#but would it have required me further inconveniencing everyone he was /already/ further-inconveniencing? yeah and I'm Not Having It

[ereborne]

My boss has been pushing back our 'weekly' check-in meeting for three weeks now, because everyone else's position has been in horrible flux (not mine, because I am not faculty, not staff, but a secret third thing: a millennial) and today we finally met (subject of meeting, according to schedule header: "i will be there this time") and we covered our normal small talk and updates (my siblings are healthy, her dog is not, I am doing wonderful/terrible things to our data systems, she is going to fight the finance team bareknuckled, the usual) and then she asked me if I had seen the email from that one guy retracting his plans to do what I've been referring to as the Massive Dick Move (do you know the little gremlin titter that plays in old cartoons when there's a moderately-malicious mischief taking place just off screen? hehehee that is me I am the gremlin today) and I said no! could she forward it! and she forwarded it to me (hehehee) and so we concluded our meeting with great relief and comradery (and also very quietly internally I was still going heheheee).

I maintain it is not blackmail to explain to a man exactly and in calamitous detail what will happen to the data and support to which he is entitled if he follows his stated course of action. I was simply apologizing aforehand. There would have been no helping him.

[lady-literature]

Found Family

holy shit did this one get way out of hand. Don’t expect them all to be this long because hot damn this is a monster compared to literally everything else but it just wouldn’t stop

(should I have expected this? probably. we all know how I am about found family.)

anyway enjoy 4.5k words ig

based on this post | @maribatmarch-2k21 | find more here

***

When Marinette had been chosen to intern with Monsieur Wayne’s PA, she hadn’t been expecting anything special. Sure, the Waynes were an odd breed and generally considered strange, but Marinette hadn’t actually expected to have much contact with them—if any at all.

She was here to earn credit for her business degree.

Instead, she has… well. She thinks she’s been somehow inducted into the Wayne family, mostly on accident and kind of as a joke.

That is, until it very much wasn’t.

***

Her first mistake, she supposes, was being too good at her job.

Marinette is an old hand at keeping track of multiple moving parts and riding herd on stubborn people who’d otherwise be too distracted or goofing off. (She was the Court’s leader for more than just being the latest in a long line of Ladybugs, after all.)

After the first two days shadowing Selina—“please, darling. Ms Kyle is so formal”—and learning the broad strokes of the job, Marinette felt confident enough to dig her nails in and get to work. Selina spent most of her time dedicated to international tasks and arranging Monsieur Waynes’ private affairs—all of which was highly classified and not discussed with Marinette—so she turned her attention to inter-company affairs.

Her first order of business was personally meeting with as many people in managerial positions as she could get. Not a requirement for the job per se, but these were people she’d have to interact with often and Maman had always stressed the importance of building connections in the workplace.

“People,” she would say, “are far more willing to do what you want them to when you’ve endeared yourself to them.”

So Marinette takes that advice and spends her breaks and lunches charming employees and giving baked goods to security guards and learning the names of the cleaning crew. She doesn’t speak to the department heads, because Selina handles their correspondences, but everyone else is free game as far as she’s concerned.

She becomes a well-recognized face astoundingly quickly.

***

Marinette probably should’ve seen the rumors coming.

It’s common practice in not only the Wayne family, but in most business conglomerates, for the children to quickly rise through the ranks of their company—if not just handed a high position right off the bat.

It took barely a month before the eldest was all but running Human Resources, and the second was placed as Head of Security practically out of nowhere. Monsieur Drake is the youngest (and most terrifyingly calculated) CEO to ever hold Wayne Enterprises, even if he does share the title with his father.

The other three are still too young or have yet to express an interest in the company, but people say it’s only a matter of time.

The track record speaks for itself, even if Marinette wishes it didn’t.

As a girl who’d come mostly out of nowhere and found herself with far more divisive sway in the company than she had any right to, it’s no wonder everyone thinks she’s some sort of secret Wayne finally coming out of hiding.

Marinette had nearly choked on her coffee when Selina dropped the bomb of that particular tidbit of company gossip.

“Most think you’ve been unofficially adopted,” Selina tells her, looking far too amused for Marinette’s liking. “Seeing as you’re too old for official avenues now.”

Marinette looks up warily from the schedule she’s rearranging. Selina had all but shoved the thing at her a month ago when she started suggesting more efficient ways of managing the CEOs’ valuable time.

“Only most? Does that mean the rest have common sense?”

Selina’s grin widens even further, if that’s possible, and Marinette regrets her question even before the older woman starts speaking.

“Oh, of course not!” she laughs delightedly. “The rest are hoping to hear news of wedding bells. It’s high time someone swept a Wayne off the market, don’t you think?”

***

“So you’re the new little sister I keep hearing about.”

Marinette stares up through narrowed eyes at the brightly smiling Dick Grayson. In her stomach, there are already the beginnings of resignation starting to form. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you!”

This man is going to bring her nothing but trouble. She can tell.

***

Dick takes a liking to her. And she, against her better judgment, finds herself doing the same to him.

It’s a little hard not to, if she’s being honest. He’s bright and bubbly and brings her bagels during his morning break without her ever having asked.

It takes practically no time at all before Marinette considers him a friend, relaxing when he’s near and laughing openly at his ridiculous jokes. Despite being the head of HR, he’s not great at the whole ‘professional’ thing and often employees will walk by to find him draped across a chair or balancing precariously on the edge of her desk while she tries and fails to get some work done while he’s around.

It really doesn't help all of the ‘Marinette is a Wayne’ rumors running around. Especially when Dick starts pointedly calling her every variation of ‘little sister’ that he can think of just to annoy her (and, she knows, because he thinks the entire situation hilarious).

***

Three weeks after befriending Dick, Selina all but shoves her into Monsieur Drake’s office and, in no uncertain words, says, “He’s your problem now.”

Marinette blinks at what she can describe as nothing other than a disaster area and just… sighs.

Tim blinks back at her.

The motion is somehow both completely blank and filled with an uncomfortable amount of knowing at the same time. There is also, she notices, a frankly ludicrous amount of concealer caked beneath his eyes and more coffee cups scattered on every flat surface than Marinette has ever seen in her life.

She knows his schedule like the back of her hand seeing as she spends hours of her day pouring over it to make sure everything runs smoothly. He has no prior engagements for the next three hours.

“You’re not going to take a nap just because I ask, are you?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not.”

She nods, having expected the answer; her phone was already at her ear before he even finished speaking. “Hey, Dick!” she greets, sounding brighter than she feels at the moment, and watches as Tim stiffens in front of her. “Yeah, no. I was just wondering if you’re busy right now.” She pauses. “Oh, good! Can you come up to Tim’s office for me? Yeah, I need you to knock him out so I can fix his dumpster fire of an office.”

Tim has since started waving his hands frantically at her, panic setting in behind his eyes.

Marinette stares at him, unmoved. “Thanks, Dick! You’re the best!”

The silence after she hangs up is deafening.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed by the ease you’re manipulating me or pissed off that you’re doing it in the first place.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Does your decision have any bearing on my future employment?”

His eyes squint. “…No.”

Marinette shrugs, mind already whirling with what she’ll need to get done first and calculating how long she’ll likely have to get it done. “Then I think you should skip right over both of those and land on resignation as quickly as possible, Monsieur, because you’re going to have to get used to it regardless.”

It’s silent for a long moment, and she worries for just a second that she’s severely crossed some sort of line. Then Tim bursts out laughing instead of, you know, firing her like he probably should have.

“Oh, yeah. You’re going to fit right in here.”

Marinette doesn’t ask where the ‘here’ is. She’s pretty sure she already knows.

***

It takes ten days for Marinette to wrangle Tim’s life into something resembling order. His office is clean and organized to his liking. She’s developed a system of filing so that all paperwork goes through her and is quickly sorted into ‘can be handled by Marinette’, ‘forge his signature and tell him about it later’, and ‘actually important enough to have Tim read through’.

His schedule is the most efficient it’s ever been and Marinette is quickly honing the skill of getting him properly dressed and out of his office in under thirty minutes. (Dick is, thankfully, a great teacher and has little to no qualms about giving her the key to all his little brother’s weaknesses.)

Selina stares at her when Marinette all but drags Tim from his office, a folder tucked neatly under his arm and the sugary monstrosity of a caffeinated beverage she’s bribed him with in her own, with a whole ten minutes to spare before his meeting with the Board.

“My dear,” she says solemnly, “you are positively magic.”

She doesn’t even look up from where she’s simultaneously wrangling Tim’s hair into submission and laying his tie down flat. “You have no idea.”

***

She knows Tim is capable of professionality. She’s seen the cool facade he pulls up in front of the Board members and the kind but impersonal smile he uses on the employees of Wayne Enterprises. (He is not the Ice Prince of the Wayne family, but Marinette believes he should have some equally ruthless sounding title.) He is aloof and sharp and every inch the businessman people praise him to be.

She’s seen it. And yet… 

“Monsieur. Why are all the Lexcorp contracts I gave you done in crayon?”

Tim doesn’t stop messing with his Rubix cube or even look up at her when he says, “Cause deadbeat fathers don’t deserve the respect of a pen.”

Marinette is very tired. She does not have time for this. “What are you talking about?”

“Lex is a bitchass absentee dad and I live to inconvenience him.”

“What about inconveniencing me?” she all but whines. “I can’t hand him these!”

That does make Tim look up at her, eyes wide with false innocence and mouth pouting up at her. “But sister dearest, I’m your little brother. It’s my job to inconvenience you.”

Growling in frustration is probably an inappropriate reaction to the situation.

But, Marinette thinks, so is the fact that both of the Waynes she associates with regularly seem hellbent on convincing the world that she too, is a Wayne, so.

(Is this how Alya felt dealing with the twins? Cause if so, Marinette takes back every joke she ever made—little siblings are a bitch.)

***

She meets Damian without warning.

Honestly, she never really expected to meet him at all but, well.

She finds him in Monsieur Wayne’s office, sitting at his father’s desk and doing something that she thinks is vaguely illegal, but she’s not about to tell her Boss a dozen times over how to parent his children.

Damian is a near-perfect copy of his father with darker skin and calculating green eyes. There’s also a more potent aura of danger around the child than there is around his father, like Damian hasn’t yet learned how to hide behind his public persona as his father had.

Or, Marinette looks at the teen thoughtfully, perhaps he just chooses not to.

“Monsieur Wayne,” she greets. Children like to be treated like adults, she knows, and Marinette doesn’t think this one is any different. “Selina hadn’t told me you’d be in the office today.”

“I don’t run my schedule by her,” he says flatly. A response she expected considering Dick’s stories.

“Of course not,” she agrees.

He finally deigns to look up at her and something flits across his expression, too fast for her to pick up on it. “Are those for Father? Bring them here, I’ll deal with them in his absence.”

Marinette raises her eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s wise Monsieur.”

Damian scowls and sticks his hand out. “I’m perfectly capable of forging Father’s signature. Give them here.”

She does not move and, instead, lets her lips quirk up into the smile she’s been fighting since she stepped in here.

“I don’t doubt it,” she tells him, and she doesn't. Forgery seems exactly like the kind of skill a child who broke into the CEO’s office of a multi-billion dollar company would have. “But you’ll find that all forging of signatures has been finished for the day and that these,” she shakes the sheaf of papers lightly, “actually require your father’s attention.”

He snorts disbelievingly and it says a lot about Marinette’s life up until now that the blatant display of disrespect doesn’t piss her off but instead reminds her of Chloé and of the fact that she still needs to reschedule their spa day. It's been too long since they spent time together in person.

“Well,” she pauses and eyes the papers thoughtfully. “‘Requires’ in the sense that its information needed to trounce the Board when they start spouting off greedy bullshit about cutting corners on our humanitarian efforts. I’m not sure how much of it is actually useful for anything besides that.” She shrugs. “But homework is homework, yes?”

That gets her a thoughtful once-over. His hand lowers and he then turns back to whatever he’s messing with on his father’s computers.

“Very well,” he concedes. “Father will be back in approximately thirteen minutes. You can leave the papers and I’ll inform him of their… importance.” He smirks, but it’s more like he’s letting her in on a joke than anything else.

Marinette smiles back as she sets the folder on the desk, feeling, oddly, like she’s passed some sort of test.

***

The day after, both Dick and Tim are waiting for her with what looks like an entire bakery laid out in her workspace.

“Uh,” she says eloquently, setting her purse down on her chair because there’s not a single open space on her desk not filled with some kind of pastry. “What’s all this?”

She looks up to find neither Dick nor Tim has stopped staring at her since she walked in. “We heard you met Damian yesterday,” Dick starts warily, like he’s scared of her reaction.

The response does not abate her confusion. 

“Yes, I did,” she says slowly. “That does not explain all… this.” She waves a hand, trying to encompass them as well as the state her desk is in.

The two brothers share a look.

“It’s a bribe,” Tim tells her simply and Marinette is taken aback for all of a second before her eyes suddenly narrow.

Dick cuts in hastily before she can say anything. “It’s more of an apology, really. For Damian’s behavior.”

But Marinette is confused and frustrated and just a bit offended by the apparent not-bribe at this point. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, but it only does so much.

“Damain’s behavior was fine,” she tells them with measured neutrality. “You two, on the other hand, are being weird and it’s freaking me out.” She crosses her arms expectantly. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Appearing from out of nowhere, Selina drapes herself along Marinette’s shoulders and snags a raspberry scone. “I do believe,” she says as if sharing a secret, “That they are trying to keep you from quitting, kitten.”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Why would I quit? I like this job.”

She also likes the Waynes (in general, if not right then) and she likes Selina. The woman was a good mentor who didn’t shy away from the dirtier parts of the job and taught Marinette all she knew. (Even the bits, she noticed, that had little to nothing to do with being a personal assistant and were more likely to be found in the repertoire of a thief.

But, Marinette is in possession of her own sticky fingers and knows how to not ask questions, so. You know—curiosity killed the cat and all.)

She doesn’t voice any of that, but Selina, at least, knows it anyway. Marinette isn’t quiet about her gratitude after all.

“First meetings with the youngest Wayne don’t often go well,” Selina tells her. “In fact, I think he has a habit of making the interns cry.”

Dick makes some kind of offended noise. “Hey! He hasn’t done that since he was twelve!”

Tim elbows him in the ribs and Marinette makes a vaguely skeptical face at all three of them before deciding it wasn’t worth it. She has actual work to get done today and pastries to get rid of before she can even start.

She pats affectionately at Selina’s hand before grabbing as many boxes as she can hold. “Come on you two,” she says to the brothers. “You’re going to help me hand these out to the rest of the company.”

Dick immediately starts doing as told but Tim hesitates, humming thoughtfully. “You know that’s not going to help your whole ‘I’m not actually a Wayne’ thing, right?”

She glares at him. It doesn’t stop Tim from grinning like the utterly unrepentant little shit he is.

***

Things are quiet after the Damian Incident for a whole two weeks. It’s the longest lull Marinette has had since she first started and became somehow involved with the Waynes.

It ends because Dick finds out about the crush Marinette has been nursing on the Head of Security for three months now.

