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Their world is better than ours
@arlana-likes-to-write
she/her/they 28 Let's be honest, fictional worlds are much better than ours so why not live in them. Fanfiction Author - Marvel, Legend of Korra, Dinsey! Request open!
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About me!
I am a 28 (Aries!) with a regular 8 to 5 (ew, I know). That being said, I write when I have free time. I would love to do this full time but I’m not there yet. Updates and request will happen when I have time to sit down and write.
My favorite Marvel characters are Yelena, Kate Bishop, and Bucky. For Legend of Korra, I love Lin Beifong. I have two puppies, a German Shepard and a Husky, and I am in an open relationship with my fiancé for 5+ years. My pronouns are she/her/they and I am pansexual.
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I will write for any character and any universe (as of right now I am writing for Marvel and Legend of Korra). But if you have characters you want me to write for, request it, and I can always do research and see if it’s something I can write. Pairings can be F/M, F/F, or M/M.
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summary: instead of calling fiona duncan to represent reid in his case emily calls you, her hot shot lawyer wife. who also just so happens to be her best kept secret based on this request!!
word count: 2.2k
The courthouse bathroom smelled like antiseptic and cheap floral air freshener, the kind that never quite masked the underlying staleness. You adjusted the knot of your tie in the smudged mirror, pressing your lips together to smooth out the faded lipstick. A drop of water from the tap had splashed onto your sleeve—dark silk, unforgiving—and you dabbed at it with a scratchy paper towel, cursing under your breath. First day of the Reid trial, and you were already fighting a losing battle against your own nerves.
Outside, the hallway buzzed with lawyers, reporters, and the occasional FBI agent weaving through the crowd. You spotted her immediately,Emily Prentiss, all sharp angles and coiled energy, leaning against a pillar with a case file tucked under one arm. She was scanning the room with that practiced, detached look, the one that made witnesses squirm and suspects overthink. But when her gaze landed on you, it flickered, just for a heartbeat. A tiny, dangerous crack in the facade.
"Counselor," she said as you approached, voice low and even. Professional. Too professional. The way she said it made your stomach twist.
"Agent Prentiss," you replied, matching her tone, though your fingers twitched at your side. You wanted to reach out, to brush the invisible lint off her blazer, to let your knuckles graze hers in the pretrial huddle just to feel the spark of contact. Instead, you clenched your hand into a fist. "You ready for this?"
Emily’s mouth quirked. "Born ready." The corner of her lip twitched like she was fighting a smirk, and you knew exactly what she was thinking,last night, her knee between yours, her teeth at your collar, muttering the same words against your skin.
The courtroom doors swung open with a weighty groan, and the bailiff's voice cut through the murmuring crowd. "All rise." You didn't miss the way Emily's shoulder brushed yours as you both stood,too close for colleagues, not close enough for what you really were. The judge's bench loomed like a guillotine, and you forced your gaze away from Emily's profile, focusing instead on the empty witness stand. Reid was already seated at the defense table, his fingers drumming a nervous staccato against the wood. Cat Adams, smug in her prison jumpsuit, smirked from the prosecution's side like she'd already won.
Opening statements were a blur. You spoke crisply, methodically dismantling the prosecution's argument point by point, but your pulse roared in your ears every time Emily shifted in her seat behind you. You could feel her eyes on the back of your neck, tracking the way your fingers tightened around your pen when the DA implied Reid had a history of instability. A muscle in your jaw twitched. Emily cleared her throat—just once, deliberately—and you exhaled, loosening your grip.
During recess, JJ cornered you near the vending machines, her smile knowing. "You and Emily seem... in sync," she said, popping the tab on a Diet Coke. The can hissed like an accusation.
You shrugged, buying time by feeding dollar bills into the machine. "We’ve worked together before." The lie tasted stale.
JJ hummed, taking a sip. "Uh-huh. And the way she looks at you when you’re arguing? That’s just professional respect?"
The vending machine spat out a bottle of water with a thud. You caught it mid-air, gripping the plastic tighter than necessary. "Emily’s thorough," you said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere closer to defensive. "She pays attention to details. That’s her job."
JJ’s smirk deepened. "Right. And the way you two leaned into each other during the recess huddle? That’s just… strategizing?"
A laugh escaped you,nervous, too sharp. You twisted the cap off your water, buying time. The courtroom doors swung open again, and Garcia’s head popped out, her curls bouncing. "Five-minute warning, lovebirds—" She froze, eyes widening behind her glasses. "I mean. Colleagues. Professional associates. Completely platonic coworkers."
Emily appeared behind her, stepping smoothly into the hallway. Her expression was unreadable, but the way her fingers flexed at her sides gave her away. "We should head back in," she said, voice even.
Garcia mouthed ‘oh my god’ at JJ behind Emily’s back.
The afternoon session bled into evening, the fluorescent lights overhead humming like a jury of bees. You’d just torn apart the prosecution’s star witness,some forensic accountant who’d flinched when you leaned into his personal space,when Rossi caught your elbow in the hallway. His grip was firm, his voice a conspiratorial murmur. "You know, I’ve seen Emily bluff her way through interrogations with serial killers," he said, thumb brushing the fabric of your sleeve, "but I’ve never seen her blush until today."
You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. "Must’ve been the coffee," you lied, nodding toward the courthouse vending machine. "It’s brutal."
Rossi chuckled, low and knowing. "Kid, I’ve been married three times. I know what it looks like when someone’s trying not to stare at their wife’s ass in a courtroom."
Across the hall, Emily was hunched over a case file with Morgan, her brow furrowed in a way that usually meant she was two steps ahead of everyone else. But when Morgan nudged her and nodded toward you, her pen stilled mid-sentence. The look she gave you—half warning, half hunger—sent a shiver down your spine.
The bailiff’s voice cut through the tension. "Court’s reconvening."
The gavel cracked like a gunshot, jolting you back to the present. The judge was speaking,something about inadmissible evidence,but your attention snagged on Emily’s fingers drumming against her thigh. Three taps, then a pause. Three taps again. Your secret rhythm, the one she’d used that morning when she slid your coffee across the kitchen counter, her wedding ring glinting in the sunlight. Three taps: I love you.
Morgan’s elbow nudged Emily’s ribs, and her hand stilled. She didn’t glance at you, but her shoulders tensed, the line of her jaw tightening like she was biting back a smile,or a curse. You focused on the legal pad in front of you, scribbling nonsense to steady yourself. The pen left angry indents in the paper.
"You’re killing them," Reid whispered suddenly from the defense table, his voice low with something like awe.
You blinked. "What?"
"The way you’re dismantling their case. It’s…" He hesitated, eyes darting to where Cat Adams was scowling at her desk. "It’s almost beautiful."
The judge called for a fifteen-minute recess after the prosecution’s forensic accountant stumbled through his testimony, his credibility in tatters. You gathered your files with deliberate slowness, avoiding the weight of Emily’s gaze burning a hole through the back of your suit jacket. The air in the courtroom was thick with tension,legal, personal, the kind that made your pulse thrum just beneath your skin.
You barely made it to the hallway before Morgan materialized at your elbow, his grin all teeth. "Counselor," he drawled, leaning against the wall with practiced casualness. "You ever consider a career in the BAU? We could use someone who eviscerates people that gracefully."
"Stick to recruiting actual FBI agents, Morgan," you muttered, but the corner of your mouth twitched.
Behind him, Garcia appeared like a hurricane in heels, clutching a tablet to her chest. "Oh, please, please tell me you’re as good at cross-examination in your personal life," she stage-whispered. "Because if so, Emily never stood a chance."
You choked on nothing. "I have no idea what you’re—"
"Garcia," Emily's voice cut through the hallway like a blade, smooth but edged with warning. She appeared behind Garcia, her posture impeccable, but her fingers flexed at her sides in that telltale way you knew meant she was two seconds from dragging you both out of here. Garcia squeaked and spun around, nearly dropping her tablet. "Why don’t you go check on Reid? He looked like he needed a caffeine boost."
Garcia saluted, her eyes dancing with mischief. "On it, boss. But just so you know, the betting pool’s already at—"
Emily’s glare could’ve melted steel. Garcia vanished before she could finish the sentence, Morgan following with a laugh and a knowing glance over his shoulder. The moment they were out of earshot, Emily exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders like she was shaking off the weight of the day.
"You’re not subtle," she muttered, stepping closer, her voice low enough that only you could hear.
You raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to reach for her. "Me? You’re the one who blushed when Rossi called you out."
The courthouse steps were slick with rain by the time the judge finally adjourned for the day, the neon glow of downtown D.C. reflecting in the puddles like scattered puzzle pieces. You lingered by the defense table, shuffling papers with deliberate slowness, watching from the corner of your eye as Emily exchanged hushed words with Morgan near the bailiff’s station. His laughter carried across the emptying courtroom, rich and knowing, and when he clapped her on the shoulder, Emily’s mouth twitched not quite a smile, but close enough to make your pulse skip.
"You coming?" Reid asked, shrugging into his coat with a tentative glance at Cat Adams being led out in cuffs. Her smirk had long since soured.
You hesitated, fingers drumming against your briefcase. "I should—"
"Save it," JJ interrupted, appearing at your elbow with Garcia in tow. "We’re all going to O’Malley’s. Even Hotch used to crack a smile there after a tough case." She paused, her gaze flicking to Emily, then back to you. "And before you argue, Emily already said yes."
Emily, now standing at the prosecution’s abandoned table, straightened abruptly as if she’d heard her name. Her eyebrows lifted in silent question, and you bit back a smile. So much for discretion.
The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where the whiskey glasses left sticky rings on the wood and the jukebox played nothing newer than 1998. You slid into the booth beside Reid, who was already nursing a beer with the focus of a man trying to forget he'd spent the day being accused of murder. Emily sat across from you, her elbows propped on the table, fingers laced together like she was praying for patience. Morgan dropped into the seat next to her with a grin, nudging her shoulder. "Relax, Prentiss. We won."
"Not yet," Emily muttered, but her eyes flicked to yours, warm and private despite the crowded booth.
Garcia clapped her hands together, leaning forward. "Okay, but before we toast to Reid's impending acquittal—" Reid winced at the word acquittal— "we need to address the elephant in the room. Or should I say, the ring on someone's left hand?"
The table went silent. Emily froze, her thumb which had been absently tracing the edge of her wedding band still mid-motion. You exhaled slowly, pressing your knee against hers under the table. Three taps. ‘I love you.’
