin’ ‘ell, that should do it…’ he thought to himself, yet what he didn’t expect was to see the tears daring to form in your eyes he simply just stood there, your little fists were gripping the towel so tight your knuckles were white and your jaw was clenched. Yet, he didn’t stop there. He should have. “You’re a burden to this team…we don’t need dead weight. If you can’t get better than your no use to this team.” He said it…damages done.

The words hurt him just as much as it seemed to have hurt you. But instead of lashing out, which honestly he would have preferred you do then maybe he would’ve taken back his words. You… just stood there silent. It was worse than a ticking bomb going off. Your eyes were blazing with anger and he can see your tears wanting to crash down yet you suck in a deep breath, he honestly was expecting the worse, and you just went to grab your stuff. You began changing you didn’t even care if he would be watching or not, of course he wouldn’t dare instead was looking at the sinks only daring to listen to you as you shuffle. In matter of minutes you were dressed, holding your bag about to leave, you hand on the handle yet you stop. Looking at him ,‘Fuck…now I’ve done it. Price gonna rem me for it now’ he thought but instead you look at him with that same strength in your eyes “Good night Lieutenant.” It came out sharp he could hear it the slight venom in it but he didn’t so much aa react. He stupidly just stood there side glancing you before you finally took your leave. He then gazes back at the mirror, seeing his reflection he hated what he was seeing in himself but it had to be done. Maybe when you’ve cooled your head he’ll approach you differently. Perhaps these words would encourage you to do better. Perhaps now he won’t distracted by your alluring presence. Right-?

…

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