The Head of Security who is Jason Todd: second eldest Wayne sibling and Dick’s brother.

He takes it better than expected.

(Almost, she thinks later, a little too well.)

***

Despite her friendship with Dick and Tim—or perhaps because of it?—Jason had never seemed very interested in her. At first, Marinette had shrugged and counted it as a win; there was one Wayne, at least, who neither found her situation funny nor used it to poke fun at her.

They were on friendly terms, she supposed. Security has always been one of her more regular stops in the building, so she’d spoken to him often enough. He liked complaining that she spoiled his team rotten with all her treats.

But she also noticed that he likes her cherry danishes, so.

And then she noticed how crooked his grin was when he smiled. And how he seemed to have an arsenal of nicknames for everyone he knew. And the small collection of classic romance novels filled with sticky notes he tries and fails to hide in his desk. And, and, and.

It was around the time she began unconsciously memorizing his schedule based on when he was and was not there for her pastry deliveries, that she realized she may have made a misstep somewhere.

Jason was stubborn and passionate and flipped between overly proper and crass light a damn light switch. He was also, as stated, very much not interested in her.

Not that she would’ve pursued him anyway. He was a coworker as well as her friends’ brother.

Now if only one of said brothers could understand that.

“You should ask him out,” Dick suggests not for the first time and Marinette sighs, also not for the first time.

She loves Dick—she truly does—but he has been an aggravating level of unhelpful since he found out about Marinette’s latest romantic disaster.

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

Dick groans, like she’s being the unreasonable one. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Because I don’t like embarrassing myself?” she asks rhetorically. “Not everyone can have a fairy tale romance like you and Wally.”

He throws his coffee stirrer at her. “We are not a fairy tale.”

She shoots him a flat look. She’s heard Dick talk about Wally and Tim’s told her all the stories and she was there when he and Wally finally got their shit together. Dick was unbearable for an entire week with his gooey, lovestruck new lease on life.

“You two are the definition of fairy tale. You two make fairy tales look like trashy romance novels.”

He opens his mouth to argue the point before forcibly cutting himself off. “No. Stop distracting me. We’re not talking about that; we’re talking about you and Jason.”

“There is no ‘me and Jason’,” she reminds him through her clenched teeth.

“Not yet,” he says optimistically. Like it’s a fact, like he knows something she doesn’t.

He makes her want to slam her face into a wall. Truly, he does.

***

Dick stops running his HR papers up to her office. Instead, he’s somehow convinced Jason to play errand boy for him even though he literally never looks happy about it. What used to be a flimsy excuse for Dick to slack off for a few minutes and gossip with her has now turned into awkward silence as Jason drops off the papers and leaves without even a ‘hello’.

During their shared breaks, Dick takes to orchestrating ‘chance encounters’ between her and Jason, all but shoving them into each other (and even actually shoving that one time).  She catches Jason shooting dark looks at Dick every time he does it, and if she’d been holding any iota of hope at this point, it’s been smashed to dust. Jason obviously knows of his brother’s meddling and isn’t happy about it.

But Dick just can’t take the hint.

Every failed plan of his makes him steadily worse about it all—more frantic and frustrated and like he wants to strangle her for her stubbornness. (The last feeling being more than mutual.)

Dick’s meddling starts to make her and Jason’s previously friendly, if distant, relationship awkward and embarrassing. With every pointed comment, she gets closer to just punching Dick in the face. Or, maybe, she’ll just tell Wally who really ate all the chocolate strawberry macaroons she made; it’d certainly be more devastating.

***

It all comes to head on a Thursday, after most employees have left for the day. 

They run into each other in a breakroom, and she watches as Jason suddenly goes stiff, eyes flicking over her shoulder to no doubt scan for Dick. That single action makes her expression sour and she slams her empty mug down with more force than was necessary.

For Kwamis sake, he looks like a cornered animal. An image not helped by the way he jumps a foot in the air and stares at her like he’s worried she’ll suddenly lunge at him.

“Can we agree this is ridiculous?” she says abruptly. “I don’t know what Dick is trying to accomplish with his wingman schtick, but we both know it’s not going to work. Can we just… agree that he’s an idiot?”

A complicated look crosses Jason’s face before he snorts wryly. “Yeah, we can agree on that. Dickie-boy has always been a few sandwiches short a picnic.”

“I know things have been awkward between us lately, and I’m sorry about that, but I hope we can keep being friends?” she says hopefully.

“What in the world do you have to be sorry about?” he asks before she can start catastrophizing about the bewildered expression he makes at her words. “It’s not your fault.”

The smile she shoots him is rueful and she shakes her hand in an ‘ehh’ type gesture. “Kinda is. And I understand if the-” she makes a vague gesture between them that she hopes properly conveys ‘my giant, stupid crush on you’, “you know, is too much for you. Just say the word I’ll try and keep out of your way.”

She’s trying to be comforting or understanding or something like that, but all her words seem to do is make him upset. “Absolutely not,” he insists. “Sunshine, you are not going to change your routine just to make me feel better.”

Marinette crosses her arms, frowning up at him. “Why shouldn’t I? If I’m making you uncomfortable-”

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Uncomfort- Marinette. ” She jolts a bit at the use of her name. She doesn’t think he’s used it since her second week at W.E. “I’m not sure who made you think otherwise—and if it was Dick just tell me cause I’ll kick his ass —but barring the fact that I still enjoy your friendship regardless of any… feelings-” Marinette concentrates very hard on not showing emotion when he says that, “-it’s not your responsibility to deal with it.”

Okay, but… that makes no sense. Of course her feelings were her responsibility, that’s the whole point of them being hers.

“If it’s not mine, then whose responsibility is it then?” she asks, wondering where the hell his train of thought is running.

“Mine, obviously.”

She gives him a look, complete with narrowed eyes and thinly veiled judgment. “What? Is this some kind of gentleman’s martyr complex? Is that what’s happening right now?”

Jason huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “If me taking responsibility for my own damn feelings is a martyr complex then sure,” he snarks, not unkindly. More like he’s trying to protect himself by retreating behind a sour attitude.

Her mouth is halfway around a retort when his words catch up to her brain and she freezes.

“Your feelings?” she repeats. “Your feelings for… me?”

His voice is carefully neutral when he says, “Those would be the ones.”

Her mouth opens and closes and opens again. “You like me? Seriously?”

His face spasms at the question, starting at anger before he properly looks at her and the surprised expression on her face. He pales.

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” she squeaks, something she hasn’t done since she was fifteen. “Well Dick said but I didn’t believe him!”

And fuck, she thinks. This means Dick knew the whole damn time, didn’t he? Oh, she is so going to kill him the second she gets the chance.

Jason runs a hand down his face, covering his mouth as he gathers his bearings. Suddenly, his eyes shoot back open and land on her. “Wait. If you didn't know, then what the hell were you talking about just now?”

She blushes to the tips of her ears and buries her face in her hands so she doesn’t have to look at him. It was easy when she thought he’d figured it out himself. It’s harder now that she has to tell him. “I- I was talking about my crush on you.”

He’s quiet for so long that she gets antsy and peeks out from behind her fingers to see his expression. He’s still looking at her, but now there’s a wide, crooked smile on his face. The expression softens something in her chest and she lowers her hands.

“Really?” he asks, leaning closer.

Marinette nods, feeling a small smile spread across her lips.

He jolts forward, hands reaching for her before suddenly stopping just shy of touching. She startles a bit at the motion but doesn’t move away.

Jason licks his lips, smile smaller but no less bright. “I- can I?”

She blinks. “Can you what?”

“Kiss you.”

The blush returns full force, but with it also comes a smile, giddy and bright. She nods and no sooner than she does, is he swooping down to pull her into a toe-curling kiss. His hands cup her face with a tenderness that makes her smile, makes her giddy, and it’s not long before they’re both smiling too wide to actually kiss and are forced to break apart.

His hands fall to her back, practically engulfing her, and his chin drops onto her head. It’s warm and cozy and she thinks she could so very easily get used to this.

Later, they’re going to have to deal with Dick and Tim and Selina and the teasing they’ll no doubt have to endure—not to mention how much worse the rumors are going to get—but right now? Right now Marinette pulls Jason back down for another kiss and very pointedly doesn’t think about it.

[gotemsayingw0w]

It started as an innocuous statement. She might as well have been telling him about the weather or the grocery list. As Tohru Honda sat at the chabudai table early one Fall Sunday morning, bent over her computer screen furiously reading its contents, she turned to her boyfriend, Kyo, and said "I think we should probably get married soon."

Kyo Sohma chuckled into his cup of coffee. "Okay," He responded. "Let me know when you have some free time and I'll try to pencil you in." He assumed she was joking given the glib manner in which she had made the comment.

Tohru nodded, still entirely focused on the computer screen. "Yeah…maybe later this week..." Her voice trailed off. "I don't think either of us have to work on Thursday."

Kyo turned his whole body towards her, but she didn't look up from the screen. Her lips were pursed, a delicate finger pressed to her chin. In the reflection of her reading glasses he saw her scrolling through an endless page of dense text. He watched her for a minute, both waiting to see if she would continue her comments and to appreciate just how adorable she looked right in that moment. Occasionally, she stopped scrolling and mouthed the words on the screen, following along to the important information she gleaned from whatever text she was reading.

"You want to get married," Kyo summarized. "On Thursday. When we have the day off."

She nodded vaguely and mumbled "Did you have something else you wanted to do on Thursday?" Finally, she stopped scrolling entirely and pressed her finger to the screen. "Aha! Found it."

His curiosity got the best of him and he sidled around to her side of the table, gently nudging her over with his knee. On the screen was information about requirements for applying for a loan. Scanning the page further, the information specifically covered how one could apply for a housing loan in their ward of the country. Tohru grabbed a notebook from the floor next to her and jotted down the information on the screen.

"You want to get married on Thursday and then what?" Kyo asked. "Buy a house on Friday?"

"No, I think it takes much longer for the paperwork to process," Tohru responded, finishing her notes and closing the laptop. "The house would probably have to wait until the summer at least." She pulled off her reading glasses and neatly folded them on top of her notebook. "What do you think?"

Kyo just raised his eyebrows and smirked. He had no idea how to respond, seeing as his girlfriend had just quickly whipped together their future plans within the span of a few short minutes. It wasn't the first time, of course, that they'd talked about marriage or buying a home. It was just the first time anything had been said in such a conclusive manner.

They were true adults now in the eyes of the law. Their ward of the country asserted that both eligible parties must be at least 20 before applying to be married lest they have the approval of their parents. And seeing as Tohru's parents were dead and Kyo's only biological parent would rather see him dead, they didn't have the luxury of asking permission.

The assumption was that marriage was on the horizon, but neither of them were really in any hurry. Their lifestyle was essentially that of a married couple, especially now that they were living together far from home. They both worked full time, both were contributing members of society. Marriage would come one day soon, certainly, but no one was rushing it.

In fact, both Kyo and Tohru asserted on their last visit home that they'd like to be settled in a home of their own before getting married or even thinking about children. It may have been unconventional, but they were determined to save enough money to buy a permanent residence in their new, coastal town.

Three years ago they moved away, nearly five hours from where they both grew up. Kyo was working as a martial arts instructor at a local dojo, owned by a dear friend of Kazuma's, and Tohru initially worked at an elementary school before taking over as the dojo's scheduling and billing consultant. While initially they lived with Kazuma's friend, Takahashi, they scrounged up enough money after three months to move into a glorified shoebox.

Their apartment was small, but it was their home. The single bedroom meant that they couldn't have guests as often as Tohru would have liked (much to Kyo's delight). The kitchen had just enough counter space to hold a rice cooker or chop vegetables, but certainly not both. The main area served as a living room, dining room, guest room, and craft room. It was cheap and it was functional, but more than anything it was theirs. From the shrine in the bedroom to the immaculate kitchen to the photographs of them and their friends on the wall, they had made this shoebox their home and, in the process, saved as much as they could of their wages.

In truth, they could have afforded a bigger apartment. They maybe even could have afforded to buy a small house when they first moved here, given the Sohma family's strange and gratuitous allowance awarded to the Zodiacs (even the cat didn't have to be forgotten financially). But that money was in an account neither Kyo or Tohru wished to touch. They never talked about what they'd use it for, though Kyo had it in his head that he wanted to save it for his future children, but they both wanted to save their own money and put it towards their future. It meant working a lot and living a frugal lifestyle, but it was all theirs.

Tohru was the one in their relationship who budgeted and handled bills. Kyo knew the very basics of finances, but Tohru, who was running the finances in the Honda household by the time she was in middle school, seemed to enjoy it. And she was good at it. Once Yuki taught her how to use a computer to pay all of her bills and track their expenses, she became an amateur accountant. She was meticulous and methodical, carefully keeping tabs on every receipt, every bank account balance, and every bill that was due.

As their savings grew, Tohru and Kyo began informally looking for a home to buy. It wasn't a very serious search, they simply went for walks around the neighborhood pointing out houses for sale and debating what they wanted in a home. Yuki had also sent Tohru a real estate website where she could look at local listings and compare the average prices with her budget. It was April now, and, since January, Tohru had been actively researching homes and the home-buying process.

But now her gears had shifted. They had decided to buy the house first and then worry about marriage, children, and the rest of their lives. Curious as to what changed, Kyo asked her about her shift in mindset.

"When I was at the bank on Friday, the teller was asking about you," Tohru explained. They'd grown quite fond of the local store personnel in their new town and Tohru was always making friends wherever she went. "He said that it is a great time to buy a home, but we'd have an even better chance of getting a good loan if we're married."

"Sounds kind of ridiculous," Kyo commented.

Tohru nodded. "That's what I thought, but when I started looking at loan applications online and doing my research, he's right. Joint household accounts are more likely to get a better rate.

"So then I started looking into getting married and it's really not a lengthy process. It would take us maybe two hours maximum to do it and then, after a few weeks, we could look for a house and apply for a loan." Kyo nodded, taking this all in. "Plus, with our lease ending this summer, it's a good time."

Kyo pondered this new information and tried not to laugh. It was so like her to view something as serious as marriage in such a practical light. She was never extravagant, nor did she like to be the center of attention. In her mind, they were essentially already married, the only thing that was missing was some paperwork and his last name.

Kyo didn't romanticize the idea of a wedding either, really. It seemed like an expensive excuse to wear clothes he hated and be around his family. The only thing about marriage that really mattered to him was Tohru. It was the idea that Tohru Honda could become Tohru Sohma, declaring to the government and everyone else that she was truly his. And for her to wear a ring on her finger so that there would be no doubt.

But he also knew that while it may have been their marriage, it wasn't entirely about them. He would never hear the end of it if they got married at the municipal office without telling Uotani or Hanajima. He knew that, while Shishou would never say anything, it would mean the world for him to be there. And, one day, Tohru may look back and wish that they'd done something special, even if it wasn't traditional.

"Do you really just want to fill out the paperwork and that's it?" Kyo asked. "No ceremony, no ring, nothing?"