Rossi took a deliberate sip of his scotch. "I’ll put fifty on Vegas," he said, like he was discussing the weather. "Eloped after that case in ’13, am I right?"
Emily's fingers twitched, her wedding ring catching the dim bar light as she slowly lowered her hands to the table. The silence stretched like a live wire,Morgan grinning into his beer, Garcia practically vibrating with anticipation, JJ's knowing smirk widening,until Emily exhaled sharply through her nose. "Fine," she said, voice dry as parchment. "Vegas. 2014. Two AM after the Mendoza cartel sting."
Garcia shrieked so loudly the bartender dropped a glass.
You hid your smile behind your whiskey as Morgan choked on his drink. "Wait,you proposed?" he wheezed, pounding his chest.
Emily's smirk was all teeth. "She cried during the Elvis impersonator's vows."
The bar erupted in chaos,Morgan nearly upended the table lunging to clap Emily on the back, Garcia was halfway out of her seat squealing something about wedding photos, and Rossi just nodded sagely like he’d known all along (which, given the smug tilt of his eyebrows, he probably had). Reid blinked owlishly between you and Emily, his beer forgotten. "Huh," he said finally, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That explains why you quoted Marriage Story during the Rodriguez deposition."
Emily's cheeks flushed the faintest pink, but she held her ground, fingers tightening around her whiskey glass. "It was relevant to the—"
"Oh my god," Garcia interrupted, slamming her hands on the table. "You have a house together, don’t you? With like, shared towels and a coffee maker that says ‘hers’ and ‘hers’—"
You snorted into your drink. "It says ‘yours’ and ‘also yours’ because Emily broke the first one trying to reprogram it in Spanish."
Emily kicked you under the table—not hard, just enough to make you smirk—but Garcia was already gasping like she’d been personally handed a conspiracy theory. "You live together?!"
“We're married,” Emily said in exasperation.
The table erupted into overlapping questions,Garcia demanding to know why she hadn’t been invited to the wedding, Morgan ribbing Emily about her taste in rings, Rossi already flagging down the bartender for celebratory shots but Emily’s gaze never left yours. Her foot pressed against yours under the table, a silent anchor in the storm of their excitement. "Told you we should’ve gone with separate cars," she muttered, just loud enough for you to hear over Garcia’s dramatics.
You grinned, swirling your whiskey. "And miss this? I live for the theatrics."
I don’t know if you write for Cassie McKay but would you write one reader is an intern or a young nurse and doesn’t have a good relationship with her mom so Cassie is like her mother figure?
Hold My Hand
Warnings: attack on a health care worker, headaches, throwing up, surgery, past family abuse, mention of cancer, ambiguous ending, medical inaccuracies
Relationships: Cassie x reader (platonic), Dana x reader (platonic) Dana x Cassie (romantic)
Word Count: 4.4K
Honestly, you should have called out. Doctors called him all the time. No one would have batted an eye if you called in sick. They would have either scrambled for coverage or dealt with being short-staffed. It happened all the time in emergency medicine. Still, you’re too much of an empath and hated the idea of having your colleague stressed because you couldn’t deal with a headache. It’s all it was. It was a headache that had been on and off for two weeks. You just needed more sleep, or water, or food-not from a vending machine. “Here,” you looked up from the computer screen to Cassie McKay holding out Tylenol. “You’ve been staring at that screen like a change to a different language.” You huffed at a laugh, but winced from the pressure in your head. Cassie frowned. “How long have you had that headache?” She asked.
You opened the package and swallowed the pill with a mouthful of water. “On and off since yesterday,” you answered, which was true. You were free from it for a few days. Then it came back after a brutal shift, and you slept awful last night because it was your mom’s birthday, and you hadn’t spoken to her since you left home. “I’m fine.”
“If it doesn’t go away in 45 minutes, go lay down. I’ll cover your patience.” You opened your mouth to argue, but quickly closed it. Once Cassie gave you a classic mom look, you and all the Pittlings have been on the receiving end of it, especially when you weren’t taking care of yourself. Trinity liked to tease you that you were Cassie’s soft spot. You countered that you were just the youngest of the group, so everyone looked after you. At first, it bothered you, but now it makes you feel like you finally have people in your corner.
“I will.” You managed to smile. “Thank you.”
Princess called your name. “Need you in South 17.” You sighed and stood up from the computer.
“Duty calls.” You saluted her and walked into the chaos.
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45 minutes passed, and the headache lingered. The medication Cassie gave you helped, along with the essential oils Baran gave you; she noticed you rubbing at your temples. The headache was still there, but it was not as strong. You sent Cassie a thumbs-up as you grabbed the file on the patient in South 12.
Sarah Williams, a 32-year-old female, came in complaining of chest pain. She was brought in by her boyfriend. Her blood sugar was low on admission, so Perlah gave her some orange juice. “Miss Williams, how are you feeling?”
“Okay,” she rubbed her chest. “Chest feels tight.” You nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.
“I’m going to take a quick listen to your lungs and heart.” You made sure to warm up the metal. “Take a deep breath in for me and slowly let it out.” She followed your instructions. You noticed her boyfriend shift his weight. He hadn’t sat down since she was brought in. “Again.” You said and focused back on Sarah. Her heart sounded fine, but it was her lungs that worried you.
“Okay,” you put the stethoscope back around your neck. “Your heart sounds really strong, but I am going to put in an order for a chest X-ray to get a better look. How long have you been feeling like this?” Her boyfriend scoffed before she could answer.
“We already answered all these stupid fucking questions. Why are you making us repeat ourselves?” You stared at the man. You felt a small spike of annoyance at his tone, but you pushed it down. He was worried after all.
“I understand, sir,” you smiled. “We ask these questions again so we can verify information.”
“About a week,” Sarah answered. “I thought it was just a chest code, but then I passed out at work.” You nodded.
“Rest assured we will figure out what’s going on,” you smiled. “I’ll be right back to check on you, and a nurse will bring you to your X-ray.”
“Thank you, doctor.” As you turned to leave, you heard her boyfriend mumble under his breath, ‘Unbelievable.’ Sometimes you wondered why you wanted to go into emergency medicine.
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You returned with the results with Emma by your side. “I have your results,” you told the couple. “You have a small infection in your lung that can simply be treated with antibiotics.” You looked at the nurse. “Push azithromycin.”
“On it, doctor.” The girl happily said. You turned your attention back to the couple.
“We’ll do the first round of treatment to see how you react to the medication. Then we’ll send you home with antibiotics and albuterol.” Emma left as soon as she was finished, and you took her spot.
“Thank you, doctor. I appreciate it. Do you know what caused the infection?” Sarah asked.
“Could be a number of things,” you admitted. “A cold, germs, inhaling chemicals.” The moment those words left your mouth, her boyfriend tensed up. You glanced between the two; they couldn’t look at you. Odd. “I’ll have your blood run through additional testing to find an answer for you.” You turned your back to leave.
“Oh, that won’t be-” the rest of her sentence never came as you felt a hard object slam against the back of your head. Sarah screamed as you crumbled to the ground and everything went dark. You definitely should have called out today.
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The constant repetition of your name woke you up. Your eyes flew open. “Easy, sweetheart. Easy.” The words felt foggy as they reached your ears. The lights were too bright. The normal sounds of the ED were too loud, and the room you were in started to spin. Saliva pulled in your mouth that you tried to swallow.
“Cassie,” you mumbled. You couldn’t say more as you tried to keep the bile down. But Cassie figured it out. She quickly placed a sick pan next to you.
“It’s okay.” She promised. “I got you.” Your skin went clammy as your stomach clenched in a series of painful heaves. Tears squeezed at the corner of your eyes as bitter, burning acid spilled out. Once your stomach settled, you gasped, and your body shook. “Push Zofran.” She ordered Emma. “And get Baran. Let her know she’s awake.”
“On it,” Emma said. “Hope you feel better.” The nurse left.
“I’m sorry.” You mumbled. “So sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Cassie rubbed her hand up and down your back. “Not the first time someone threw up at me. Unfortunately, it won’t be the last.” You managed to smile and slunk back into the hospital hood. “Here, small sips.” You sipped from the cup slowly. “Any other pain we should know about?” You gave her back the cup when it was empty.
“No, just my head.” She gave you a stern look. “I’m serious. Feels like a bull in a china shop was released in my brain.”
“That would be from the metal tray you took.” You watched Baran walk into the side that Emma was sanding. “How are you feeling?”
“Confused mostly.” The attending gave you a soft smile. “A little nauseous.” You tried to ignore the knot in your stomach being on the receiving end of such a nurturing smile.
“That’s all pretty common with a head injury. I put in an order for a CT. You’re just gonna sit tight, and we’ll make sure your patients are covered.”
“I don’t get a say in this, do I?”
“No.” Baran and Cassie said at the same time. You groaned. The attending chuckled.
“I’ll be back to check on you shortly.” With another smile directed at you, Baran left. Part of you wished Casey went with her, but then you hated the idea of being alone. It was all very confusing.
“Is there anyone you want us to call?” She asked. “To let them know what happened.” You shook your head slowly.
“Uh, no. I live with Victoria, and she’s working today.” You wanted out of the student dorms, and Victoria wanted out of her parents’ house. It worked out well. You were close in age, and she was outgoing while you tended to be more of an introvert. Cassie frowned.
“Any family in the area?” She asked with a tilt of her head.
“No,” you repeated. You hated this part-the personal questions that were always asked. Trinity tried to get more information about your personal life. You managed to deflect. Cassie was different. She seemed curious and wouldn’t use your past as the butt of a joke. “I was disowned when I was 12.” You had come to terms with it, sort of. Maybe. “Moved to Pittsburgh as soon as I could.” You kept your vision on the sheet you were picking at. You would break if you looked at Cassie.
“Alone?” She questioned before you could answer. The curtain swung open.
“Holy shit!” Victoria said. “Princess told me what happened. Are you okay?” Behind Victoria were Mel and Trinity. Their questioning broke whatever suffocating presence was created by bringing up your family. Cassie slipped out, not before giving you a smile of her own.
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When you got back to your room from the CT, you were surprised to find Dana there. The charge nurse was off today. “Can’t stay away from this hospital, can you?” You asked as the nurse put the brakes on your bed. Dana glared at you.
“Heard my favorite student doctor was hurt.” She stood from your chair. “Move your head.” You did as you asked. “Who did the stitches?”
“Doctor Al-Hashimi.” You answered.
“Good.” She sat back down. It was weird seeing the charge nurse not in scrubs. This version of Dana was reserved for meetups at the bar or family dinners at her and Casey’s house. It started with Mel. Then Mel invited you. Then you invited Victoria, which made it into the group chat. So Trinity and Dennis had to be invited. At least once a month, the couple cooked enough food to feed an army. So it was weird seeing her in civilian clothes in the hospital. “Dana,” you said slowly. “Why are you here?” You asked. The charge nurse looked up from her phone.
“Cassie called me. She told me what happened.” She shrugged. “It made sense to come in.” You blinked at her slowly, trying to understand what she did. “Don’t overthink it, kid.”
“You didn’t have to come.”
“I know.” She said. “Do you think I do anything I don’t want to do?” Slowly, you shook your head. “Stop thinking and rest.”You smiled, but did as you were told. The noise of the ED provided some comfort, but your mind wouldn’t shut off. You kept replaying the incident with the patient. Maybe if you just kept your mouth shut and treated the problem at face value, he wouldn’t have felt the need to do it.
“Stop it!” You groaned and turned your head to look at the nurse. She was scrolling on her phone.
“I’m resting.”
“No, you’re thinking.” Dana put her phone in her bag with a sigh. “You’re trying to justify that man’s actions. You did nothing wrong. His actions were on him, not you.” Being attacked by a patient seems like a rite of passage in the healthcare industry. It was a matter of when, with some nurses and doctors.
“This sucks,” you mumbled. Dana laughed.
“Yeah, it does.” She grabbed onto her arm. “But you aren’t alone.”
“Thanks, Dana.” The curtain pulled back slowly as Baran held on to the results from your CT. There was a strange expression on her face. She was smiling, but the smile felt forced. There was something special about Baran Al-Hashimi. She carried the weight and stress of this department with grace. She never crumpled under it. Now, she looked like the weight was catching up with her. Dana sensed it too.
“Let me go grab Cassie.” She squeezed your shoulder before she left. You stared at the attending who stood at the foot of your bed.
“Something’s wrong,” you said. Baran gave you a tight smile, as it pained her to be here. Dana reentered your room with Cassie behind her. The older resident sat down in the chair. Without a word, she grabbed your hand. “Am I dying?” You asked.
“No,” Baran firmly answered.
“Then I’m going to need you to say something instead of you looking at me like you’re planning my funeral.” Cassie squeezed her hand, trying to get you to calm down. Baran placed her hands on the metal railing.
“How long have you been dealing with these headaches?”
“Headaches?” You questioned. Baran nodded. “Not long.”
“Don’t lie, kid,” Dana said sternly. You huffed, looking just past Baran’s shoulder. She failed to close the curtain all the way when she came in. You could see a group forming around the hub. It was Emma, Princess, and Victoria. They were talking. Then they would glance at you. They had the same expression on their faces as Baran had when she came in. You looked back at the attending.
“On and off for the past three months.” You answered. “I figured it was just from the stress of work and school.” Baran handed your file to Dana.
“CT found a three-and-a-half-centimeter mass in your left frontal lobe. Your medical history showed no family history listed, so I need to ask you myself. Do you have any known cancer history?”
“What?” You found yourself saying it was the least intelligent thing you could have said, but your brain went blank. Cassie roughly grabbed the findings out of Dana’s hand. They were talking about you. You heard words, sort of. You heard MRI, neurosurgery, seizure prophylaxis.
“I have cancer.” You said slowly. That brought everyone’s attention back to you. The symptoms match. Progressive headaches. The personality change you kept blaming on exhaustion, intermittent aphasia.
“No,” Cassie said. You looked at her. “The CT showed a brain mass. That’s the finding, not the diagnosis.”
“Cassie’s right.” You looked back at Baran. “We don’t know anything until we run more tests. The order from the MRI has been placed, and I put a rush on it.” Of course she did. “Is there anyone you would like us to call? Your file had your college advisor as your emergency contact again.”
That question. Instead of filling you with dread, you laughed. You actually laughed because what else were you supposed to do? You were miles away from your family in a hospital you worked at with the possibility of having cancer. “No,” you said. “My parents kicked me out when I was 12.” You admitted. “I haven’t spoken to them in seven years.” Besides, if you told them this, they definitely would have said it was some divine intervention for not listening to them. “It’s just me.”
“No, it’s not,” Dana said. “You have us. Everyone out there cares about you.” You looked at the hub. The trio was standing there, with Trinity added.
“Do they know?” You asked Baran.
“Some do,” she said. “Emma got the results and looked over them next to Victoria and Princess. They came to me right away. It’ll be your choice to tell them.” They would find out eventually. You would have to take time off work, miss classes. God, you’re gonna fall so far behind.
“I uh think I need a moment.” You said, pushing the palms of your hands to your forehead.
“Of course, I’ll let you know when the MRI is ready for you.” Baran moved to your side and squeezed your forearm. “You aren’t alone in this.” You tried to smile because what else were you supposed to do? As Baran left, Dana rounded the bed to sit on your other side.
“Do you need anything?” Cassie asked. You looked at the older resident. The closer you felt to having a family was when you were at her house. Sometimes you would babysit Harrison on your days off, and when Casey couldn’t find a sitter. Then there were the family dinners-the first home-cooked meal you had in years.
“Don’t leave.” Your voice cracked even though you tried to keep it steady. “Both of you.” You looked at Dana. “Please don’t leave me.” A wounded sound escaped Casey’s mouth faster than she could stop it.
“We aren’t going anywhere.” Dana recovered quickly. “Promise.”
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Victoria came to visit you 10 minutes after Baran left her room. You appreciated the girl giving you time to come to terms with what was going on. She made a beeline for your bed, shuffled down next to you, and pulled out her phone to scroll through TikTok. She said nothing and acted as if nothing had changed. In reality, that was the truth. It was still you, and you and Victoria spent hours on shift and after scrolling on TikTok together. When Victoria came in, Cassie left to go check on her patients. Your roommate stayed for 15 minutes, but when she left, Trinity dramatically threw herself into Cassie’s chair and told you a story about a patient she was dealing with.
Cassie came back, which meant Trinity left. But no matter what, you weren’t alone. Mel gave you her phone to watch her lava lamp video. Princess and Perlah stole a better blanket for you when you noticed they were you were getting cold. Emma Doordashed your favorite sandwich instead of giving you hospital food. It was all very overwhelming, but in the best way.
The MRI happened to blur. You had one done when you were a kid. You dislocated your kneecap on the playground when you were seven. The machine scared you then, and it scared you now. You were thankful that Cassie and Dana stayed with you through it all because you were not comprehending it. You were a doctor, for fuck’s sakes. These were the conversations you would have with patients, but they were different when you were a patient. “Surgery will be scheduled for Friday morning.” Doctor Linda Conley said. She was the head of the neurosurgery division at the PTMC. You hadn’t spoken to her directly, but you’ve seen her in passing. It was strange that this was your first real conversation.
But she knew you because the woman who stood next to her was Eileen Shamsi, Victoria’s mom, and not your biggest fan. You figured the woman blamed you for Victoria moving out and choosing psychology over surgery. “Is there anything you need from us?” Shamsi asked.
“Someone by my side when I woke up from anesthesia.” You admitted, “If I wake up alone, I’ll freak out.” The MRI at seven determined you needed surgery. Your parents weren’t too happy about that. You woke up alone in the recovery room and panicked. Not even the nurses could calm me down.
To your surprise, Shamsi smiled. “I think that can be arranged,” she said. “I feel as though there might be competition from that spot. You laughed quietly.
“Probably aren’t wrong, Doctor Shamsi.”
“You are in the best hands,” she said. After a few signatures and paperwork given, your surgery team left. That was a weird thing to say.
“Are you doing okay?” Cassie asked.
“Overwhelmed, honestly.” She smiled.
“I would be worried if you weren’t.” You laughed, shaking your head.
“Al-Hashimi signed off your discharge papers. Victoria grabbed her stuff from her locker. I can bring you back to your apartment.” You frowned. The idea of being alone after today sounded awful. Victoria had a few hours left of her shift.
“Can I hang out at your house just until Vic is done with her shift?” Dana smiled.
“Of course, kid.” You climbed out of the hospital bed, and Dana grabbed your bag before you could. She shot you a look that stopped you from complaining. You said goodbye to the day shift, got way too many hugs, and told Victoria where you’d be when she got out.
Cassie followed you and Dana to the parking garage. The charge nurse unlocked the car and threw your bag in the back seat. Cassie stopped you before you got into the passenger seat. Her hands cupped your cheeks and forced you to look at her. “Regardless of what the results say,” she said. “You have us. We aren’t going anywhere.” Your throat burned as you tried to keep the tears at bay. You hadn’t cried this entire time. You nodded. She brought you in her arms for a hug. The smell of her cologne, cigarette smoke, and bad coffee wrapped around you. You let out a slow breath. Tears you desperately wanted to hold back fell onto her scrub.
“Come on, Cass. Let the kid go. Before she has a mental breakdown in the parking lot.” You laughed as Cassie pulled away.
“You’re a tough kid.” She pushed away some of the tears from your cheek. “A brilliant doctor, an incredible friend. We’re all very lucky to have you in our lives.”
“Oh,” you squeaked, lips trembling slightly. Cassie smiled and let you go into the passenger seat. Cassie went over to the Dana side and said goodbye. Finally, the car was started, and you were off. The charge nurse turned on the radio to fill the silence as you rested your head against the window. Pittsburgh flew by. You loved the city, found peace, and learned to love yourself here. You weren’t ready to die here.
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Friday came quicker than you wanted it to. Somehow, probably Baran’s doing. Casey and Dana had the day off. The intake process was a blur. You signed paperwork, told nurses your name and birth date so many times that it started to sound fake, and struggled to pee in a cup because you had gone without water for 8 hours. Now you lay in the hospital gown with an IV in your arm, feeling very small. Dana and Cassie sat on either side of you. They hadn’t forced you to talk. Only asked if you were okay 3 times, but their presence was steady.
“My grandma was a nurse in the emergency room,” you broke the silence. “I remember sitting at the hub while she worked because my parents dropped me off.” You smiled. “The chaos excited me.”
“Is she why you went to medical school?” You looked at Cassie as she asked.