She pondered this, once again adorably pressing her finger to her lips. "Well, I think I'd probably like a simple ring," she said. "But I'm not sure about the rest. Having a traditional ceremony is so expensive and I'd really hate to inconvenience everyone with such a long, drawn out process."

Kyo chose not to address the fact that, if they did have a traditional wedding, the entire Sohma family would be over the moon rather than 'inconvenienced.' "But what about Uotani and Hanajima? What about the rat and Shishou?" Kyo asked. "You don't want them there?"

Tohru frowned and it was clear to him that this thought hadn't crossed her mind. "I guess Uo-chan and Hana-chan would be pretty upset if I got married and didn't tell them…"

"Yeah, they'd probably try to kill me," Kyo chuckled, imagining Uotani's blind yankee rage. "Plus, think about how upset Ayame and Mine will be if they can't make you a dress or furisode." Her brow furrowed as his words sank in. "Aaaaand think about our future children one day. They'll be so disappointed when they hear that all their parents did to get married was ask a government official nicely."

Tohru nodded and said, "You're right, you're right. I didn't think about all of those things."

"So…" he said, waiting for her to decide on an alternative plan.

She raised her eyes towards the ceiling and thought for a minute, before turning to him, a gleam in her eye, as she said "I have an idea."

"This is the most pitiful wedding I've ever seen." Fanning her face with a stack of pamphlets, Arisa Uotani sat slumped in a plastic chair in the local municipal office.

"It is...fairly grim," replied Yuki Sohma, equally uncomfortable in the stifling heat.

"Would the two of you please shut up?" Kyo asked. He wasn't happy about it either. The tiny office where the three of them were currently stuffed was humid, a sheen of condensation glistening on the window, nearly blinding him as the late afternoon sunlight poured into the room.

A month ago he had suggested inviting the two of them. What an idiot he was. He should have taken Tohru's idea and ran with it. Two hours, some signatures, and absolutely no family or friends at their wedding? Thinking about it now, it was the absolute dream.

"I'm just saying, you at least could have added some nice, romantic touches," Arisa insisted. "Flowers, maybe? A tuxedo?"

"How about a bride?" Yuki added, chortling to himself.

"I'm here, I'm here!" Tohru shouted, running into the room with Hanajima and Kazuma behind her. Kyo tried to ignore just how close the damn psychic was standing to Shishou as he rose to greet them.

"Tohru, please tell me this is a joke, right?" Arisa asked though she looked pointedly at Kyo as she spoke.

"We've been over this, Yankee," Kyo said, through gritted teeth. He grabbed Tohru's hand as she sat down in the chair beside his.

"Really, Uo-chan," Tohru insisted, grabbing her friend's wrist with her free hand. "This is what I wanted."

"It's lovely, Tohru-kun," said Kazuma. And even though Kyo could tell he was being dishonest, he appreciated the sentiment. He stole one more glare at the Yankee before turning around.

"Did you remember everything to bring?" Kyo asked, his tone softening as he spoke with Tohru.

She held up the large shoulder bag as proof. "I didn't forget a single thing," she responded, her smile sweet. "Did you bring everything you needed?"

He responded by holding up his ratty gym bag and she giggled. They waited a few more minutes before the marriage registrar joined them. They'd met with Daisuke a few weeks ago to go over what they wanted. He winked as he walked into the tiny office.

"Hello there," He responded, greeting the room. "Thank you all for coming, but we'll need the room for a few minutes before we're ready for you. There is a lovely balcony just outside the backdoor. How about you wait for me there?"

Arisa and the rat grumbled, but obliged. Kazuma, who had been let in on the plan last week, turned to Kyo and Tohru, his eyes already wet. "See you in a few minutes," he said, before ushering the rest of them through the door.

Daisuke sat at his desk and smiled warmly at Kyo and Tohru. "Okay, you two. Do you have all of your paperwork?"

Tohru pulled a pink file folder out of her bag. Inside was both of their birth certificates, signed marriage contracts, and her letter of intent to change her name. She handed everything to Daisuke and he gave her a new ID card with the family name Sohma listed where it used to say Honda.

"You know," Kyo said, a wicked grin on his face. "We can just leave now and never see the rest of them again." Tohru frowned at him in response and he said "Okay, okay, sorry. Just checking to see if you were coming around to my idea. Clearly the answer is no."

"If you leave that means I will have to take care of your friends," Daisuke reminded him. "Everyone vetoed that idea last week."

Kyo groaned, but nodded. "Fine," he said, though the sarcasm dripping in his tone was clearly forced. "I'll go change. But just know you had the option."

Tohru narrowed her eyes at him, but he waved her off. He grabbed his gym bag and went into the hall to the bathroom. Once the door closed, Tohru reached into her back and grabbed the wrapped box she had prepared for Kyo. "You'll hold on to this for after, right?" She asked. Daisuke tucked in under his desk and nodded. Tohru grinned and rose to go to the bathroom to change. "I'll see you in the lobby!"

Out on the back balcony, five individuals sat facing the ocean in the rapidly dimming autumn sunlight. Arisa and Saki sat together on one bench with Kazuma and Yuki sitting together on the other.

Arisa's patience was rapidly depleting. She blew a few loose strands of hair off of her face before saying "You know, if they make us wait any damn longer, we're all gonna be sitting here in the dark."

Daisuke joined them on the balcony. "They're coming, I promise. Kazuma-dono, you can go ahead inside."

Arisa grumbled under her breath "dammit, why does he get to go inside? The three former classmates sat outside, not talking, but each waiting as patiently as they possibly could. For Saki and Yuki, that meant slight fidgeting. For Arisa it meant continued cursing.

After a minute, Kyo joined them outside. He came and stood next to Daisuke, smirking at three of the closest friends he's ever had (God, that's bleak, he thought) and their vaguely annoyed faces. "You guys better fuckin' smile, it's a happy day."

They stared at him, dumbfounded, and under their scrutiny, Kyo strongly resisted the urge to loosen his tie or untuck his shirt. As they continued to stare, clearly shocked he was wearing a suit and even more shocked that he was grinning ear to ear.

"Damn," Yuki said, clearly the most shocked out of the three of them. "You actually look...decent." Arisa and Saki nodded. "Who knew you would ever wear a tie after graduation?"

"Last time it's ever fuckin' happening," Kyo insisted.

"What about for any of our weddings, jackass?" Asked Arisa.

"I'm sending Tohru as my proxy," he replied with a smirk. "Now would you shut the hell up? She's comin' out soon."

As he said those words, the door to the municipal office opened and Tohru emerged wearing a Western-style white dress. It wasn't extravagant, but its silhouette hugged tightly to her chest and flared out with a tulle skirt just above her knees. Her hair, presumably curled by her beloved Hana-chan earlier in the day, was held in a loose updo by a gold hair clip that had belonged to her mother. When she had called Ayame and Mine to ask if they had anything in storage they could send her to wear, a week later a package with Kyo's black suit and Tohru's handmade custom dress arrived on their doorstep. Tohru cried the moment she opened it and Kyo actually teared up a bit, too.

But it was nothing compared to either of their crying now. The second she stepped out onto the small, concrete portico, and caught his eye, she started weeping. Shishou, standing at her left, handed her a tissue he'd been holding in his robe. He was crying, too. And seeing the both of them, tears openly flowing, made Kyo lose it as well. He couldn't help it as a tear rolled down his cheek, hitting the lapel of his blazer. Followed by another and another. And the second she came to stand next to him, they both were a snotty, weepy mess.

Shishou returned to his seat next to Yuki, and Yuki, knowingly, put his hand on Kazuma's forearm.

As the sun set, casting deep pinks and bright oranges through the clouds above them, Kyo Sohma and Tohru Honda exchanged their wedding vows. They held tightly to each other's hands the entire time, not even bothering to look at Daisuke or their meager audience as they repeated the traditional Shinto vows wearing Western clothing. They exchanged simple, matching gold wedding bands, giggled as they heard sobs from their friends, and laughed through their tears when Yuki offered Kazuma the sleeve of his shirt to cry into.

And ten minutes after they walked outside, they swore to one another that they would be together until the end of time. Always supportive. Always patient. Always respectful. Always in love.

"Yes, I promise." Chikaimasu.

They entertained Kazuma's idea of having dinner altogether at a local restaurant. Before leaving, in the brief moment they had alone, Kyo reminded Tohru that they could ditch everyone else and just head home. But she gently kissed him as she loosened his tie and reminded him it was just a meal they had to get through before they could be alone.

They were eating a nicer yakiniku restaurant, naturally suggested by Hanajima even though neither Kyo nor Tohru really preferred it.

Kyo suffered through what felt like the longest meal of his life. Everyone at the table insisted on 'saying a few words on their behalf.' Some of the speeches were brief, especially the psychic's and the rat's. But Arisa spent roughly 15 minutes rambling and, at times, yelling through her tears about how proud she was. Kazuma, who had actually prepared a small speech, started crying and struggled to get through it without taking several crying breaks.

Yuki, Saki, and Arisa ordered several rounds of sake before their meal was even ordered and continued to get drunker (and, as expected, more weepy) as the evening went on. They ordered several course's worth of food and then Yuki presented a cake he had purchased to celebrate the occasion. They were presented with gifts, mostly sentimental ones aimed at Tohru from the three twenty year olds, but also an unreasonably large check from Kazuma, which Tohru spent approximately 30 minutes insisting they couldn't accept. Yuki brought a canvas tote stuffed with cards and gifts from the rest of the Sohma clan.

When the check was finally paid, Kyo stood before everyone else, grabbing Tohru's hand as he did so, and announced "Well thanks, everyone, but it's getting late."

"That's rude," Yuki muttered drunkenly.

"Shut up," Kyo retorted as Tohru stood next to him. "I just sat through a long-ass dinner with you and didn't complain the whole time. You're welcome."

"Plus, we'll see you in the morning for breakfast!" Tohru exclaimed, stepping around the table to give each person a hug. "Are you sure you can get back to the guesthouse by yourselves?"

"Yep," Kyo responded. "They're sure. Shishou, thanks for dinner. See you in the morning. Bye."

As he pulled Tohru out onto the street, he couldn't help but stop to kiss her deeply. She giggled as she did so, eyes tearing up once more. "That was a long dinner," she admitted after pulling away. She reached for his hand and gently tugged him in the general direction of their home. "Come on, husband, let's go home."

They ascended the four flights of stairs to their apartment and unlocked the door. For an unknown reason, Kyo felt his nerves ignite. It wasn't because it was their first night as husband and wife, no, they'd crossed the intimacy bridge years ago. It was truly the first night of the rest of their lives.

"I have something for you," He said as he slipped off his wildly uncomfortable shoes.

"I have something for you, too!" She exclaimed. "I was going to give it to you earlier, but we didn't really have a chance." She reached into her bag and removed the gift. "Here, take it with you to the bedroom and I'll meet you there. I just want to take my hair out in the bathroom first."

He entered their room and pulled the box he had for her out from under a stack of shirts in his dresser. He carefully hung the blazer in the closet along with his tie while he waited for her and then sat on the bed, sliding her present in front of him and leaving the one she'd wrapped next to him.

Tohru emerged from the bathroom after a few minutes, out of her dress and wearing a simple white silk yukata. She had it tied loosely around her waist, the neckline dipping deliciously low and the hem ending just at the middle of her thighs. Her hair, previously set in curls and tied back, floated loosely around her face, traces of curls still visible at the very ends. She wore a set of ornately woven lace stockings, which ended just where the yukata began. A light, pink blush crept across her cheeks as she sat across from him. Kyo felt all of the air forced from his lungs. She was a vision.

He quickly shoved the gifts aside. "Gifts later," he begged and she smiled as she grabbed his hands.

"Gifts first, please," She requested. And though his entire body screamed in protest, he didn't deny her.

"Fine," he agreed, trying to focus his gaze away from her cleavage and whatever the hell was under that yukata.

She placed her long, thin package in his hands. "You first," she insisted. He carefully unfurled the ribbon and tore through the wrapping paper. As he unwrapped the gift she hurriedly explained "I got you one practical gift and one silly gift, but if you don't like them…"

He bopped her on the head with the lid of the box before he looked inside. "Oh, would you hush. I already love them."

"But you haven't seen them!" She exclaimed and shoved the box back into his hands. He pulled the larger gift out first. It was a simple, nondescript book with a soft leather cover. As he opened the cover to see the lettering she took his hand and said "Really, it's silly. It's okay if you don't like it."

He ran his fingers over the raised lettering of the inside cover. Kyo and Tohru Sohma. As he read it, he felt the backs of his eyes sting and his throat close. When he turned to the first page and saw the first picture taken of just the two of them, a tear ran down his cheek.

"I didn't even know this picture existed," he said, choking on his words.

It was the two of them at one of the shrines in Kyoto. They were standing together, Kyo balancing his arm on the top of her head and smirking. Tohru had a wide grin, her eyes not looking at the camera, but rather laughing at whatever he had been saying then. They both had a faint blush painted on their cheeks.

"Hana-chan took it," she explained, also tearing up. "I didn't think you ever saw it. I held onto it. Actually, I kept it under my pillow when we lived with Shigure-san."

He smiled at her. "I would say that's really dorky and embarrassing, but I would have done the same thing if I knew it existed, honestly."

She giggled and sidled up to his side as he flipped through the rest of the book. He knew the rest of the pictures well, pictures from graduation with, thankfully, the rest of their friends cropped out. Pictures of them on the day they had moved. Pictures of them in their new home. Candids of them eating or cooking together.

He closed the book and kissed her sweetly on the lips. "I love it, thank you." She smiled and wiped her tears with her hand. As she did so, he caught the gleam of her wedding ring in the dim light and his heart constricted once more. "I have an idea, actually."

"An idea?" She asked.

"Yeah, hear me out," He insisted. "I got you a practical gift and a silly gift, too. But I only want to give you the silly one tonight because it really goes with your gift. We can do practical tomorrow."

Tohru smiled and nodded. "I agree. Only mushy for tonight." She reached for the box next to him and he presented it to her. It wasn't nearly as neatly wrapped and the only damn wrapping paper he could find in their apartment had pumpkins on it, but whatever. She gently unwrapped it and lifted the lid. Inside was a slightly thicker book, bound with a beige canvas cover.

She opened it and, just like he was minutes ago, was struck by the raised letter on the first page. She immediately devolved into sobs, resting her head on Kyo's shoulder as she read it over and over again. The Sohma Family.

There was a single page with a picture and a small note written in calligraphic handwriting. It was a picture of them, in their wedding garb prepared by Ayame, taken with Tohru's phone three weeks ago when they'd first received a package. They were standing in the apartment against the living room wall, phone propped up across the room. It certainly wasn't a conventional wedding picture, but they certainly didn't have a conventional wedding. Beneath the picture was the date they had planned for their wedding and those same words she had printed in her book. Kyo and Tohru Sohma.

"Did you write this?" Tohru asked through her sniffles, running her fingers across the words.

"Hell no," Kyo responded, laughing. "I asked Hanajima to do it for me. She wanted me to pay her. I sent her a gift basket with food instead."

She beamed at him, eyes red, but sparkling. "Kyo-kun, that's even more sweet that you asked her for help. I love it. But why is the rest blank?"