“Yeah,” you smiled. “She was the closest thing I had to a family. When she died, everyone stopped caring.” You looked down at your hands. “I hope I’ve made her proud.” You said it mostly to yourself. With how quiet the room was, they heard it.
“And you will continue to make her proud.” Cassie grabbed your hand. “This is not the end of your story, just a small bump.” You exhaled slowly.
“I’m really scared.” You finally admitted. It was the first time you had said it. You had been trying to be brave for the past 2 days. But the reality of this was setting in. You could have cancer.
“That is completely normal,” Dana said. “But when you wake up, we will be right by your side.” She sighed. “And probably the other troublemakers.” You laughed. The group was definitely taking years off her life. “You are not alone. Regardless of what the test says.” You nodded.
“Say it back.” Cassie squeezed your hand.
“I’m not alone.” The curtain was drawn back by Dr. Conley.
“Are you ready?” She asked. “We are all set for you.”
“No.” You answered. The room erupted into laughter. You found yourself smiling at the noise.
“I do appreciate the honesty.” Dr. Conley smiled. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we’ll know what we are doing with.” You sighed.
“Okay.” The couple stood up. Dana gave you a hug and squeezed you tight. Then it was Cassie’s turn. The redhead gently wrapped her arms around you, and you savored the warmth she provided.
“Love you, kid.” She whispered and kissed your temple. You felt tears, but you pushed them away. You were not going to cry here. But you hadn’t been told those simple words and hugged so gently since your grandma.
“Love you too.” You managed, and Cassie let you go. The nurse unlocked the bed’s brakes and brought you to the operating room. Thankfully, they sensed you were not in the talking mood. You kept repeating that simple line in your head.
I am not alone. I am not alone. I am not alone.
And slowly you began to believe it.
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You woke up slowly. The first thing you noticed was how dry your mouth was. The second was you weren’t alone. In fact, there were more people in here than you expected. Dana and Cassie sat on one side of you quietly. Cassie was on her phone while Dana worked on a Sudoku book. There was noise by the window. Around a small table were Trinity, Dennis, and Victoria, playing a game of Uno. “Eat farts, Huckleberry,” Trinity said, placing down a card. Dennis looked at her in disbelief.
“She’s cheating,” he said. “She has to be cheating. There is no way you have that many plus twos.” Trinity smiled, large and wide, mimicking the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Dennis turned to Victoria. “Tell me you think she’s cheating.”
Victoria put her hands up. “Don’t bring me into this. I don’t want to endure her wrath.” Trinity laughed but was quick to cover her mouth.
“Children,” Dana warned. “Don’t make me take the game away again.”
“Sorry,” they apologized. You chuckled softly. A sound you barely heard, but everyone else did. All eyes were on you.
“Holy shit!” Victoria broke the silence and rushed to your side. “You’re awake. Doctor Conley didn’t think you’d wake up for a few more hours.”
“Such a typical overachiever.” Trinity rolled her eyes, but there was no bite to her words.
“How do you feel?” Dennis asked.
“Thirsty.” Your throat was killing you. Cassie held up a straw to your lips. You chased after the water, but Cassie forced you to slow down. “A little nauseous.” Dana placed an emesis bag on your lap. “Did it go well?”
“It did, kid,” Dana said. “They’re running the test now.
“Good.” You were fighting the urge to go back to sleep. Cassie chuckled.
“Go back to sleep,” she said. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Promise?” You questioned, voice slurred slightly. You felt Casey grab onto your hand.
Nat x kid reeder where the reader is like 10-11 and has a twin brother and nat finds them on a hryde base and takes them in the reader is really protective over her brother and both of them have powers where they were tested on
Twin Intuition
Warning: mention of abuse, mention of experiments, gun violence, seizures, protective Natasha, found family, Wanda needs a hug
Word Count: 4.5K
“Here you go.” Natasha placed a bowl of cereal in front of you. She watched you stare at it, unflinching, not moving, and your eyes glossed over. Then finally, you came back.
“Thanks, Natty.” You said excitedly, grabbed your spoon, and began to eat your breakfast.
“Of course, sweetheart.” She kissed your forehead and looked up as her sister and girlfriend walked into the common area. “I’ll be right back. Okay? Remember to eat slowly so you don’t show.” You smiled brightly and nodded. Natasha squeezed her shoulder as she walked past and intercepted Maria and Yelena. “Hey, she said to the blonde. “Can you sit with her while she eats?” Yelena opened her mouth to argue, but closed it when she received a pointed look. “It happened again.”
“Got it.” Yelena quickened her pace to get to you.
“That’s the third time,” Maria said. “In less than 24 hours.” Natasha hummed, turning to face you. They were too far to hear what Yelena said to you to make you laugh. The sound lessened the snake that coiled around her heart. “Hey,” Maria placed her finger on Natasha’s lips to stop her from making herself bleed. “What has Cho said about them?”Natasha sighed.
“She thinks they’re absent seizures.” She explained, “but she needs to do an EKG.” Maria nodded.
“Then we’ll take you from there.” It was second nature for Maria to wrap her arms around Natasha and kiss her temple. “But she is safe.” Naturally, Natasha knew that. Five months since the team found you in an abandoned lab, you were adjusting well for being only seven years old and subjected to horrors that you hadn’t spoken about. Everyone had tried to get you to open up, but you stayed quiet. Cho believed you dissociated through it all and repressed it, which could be causing the seizures. Whatever happened to you, your body remembered, but your mind was choosing to protect you.
Sometimes you would flinch when someone touched you unexpectedly, or would make yourself smaller when everyone’s voices got louder. Natasha could hear your nightmares through the wall in the morning, and you would be squeezed. But in the morning you’d be squeezed between her and Maria. “Ria,” you called from your spot on the counter. “Lena said you’d make good pancakes. Can you make them?” Natasha felt her girlfriend huff.
“Yeah, I can.” You cheered and gave Yelena a high five. Unfortunately, Maria released Natasha and walked over to the kitchen. The Black Widow watched the scene unfold in front of her. The Red Room took her choice of way to have kids. Then she found you, and no matter what, she’s going to keep you safe.
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“Natty,” you whispered, “I’m scared.” You lay in the bed in the medical unit of the Avengers compound. You had been here before when you first got here. They poked and prodded you to make sure you were healthy. The conclusion of all those tests was a little up in the air. Helen said you were small for your age, but overall healthy. They always asked what happened to you, but you never answered. You weren’t sure. So much of your past was hazy.
“There is no reason to be,” Natasha smiled. “This isn’t going to hurt.”
“And you’ll stay. You won’t leave me.” Natasha kissed your forehead.
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” You nodded, and Helen walked over to you. The doctor explained the procedure. She would place these things called EKGs on your forehead while you watched some TV. This was to track your brainwaves. You weren’t sure why they were doing this. Sometimes Natasha would look at you with a sad expression on her face, but you weren’t sure why. You liked living with the Avengers. Yelena made you laugh, Peter played games with you, and Natasha would give you a hug whenever you asked.
Helen placed the EKGs on your head and turned on the TV. Natasha handed you the remote, and you flipped through the channels until you settled on an episode of Codename Kids Next Door. Kate made sure you watched a lot of the older cartoons, and you liked them better.
True to her word, Natasha stayed by your side during the entire test. She never got annoyed or bored. She sat in an uncomfortable chair, watched your show, and held your hand when you asked for it.
When the test was done, Helen went over the results. You tried to comprehend the medical jargon, but a lot of that went over your head. What you understood was that you were healthy. You expected Natasha to be happy. Instead, she forced a smile and squeezed your hand. She looked worried, and you weren’t sure why.
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“Slowly pour the dry ingredients with the wet,” Wanda instructed. ‘About half of the mixture.” You nodded, tongue sticking out of your mouth as you poured the flour mixture into the bowl with sugar and butter. “Good,” Wanda said, then handed you a spoon as she set the bowl down. “Mix that, then we’ll add the rest and finally the chocolate chips.”
You were more than happy to help Wanda make a batch of cookies, even though she yelled at you for trying to eat the sugar and butter mixture. But you were able to sneak a few chocolate chips when her back was turned.
“All good?” You asked. Wanda looked into the bowl.
“Perfect, little one.” You liked it when Wanda spoke her native language. “Put that in the sink while I prepare the cookie trays.” You stepped down from the stool with the dirty bowl in your hand, then something felt wrong. The room was too bright. Too loud. You weren’t sure if Wanda was talking to you—a strange pressure built inside your chest. Your muscles tightened as the bowl slipped from your hands.
Then you were falling, and you could do nothing to stop it. There was no darkness, no sound - just absence.
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The sound caused Wanda to jump. She whipped around to see the bowl shattered at your feet. One minute you were standing, the next you were falling. Her magic caught you. Red swirls covered your body, gently placing you on the ground. Wanda saw the twitching. It started in your hands, then the slight jerk of your legs. Suddenly, your whole body started convulsing. “Friday, alert Helen and Natasha.” She knelt by your head. “Tell them it’s an emergency.” Wanda wasn’t sure whether the AI responded because she started counting. It was all she could do while she watched you seize. 20 seconds when it finally stopped.
You opened your eyes, blinking slowly. “Upside down,” you mumbled.
“Stay lying down, sweetheart.” Wanda saw you wince, then your whole body went stiff. Wanda reached for you, but pulled her hands back. Don’t hold them down. Wanda remembered that much from her own research on seizures. She wanted to be prepared in case something like this happened. “I’m right here,” Wanda promised. She wasn’t sure if you could hear her. “You’re okay. I’m right here.
“What happened?” Wanda saw Natasha and Helen run over. The witch stepped back to give them room.
“Second seizure that followed a twenty-second one,” Wanda explained the facts because that’s all her mind could focus on. If she thought about the girl she saw as a sister that was hurting, she would lose it. “She was coherent briefly before the second one.”
“How long has this been going?” Helen pulled out a syringe. She tapped it to get the air bubbles out.
“10 seconds, maybe.” Natasha bent down to your ear and whispered reassurance. Helen nodded and injected the needle into your vein. Wanda wasn’t sure if the two women were talking. She stared at you. The medicine helped as the seizure stopped.
“Wanda,” She looked at the Black Widow who called her name. Helen and one of her assistants were transferring you to a gurney. “Hey,” Natasha’s hands were cold against her arms. “Breathe.” Wanda sucked in a deep breath.
“I.” She tried to speak, but Natasha shook her head.