Kyo rapped her on the head with his knuckles. "Dummy," he said, his voice affectionate. "That's for us to fill up for the rest of ever. With kids or cats or goblins we find outside. It's the Sohma family."

She kissed him sweetly on the lips, shuffling into his lap as she did so. "Thank you. I really, really love it." She kissed him once more and then pressed her forehead to his.

"Okay, can I open my last present now?"

Tohru's brow furrowed. "I thought we said tomorrow?"

"No, no," Kyo responded, gently untying the sash on her yukata as he pressed his lips to her jawline. "Not what I meant." She giggled as she shrugged out of her robe, revealing the elaborate, see-through lingerie that Ayame had sent her a week later.

"Okay, okay, I suppose you can, husband," she teased.

He pressed his lips to her breast and hummed in appreciation. "Happy wedding, Mrs. Sohma."

Author's Note: I got married in March right before my state shut down! My husband and I didn't want to ever get married (we've been together for 6 years), but then he needed health insurance and I had it, soooooo we did it. I started working on this piece right after we officially got married, but it was a WIP for a long time.

For some reason, I hardcore headcanon these two not having a fancy or traditional wedding. Neither Tohru nor Kyo like being in the center of attention and Tohru is so frugal. Idk it just makes sense to me. I know it is definitely not the usual "Marriage of Tohru and Kyo" and I really do love pieces where the wedding is elaborate, Shinto or Western. But for me, this is how I imagine it. Please enjoy!

[lilithhawthorne]

It’s time for me to share what I created for the reverse MASS EFFECT BIG BANG hosted by @mebigbang!! I was lucky enough to get the amazing art of @jubberry and inspiration for a story where a Shepard who never left the Reds has a run in with everyone’s favorite C-Sec detective. I had a few personal issues that meant I wasn't able to finish in time, so I hope you don't mind that I will be posting the THRILLING conclusion next week. I thought this was a better option than rewriting something that had a rushed ending.

BUT ANYWAYS, here is CHAPTER ONE (of two) of 

[Cross Posted on AO3]

Skulking. The shop keeper said they had been skulking, and when he had gotten the call from dispatcher Omega Schebler she had shaped the word skulking into a concussive round that said your punishment isn’t over. That’s why Garrus Vakarian, the detective with egg on his face so fresh it could have been salvaged to make an omelet, got the call and not a beat cop who had the time. 

“Be nice to the old lady,” his partner quipped as Garrus called up a patrol car. “The Citadel can be a scary place for lonely old ladies, and you know groups of humans are never a good thing.” 

Garrus opened his omnitool while Dix blathered on behind him, the human’s self-deprecating jab avalanching into a series of anecdotes from his first days working the Wards. The skycar flashed a green light, accepting his authorization code, and the door lifted with a gentle hiss. Stale cigarette smoke and the stench of unwashed bodies, of all kinds, permeated from the worn upholstered seats. 

“I thought they were required to clean these things out more often,” Garrus muttered. With only Dix around, he didn’t bother to suppress the ire in his voice. 

Dix stuck his head in the open door and took four open-mouthed and rapid breaths, his stomach caving in and billowing out beneath his shirt. “I don’t smell nothin’,” he said. “But, hey, I only got this human nose.” 

His omnitool beeped, an automated reminder that it had been 10 minutes since the call had been logged scrolling rapidly across his screen. With a click, he sent a response that he was en route. He turned back to look at his partner before folding himself into the car. Whoever had sat it in last must have been human, and his bony knees chaffed against the dash before he could adjust the seat. “No one has a nose like you, Lemley. I hear they’re thinking of making it a Citadel Monument, the thing is big enough to direct traffic.” 

“Oh har har.” Dix looked over his shoulder to make sure no one from the office was in the lot before raising his middle finger in response. “Have fun on your petty crimes beat, Detective Vakarian.”

Garrus bristled in response, his mandibles pulled tight and his talons splayed across his lap. The joke soured between them. After a moment, Dix leaned close, his hand pressed against the sensor to keep the door from bumping his head on the way down. His brows knitted together and his voice dropped. “Hey, look, it’ll be a lil’ bit longer, so what? Someone will fuck up sooner or later, and Boomie will forget all about - “

“Yeah,” Garrus interrupted, “sure.” It had been said before, by everyone at least once, and by Dix at least once a day since he had been called into Captain Baumvi’s office. That had been two weeks ago, and the captain seemed disinclined to forget anytime soon. 

Dix puffed his cheeks up and squinted at Garrus, his not-so-subtle indication that he was hurt Garrus wouldn’t let himself be comforted. “Fine,” he said, letting his mandibles loosen in a display of affable good-faith. “I’ll tell the captain that you and Seegmiller call her Boomie behind her back, that’ll put me in her good graces again.” 

“Ehhh that’s the spirit. Okay now fuck off and go wrangle those errant skulking humans.” Dix stepped back from the car, rapping the window with his knuckles as goodbye. Garrus entered the coordinates of the store, and the patrol car lifted off into the orderly flow of Citadel traffic.

Garrus stopped himself from pinching his mandibles, but he couldn’t keep the warble of frustration from his voice. “So you didn’t see them do anything?” he asked Orsant Varana for the second time. 

“Well, they were - “

He raised a hand in the air, halting the shop keeper before she launched into another diatribe about what the humans she saw were planning to do. “Again, it’s a yes or no question. Did you see the group of humans do anything besides skulking?” 

The salarian blinked up at him, her large eyeballs audibly moist. He wasn’t an expert in xenoculture, but he guessed her body language suggested she was very angry with him. Her tiny frame hunched before him, eyes blinking rapidly, he recalled Captain Baumvi’s warning: I don’t give a fuck who you are, who you think you are, or what you think you bring to the team. Cut the attitude - you’re a detective, not a Spectre. 

Keeping a trill of frustration buried beneath his subvocals, he made a conscious effort to uncross his arms. “Orsant,” he tried again, using her first name in a bid to come off as friendly, “I can’t arrest a group of tourists on the Citadel for being in one place for too long. Believe me, I would if I could “ - he broke off and forced a laugh, his arms splayed in a suggestive display that he hoped she would appreciate. Tourists are the worse, his carefree laugh said, I hate them, too! 

Orsant looked unimpressed. 

“Ahem, anyways.” He looked back at his omnitool, paraphrasing from her extensive complaint. “Despite the fact that they were all wearing red and looked suspicious, I can’t do anything about it unless they actually commit a crime. Did you see them do anything illegal?” 

“You can never trust humans who have a uniform, especially when they are in groups,” she warned. 

“Yes, well, I’ve never heard that saying,” he replied slowly, hesitant to say that she was wrong because, well… she wasn’t. “But other than that….” He trailed off, hoping she would supply him with the kernel he needed to take her complaint seriously. 

She didn’t take the hint. “Mark my words,” she intoned aggressively, gesturing with a long finger up at him, “they’ll be back! They’ve been outside the store every day for a week! They’ll be back!” 

Garrus excused himself and exited her store, his omnitool ringing the captain as soon as he was out of earshot of the shop keeper. He was required to check in with her whenever he wasn’t at the station, a condition of his punishment that inconvenienced both of them and kept her angry. 

“What is it?” she barked into the line. 

“Hey, Captain.” His greeting fell flat and was unreturned, so he rushed to fill the silence. “I’ve just spoken to the shop keeper, Orsant Varana. The group of humans she called in about, although annoying, haven’t done anything.

“Her initial report said they come back every day. Have you seen them yet?” 

“Well, no, but - “

“Great. Pull up a seat. Wait ‘em out.” 

Silence dipped between them as Garrus searched for something to say. A stakeout? For a group of tourists? She was trying to kill him with boredom. 

“Is there anything else you need, Detective Vakarian?” Her voice was almost cruel over the line, and he was glad it was only voice so she couldn’t see his mandibles flare in frustration. 

“No, captain, that’s all.” 

Baumvi disconnected the line without saying goodbye. He thought about sending an update to Dix, but committing the idiocy of his detail in writing would only further irritate him. Instead, he turned the display off and looked across the sprawl of shops in search of a suitable spot to begin his watch. Across the way, impeded only by a few benches and a shallow pond, he saw a volus cafe with more than half the tables empty. 

There was a vidscreen behind the counter playing a news station with CITADEL: ALL NEWS, ALL THE TIME emblazoned in the corner of the screen. The volume was distracting, and Garrus raised his voice to compete with the newscaster. “Do you have any dextro drinks?” he asked, eyeing the menu with trepidation. There were many variations of lattes.

“Just one,” the volus breathed back.

“I’ll take it.” 

The volus went to work making his drink, a complicated whir of machinery and shakers adding to the cacophony that overtook the small cafe. There were four others, scattered across three tables, and only the couple in the corner seemed unaware of the ruckus. They seemed oblivious of anything that existed outside the circle of their intertwined arms. 

He took a seat close to the door, the spotless glass walls allowing him full view of the gift store across the way. 

The news program had shifted stories, a cheerful asari talking over a picture of two humans in matching armor. Garrus’s gut heaved as if he had just been thrown across the room. It was the newest Spectres, a team of humans that the council had entrusted to go after Saren Arterius. He focused on what the asari was saying, although he already knew the story. He had read it every day since the story had debuted just under a month ago. 

“ - Kaidan Alenko and Ashley Williams, humanity’s first Spectres, unexpectedly encountered their rogue counterpart on Virmire. Although the total number of casualties has not been confirmed by the STG, sources close to the battle suggest that the numbers would have been higher had the two Spectres not been present. Leaked footage shows Spectre Williams facing off against a charging krogan! The two could not be reached - “

Garrus slammed his fists down on the table, startling the volus who had approached from behind with his drink. 

“You will be charged for anything you break,” she warned, placing the glass cylinder in front of him with extreme care. 

“Can you turn that off?” He motioned to the news, the asari still gushing about the fine work of humanity’s greatest assets. 

The volus shrugged and lowered the volume, but the screen stayed on. 

“Not a fan of the news?” a voice from behind inquired. 

There was a leaden ball bouncing beneath his carapace, and the question irked him more than it should. “Tired of hearing about their exploits,” he responded with venomous disdain. 

“Tell me about it. Blah, blah, blah, we get it, they’re saving the world. Let me know when it’s about to blow up, that’s all I care about.” 

With a huff of amusement, Garrus turned in his chair, his eyes connecting with a human woman sitting the table over. Her feet were propped on a chair across from her, a crumpled jacket and bag thrown across the other two. A little human taking up a lot of space. Typical. But her smile was easy and engaging, and she seemed keen on conversation.  

“I’m Shepard,” she supplied without him asking. She stuck a hand out, leaning forward to reach across the table. Hunched over, he could see the couple in the corner table, an asari and a human man, were sitting knee to knee and staring intensely into each other’s eyes. 

Garrus took the offered hand, focusing back on the least weird of the strange things in the cafe, and gave it a stiff pump, up and down, before letting go. Dix was also a fan of handshakes, he handed them out everywhere they went, but they felt strange to Garrus. Maybe it was because humans had such small, soft hands, and even with gloves on, he could feel how fragile they were. Yet he had witnessed Dix attempt to shake not one but two krogan’s hands. “Vakarian.” 

Dead silence filled the space between them. Shepard smiled blithely, unaware or uncaring that his introduction was wooden. She gestured to his drink and asked, “What’s that?” 

“Uh.” He looked at the untouched beverage in front of him, then took stock of the four empty glasses in front of Shepard. “Dextro, I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Ah, right.” She nodded, a curly red ponytail bobbing behind her, and tapped her temple with a finger as if she had been given the missing piece to a puzzle. “Different biology.” 

“Very.” 

The volus was busy behind the counter helping a new guest, her machines chugging away as she ripped open fridge doors and slammed them back shut. The amount of noise she was making seemed impossible. 

Shepard smiled wide enough to bare her teeth, and she jerked her chin towards the volus. “She’s always like that. This place, too. Super loud, impossible to have a conversation. Or concentrate. Forget about making plans,” she said with a laugh as if she came here often to make plans. 

Then why are you trying? he thought, but he managed to say, “Must be bad for business.” 

“Could be why it’s so slow.” The human shrugged and readied herself to say more, but a beep from her omnitool cut her short. Her brow furrowed for a moment, but she looked back up at him with another quick and easy grin. “That was work. I’ve got to run.” 

Garrus tensed his mandibles as she began to gather her things, but nodded as if he understood her rush. He thought about his own work, the monotonous task that brought him to the cafe in the first place and had by extension trapped him in an awkward conversation. 

The woman breezed past his table, her unfolded jacket revealing a brilliant crimson geometric pattern on the back. “It was nice meeting you, Detective Vakarian.” She paused mid-step to glance back at him, her smile morphing into something wicked. “It’s usually better to make your calls to the captain in private. Never know who could be listening.” 

Shit. 

He rose to his feet, but before he could make it around the table, she had pitched her bag at him. He raised his arms, expecting something hard to pelt him, but instead, the limp fabric bounced off his carapace and clumped at his feet. A crude but efficient distraction; it bought her enough time that she had made it out the door, pushing through a crowd at a full sprint. 

The volus yelled something after him, but he was out the door in pursuit. Even at this hour, the Citadel was crowded, and he could see Shepard fighting her way through a crowd near the stairwell. 

“Citadel Security!” he shouted, his voice carrying over the din of conversations. “Stop that human woman!”  

Shepard had just worked her way through the crowd and was rocketing down the less congested stairwell. She jumped down the last few steps, stumbling before correcting herself and turning the corner, descending out of sight. 

“Hey, officer, which human?” someone shouted back as he ran by. 

“Forget it,” he hissed between clenched mandibles. 

He made the stairwell in half the time she had, his long legs carrying him a greater distance and making it easy for him to vault down double the steps. The floor below was slightly less crowded, but the red-headed human was nowhere in sight. 

That’s not a problem, he thought. He opened his omnitool and turned on the pathway that allowed his visor to pick up bio-signs. Not strictly legal and not something the captain would be happy about if she found out. He had promised to use it only with prior authorization. Baumvi claimed it amounted to illegal use of monitoring equipment, but he had a point to prove. 

Tiny heat signatures flooded his field of vision, and with a few more taps he had limited the readings to include those that belonged to “xenobiology: human,” increased heart rate, and perspiration. The pinpoints of activity reduced to a more manageable number. 

He took a brisk but controlled tour of the floor, matching the signatures to anyone he could see. There were a lot of sweaty humans, but only one he was interested in. 

His tour stretched past the show floor and into what should have been an employees-only loading dock. It contained the back product and newest arrivals for all the stores, restaurants, and cafes in a specific floor range. The door was coded, but the friendly green light indicated this one had been unlocked recently. And just inside the room, no more than a few feet from the door, a panting, sweating human.

Got you. 

Garrus wasn’t interested in a shoot out - though he had no idea if she had a gun - and wrestling with a suspect never looked good. The room would be full of crates and shelves, and though she looked low to the ground, he couldn’t tell what she was behind, or how much stood between them. There were too many unknowns, even if it was just one human. He opted for the more peaceful route, rapping the back of his hand on the wall before hollering, “If you come out now, all I’m going to do is ask you a few questions!” 