“No,” she cut her off sternly. “Just breathe.” It took a few tries, but Wanda was able to breathe without panic settling in her chest. “Good.” Wanda watched them wheel you towards medical.
“I don’t know what happened.” Wanda finally was able to say. Natasha’s smile was pained, but she was still able to.
“This is not your fault, okay?” It was hard for Wanda to believe her when she looked at the major events in her life that ended in heartbreak; she was always there-the bomb that killed her parents, her brother was killed by her decision to join Ultron. She couldn’t even save those in Laos.
“Go be with her,” Wanda deflected. “I’ll clean this up.” Natasha hesitated. “Go.” The Black Widow sighed and squeezed her arm.
“I’ll check on you later.” Wanda nodded. Finally, she was alone. She kept her eyes off the floor because the image of you would haunt her mind forever.
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“She’s stable,” Helen said. “Heart rate is good. Oxygen levels are in the normal range. Blood pressure is elevated, but I’m not worried about that.”
“What are you worried about then?” Maria asked. She stood by her girlfriend as she stared at the doctor. They offered her a seat, but she had too much anxious energy to sit. When Yelena informed her of what happened, she left her meeting right away. National security be damned. You and Natasha will always be her number one priority. Natasha held your hand, moving her thumb across it. Maria had seen her do it, the gesture to help ground you after one of the absence seizures. This was the first time you had a tonic one. Helen sighed.
“We still don’t know what’s causing it. We’re lucky the medicine worked. If she has another one, I can’t risk giving her more without a proper diagnosis.”
“Then what do we do?” Natasha asked.
“I have a few more tests I can run,” Helen said. “Do I have your permission?” Technically, Natasha was your legal guardian. The Black Widow nodded. “Good. I’ll be back. Come get me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Cho.” Maria watched Helen leave, then sighed. She closed her eyes and kissed the top of Natasha’s head, inhaling deeply. She could smell the faint scent of shampoo she used.
“She looks so small,” Natasha whispered. “I hate how still she is.” Maria hummed.
“So do I,” Maria admitted. She opened her eyes to look at you. “But she’s right where she needs to be to get help.” Maria wasn’t on the mission where the team found you, but she stayed by Natasha’s side as you recovered, and somewhere along the line she fell in love with you the same way Natasha had. She knew her and her girlfriend saw a lot of themselves in you - a young girl who was hurt and desperate for love. Maria turned when she heard the door open. She expected to see Helen or maybe one of her assistants, but it wasn’t a surprise to see Yelena and Wanda.
“How is she?” Yelena asked.
“Stable,” Maria answered. “Helen can’t do much until we figure out what’s causing the seizures.” The duo stood on the opposite side of your bed. Wanda’s gaze was on you while Yelena was watching her sister. Something was up with them. Wanda looked nervous as she played with the rings on her fingers. She looked guilty. “What is it?” Maria’s question caused Natasha to look at them. Her question went unanswered, and Yelena bumped her shoulder against Wanda’s. The witch sighed.
“It could be nothing.”
“Or it could be everything.” Yelena countered.
“Wanda.” Natasha’s voice turned soft when she spoke to her. “What’s going on?” The girl clenched her fists.
“I used my magic to catch you because I wasn’t close enough to physically catch her,” she explained, her teeth chewing on her lower lip. “And I felt something.” Maria wasn’t sure what her powers meant. She knew the dangerous possibilities. “Not on purpose. It just happened.”
“You aren’t in trouble, kid.” Maria smiled. “Tell us what you felt.”
“A string,” she said. “Maybe more like a tether. I think.” Wanda shook her head. “No. I know that she has a brother, a twin brother actually.” Maria frowned. From the reports, there were no signs of another kid at the facility.
“How can you be sure?” Natasha asked. An emotion washed over Wanda’s features. Something Maria had seen a lot from the girl. Grief.
“It felt like when I would reach out for Pietro.” Her eyes held 1000 yards there. “Maybe if we find him, he’ll have answers to what’s happening with her.”
“And how would you find him?” Natasha asked.
“I’d follow the line through her memories.” The witch shrugged. “It could be nothing, but I had to tell you what I felt.” With Natasha’s free hand, she grabbed onto Maria—the two locked eyes. A conversation passed without words, one that only two people who had been together for years shared. Maria loved many things about Natasha. She was stubborn, soft behind her armor, and sarcastic but loved fully. But her eyes were Maria’s favorite.
No matter what her face showed, her green eyes showed Maria everything she needed to know. What choice did they have? Natasha asked. The Black Widow looked at Wanda. “What do you need from us?”
“A chair to sit in and a lot of hope.” Yelena grabbed Maria’s unused chair to give to the witch. Wanda sat down and traced her arms.
“Be careful, Natasha said. Wanda smiled.
“I will.” Red strings of her magic left her fingers and moved towards your head. Wanda’s eyes pulsed red, and she was gone, lost in your memories.
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Wanda walked through a hallway. The sound of her footsteps was so loud, but the others around her didn’t seem to notice. She was in a group of scientists led by a soldier with a gun and a man in a suit. It reminded her of her time in Hydra. A large metal door opened for them. Inside the room was a glass box, divided into two rooms. Each side was the same: a bed, some toys on the ground, and a tray of food that looked untouched. Wanda knew it was you as you lay on the ground, curled up in a ball to protect yourself. On the other side was a boy. He was standing, staring down at the group.
Wanda separated herself from the others. The group stopped at a red line, a safe distance from the room. But Wanda moved closer. Maybe it was the trick of the light, but she swore the boy glanced at her. “Meet Hex and Halo, the dream-bound twins.” Wanda saw the boy clench his fist. “Our Hex here seems to be resting. Let’s wake her up.” The soldier next to the man in the suit walked over to you.
“Get away from her!” Your brother yelled, but he was ignored. The soldier banged on the glass, and you flinched, but you woke up slowly and sat up.
“There she is.” The soldier walked back to a spot. “I do apologize. They were separated for a while, and the longer they’re separated, the weaker they become. Our hex needed to be punished.”
“Separated,” Wanda mumbled. You experienced these seizures because you were separated from your other half. This time, Wanda wasn’t mistaken when her brother looked at her.
“Run,” he said, tilting his head back. Wanda was yanked back. She flew through your memory as fast as she could comprehend any of it. She was forced out so fast that her body flew back in the chair she was sitting in, tipping it over.
“Holy shit!” She heard Yelena say. Wanda blinked, and she saw she was back in the Avengers compound, back in the hospital room with Yelena staring down at her. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” Hurried footsteps ran over to her and tossed himself down by her side.
“Easy,” she helped Wanda sit up. “Not really meant when I said be careful.” Wanda smiled.
“I was forced out.” That had never happened before. It was jarring.
“By who?” Maria held out her hand. She took it and stood up, but Natasha’s hands weren’t far from her.
“Her brother.” Yelena grabbed the chair and put it upright. Wanda sat down, but not before she moved it closer to you. “We have to find them. A man called them the Dreambound Twins, and the longer they’re separated, the weaker they become.”
“She’s having these seizures because she’s not with her brother.” Yelena summarized. Wanda nodded.
“Is that even possible?” Maria questioned. Wanda rolled her eyes.
“You’re talking to someone who can move things with a mind. Living in a place where the God of Thunder visits. Anything is possible.” Wanda looked at Natasha. The Black Widow was staring intensely at you. “Trust me, we need to find him. If she’s in the state with medical help, I can’t imagine what condition he’s in.” Natasha sighed.
“He’s alive.”
“Yes.” It wasn’t a question, but Wanda felt the need to answer. “He’s alive because,” she stopped. But the silence was enough. He was still alive because you were.
“I’ll start reviewing everything the team found.” Maria kissed Natasha’s temple.
“Gross,” Yelena mumbled. Maria flipped off the blonde as she left.
“I’ll go talk with the other people that were on the mission. Maybe they saw something.”
“Thank you.” Yelena ran after Maria. Then it was just her and Natasha. The Black Widow sat back down in her chair. “Are you going back in?” Wanda nodded.
“I know I can find him.” She looked at Natasha.
“Thank you.” Wanda nodded, unable to find the words. When her magic touched your head, she was standing in the woods, a massive clearing of trees with you standing in the center. Wanda could smell smoke and could see the embers from a fire. Your brother was lying on the ground, not moving, but Wanda could see the rise and fall of his chest. Men with assault rifles full circled you. Their guns were drawn as they waited. The man from the previous memory was there. His suit was gone, replaced with a shirt and jeans that were covered with dirt and blood.
“Stay away!” You yelled. “You’re not going to separate us.” A few of the soldiers moved in a trance as they turned their weapons onto themselves and pulled the trigger. Wanda flinched from the sound but ran towards you. She knelt by your brother. As her hands touched him, he grabbed her wrist. His eyes were open and staring at her.
“It’s you again,” he said. “Why are you here?”
“To find you.” Wanda glanced at you, but you were none the wiser to the conversation happening next to you. “Where are you?”
“What’s the point?” he questioned. “They kill her.”
“No, they don’t.” The boy glared at her, raising his hand. Time around them sped up. Wanda caught the light from a nearby tree and heard the sound of a sniper rifle. The bullet hit you. You stumbled backward, blood pooling in your stomach.
“No, no,” your brother screamed and rushed over to you. Well, a version of your brother that was there because the one that could see Wanda was still holding onto her.
“She lives.” Wanda looked back at him. “She’s safe with me. I don’t know for how long.” He frowned.
“I don’t believe you.” Wanda smiled.
“I know you don’t,” she said. “But I know your sister hates the dark but loves thunderstorms. She has a scar on her back that looks like a heart.” His eyes softened. “She loves to dance but hates when people watch her, even though she prefers to dance with someone rather than alone.” The brother laughed. “And right now she’s really sick, and I think you are too.”
“I don’t know where I am,” he whispered.
“Show me. Maybe I can help.” His fingers touched her forehead, and she was transported again.
Wanda stood in a cell with your brother chained to the wall. She rushed to check a pulse and felt one. On the other side of the cage was a desk with papers scattered all over it. Wanda walked over to it. There were files on you and your brother about your past experimental data and the possibilities for your powers’ future.
None of that was important. None of it mattered to Wanda because you were just a little girl who loved to race raindrops on windows, who stole chocolate chips when she thought she wasn’t looking, and who deserved to live. She couldn’t lose you. Under all the paperwork, she’s found a map. Tiveden National Park.