The signature bobbed, a sign that she was shifting her position in some way, but the distance remained fixed. She wasn’t coming out and she wasn’t running. 

“I’m going to come in,” he warned, and after a pause, he stepped into range of the automatic doors. 

A few things happened all at once, but before she smacked into him, he noticed with unease that the room was empty. There had been nothing between her and the door, and as soon as it opened, she lunged at him, her arms wrapping around his waist and her legs dropping between his. She was falling to the ground and taking him with her. 

He was dense and under normal circumstances, she shouldn’t have been able to take him down, but she had the element of surprise. He was unsteady on his feet from the shock, and she dragged him down before he could correct his stance and stand firm. 

“Ooof.” The fall knocked the wind out of Shepard, and she lay still beneath him, a look between mild amusement and frustration playing across her features. 

“Didn’t think that out did you?” Garrus rose quickly to his feet, alleviating some of the pressure she was feeling. She had managed to take him down alright, but she hadn’t been prepared for the weight of a turian. 

She regained her composure quickly and rejected his offered hand. “No,” she admitted as she stood, her knees still a little shaky, “but I thought it was worth a shot. Did the job well enough.” 

He didn’t take his eyes off her as he unholstered his weapon. “Did what job well enough?” he inquired. Though it was all beginning to make sense. 

She took a few steps away from him, her lips pinched together as she eyed the gun in his hands. Then her face relaxed, the now familiar grin pulling at the corners of her lips, only this time he saw how fake it was. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. You’ll get a notice that there’s been an armed robbery, and it will be awful embarrassing when it turns out you were at the scene of the crime, chatting away in a cafe.” 

“We were talking for two minutes,” he spat. Two minutes was all it would take for professionals, he knew that, especially if they had already started by the time he sat down. It was just enough time for them to slip out, and even without alarms, he would have clued in on a group of humans leaving. Would have looked enough to know that something was up even before the alert was sent. 

Shepard knew what he was thinking, and the grin reached her eyes as she looked up from the gun, her chin tilted back in defiance. “Plenty of time,” was all she said. 

I’m never going to hear the end of this.

A quick sweep of the room confirmed that they were alone, but there was nothing more he could do with her here. He was going to have to take her in and face the wrath of the captain. “Alright,” he began, holstering his gun again and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “You’ll be coming with me.” 

The ease with which she submitted should have raised a few alarm bells. If not that, then the toothy grin she offered up as the handcuffs tightened over her wrists. Everything pointed to a reckoning. But all Garrus could think about was how angry Captain Baumvi was going to be. 

Orsant was right; groups of humans couldn’t be trusted. 

[bevioletskies]

across the universe [prologue]

summary: Peter, the son of the Chancellor, has lived among the stars for the first ten years of his life. Gamora, the future Commander of Terra, has lived on the ground for the first ten years of hers. Though it’s finally time for the last survivors of the so-called apocalypse to return to Earth, they might not be prepared for what’s waiting for them. But when Peter and Gamora meet and find their worlds irreversibly tangled together, titles, obligations, and the impending war may be the very last thing on their minds.

a/n: The premise of this fic is very loosely based off of The 100, the television show more so than the book series. However, no previous knowledge is required, as I only used the basic concept and language, and none of the storylines or characters arcs from the show.

Fic title is from the song Across The Universe by The Beatles. Warning for mentions of canon-typical violence and injuries.

word count: 6.1k | ao3 | tag

Gamora crouched low in the grass, maintaining her near-perfect center of gravity while balancing delicately on her toes. Her eyes and ears were alert, the handle of her switchblade digging into the palm of her hand from clutching it too tightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could only just spot her sister a little off to her left, their gazes fixated on the same target about fifteen feet away. She used her free hand to bring her finger to her mouth, silencing her before her breaths became too loud, too laborious.

However, she was too late; Nebula seemed too far gone to be reasoned with. Her ink-colored eyes narrowed to slits, and under her breath, she murmured, “Yu gonplei stei odon.”

With a feral shout, Nebula took a running leap, landing firmly on the shoulders of her intended prey, yanking the wooden staff from its holster on her back and swinging it around, across the column of his throat. She grappled its other end with her other hand and yanked, snarling viciously as it dug into his flesh. The man stumbled, gasping for breath, before suddenly rolling forward, sending Nebula tumbling to the ground in front of him, the staff shattering instantly upon impact. Gamora hung her head in disappointment.

“You failed again. Why am I not surprised?” Both girls looked up into the face of their father. They barely noticed the other man, one of many mid-ranking generals who’d been unlucky enough to be their trainer for the day, limping away, rubbing at the irritated skin on his throat like it only mildly inconvenienced him, another blow to Nebula’s already wounded pride. “Are you proud of the way your voice sounds? Do you enjoy having everyone know where you are and who you are? Why do you insist upon screaming like an animal instead of remaining silent like a warrior?”

“I wanted to practice my battle cry,” Nebula murmured, recoiling. “I’m...sorry, Father.”

Thanos drew to his full height, completely towering over them, his shadow engulfing them in darkness despite it being mid-afternoon. “We’re finished here today. Let me speak to heda, alone.” Nebula slinked off in dejected silence, picking up the remains of her staff along the way. “You performed well today, little one. You’ve become stronger, far stronger than she could ever hope to be.” He jerked his head sharply to the side, indicating he wanted Gamora to follow him further, away from their temporary camp.

“I don’t know if I will be ready by the time I’m of age,” Gamora replied, brushing her stray baby hairs out of her face. “Your gonakru don’t like me very much.”

“That is because you’re still a child,” Thanos said dismissively. “They don’t see the potential in you like I do. Your ferocity, your intelligence, they will carry us forward, Gamora. They don’t see how much more powerful you are compared to all the rest.”

“They want their children to become heda instead,” Gamora muttered. “They believe it’s their right.”

“Then they forget who keeps them alive. Who made sure they had soft beds and warm bellies? Who protected them from those who dared challenge our right to this earth?” Thanos came to a stop, his piercing gaze wandering across the horizon. Vast expanses of lush grass, trees as far as the eye could see, a rich blue sky that bathed them in fresh, warm light. It was almost impossible to tell what had really happened here a hundred years ago.

“You, wanheda. The commander of death.” Gamora stopped beside him, her fingers itching to reach out and pluck a single flower from the ground, just so she could have something to make her war-ridden tent feel more like a home. “They follow you. They fear you.”

“And they will come to fear you as well. As they should.” Thanos almost sounded proud, but Gamora couldn’t help but feel her stomach curl at the very thought. She tucked her hands behind her back, clenching her fists so tightly she could feel her fingernails drawing blood in her palms. “You have good instincts, Gamora, and far more gravitas than anyone I’ve ever met. Your worthiness will become known. I have no doubt.”

“I have eight years to prove myself,” Gamora said brightly, smiling just the slightest bit. “I have time.”

“Do not wait that long, little one,” Thanos warned, glancing down at her. “They may try to kill you first.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “Really?”

“They do not care for your age or your affiliation. Only your title,” Thanos said gravely. “If they find you a threat to their survival, they will slip into your room in the cover of night, and slit your throat before you ever wake again.”

Gamora shuddered, drawing away from him. “May I please return to camp, Father? I’m hungry.”

Thanos nodded sharply. “You have my permission to rest, but we return to Sanctuary tonight. We ride out when the sun begins to set, or else the reapers will find us from the trees. I need to have some words with the gonakru about setting up snipers across Shallow Canyon.”

“Why is that, Father?” Gamora asked.

“I believe war is coming.” Thanos turned, staring directly at the sun, barely moving to shield his eyes. “And not war among our people, but one of a different kind. The kind that comes from the skai.”

“How was school today, baby?” Peter glanced up from the dining table across the expanse of their modest apartment, surprised to see his mother smiling warmly in his direction. He hadn’t even heard the door open.

“It was okay,” he shrugged, grinning toothily when she walked over to kiss his forehead. “I’m still no good at math, even though I really like my teacher.”

“Should we get you a tutor, then? They’ve got a great system going with the older kids who need extra education credits,” Meredith suggested. She went back to the front door so she could hang up her doctor’s coat and kick off her shoes, then collapsed onto the couch with a relieved sigh. She never had anything but long, arduous shifts in the medical ward, and today was no exception. “I’m glad you like your teacher, though. You had a real big spat with that last one, didn’t you?”

“He was rude to Mantis,” Peter frowned. “He got all freaked out ‘cos of her powers, but she wasn’t gonna do nothin’.”

“People don’t like what they don’t understand,” Meredith said, shaking her head. “After all this time, some folk still don’t understand modern medicine. They think I’m trying to poison them!”

“You would never!” Peter exclaimed, sitting up in his chair. “They got real scared about that ant - anti - antidote? Yeah, that antidote that you tried to give ‘em last month for the air seal problem in Sector Six. It was only after they stopped swellin’ up that they stopped tryna protest.”

“I told ‘em, baby, I even let ‘em have a look at decades of science. But you would not believe what some people choose not to believe,” Meredith chuckled sadly. “Your sister over at farm station again?” Peter nodded. “And your daddy’s in Sector One, probably doing a late night...I’m not sure if he’ll be coming home today. There’s a big ol’ announcement he wants to make, won’t even tell me what it’s all about.”

“He don’t tell us anything, anyways,” Peter muttered derisively under his breath.

Meredith frowned, moving to join Peter at the table. “Come on now, you know that’s not fair. He’s got all those laws to obey, and if the Chancellor himself don’t follow them, then what are they good for?”

“But we’re his family,” Peter protested. “Can’t he at least...I dunno, give us a hint? He’s been talking about it for ages.”

“He could get floated for it, baby,” Meredith murmured, reaching over to squeeze Peter’s arm. “Not everyone on the Council likes him, and they’re looking for any excuse to get him out. If we know something we’re not supposed to...it’s his life on the line. It could be all of our lives on the line.”

“But he said it could change our lives,” Peter said. “But...I guess that could mean anything. Like more rations, so people don’t get the hollow stomach virus.”

“Or maybe they lifted the one-child policy,” Meredith suggested. “He’s been talking about it ever since we found Mantis.”

“Yeah, ‘cept no one knows Mantis is actually his kid,” Peter retorted. “They just think her daddy never spoke for her mama when Dad floated her.”

Meredith exhaled sharply. “We don’t talk about that, Peter. Ever.”

“There’s a lot of stuff we don’t talk about.” Peter yanked his arm out of her grasp and resumed his schoolwork with a scowl on his face. Meredith opened her mouth to reprimand him, but the wince-inducing screech of the front door’s poorly maintained hinges cut her off.

“I’m hungry,” Mantis announced loudly to the entire apartment, tossing her shoes aside and skipping over to the table, oblivious to their rigid expressions. “Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, baby.” The tension in Meredith’s face instantly vanished, and she leaned over to kiss Mantis’s cheek. “I hope you were careful today, you know I don’t like you being around all those harvest machines.”

“Renie’s daddy would not let us into the greenhouses,” Mantis frowned, walking over to the fridge to search for a snack. “But he did show me the brand new holoscreen that Renie’s got in her room. She wants to know why I don’t have one, ‘cos we’re s’posed to be the richest family here.”

“We aren’t the richest by any stretch, darling,” Meredith said gently. “The most powerful, maybe.”

“What’s the difference?” Peter asked. Mantis turned away from the fridge, also curious.

Meredith hesitated, glancing back and forth between their innocent faces. “Your daddy’s invested a lot of his own money into this secret project of his. That’s why we live in a smaller apartment now,” she said carefully.

“No, it’s ‘cos he wanted his own place in Sector One so he can keep avoidin’ us like he always does!” Peter snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. Mantis let out a startled shriek, nearly dropping the cup of water she was holding.

“Peter!”

“He’s only talked to me three times this week, and all he ever says is ‘good morning’,” Peter grumbled. “He don’t even look at Mantis at all. Not for one second.”

“Peter, keep your voice down,” Meredith said urgently. “You don’t want other people to hear speak badly about your daddy, or else - ”

“Or else they’ll float me?” Peter got to his feet, snatching his homework up in his arms and storming off to his and Mantis’s shared bedroom. “They gotta catch me first.”

Gamora rolled over on her makeshift cot, woven by her own hands, staring into the dying fire intently, watching the last of it flicker away. She could only just make out Nebula’s silhouette across from her, back turned firmly in her direction. “Did you hear about the incoming war?”

The silence stretched on for so long, Gamora wasn’t sure if Nebula had heard her. “You should really stop listening to the other children. They know nothing.”

“It wasn’t from the other children, Nebula, it was from Father,” Gamora whispered. “He said they come from the sky. Skaikru.”

“We’ve heard about the skaikru before. Why would they come now? They think their planet is gone,” Nebula scoffed.

“Maybe they know the truth.” Gamora turned onto her back once more, folding her hands neatly on her stomach. “That it survived. That there’s food, and life. Fresh air, air that we can breathe.”

“Maybe, but it can’t be better than what they have now.” Nebula paused. “There is nothing here for anyone. Not even us.”

“You don’t know that, Nebula,” Gamora protested. “Our home planets were dying when we were babies. Father took us to this planet for a reason.”

“He is not our father,” Nebula said darkly. “He is a man...who tells us to call him that.”

The flap of their tent was thrown open, casting a ray of blinding sunlight across their faces. They both squinted to see better, but regretted it instantly when an awful, gaunt face peered inside to sneer at them. “You dare waste firewood during the daytime, child?”

“Father gave us three hours to sleep before we leave at sunset,” Nebula snarled in return. “Leave us alone, Maw.”

“That’s General Maw to you,” he said smugly. “And I’m failing to hear the reason for your need for fire.”

“I was cold,” Gamora volunteered, sitting up in her cot and shivering exaggeratedly. “I didn’t want to take another blanket. Firewood is less wasteful than fabric.”

Maw retreated, bowing his head respectfully as he did. “Forgive my rudeness, heda. Sleep well, and I will send Proxima to wake you before we leave.”

The moment he disappeared from earshot, Nebula snorted. “You are such a hainofi.”

“I am no princess,” Gamora said haughtily, lying back down. “I’m the future commander, and I will be better than Father. I have to be.” Nebula merely scoffed and rolled over again, snuggling into the scratchy sheets, willing herself to fall asleep against the backdrop of noise outside, the armies chatting and rattling about, calling out orders and suiting up for one last raid before dark. Gamora, meanwhile, stared up at the small gap in the top of the tent, the daylight streaming in, highlighting the dust that danced in the air above the crackling fire. “I have to be,” she repeated, just barely above a whisper.

“Peter?” The door creaked open slowly; he saw her antennae before he saw her face. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your room, too,” Peter mumbled, burying his face back into his pillow. “What d’you want?”

Mantis tiptoed into the room and hopped up onto the foot of his bed, swinging her legs over the edge. She folded her hands in her lap, twiddling her thumbs nervously. “Renie says that people talk about Mama and Daddy a lot. She told me the Council don’t know if Daddy can be a good Chancellor if he cannot be a good ‘family man’ to us and Mama. What does that mean?”

“Well...what do you feel when he’s here?” Peter asked, lifting his head to meet her puzzled expression.

“I feel...love,” Mantis said, though she sounded uncertain. “They love each other, and they love us.”

“But if Dad loves us, then why doesn’t he talk to us? He don’t even look at you before he leaves in the morning,” Peter grumbled. “He doesn’t tell Mom anything, either. It’s like he’s not really here. Maybe he isn’t a ‘family man’. He’s just...a man.”

“Do you think he is doing it again?” Her voice sounded impossibly small. “Like he did with my real mom.”

“I dunno...maybe.” Peter threw back his sheets and sat up, joining Mantis at the end of his bed. He gently placed his hand over hers. “Sorry ‘bout yelling earlier. I don’t mean to scare you. I’m just real mad at him.”

“You gotta tell Mama that you are sorry, too,” Mantis insisted. “She feels very sad. She has been feeling sad all the time. I do not think she likes thinking about what Daddy might be doing when he is not here.”

“None of us do,” Peter sighed, sinking into Mantis’s side. He swung his legs beside hers, matching her pace, enjoying the way it made her giggle. Just as the tension seemed to evaporate out of both of their bodies, his foot caught on something just underneath his bed. “Ow!”

Mantis slid off the bed and knelt on the floor, peering underneath. Her large eyes grew even wider at what she saw - a door handle, leading to the crawlspace under the floor. She sat back on her behind, pulling her knees into her chest. “It is just like the one in our first apartment. Where Daddy used to make me sleep, when no one was s’posed to know who I was.”

“Don’t think about that stuff, okay? You’re gonna make the hurt come back.” Peter held out his hand for her to take. She reluctantly accepted it, allowing him to pull her back onto the bed, into his arms. “No one’s gonna make you hide under the floor again.”

She sniffled. “But...the Council does not like me, ‘cos of my powers. They say that I scare people. That I am a...a...a burden.” She struggled to recall the word that was still foreign to her young mind, and yet simultaneously made her terrified of her own existence.

“You’re not,” Peter promised. “You’re my baby sister, and you’re Mom’s little girl, an’ you got friends and teachers who like you a whole lot. You ain’t a burden, Mantis. You’re a person.”

“He’s right.” They both looked up to see Meredith leaning against the doorframe, watching them fondly. “Don’t think that way, baby. You’re loved. You are so loved. You feel that, don’t you?”

A smile crept across Mantis’s face. “Yes, Mama.” She then turned to Peter and fixed him with a knowing look, silently urging him to apologize.

“Sorry about getting mad, Mom,” Peter said, his shoulders slumping. “I know I shouldn’t be yellin’, or talkin’ about getting floated like it’s nothin’. I just want Dad to care about us.”

“He does, Peter. He’s just really, really busy right now, and he has to put Chancellor duties first. When it’s all over, whatever it is he’s doing, he’s going to put being part of this family first,” Meredith said gently, kneeling in front of them both. She held out her hands to them, smiling when they immediately accepted, and squeezed in reassurance. “Now...since it’s just the three of us tonight, I think I can convince Nelia to get me some dessert rations for you two. How does that sound?”

They both cheered, letting her go to jump off the bed and run out into the living room in excitement. Meredith watched them go before turning back to look at the crawlspace door, twisting her wedding band consideringly around her finger. She straightened up, sighing, and followed them with a false smile.

The darkness crept in without much fanfare, and Thanos’s army was on their way, crossing back through the forest to return to Sanctuary. Gamora and Nebula were placed in the middle of the proceedings that were travelling by horseback, surrounded by soldiers, though they carried weapons of their own. The two of them kept quiet, their hoods drawn over their eyes, so they could eavesdrop on the conversations carried out by the nearby Black Order generals.

“Today’s raid would have been more successful if Father had been there,” Proxima said derisively. “Instead, he chose to remain behind and train those...branwodas. He could have done that any other day, any other place, and he picked today, of all days. When we needed him.”

“You question his decisions?” Corvus said, raising an eyebrow. “We had a near-flawless victory against Azgeda without his help and you still find something to complain about.”

“Flawless? We are carrying home fifteen soldiers on stretchers, and seven in bags,” Proxima snapped. “You are not the one who has to tell our people when their husbands and wives didn’t make it. I am.”

“Do I hear yet another petty argument between lovers? You two amuse me greatly,” Maw simpered, cantering up beside them. Even his horse had an aura of self-importance in its trot. “It is not about winning every battle, generals. It’s about winning the war.”

“Forgive us for not kneeling to kiss Father’s feet at every chance we get,” Corvus said, shaking his head in disgust. “How does the dirt taste without blood, Maw?  After all, you wouldn’t know otherwise, since you never join us in the real war.” Cull grunted his agreement from a few feet behind.

“My role is to utilize my vast array of mental manipulation abilities, not apply brute force like some common thug,” Maw replied. “It takes real skill to do what I do, something I don’t expect you to understand.”

“What you do? You mean supervise heda? A real hardship, protecting a ten-year-old girl,” Proxima said bitingly. “It’s an insult to bestow the title on her so early. We should at least wait until the Conclave, see if she can survive for more than thirty seconds.”

“I can, and I will.” Gamora rode up beside Proxima, staring up into her surrogate sister’s blood-red eyes. “I will be the last one in the ring. You’ll see.”

“Even if it means having to face Nebula?” Proxima said smugly. Gamora’s breath hitched. “What if Father asks you to kill her?”

“He wouldn’t,” Gamora said a little too quickly, though she knew it was a lie. Her stomach turned unpleasantly; Proxima sent her one last smirk as the Black Order generals sped up to join Thanos at the front of the line. Gamora fell back to Nebula’s side, suddenly finding it harder to look her way.

They carried on through the forest for what felt like forever, their vision obscured by both the dense treeline and the pitch-black darkness. Conversations began to subside, now replaced by the sounds of stifled yawns and short coughs, with everyone trying hard not to draw too much attention to themselves. Even Nebula was starting to drift off despite resting earlier, the reins going slack in her hands. Gamora was still alert, however, scanning her surroundings diligently, like she’d been taught. She inhaled deeply, finding that something smelled...off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. It was only when she saw a flash of orange light in her peripheral vision that she knew exactly what was about to happen.

“Bak op!” she shouted.

The dreamy silence was broken by the sound of bodies hitting the ground, with every last soldier throwing themselves down and covering their heads and necks with their bare hands, their horses whinnying in fright as they were unintentionally dragged down with them, now stranded on their sides. Flaming arrows whistled through the air and whizzed past their ears, sticking into the ground and igniting the pine needles beneath their feet, along with striking a few unfortunate individuals who cried out in pain. Thanos shouted for order, calling for soldiers to fire at the tops of the trees where the snipers were hiding, while others tried to help the wounded back onto their horses and lead them back to Sanctuary.

Proxima knelt by Corvus, cradling him in her arms protectively. “Get up,” she ordered sharply, though her voice shook when she saw the arrow stuck in his shoulder, burning a hole through his armor.

“I can’t,” he panted, struggling to yank out the other one that had hit him in the leg. “Help me, my love.” She didn’t need to be told twice, hefting him over her shoulder and lifting them both onto one of the few horses left standing. After a quick order to Cull to stay behind with Thanos (Maw, unsurprisingly, was long gone), they took off to join the others.

Gamora pulled herself back up onto her horse, dragging Nebula alongside her before she could protest, and rode up to join Thanos at the front. “Fall back, daughters, it’s too dangerous for you here,” he called over the gunfire. He had an expression of grim satisfaction, watching bodies fall out of the trees like ragdolls. Nebula cowered a little behind Gamora’s shoulder at the sight.

“Guns won’t solve this, Father.” Gamora leaned over to grasp his elbow in urgency; he turned back to look down at her, surprised by her boldness.

“You suggest we bomb them, little one?”

“No. I suggest we run.” Gamora released him. “If we go now, no one else will have to get hurt. But if we fight...we will lose more people. Good people.”

To her astonishment, Thanos hesitated, staring at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Then he lifted his head and shouted, “Heda sei ban em op!” Instantly, everyone holstered their weapons and began stampeding down the pathway in pursuit of the others who were now miles and miles ahead, shouting over the chaos and carrying the retreat order down the line while arrows continued to rain down around them.

Gamora’s heart was racing in her throat as she dug her heels into her horse’s sides, breaking into a gallop, keeping herself flat against its neck while trying to block out the cries of the army behind her. Nebula’s fingers were digging into her waist, holding on for dear life, the distance between them and Sanctuary seemingly never getting smaller. It was only when they reached the gates that she finally slowed down, daring herself to look over her shoulder at the soldiers that followed.

She brought them to a stop and climbed off, clutching at her chest, willing her breath to find her again. Nebula collapsed beside her, also panting heavily. “How could you tell?” she rasped.

“Smoke,” Gamora said, letting out a long exhale. “I smelled smoke.” She straightened up and turned to look at Sanctuary, an ill-fitting name for such an imposing ship, and yet, she’d never been happier to see its darkened doors.

Sanctuary was, by far, the most advanced ship on the planet, perhaps the most advanced thing that had ever existed on Terra. When they’d arrived ten years ago, when Gamora and Nebula were babies, Thanos had brought his ship down into a huge stretch of forest that melted into farmland, in hopes of cultivating food instead of relying on rations. That soon became less relevant once people started leaving to start their own clans, refusing to remain under Thanos’s rule. Still, families expanded, and people slowly began spreading across the spaces within Sanctuary’s halls, taking up whole apartments instead of single rooms, now that they’d gone from thousands to hundreds of occupants. Now, when Gamora walked back to her own bunk on the top floor, she could go minutes without seeing another soul. Sanctuary was the hollow, empty shell of its own glory days, and to many, it was nothing more than a cold comfort in a world occupied only by them, and those who betrayed them.

“Gamora.”

She turned, stumbling backward over her own feet at the alarming sight of the entire army coming to a halt in front of her. Nebula retreated to her side, looking apprehensive. Thanos was stood in front of the crowd, facing her, an unsettlingly wide grin on his face. “...Father?”

“You did well, little one. No more lives have been lost tonight.” He stepped aside, gesturing for the crowd to address her.

One particular soldier stepped forward, his eyes shining with gratitude. “We return to our families because of you, heda.” He got down on one knee and took off his helmet, holding it over his heart. “Accept our eternal servitude, daughter of Thanos.”

Gamora watched in utter shock as every last member of the gonakru followed suit, kneeling before her like she was their new deity, their perfect god. It felt wrong, somehow, having grown men and women swearing their loyalty to her, a young girl not five feet tall, with no kills to her name. Her hands curled into fists behind her back, her fingernails digging welts into her palms once more. She clenched her jaw.

“Thank you. But remember...oso gonplei nou ste odon. The Sky People are coming.”

Once Meredith managed to steer her children into their seats at the dining table, she made a quick trip to the canteen to pick up their rations - with dessert, of course - and bring it back to their apartment. The three of them chatted idly about school, Meredith’s work, and Mantis’s visit to farm station. It felt...nice, honest, quiet in a way that even Peter’s rambunctious nature could appreciate, until they were interrupted by an alert on the holoscreen.

“Calling all residents to the main deck. The Chancellor has an announcement to make. I repeat, mandatory call for all residents to the main deck.”

Peter perked up instantly. “Is this it, Mom? The big one?”

“It could be,” Meredith said, putting her fork down. “Quick, put on your shoes. Would be bad form for the Chancellor’s family to be late, don’t you think?”

They shuffled out the door a moment later, knowing their dinner was going to go cold, and weaved their way through the halls, struggling against the dense crowd. Even with their status, people seemed unmotivated to let them get by when Meredith politely asked, some even scoffing in her face like she’d committed a great personal insult. “Privileged folk,” one of them muttered under his breath to his companion.

Meredith, having been raised right, opted to bite her tongue, but the moment she spotted a familiar fin bobbing above the crowd, she knew they weren’t going to make it through quietly. “You watch how you talk to them Quills! Meredith saved your damn life jus’ three weeks ago, you ungrateful - ”

“Yondu!” Peter cried happily, reaching for the man making his way towards them. “You’re here, too!”

“Where else would I go? Your daddy would kick my ass if I missed out on his big day,” Yondu snorted, clapping Peter on the back. “I got an actual job outside of teachin’ you how to wrestle, y’know.”

“And you know I don’t approve of you going behind my husband’s back,” Meredith said exasperatedly, falling into step beside Yondu regardless, with Mantis tucked neatly into her side. “There’s no need for Peter to learn how to fight. He don’t wanna be one of your guardsmen.”

“Your boy don’t know what he wants half the time, Mer, but that don’t mean I can’t teach him anyway,” Yondu said airily. “And ‘sides, Kraglin needs a sparring partner.”

“Kraglin’s a teenager, he could break Peter without trying,” Meredith scolded. “Use another one of your guard trainees, not my son. Forget about losing your job, the Chancellor would float you if he knew.”

“Can’t even call him by his name, can you?” Yondu shook his head. “Damn shame.” He leaned around Meredith to grin toothily at Mantis. “Hey, girl, you doin’ alright? Heard you was up at farm station.” Mantis’s shyness evaporated instantly, and she began excitedly repeating all the things she’d told Meredith and Peter earlier, only stopping when they finally arrived at the main deck.

Despite being the “main” area of the ship, it was hardly ever used, and was only open to the public for major events. However, it was a spectacle in itself - the size of a football field and then some, with a large viewing window that spanned across three of its four walls, the vastness of space spelled out for them in all its majesty. There was an elevated stage at the front, and there, Peter and Mantis could see their father waiting with his back turned to the crowd. Mantis called out to him, but her voice was lost in the chatter of the hundreds of people spilling into the room.

Once the deck was packed to its very limits, a hush fell over the crowd, everyone holding their breath in anticipation. Finally, Ego turned around to face them with his usual slick, undeniably charismatic grin. He opened his arms wide. “Our time has come,” he boomed. “I promised the day that I woke you from your chambers fifteen years ago...no, the day that we came up here a hundred years ago, the day that I welcomed you aboard my Ark, that we would be returning home someday. That day, my friends...that day is today.”

“What?” Peter whispered, clutching at Meredith’s arm in disbelief.

“You heard right, Arkadians. Today...we reclaim the Earth.”

The entire room exploded with sound, everyone cheering, clapping, some even bursting into tears of joy as they clutched at each other, jumped, danced, and sung their praises like never before. Peter and Mantis had to hold their hands over their ears; Meredith pulled them both into her side, keeping them close while the entire Ark seemed to shake with the force of everyone’s pure, uncontrollable, unstoppable joy.

The three of them barely heard the rest of the announcement, even after the crowd settled down, where Ego rattled off some statistics and facts that didn’t interest them, or really, anyone much. When he brought his speech to a close, he mentioned the guardsmen placed at every station entrance and exit, ready to answer questions and provide codes for digital instruction booklets on how to prepare for their descent. “That’s my cue,” Yondu muttered. “I’ll see you Quills on the ground.”