“I found you,” Wanda whispered, turning to face your brother. “We’re coming for you.” Wanda returned to the med bay with a gasp. It took her a moment to get her bearings. Natasha watched her with a hopeful expression. “I found him.”
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Something was wrong. She wanted to wake up. You wanted to wake up, but you couldn’t. Hands were holding you down. There were voices, but you couldn’t make out any of it. So many people were around with masks that covered their faces. You tried to sit up, but they forced you down. “Let me go!” You screamed, thrashing against the table. The harder you fought, the stronger they held on. “Stop! You’re hurting me! Stop!”
Sirens started to go off. The sound hurt your ears, but through the noise, you heard a voice. “Sweetheart, I need you to stay with me.” You knew that voice. “He’s coming. They’re bringing him.” Who? You weren’t sure who they were talking about. “Just keep fighting.”
She told you to fight, so you listened. This time when you sat up, they couldn’t hold you down, and you fell off the table. Pain radiated through your knees and palms, but you ignored it and ran.
You weren’t sure where you were going, but you ran towards that voice. “That’s it,” the voice said again. “Keep fighting, babygirl. I’m so proud of you.” You ignored the burning in your lungs and the ache in your legs. You pushed away the men who tried to grab you. The longer you ran, the stronger you felt. A door appeared at the end. “Good,” she said. “Just like that. Keep breathing.”
You took a deep breath in, let it out, and pushed through the metal door.
You woke with a gasp. Your heart was pounding on your chest. Looking around, Natasha, Maria, and Wanda were staring at you, but you weren’t at the compound. Instead, you were in one of the quintets. A low groan sounded from your right. There was another bed. Lying down was a boy close to your age. His eyes slowly opened and locked onto yours. Memories came flooding back.
“Kyle!” You had no care for the medical equipment that was attached to you as you jumped into your brother’s arms.
“Hey, little sis,” his arms wrapped around you. The hug wasn’t long enough for you, but you leaned back.
“I want to introduce you to some people.” Looked over your shoulder and waved over the three Avengers. “Kyle, this is Natasha Maria. They’ve been taking care of me. This is Wanda, my big sister.” Your brother took in the Avengers.
“You saved us,” he said.
“She did a majority of the work.”Maria nudged Wanda. Kyle looked at her. You saw a flash of recognition, but it went away quickly, as you imagined it.
“Thank you,” He settled on.
“We are glad you’re safe and together,” Natasha smiled. You lay back next to Kyle, feeling stronger than you ever had before
4 months later
You helped Natasha lay down a picnic blanket while Maria held a cooler and Wanda had a basket. Kyle was already running by the pond with Yelena, Kate, and two dogs. It was a beautiful summer day in upstate New York, and with the world not actively on fire, your family decided that taking a picnic by the pond was necessary. Family. As your memories returned, there were only you and Kyle. But now you had a big one. Sometimes it felt overwhelming. Sometimes you were waiting for the Avengers to depend on you, to demand payment for living with them. All they wanted was for you to be a kid. “No,” Natasha snatched the cookies out of your hand. “Real food first, then sweets.” You pouted as Maria handed you a sandwich.
“That pout isn’t gonna work on me.” It definitely worked on Yelena and Kate. Your brother discovered that weakness a month being with the Avengers. You sighed, unwrapped your sandwich, and laid your head on Wanda’s lap. She opened the book she was currently reading.
“Can I ask you both something?” You looked at the Black Widow and her girlfriend.
“Of course, sweetheart.” Natasha smiled.
“Can Kyle and I call you both mom?” You asked, taking a bite of your sandwich. The quiet stretched a second, maybe longer.
Natasha broke it. “Do you want to call us that?” You nodded your head.
“We don’t remember our parents,” you shrugged. “You and Maria take care of us, love us. You’re our moms.” You’ve been thinking about calling them that title before they found Kyle. Now you had him back, and saw how easily they welcomed him into the family. Your decision was made for you, especially with the late-night conversations with your brother. He loved them just as much as you did.
“Yeah,” Maria said. “You can call us that.”
“Cool.” You sat up. “I finished my sandwich. Can I have a cookie?”
“If you go get your brother and aunts and tell them to come eat,” Natasha said.
“Fine.” You groaned and stood up. “Love you, Mom.” You hugged your Maria. “Love you, Mama.” You hugged Natasha and ran off towards your brother.
“What about me?” Wanda called out. You turned around.
“Love you too, sissy.” You called out with a big smile.
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
“Brat,” Wanda mumbled, with all the affection of an older sister. Natasha watched you run off, not realizing the emotional turmoil you caused. Because yes, she loved you and was learning to love your brother, but hearing you say it with so much conviction knocked something loose in Natasha’s chest. Wanda looked her over. “Are you guys okay?”
“Yeah.” Maria cleared her throat. “Totally.”
“Sure,” Wanda said. “It was only a matter of time before she or Kyle said it.” She focused back on her book. “There aren’t really many happy memories for them.” Wanda shrugged. “You guys make them feel love. You’re good at that.” Your laughter drew Natasha’s attention to the water. Kyle held on to you as he dragged you into the water. She wasn’t worried when he dropped you in because Kate and Yelena were right there. It was the sound of your laughter mixed with your brother’s that she would hold on to forever.
Summary: You're chronically ill, and you're also a parent balancing your schedule between working at the PTMC and custody of your young daughter. When you meet Trinity she's an R2, and you've taken up a fellowship program at the emergency department of the PTMC. You had told yourself you weren't going to date again after the divorce. Not for a long time. You needed to focus on your career and your daughter, but how can you not slowly fall for this sassy R2 who is so sweet, kind, and caring with every kid that comes into The Pitt
word count: 7.7K
warnings: child illness, vomiting mentioned, nausea, stomach virus, fever/dehydration mentions, chronic illness/disability, chronic pain, dizziness, medication mentions, mobility aid use, divorced/co-parenting conflict, custody discussions, emotionally difficult conversations with an ex-spouse, past caregiver burnout/resentment, internalized ableism and fears of being a burden, references to previous illness-related injury/ER visits, complicated workplace romance dynamics, relationship anxiety, and hurt/comfort
Authors note: Time to dig deep
You woke slowly.
Not because of an alarm.
Not because Malia was crying or running to the bathroom.
Because your left leg had gone numb.
For several disoriented seconds, you stared at the ceiling and tried to remember why there was weight across both thighs.
Then you looked down.
Malia was asleep with her head in your lap, one cheek pressed against your right thigh. Her hair had escaped its braid during the night and spread across you in a tangled fan.
Trinity was asleep on the floor beside the couch.
At some point, she must have shifted closer. Her head rested against your other leg, dark hair brushing the blanket covering your knees. One arm was folded beneath her cheek, while the other lay loosely across the couch cushion near Malia’s hand.
Neither of them was holding onto you anymore. They did not need to. They had simply settled there. Your daughter on one side. Trinity on the other. You remained perfectly still.
The apartment was washed in thin gray morning light. Empty electrolyte bottles and medication wrappers covered the coffee table. The clean basin sat nearby, unused since shortly after midnight.
Malia had gone several hours without vomiting. That was the first thing you assessed. Her breathing was easy. Her skin no longer felt feverishly hot against your palm. Her face was relaxed instead of pinched with nausea.
Relief loosened something in your chest. Then Trinity made a quiet sound in her sleep and pressed her cheek more firmly against your leg. You froze again.
She looked younger like this. Not because the sharpness had left her face entirely. Even asleep, Trinity carried a faint line between her eyebrows, as though some part of her was still arguing with the universe, but her usual defenses were gone. No sarcastic smile or calculating glance or convenient insult ready to prevent a moment from becoming too honest. Just Trinity. Asleep on your floor because your daughter had been sick and you had admitted you did not want to be alone.
Your fingers moved before you made a decision. You brushed a strand of hair away from her face. The contact was barely there. Your fingertips skimmed her temple and tucked the hair back behind her ear. Trinity did not wake. Malia stirred. You pulled your hand back immediately.
Her eyes opened halfway.
“Mommy?”
“I’m here.”
“My tummy feels funny.”
You placed your hand gently over her stomach.
“Like you’re going to be sick?”
Malia thought about it.
“No.”
“Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
“Do you think you could drink something?”
She nodded against your thigh.
Then her eyes drifted toward Trinity.
“T’s on the floor.”
“She is.”
“Why?”
“Because she refused to use the chair.”
“That’s silly.”
“Extremely.”
Malia stared at her for another moment.
“Did she stay all night?”
“Yes.”
“Because I was sick?”
Your answer caught somewhere behind your ribs.
“Because we asked her to.”
Malia seemed satisfied with that.
She lifted one hand and placed it on top of Trinity’s head.
Trinity startled awake.
Her body tensed before her eyes had fully opened, one hand coming up as though she expected an emergency.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” you said quickly. “We’re okay.”
Trinity blinked. Her gaze moved to Malia. Then to you. Then down to the way her head was still resting against your leg. She sat up so abruptly that her shoulder struck the edge of the couch.
“Shit.”
Malia gasped.
“You said a bad word.”
Trinity pressed one hand to her shoulder.
“I said ship.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“It was maritime.”
Malia looked at you for confirmation.
“She definitely swore.”
“Betrayal,” Trinity muttered.
She shifted onto her knees and rubbed the back of her neck.
Her hair stuck up on one side.
You tried not to smile.
Trinity saw you trying.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re looking at me.”
“I look at you frequently. We work together.”
“Not like that.”
“Like what?”
Trinity narrowed her eyes.
You kept your face carefully neutral.
Malia pushed herself upright.
The sudden movement made her sway.
Both you and Trinity reached for her at once.
Your hands met around her waist.
Trinity’s fingers brushed yours.
Neither of you pulled away immediately.
Malia leaned back against your chest, apparently unaware that she had just trapped both of you in the same small point of contact.
“How do you feel?” Trinity asked.
“Tired.”
“Stomach?”
“Still weird.”
“Thirsty?”
Malia nodded.
“I’ll get it,” you said.
You began to shift beneath her.
Pain flared through your hips before your feet reached the floor.
Your face tightened.
Trinity noticed.
“I’ve got it.”
“I can stand.”
“I know.”
The words were gentle. No argument. No implication that you were incapable. Trinity pushed herself upright with a quiet groan and headed for the kitchen. Malia watched her go.
“She walks funny.”
“She slept on the floor.”
“Why didn’t she sleep on the couch?”
“You were on the couch.”
“She could’ve slept with us.”
Your pulse stumbled.
“That would have been crowded.”
Malia looked at the space beside you.
“There’s room.”
There was not. That was beside the point. Trinity returned carrying a small cup of electrolyte solution and a sleeve of crackers.
“What are we discussing?” she asked.
“Sleeping arrangements,” Malia said.
Trinity stopped. You closed your eyes.
“Malia thinks you could have slept on the couch with us.”
“I see.”
“You would’ve fit.”
“I doubt that.”
“You’re not that big.”
Trinity looked at you over Malia’s head. You could see the effort it took not to laugh. You pointed toward the drink.
“Hydration.”
“Excellent deflection,” Trinity said.
“Thank you.”
Malia took the cup with both hands and sipped. You watched carefully for any change in her face. She swallowed. Waited. Took another sip. No nausea. No immediate cramping. Trinity sat on the edge of the coffee table across from her.
“Slow,” she reminded.
“I know.”
“You’re six.”
“An unfortunate limitation,” Malia said.
Trinity’s eyes flicked toward you.
“You’ve corrupted her.”
“She came that way.”
Malia ate half a cracker. Then another. Every bite felt like a small victory. Trinity stayed quiet while she ate, watching without making the attention feel clinical. Once Malia had finished, she rested against you again.
“Can we watch cartoons?”
“Yes.”
“Can T watch?”
Trinity opened her mouth. You answered first.
“She can stay for breakfast.”
The words came out before you could examine them. Trinity looked at you. You felt suddenly self-conscious.
“You stayed all night,” you added. “You should eat before you go.”
A slow warmth entered her expression.
“I thought food wasn’t a reward for basic human decency.”
“It isn’t.”
“So this is pity?”
“This is me preventing a resident from passing out in my kitchen.”
“Very romantic.”
Your face warmed.
Malia looked between you.
“Are we having pancakes?”
“No,” you said.
“Yes,” Trinity said.
You stared at her.
“You are not making pancakes.”
“Why not?”
“You slept for three hours on a hardwood floor.”
“I’m resilient.”
“You also nearly dislocated your shoulder waking up.”
“Unconfirmed.”
Malia brightened.
“I can help.”
“You’re recovering from a stomach bug,” you said.
“I can stir.”
“Pancakes might be too much for your stomach.”
“I can have toast.”
Trinity looked at you.
“That was suspiciously reasonable.”
“She wants access to batter.”
Malia smiled.
You knew exactly where this was going.
Ten minutes later, you were sitting at the kitchen table with the heating pad wrapped around your hips while Trinity stood at the counter in yesterday’s clothes, whisking pancake batter with Malia beside her on a chair.
Malia had insisted on helping. Trinity had insisted the chair was safer than letting her stand on the counter. You had insisted both of them were going to give you a cardiac event. The kitchen filled with the smell of butter and warm batter. Your stomach still felt uncertain, but not enough to ruin the moment. Malia stirred with intense concentration. Trinity kept one hand near the bowl to prevent it from sliding.
“Not too fast,” she said.
“I know how to stir.”
“You’re splashing.”
“That’s part of it.”
“It’s not.”
“You draw potatoes and call them dogs.”
Trinity looked offended.
“You’ve been awake for twenty minutes and have chosen violence.”
Malia giggled.
The sound filled the kitchen. You watched them from the table. It happened again. That dangerous feeling. Not certainty. Not permanence. Something softer. The possibility that maybe your life did not have to remain closed to stay safe. Trinity glanced over her shoulder. She caught you looking. This time, you did not pretend you weren’t. Her expression changed. The teasing faded.
The room seemed to narrow around the two of you, even with Malia between. You thought about her asleep against your leg. You thought about waking and finding that she had stayed exactly where you had asked her to.
“Green, yellow, or red?” she asked quietly.
You considered.
Your body hurt, you were tired, the apartment was a disaster, your daughter was recovering from a stomach bug, and your ex would probably call within the hour. Still, the answer came easily.
“Green.”
Trinity smiled.
“Actual green?”
You looked at Malia. At the pancake batter on her sleeve. At Trinity’s ruined hair and sleep-creased cheek. At the life gathered around your kitchen table without permission or warning.
“Actual green,” you said.
Your ex’s call came before Trinity finished the first pancake. Your phone buzzed against the kitchen table, vibrating hard enough to inch toward the edge. You caught it with one hand. The name on the screen tightened your stomach before you even answered. Malia noticed.
“Is it Mama?”
“Yes.”
“I want to tell her I ate crackers.”
“You can tell her.”
You accepted the call and lifted the phone to your ear.
“Hi.”
“How is she?”
Your ex’s voice was alert, already searching for signs of trouble.
“Better. No vomiting since a little after midnight. Her fever’s down, and she’s kept fluids and crackers down this morning.”
“How much fluid?”
“About four ounces so far.”
“Any abdominal pain?”
“Still mild and diffuse. No guarding. She says her stomach feels weird, but she isn’t nauseous.”
Trinity poured another circle of batter into the pan. You watched the edges begin to bubble. Your ex was quiet for a second.
“And you?”
The question did not feel like concern. It felt like an assessment.
“I’m fine.”
Across the kitchen, Trinity looked at you. You ignored her.
“Are you?” your ex asked.
“Yes.”
“You sounded unwell last night.”
“I was tired.”
“You said your stomach was bothering you.”
“It settled after I ate and took my medication.”
“You waited that long to take it?”
You shifted in your chair.
“We were managing a lot.”
“Malia told me you sometimes forget when you’re busy.”
You glanced toward your daughter. Malia was focused on dusting her toast with what she considered an appropriate amount of cinnamon sugar, which was apparently enough to preserve it for several centuries.
“I didn’t forget,” you said. “I made a choice based on how my stomach felt.”
“Was it a good choice?”
Trinity set the spatula down. Not loudly. Still, you heard it. You lowered your voice.
“She’s okay.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
Malia looked up.
“Can I talk to Mama?”
Relief and apprehension arrived together. You switched the call to speaker and placed the phone on the table.
“Mama?”
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Malia smiled immediately.
“Hi.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“Did your stomach hurt all night?”
“Kind of.”
“Did you throw up again?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How many times?”
Malia looked at you.
“Four?”
“Five total,” you corrected gently. “Two after we spoke.”
Your ex inhaled.
“Five?”
“She’s been stable for several hours.”
“You should have called me.”
You felt your shoulders begin to fold. Malia interrupted before you could respond.
“But T stayed.”
The entire kitchen stopped. Trinity’s hand tightened around the spatula. Your ex went silent. Malia continued happily, unaware that she had just rolled a lit flare into the center of the room.
“She brought crackers and blue ice pops and applesauce, but Mommy didn’t want the applesauce. Then I threw up in the bowl and T cleaned it.”
Your ex’s voice became carefully neutral.
“T?”
“Dr. Trinity,” you said.
“The resident.”
“Yes.”
Malia leaned closer to the phone.
“She slept on the floor.”
Your ex said nothing. You closed your eyes briefly. Trinity turned back to the stove and flipped the pancake, giving you privacy she could not possibly create in the middle of your kitchen.
“She came by with supplies,” you explained. “Malia asked her to stay for a while.”
“And she stayed all night?”
The question was directed at you now.
“She stayed because Malia was sick.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Malia continued before you could answer.
“She slept with her head on Mommy’s leg.”
The pancake folded in half. Trinity stared down at it. You covered your face with one hand.
“Malia.”
“What?”
Your ex’s silence stretched. Malia misunderstood it.
“Mommy had my head on this leg.” She patted your right thigh. “And T had that one.”
“Thank you for the anatomical clarification,” you muttered.
Trinity made a sound that might have been a cough. Your ex finally spoke.
“So Dr. Santos is still there?”
“Yes.”
“She’s making pancakes,” Malia announced.
Your ex’s tone sharpened. “Pancakes?”
“For Mommy. I’m having toast because my stomach is still weird.”
“That’s good.”
“I helped stir.”
“You should be resting.”
“I am resting now.”
Malia took an enormous bite of toast to demonstrate. Your ex softened.
“Did you keep your drink down?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did you take your temperature?”
“Mommy did.”
“What was it?”
You answered. “Ninety-nine point one.”
“So no real fever.”
“Not anymore.”
“And you’re not dizzy?”
You knew she was no longer asking Malia.
“I’m sitting down.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
Trinity kept her back turned. You could see the tension across her shoulders.
“I’m okay,” you said.
Malia licked cinnamon sugar from her thumb.
“Mama, we have to go.”
Your ex paused. “Go where?”
“No, I have to go.”
“You called me.”
“You called us,” Malia corrected.
“What do you have to do?”
“Pancakes.”
Your ex’s voice warmed despite herself.
“I thought you were eating toast.”
“I have to watch T make them wrong.”
Trinity turned halfway around.
“I’m standing right here.”
Malia giggled.
“She made the first one look like a taco.”
“It folded.”
“Because you did it wrong.”
“I’m being bullied in this home.”
Your ex heard the exchange. The warmth disappeared from the call.
“Malia.”
“Yes?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“You did.”
“For longer than two minutes.”
Malia frowned. She looked at the phone with the puzzled impatience only children could get away with.
“I told you everything.”
“You told me about pancakes.”
“And throwing up.”
Trinity pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. You gave her a warning look. She returned it with wide-eyed innocence. Your ex sighed.
“Can you take me off speaker?”
The question was for you. Malia objected immediately.
“No.”
“Malia,” you said.
“I’m talking.”
“You just said you had to go.”
“I have one more thing.”
She leaned toward the phone.
“T stayed because Mommy was scared.” Your breath stopped. Trinity’s head turned. The room changed. Your ex was quiet. Malia continued, softer now. “Mommy didn’t want to be alone if I got sicker.”
You stared down at your hands. You had not realized Malia heard that. Children collected truths from corners adults assumed were private. Your ex’s voice came back gentler.
“Were you scared too, sweetheart?”
Malia nodded before remembering she could not be seen.
“A little.”
“You could’ve called me.”
“Mommy said you were sleeping.”
“I would have answered.”
“I know.”
Your chest tightened.
Malia picked at the crust of her toast.
“But T was already here.”
There was no malice in it. No choosing one mother over another. Just the simple geography of comfort. Trinity had been there. Your ex heard something more complicated. You knew because you would have heard it too.
“Okay,” she said.