“Wait, Yondu - ” Peter tugged on his coat sleeve before he could go. “Are you still gonna teach me how to fight? Y’know, once we’re on Earth?”

“I dunno, boy, your daddy’ll be keepin’ a mighty close eye on you,” Yondu said, smiling ruefully. “Take care of you and your family, alrigh’?” With that, he disappeared into the crowd. Meredith rubbed Peter’s back in sympathy, but the despairing look on his face told her that he definitely still needed his dessert ration.

The citizens began filing off the deck, chatting excitedly to one another, looking more animated than they ever had in their entire existence, because finally, there was something to look forward to, something beyond their day-to-day of utterly joyless monotony. Peter and Mantis, however, only had eyes for their father, and ran the length of the deck towards him the moment a path was cleared. “Dad!” Peter exclaimed.

Ego didn’t miss a beat, immediately sweeping them up into his arms and off their feet. “You made it! It’s a happy day for us all, isn’t it?” he laughed, setting them back down. “And oh, there’s my river lily.”

“Hi, darling.” Meredith was slightly out of breath from chasing her children, but smiled regardless, wrapping her arms around Ego’s waist and kissing his cheek in greeting. “So this is what all that kerfuffle’s been about, huh? No wonder you couldn’t tell me a dang thing.”

“I’m sorry, Mer, you know if I could’ve told you, I would have,” Ego said apologetically. “I know how long you’ve waited for this, and it’s finally here. You get to go home again. You get to be on the planet you’ve always dreamed of returning to, your planet.”

“Oh, it does feel like a dream,” Meredith sighed; her smile was radiant in a way that Peter and Mantis had never really seen before. “We have to celebrate, darling. Won’t you come have dinner with us? I’d love a big ol’ slice of pie, and maybe a song or two before bed. I’ve been itchin’ to play you more of my daddy’s favorites.”

Ego stepped back suddenly, looking at her like she’d sprouted an extra head. “Come on now, Meredith, you know I don’t have time for all that. We’ve got hours of work ahead of us before we even get close to landing, and I’m not letting the Council out of my sight. You know they’ll take over the whole damn bridge if I do!”

“Watch your language,” Meredith said quietly, nodding towards Peter and Mantis. Ego seemed to have already forgotten they were there, looking rather flustered as he smiled tightly in silent apology.

“I’ll come find you before we land,” Ego said shortly, kissing her for a brief moment before he swept out of the room, his dark cape fluttering behind him. Peter and Mantis exchanged resigned looks.

Meredith, not to be deterred, took their hands and walked them right up to the glass, watching as her planet idly went by, just as bright and bold as she remembered it. “Why don’t we take a second before we have to go back? I’d hate to miss out on this view.”

“It is so dark in here, I cannot see anything,” Mantis complained, straining her neck to no avail.

“Wait, lemme - ” With a snap of his fingers, Peter’s hand began to glow faintly, and he held it over Mantis’s head, delighting in the way the light reflected off the glass, illuminating her face. “Better?”

“Thank you,” Mantis beamed. Peter teasingly ruffled her hair in response, both of them seemingly far more relaxed than they had a minute ago.

Meredith smiled in relief. “Earth it is, then. I hope you’ll love it there, darlings. I hope it’s still beautiful.”

a/n: I have been waiting to post this fic for a very long time and it's finally here!! I'm excited for a bunch of reasons - namely, being able to combine some of my favorite tropes I've used before in different ways, writing something (loosely) based off one of my favorite TV shows, and maybe the most important reason of all: featuring Meredith as a major character, which I've never done before but wish I had since she's so wonderful!

If you've read my previous fics, I'd say this one is most similar to everybody wants to rule the world in terms of plot weightiness and worldbuilding. Each chapter will cover one year of their lives (with the exception of both this prologue and chapter one featuring them at age ten), finishing with the epilogue at age eighteen. I'll also provide translations for the Trigedasleng (the language from the TV show) in the endnotes, though since it's based on English, some may be self-explanatory/explained in context and will not be included.

I have no clue whether this premise will be of interest to anyone else, but I'm certainly having a good time writing it! And I don't necessarily have a set posting schedule (I'll try to post once per month) but I do have the entire thing plotted out in detail, so I promise it will be finished. Thank you so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)

Trigedasleng translations: yu gonplei stei odon - your fight is over / oso gonplei nou ste odon - our fight isn't over heda - commander / wanheda - commander of death branwoda - idiot bak op - go back / heda sei ban em op - commander says to abandon [it]

[write-havoc]

The Glasswing Butterfly Part 2

Summary: Chuck has never thought of herself as anything special. Just an average beta living her life next door to a womanizing alpha named Negan. But her life, and Negan’s too, are turned upside down when Chuck suddenly presents as omega.

This is a non-zombie AU featuring A/B/O dynamics.

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

The next week is unpleasant for both Chuck and Negan as things escalate between them. The few times that they meet at the elevator, the one inside always makes sure to close the door before the other can enter. And after some of Chuck’s clothes go missing from the laundry room, she purposefully stops Negan’s clothes in the washer and piles them on the floor sopping wet.

And of course, Negan makes sure to bring a different woman home every single night, even making sure to call the ones he knows are screamers. And every night when Negan would start to go at it with whatever woman he had for the night, Chuck would start to play another one of her unsexy playlists.

Sure, it ends up in lost sleep and frustration for the both of them, but neither one wants to relent as long as the other one is inconvenienced. This is war, after all.

Chuck yawns as she sits at her desk waiting for her new couch to arrive. Her old couch was pretty much just a wooden frame and some loose cushions, so she got rid of it herself fairly easily earlier in the day. But her new couch is a proper one, and will require some delivery guys to get it in her apartment. And they should be arriving any minute now.

Unfortunately for Chuck, Negan happens to run across the men from the furniture store before their job could be done.

Negan had seen Chuck head out to the dumpster with what looked like the remains of a very cheap couch. So when he sees two beta men in coveralls carrying a new couch through the hallway, he puts two and two together and figures out where it’s headed.

“Hey, guys,” Negan calls out to the men with a wave of his hand. “Chuck told me to tell you guys to just leave the couch out here. She had a fuckin’ family emergency and had to run out.”

The delivery men halt their motion and set the couch down. “Who’s Chuck?” one of them asks as he straightens back up.

Shit. ‘Chuck’ is a nickname. I don’t actually know her real fuckin’ name , Negan thinks.

“My neighbor,” he points to Chuck’s door, hoping that will be enough to convince the guys. “We all call her Chuck. She told me she was expecting a fuckin’ delivery.”

One of the guys picks up the delivery slip to look it over. “That’s the right apartment number. Charlotte Langdon, apartment 54.”

“Charlotte, yeah. That’s Chuck.” Negan plays it cool but can’t hold back a little smirk at how easy it was to deceive the beta men. “She said you can just leave it right here.” He points to the wall beside her door.

“You’re gonna help her get this inside?” one of the guys asks a little hesitantly. He has a job to do, but questioning an alpha can have unpleasant consequences.

“Of course,” Negan lies. “Me and her are thick as fuckin’ thieves. We’re like family. Don’t worry about it.”

The delivery men shrug at each other and move the couch to the wall, then turn to leave. Negan watches them go and when he’s sure they’re gone, he walks up to Chuck’s door and knocks.

Chuck is expecting the delivery, so she doesn’t even look through the peephole before answering. When she sees that it’s Negan standing there instead, she rolls her eyes.

“What do you want?” she hisses.

Negan just smiles back. “Your couch is out here.”

Chuck peeks her head out the door and sees the piece of furniture she ordered, but the men that are supposed to get it in her apartment are nowhere to be seen.

“Where are the movers?” she asks.

“Oh,” Negan looks off toward the elevator, “I told them you had to leave on a family emergency and that you wanted the couch left in the goddamn hallway while you were out,” he responds smugly.

“What?!” she snaps back. “Why would you do that?!”

Negan just turns away with a shrug and walks down the hall toward the elevator. “Have fun with your new couch, princess!” he calls out.

“Gah!” Chuck growls. “You’re such a jerk!”

Negan gets to the elevator and gives Chuck a final wave before the doors close as Chuck glares at him. He knows what he did is a little bit of a dick move, but he figures that the girl will call someone in to help her and they’ll get the couch in her apartment pretty quickly.

But Negan is unaware that Chuck doesn’t have anyone to ask for help. Her mother is busy at work and the only other person she could possibly ask, her uncle Aaron, is working out of the country at the moment.

Chuck takes a deep breath and tries to steel her already frayed nerves.

I can do this , she thinks. I can do this by myself. I do everything by myself. This is no different.

After an hour of struggling, she still doesn’t have the couch in her apartment. What’s worse is that it seems to be stuck in the doorway. But Chuck is trying her hardest not to let the frustration and anger get to her, though she can feel it just under the surface.

She steps back and surveys her options logically. Maybe she could twist it. Or turn it. Maybe she needs to pull it out and try again at a different angle.

“Did ya have some trouble?” the most unwelcome voice rings out from down the hall.

Chuck flips around to see Negan exiting the elevator and sauntering toward her. But she doesn’t engage him. If she just ignores him, maybe she can get this done without freaking out.

Negan is making that very difficult though. “You need help, princess?” He chuckles. “I’m not offering , I’m just asking if you do.”

Chuck still ignores him and tries to pull at couch to get it unstuck. Despite her best efforts at remaining stoic, tears of frustration start to fall down her cheeks. Not wanting Negan to see her upset, she makes sure to turn her head away from him.

Negan doesn’t see her tears, but he actually does start to feel a twinge of guilt as he watches the girl struggling all by herself. He honestly didn’t expect her to have this much trouble, but that twinge of guilt isn’t enough to stop him, though. He stands back and leans on the wall by his door, looking completely casual with his arms crossed in front of him. “You’re doing a great job,” he jibes after watching her for a few minutes.

Chuck can’t take it anymore and lets out an inadvertent sob. She still tries to work through it, though, not wanting Negan to get to her this much. But as she’s trying to pull on the piece of furniture still wedged in her doorway, she loses her grip. This causes her to tumble backwards and land on her butt with a thud.

Negan initially steps forward to her, but stops. When he realizes that the girl is now crying heavily with her forehead propped on her knees as she squeezes them into her body, that twinge of guilt builds. And Negan doesn’t like that one bit. So instead of doing the right thing and helping her when she very clearly needs it, he turns away from her and goes back into his apartment, trying to escape the thing that is making him feel bad.

Negan can’t seem to force himself further into his apartment, though. He leans his back on the closed door and listens as the girl next door cries her heart out in the hallway. The harder she cries, the worse Negan feels about the situation. But he still doesn’t really take responsibility for it.

This is as much her fuckin’ fault as it is mine , he rationalizes. She’s the one that started this shit.

But no matter how much he tries to convince himself, he can’t push that guilt down. When he finally decides to actually do the right thing and help her, he puts one hand on his doorknob and looks through the peephole. He sees that the girl has actually gotten the couch unstuck and is finally pulling it into her apartment all on her own.

He lets out a sigh and drops his hand from the door, his guilt not dissipating even a little bit.

That night, Negan sleeps alone.

 There’s a little coffee shop a block away from Chuck’s apartment that serves as a meeting place for Chuck and her mother. Every week, Diane would travel the hour or so to eat brunch with her daughter and catch up. Since Chuck doesn’t have her own car, Diane is always the one to make a trip. But she doesn’t mind.

Chuck is her only child and Diane loves her very much. But she worries about her. Chuck had difficulties growing up, what with her father passing and then with the discovery of her physical deformity. It caused Chuck, who was already naturally sensitive and shy, to become even more so. Chuck had closed herself off to everyone because of it. It had even gotten so bad that Diane had taken Chuck to see a counselor. That had helped Chuck. Or rather, it seemed to have helped Chuck. Diane had always had a sneaking suspicion that the sessions had only made Chuck better at hiding her pain.

When Chuck had decided to move away from home, Diane wasn’t exactly happy about it. She knew that her daughter was growing up and needed to make her own life, but she still felt like it would be better for Chuck if she stayed at home with her. Ever since then, Diane has tried her hardest to protect Chuck and make sure she is happy. But sometimes, she feels like she is failing.

“You okay, sweetie?” Diane asks when Chuck goes quiet.

Chuck puts a smile on her face. “Yeah. Just tired.” That’s not the whole truth. All day, she’s felt... not right. Restless, jumpy, fatigued. She can’t exactly describe it, but she didn’t feel... normal.

“Negan, still?” Diane asks with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. He’s still being a dick about everything.”

“Maybe you should find a new place to live.”

Chuck lets out a heavy breath. “I can’t, Mom. Despite Negan, it’s a perfect apartment. It’s a good price. It’s in a good part of the city and it’s close enough to the office that I can take a short Uber when I need to go there.” She runs her finger over the rim of her cup. “And there’s nothing else available around here anyway.”

“Well, I don’t like what you’ve been telling me about your neighbor.” Diane takes a drink of her coffee and sets it back on the table. “I could talk to him-“

“No, Mom,” Chuck interrupts. “He already says I’m a little girl. Sending my mom after him would just prove his point.”

“You can come home, Chuck. Just get away for a few days. You don’t look very good.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom,” Chuck responds sarcastically.

“I just mean you look tired, sweetie. You need some rest.”

“I’m okay, Mom. Don’t worry so much.” Chuck raises her cup to take a sip, but it falls from her hands and shatters on the floor as a sharp pain travels through her abdomen. It’s quick and fades fast, which leaves Chuck confused as to what it was.

“What just happened?” Diane asks, concerned for her daughter.

“I-I just got a pain in my stomach, but it went away.”

Diane instantly thinks of everything that could be possibly wrong with Chuck. “What kind of pain?” She reaches over the table and puts her hand on Chuck’s forehead. “You’re hot.”

“I am?”

Diane has a very bad feeling about this. “I think I’m gonna take you to the hospital. You really don’t look good.”

“Don’t fuss, Mom.”

Diane stands from her seat and motions for Chuck to stand, too. Chuck obliges, though she lets out a huff before doing so, and follows her mother to the door. But before they exit, another sharp pain erupts in her lower abdomen. And this one is so bad it makes Chuck double over and collapse to the ground.

“Chuck!” Diane gets down on the floor beside her daughter, who is yowling in pain. “Someone call an ambulance!”

People start to crowd around them with hands over their mouths to stifle their gasps. Diane looks up from her daughter to tell everyone to back off, but snaps her head back down when she feels Chuck starting to violently shake underneath her hands.

“Oh, god. She’s having a seizure.” Diane quickly goes into nurse mode and moves to cradle Chuck’s head, making sure she doesn’t hit it off the ground. Even though it’s hard, she keeps it together to try to get her daughter through this.

 Chuck opens her bleary eyes and looks around the unfamiliar room. It’s unbearably white, so obviously a hospital room. And her whole body hurts.

Did I get hit by a truck? she wonders. But there aren’t any casts on her limbs. Or bandages or even bruises.

Chuck looks off to the side and sees her mother sitting in a chair beside her. She is studying something on her iPad intently, not even noticing that her daughter had woken up.

“Mom,” Chuck croaks.

Diane instantly whips her head up to look at Chuck and scoots her chair forward to lean over her. “Hey, sweetie,” she coos as she starts to gently run her hand over Chuck’s head. “How are you feeling?”

Chuck clears her throat. “Like I got hit by a truck,” she answers. “What happened? The last thing I remember is sitting with you in the coffee shop.”

Diane takes a deep breath, not knowing how to explain to her daughter that her life is going to be completely different from now on. “You’re gonna be just fine, okay?” is what she settles on.

Chuck doesn’t like Diane’s tone as she says that. “Okay...? Am I, though?”

“Yeah. You’re gonna be okay.”

“How long have I been here?”

Diane hesitates to answer. “Four days.”

Chuck is shocked. “Four days?! Was I in a coma?!”

“Not a coma. You were just sedated.” Diane takes a deep breath to calm herself. She has to tell Chuck.

Luckily for her, the doctor comes in at that moment, taking the pressure off of her. The doctor is a middle aged beta with short gray hair and a kind face.

“I see you’re awake,” the woman says to Chuck. “I’m Dr. Bailey.” She reaches out her hand to shake Chuck’s then turns to Diane. “How long has she been awake?”

“A few minutes,” Diane answers. “I didn’t tell her...”

“Tell me what?” Chuck looks from her mother to the doctor.

Dr. Bailey starts to explain. “You have something called Holden-Sawyer Syndrome. It’s very rare, but it’s been fairly well documented and you have a classic case.”

Chuck gasps. “Oh, god.” She has never heard of this thing, but she’s sure it’s probably serious. “Am I gonna die?” she asks as tears well up in her eyes.

Diane grabs Chuck’s hand and squeezes it. “Honey...”

The doctor gives Chuck a soft, reassuring smile. “You’re not going to die, Charlotte.” She moves to stand closer to her patient. “Holden-Sawyer Syndrome affects omegas. It causes delayed presentation and that presentation is usually very hard on-“

Chuck cuts the doctor off. “I’m not an omega.” She looks back to her mom. “You and dad are betas.”

Diane nods. “It can happen, an omega from beta parents.”

Chuck looks back to Dr. Bailey, still confused. “I’m a beta.”

“No, Charlotte.” The doctor sits down on the edge of Chuck’s bed, facing her. “You’re an omega. Your young appearance is pretty typical of an omega. And you’re underdeveloped sex organs were a textbook feature of HSS. Sufferers almost exclusively are assumed to be betas with congenital defects of the reproductive organs.”

Chuck shakes her head. “No...”

The doctor continues. “You’ve probably been having some symptoms in the last few weeks or months. Emotional instability and pain or soreness in the lower abdomen mainly. But also, maybe some weight gain as your body changes into the more classic omega hourglass. You’ve sort of... gone through puberty again as your reproductive organs rapidly develop and your hormones start to flow.”

Chuck is completely in shock. Even though everything the doctor is saying is what has happened to her, she still can’t believe it. “I can’t be an omega,” she mutters almost to yourself.

“Sweetie, you’re an omega,” Diane says simply. “You smell like an omega. You’re an omega.” She knows it’s probably shocking to Chuck, but her daughter has to accept it, the sooner the better.

Chuck blinks several times, trying to wrap her head around it.

Dr. Bailey jumps back in. “HSS comes with some... challenging features that we need to discuss. I’m sure in your high school health class, you learned about heats and how they can be painful and disruptive for some omegas. In HSS sufferers, heats are extremely painful and can be dangerous if they aren’t sated by an alpha. That’s why you’re here and that’s why we had you sedated for the duration of your presentation heat. While you were out, we gave you medicine to control your core body temperature to make sure you didn’t overheat. It wasn’t an ideal solution to your heat, of course. But given the fact that you were unaware that you needed an alpha, it was the only way to deal with it.”

“What about suppressants?” Chuck asks. She remembers learning about them in those heath classes she took. “Why didn’t you just give me some?”

Dr. Bailey clears her throat. “No one is exactly sure why, but HSS sufferers tend to have severe allergic reactions to suppressants. Even the holistic ones.”

“So...” Chuck tries to put it all together. “When I get my heats, I’m gonna have to spend them in the hospital?”

“Chuck...” Diane starts, but Dr. Bailey jumps in.

“Ideally, an alpha would help you through it.”

Chuck stares at the doctor for a moment, processing what she just said. “Alpha? You mean...” she looks from Dr. Bailey to her mother, then back again, “knott...ing...?” she asks quietly.

“Yes,” the doctor answers simply.

Chuck takes that in. “I can... have sex?” She had always accepted that sex was never going to happen for her. But now, the possibility is being dangled before her.

“Yes. There’s no reason you can’t now. You have perfectly normal omega reproductive organs,” Dr. Bailey explains. “You can have sex and even get pregnant. You’ll also get a monthly menstrual period, probably starting next month sometime.” She gives Chuck a soft smile. “Your mother told me that you don’t have a boyfriend and I wanted to stress that, unlike some omegas that use beta males to get them through their heats, that’s really not an option for you. An alpha is really your best bet for sating your heat. Being hospitalized is, of course, an option. It’s not something that you need to avoid at all costs, but if you choose to spend your heat here, you will be here for the entire duration. And you will be groggy for a few days afterward. Knotting will most likely shave about a day or maybe two off of your heat and you can get back to work and your life much sooner.”

Chuck shakes her head. “How am I gonna get an alpha? I-“ She clears her throat. “No alpha is gonna want me.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Diane doesn’t know what to say to her somewhat naive daughter. She knows that alphas will certainly want Chuck no matter what. There are far more alphas than omegas in the world, so many alphas never truly mate with an omega. But Diane doesn’t want just any random alpha to scoop her daughter up because she can take their knot. She wants her daughter to find love and have a happy life with a mate that will be good to her.

Dr. Bailey cuts in. “Your first heat can come anywhere between three months and a year after presentation. But I know that finding an actual mate can take longer than that. There are other... more temporary options, though.” She produces a business card from her pocket. “This company is very reputable. You can meet with prospective alphas and choose who you want. They are very accommodating to an omega’s wishes, as well.”

Chuck studies the card. Alpha For You is spelled out in a fancy font with various numbers underneath it. It suddenly hits her what this company is. “Alpha for hire?” She looks over to her mother. “Alpha prostitutes ?”

“I know, sweetie.” Diane takes the card from Chuck. “But you don’t have a lot of options.”

“It’s something to be considered,” Dr. Bailey comments then stands from the bed. “Your mother has all my info. I would be very happy to take you on as a patient permanently.”

“I can’t keep my old doctor?”

Dr. Bailey shakes her head. “It’s illegal for general practitioners without an omega certificate to treat omega patients. That’s why they called me in here. But I’m not the only option, if you’d like to search around.”

“No,” Diane cuts in. “We’ll be happy to have you as Chuck’s doctor.”

“Okay,” the doctor smiles. “I’ll have a nurse come in with the discharge papers.” She pats Chuck on the leg. “Get some rest at home and call us in a few days to set up a follow up.” She shakes both Chuck’s and Diane’s hands and leaves.

“This can’t be happening,” Chuck mutters.

“Look, sweetie.” Diane grabs her daughter’s hand. “You’re healthy. That’s all that really matters.”

“I don’t know how to be an omega, Mom.”

“You don’t have to ‘ be ’ an omega. Just be yourself,” Diane responds. “I know this is a lot, but you’ll get through it.”

“I have to call work,” Chuck realizes suddenly. “I missed four days.”

“I already called them and said you were in the hospital. You’re going to be behind on your work, but your boss was very accommodating. He said you’re one of the best coders they have and he just wants you healthy.”

“Did you tell him all about this?”

“No. He doesn’t have to know. I’ve been looking all this omega stuff up for four days. You legally don’t have to tell anyone your presentation anymore. And legally, no one can ask you. So your boss, your landlord, the bank... no one needs to know.”

Chuck looks up to the ceiling and rubs at her eyes. “This is insane.”

The nurse comes in with the papers to sign and Chuck and Diane leave the hospital. Instead of going back to Chuck’s, though, Diane drives them to her house. But Chuck isn’t complaining. She really doesn’t feel like taking care of herself at the moment, so any help from her mother is greatly appreciated.

 After the couch incident, Negan doesn’t give his neighbor much thought. For two days, anyway. He starts to realize that the girl next door is being unusually quiet. Not that she was every really loud before their whole war started, but he would always hear music or the tv going when he’d walk by her door. He’d even hear her singing through the wall of his bedroom every once in a while.

When another day passes with not a peep from the girl, he starts to actually worry. She had undoubtedly been very upset the last time he’d seen her. Would she actually hurt herself?

Negan can’t get the thought out of his head, so he heads across the hall and knocks on the door. No response.

“Shit,” he says under his breath and knocks again.

Yeah, the girl annoyed him a little, but he didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

“Goddamn it,” he mutters again and heads down to the landlord’s apartment to see if they can check on the girl.

Sheila answers the door after Negan knocks on it. She and her husband Bill had owned this building for thirty years. When Negan had applied to live here ten years ago, she was wary. They had never had an alpha tenant before then. But they had let Negan take the apartment and he proved to be a fine tenant. He paid rent on time and no one seemed to complain about him. That includes Chuck. Sheila was never made aware of the childish war between Negan and the girl next door. And Negan’s nighttime activities went unnoticed by the previous tenant of apartment 54, who happened to be very hard of hearing.

“What can I do for you, Negan,” the woman greets.

Negan isn’t exactly sure how to go about this. “The girl next door to me... I wondered if you could fuckin’ check on her.”

Sheila chuckles, already knowing that Chuck isn’t home. “I didn’t think you were the caring type.”

Negan grimaces at the woman. “Will you just-“

Sheila doesn’t let Negan finish. “Her mother told me she would be gone for the week. She’s sick.”

“Okay,” Negan spits out then turns to leave. So the girl isn’t laying in her bathtub with her wrists slit. That’s what he went to figure out, so... mission accomplished.

 After convalescing in her mother’s house for a few days, it’s time for Chuck to go home. Physically, she feels back to normal, but mentally, she is still reeling. Her mood swings had gone away, which Chuck is thankful for, but she’s still a little anxious about what all of this means for her future.

When Chuck and her mother get to her building, Chuck sees Negan standing in the open elevator. Negan sees the girl next door, too, and for a moment, he thinks about shutting the doors on her, still thinking about their petty war. But he doesn’t go through with it, instead he holds the doors open for the girl and the woman she’s with, who Negan assumes is her mother.

Diane thinks at first that she should lead Chuck to the stairs instead of sharing an elevator with Chuck’s alpha neighbor. But they’re already headed there and the man is holding the doors for them. But once the three of them are trapped inside the enclosed space, though, Diane realizes that her first instincts were right.

Negan’s body responds before his brain can process what’s happening. His whole body stiffens and his pupils dilate at his proximity to this girl. His skin breaks out into goosebumps as his hair stands on end. When he instinctively sniffs at the air, he finally realizes what’s happening.

Omega is the only thing going through his brain.

At the same time, Negan is having an effect in Chuck, too. She had always thought that he smelled good, figuring it was some sort of expensive cologne that he wore. But she realizes now that it wasn’t. It was all him and now the smell is almost intoxicating to her. But she knows that it’s just because he’s the first alpha she’s smelling in her new omega state, so she hangs her head and moves as far away from Negan as she can.

Diane sees all of this happening and doesn’t like it at all. When Negan makes a move to step closer to Chuck, Diane places herself between him and her daughter, holding her hand up to stop him from advancing. Negan instantly snaps his gaze to the older woman’s, the animalistic part of him wanting to push her away so he can get what he wants. But the fearsome look in her eyes actually sobers him some.

Despite the fact that the beta female would have little chance of successfully fighting off an alpha, Diane knows that she would absolutely fight tooth and nail to protect her daughter from anything. Negan seems to realize all this, and steps back away from the women to face the elevator doors.

It seems like it takes forever for the elevator to get to the fifth floor, but once the doors open, Negan all but runs out and into his apartment. In stark contrast, Diane and Chuck exit the elevator slowly, making their way down the same hallway to Chuck’s apartment at a somber pace.

Chuck plops herself down on her couch and lets out a sigh as soon as they get inside.

“I’m gonna make you something to eat, okay?” Diane calls out from the kitchen.

“Okay.” Chuck leans her head back on the coach and closes her eyes for several minutes, going over everything that has happened in the last few days and all the information she has had to absorb.

“I want you to move back home,” Diane states plainly as she finishes the peanut butter and jelly sandwich for her daughter.

Chuck turns around to look back at her mother. “What?”

Diane places the sandwich on the island and looks Chuck in the eye. “I think you should move back home. You’ll be safer there. We know all our neighbors. They’re good people.”

“I don’t want to move, Mom.”

“Just listen to me, Chuck. I don’t trust Negan with you. He’s an unmated alpha and you’re an unmated omega.”

Chuck laughs. “Negan hates me, Mom. He’s not gonna want to ‘ mate ’ me, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“He’s an alpha , Chuck. He doesn’t always think with his upstairs brain.”

Chuck lets out a huff. “That’s a little bigoted, don’t you think.”

“If it gets you out of harm’s way then I don’t care.” Diane points to the sandwich to prompt Chuck into eating it.

Chuck takes the hint and moves to sit down at the counter to eat. “You can’t lock me up, Mom. I just want to live my life normally.”

“I’m just worried about you.” Diane runs her hand over Chuck’s shoulder length hair.

“Trust me,” Chuck takes a bite. “Negan doesn’t want anything to do with me, no matter which brain he’s thinking with.”

Diane nods, though she thinks that Chuck is being naive about Negan’s intentions. She saw it in his eyes in that elevator.

Diane knows that she can’t force her daughter to move back in with her, but she can do whatever she needs to to protect her. When Diane exits Chuck’s apartment, she marches right over to Negan’s door and knocks on it without Chuck knowing.

Negan answers his door and sees Chuck’s mother glaring up at him. His gaze instinctively flicks to Chuck’s door, but Diane stops that pretty quickly by roughly taking his chin in her hand and pulling his face down to look at her.

“No,” she says forcefully, but quietly. “I want you to stay away from my daughter.”

Negan thinks that’s a pretty reasonable request coming from the pretty middle aged beta. Especially considering that one whiff of the omega next door had him acting like a newly presented alpha that didn’t know how to control himself. It took him a good twenty minutes before his higher reasoning came back and he started to actually question how the girl next door had been a beta one day and an omega the next. Well, twenty minutes and rubbing one out.

“Listen to me, Negan,” Diane continues when Negan makes no effort to say anything. “I’m a nurse. I work in a hospital. And off the top of my head I can think of four different drugs I have easy access to that would kill a man and leave no trace for the police to find. So keep that in mind if you ever even think about touching my daughter. Got it?”

Negan has to give it up to the beta. She has humungous lady balls coming over here and confronting him like this. But he’s pretty sure her threat won’t stop him. He can already feel himself being pulled to the omega next door.

But he gives her a nod anyway. “Got it.”

“Good.” Diane turns away from Negan and heads for the elevator, still wondering if she had done enough to keep her daughter out of harm’s way.