The word was too controlled. Malia brightened again.
“Can I call you later?”
“Yes.”
“After pancakes?”
“After you rest.”
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Malia reached for the phone. You ended the call before she could accidentally hang up on your ex mid-sentence. For several seconds, no one spoke. The pan hissed. Trinity looked down at the folded pancake.
“I can make another one.”
Malia nodded solemnly.
“You should.”
“Malia,” you said.
“What?”
“Give me and T a minute.”
“Why?”
“Because the grown-ups need to talk.”
“About Mama?”
Your exhaustion deepened.
“Please.”
Malia studied your face.
Then Trinity’s.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No,” both of you said at once.
Malia looked unconvinced. Trinity crouched beside her chair.
“You did nothing wrong.”
“I told Mama you slept here.”
“That’s true.”
“And about your head.”
“Also true.”
“And that Mommy was scared.”
Trinity glanced at you. You forced yourself not to look away.
“Also true,” she said.
Malia’s shoulders relaxed.
“Then why do you have to talk?”
“Because adults enjoy making simple things complicated,” Trinity said.
“That’s stupid.”
“Deeply.”
You pointed toward the living room.
“Cartoons. Ten minutes.”
Malia carried her toast and drink away with theatrical reluctance.
“You have to bring me the good pancake.”
“There are no good pancakes,” Trinity called after her.
“Yes, there are!”
Once the television started, the kitchen seemed too quiet. Trinity returned to the stove and turned off the burner.
“You didn’t have to send her away.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Your ex is going to call back.”
“I know.”
“Do you want me to leave before she does?”
The question was calm. Too calm. You looked at her. Trinity had already started gathering the mixing bowl and whisk. Her movements were efficient. Detached. A version of herself she used at work when something hurt more than she wanted anyone to see.
“Is that what you want?”
“No.” The answer came immediately. She set the bowl in the sink. “I also don’t want to make things harder for you.”
“You’re not.”
“Your ex clearly disagrees.”
“She didn’t say anything.”
“She didn’t have to.”
You rubbed your palms against your thighs.
“She’s protective of Malia.”
“I know.”
“She doesn’t know you.”
“I know that too.”
“And she heard that someone she barely knows slept here during her custody handoff.”
Trinity turned around.
“It was your custody time.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“Then what is?”
You opened your mouth. Nothing arrived cleanly enough to say. The truth was tangled. Your ex had a right to know who spent time around Malia. Your ex did not have a right to control your home. Trinity staying had been practical. Trinity sleeping against your leg had not felt practical at all.
“I don’t want her thinking I’m replacing her,” you said.
Trinity’s expression softened.
“You’re not.”
“Malia said you were already here. She said it like that settled everything.”
“She’s six.”
“She notices who shows up.”
“So does your ex.”
You looked at Trinity. There was no smugness in the words. Only understanding.
“She’ll think this is something,” you said.
Trinity went very still.
“Isn’t it?”
The question was quiet enough to disappear beneath the sound of the cartoon in the next room. You looked down.
“That’s not fair.”
“I know.”
“We haven’t even…”
“I know.”
“You slept on my floor.”
“With my head on your leg, apparently.”
Despite yourself, you laughed. Trinity’s mouth curved. Then the moment settled again. More serious now.
“I don’t know what this is,” you admitted.
“I do.”
Your eyes lifted. Trinity leaned back against the counter.
“I care about you.” The words were simple. No flourish. No escape hatch hidden inside sarcasm. “I care about Malia,” she continued. “I wanted to stay. You wanted me to stay. I’m not going to pretend that meant nothing because your ex might be uncomfortable.”
Your pulse quickened.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“You’re asking yourself to.”
You looked toward the living room. Malia sat beneath a blanket with her toast balanced on a plate, wholly absorbed in the cartoon.
“I have to be careful.”
“I know.”
“With her.”
“I know.”
“With myself.”
Trinity nodded.
“I know.”
The repetition made your throat tighten. You had spent so much of your marriage trying to explain why care required precision. Why help could become control. Why love did not erase exhaustion. Why you needed someone to understand without turning every need into a debt. Trinity kept saying she knew. Not everything. Enough.
“My ex is going to ask if we’re together,” you said.
“Are you going to tell her no?”
You hesitated.
Trinity watched your face.
“We aren’t,” you said.
“No.”
The answer hurt anyway.
“But you stayed.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re in my kitchen making pancakes.”
“Badly.”
“Catastrophically.”
“Your daughter is a harsh critic.”
“You adore her.”
“I do.”
There was that word again. Not love. Close enough to frighten you.
“What should I tell her?” you asked.
Trinity’s expression changed.
“You’re asking me?”
“I’m asking what you think.”
She considered it seriously.
“Tell her the truth.”
“That a coworker came over because Malia was sick and stayed because I asked?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds intimate.”
“It was.”
Your breath caught. Trinity did not look away. The space between you shifted. Not enough for a kiss. Enough for the possibility to stand up and become visible. From the living room, Malia shouted, “Is the pancake done?”
Trinity closed her eyes.
“Saved by gastrointestinal distress.”
You laughed. The tension loosened without disappearing. Trinity plated the least mangled pancake and cut it into pieces for you. She hesitated before setting it down.
“Do you want me to stay for the call?”
“No.” She nodded. The answer came too quickly. “I mean,” you added, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to defend yourself.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“I know.”
“I also don’t want her making you feel small again.”
Your fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
“I know.”
Trinity rested her hand near yours. Not touching. Waiting. You turned your hand palm-up. Her fingers slid into yours. The contact was tentative. Warm. Nothing like the accidental brushes at work. Nothing like her hand around your wrist in the supply room. This was chosen. Your first instinct was to look toward the living room. Trinity noticed.
“She can’t see us.”
“I know.”
“You can let go.”
“I know.”
You did not. Her thumb moved once across your knuckles. The phone buzzed again. Your ex’s name appeared on the screen. Trinity’s hand loosened. You tightened your fingers before she could pull away completely. Just for a second. Long enough to tell her that leaving was not what you wanted. Then you let go. Trinity picked up the plate.
“I’ll take Malia her pancake.”
“She’s not eating pancake.”
“She needs to review my work.”
“Do not give her any.”
“I’m giving her one bite.”
“Trinity.”
“Two bites.”
She walked toward the living room before you could stop her. You watched her sit beside Malia and present the pancake for inspection. Malia took a tiny bite. Her face twisted thoughtfully. Then she gave Trinity a thumbs-up. Trinity looked back at you with exaggerated triumph. Your phone continued buzzing against the table.
For the first time, you did not answer immediately. You took one slow breath. Then another. When you finally picked up, Trinity was still there. Not speaking for you. Not rescuing you. Simply within sight. You accepted the call.
“Hi.”
Your ex did not waste time.
“We need to talk about Dr. Santos.”
You looked toward the living room. Trinity was listening to Malia explain exactly why the pancake had almost failed.
“I know,” you said and this time, your voice did not become smaller.
“Is Malia where she can hear us?”
You watched Trinity glance toward you. She could not hear the words from across the room, but she knew who was calling.
“Malia,” you said, covering the bottom of the phone. “Can you put your headphones on for a minute?”
“Why?”
“Grown-up conversation.”
“About T?”
Trinity closed her eyes. Your ex heard that.
“I’ll explain later,” you said.
Malia looked between you and Trinity. Trinity picked up the pink headphones from the coffee table.
“Come on,” she said. “I need your professional opinion on whether this cartoon understands basic anatomy.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then this is serious.”
Malia allowed Trinity to settle the headphones over her ears. Trinity turned the volume up just enough to block the conversation without making it unsafe. Then she stood.
“I can go to the other room.”
You met her eyes. Your ex was waiting.
“No,” you said. Trinity paused. “Stay with her.”
Something softened in her face. She sat back down beside Malia. You rose carefully from the kitchen chair and carried the phone toward the hallway. Your hips protested immediately. The heating pad slipped from your lap and landed across the seat. Trinity noticed. She started to rise again. You shook your head. You could manage the distance. She let you. It mattered.
You stopped near the bedroom doorway, far enough from the living room that Malia could not accidentally overhear.
“I’m here,” you said.
“Who else is there?”
“Trinity.”
“Still.”
“Yes.”
Your ex exhaled. You recognized the sound. It had once meant she was trying very hard to remain reasonable. During the last years of your marriage, it had come to mean that you had already disappointed her and simply had not been informed of the verdict.
“Why is she still there?”
“She stayed to help with Malia.”
“Overnight.”
“Yes.”
“And now she’s making breakfast.”
“She made pancakes.”
“That isn’t better.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
Your ex went quiet again.
You leaned one shoulder against the wall. The position pulled uncomfortably at your lower back, but you did not want to sit on the bedroom floor and risk needing help getting up.
“Are you seeing her?” your ex asked.
“No.” The answer came quickly. It sounded sharp even to you. You glanced toward the living room. Trinity had found a second blanket and draped it around Malia’s shoulders. Malia was talking with both hands, describing something urgent about the cartoon. “No,” you repeated more calmly. “We’re not dating.”
“But she’s spending the night.”
“She stayed because Malia was sick and I asked her to.”
“You asked a resident you supervise to sleep at your house?”
The wording made your stomach twist.
“I don’t supervise her.”
“You’re a fellow.”
“I’m not her attending. I don’t evaluate her, and she doesn’t report to me.”
“You work in the same department.”
“Yes.”
“That is still complicated.”
“I know.”
Your ex’s voice softened slightly.
“Do you?”
You closed your eyes. That question had always worked on you. Not because it was cruel. Because it sounded like concern. It made you doubt whether your own understanding could be trusted.
“Yes,” you said. “I know it’s complicated.”
“Then why would you involve Malia before you know what this is?”
Your grip tightened around the phone.
“I didn’t involve Malia.”
“She slept beside your couch.”
“Malia was vomiting. Trinity brought supplies and helped me take care of her.”
“You could have called me.”
“We already discussed that.”
“You could have.”
“And you could have come over.”
Your ex stopped. The words surprised both of you. You pressed on before your courage evaporated.
“You could have offered to come sit with her here instead of immediately asking whether you needed to take her away from me.”
“I was trying to help.”
“So was Trinity.”
“That is not the same.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Your ex’s voice sharpened.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
You looked through the doorway again. Trinity was helping Malia peel the paper wrapper from a fresh crayon. She did not do it for her. She held the edge steady until Malia could grip it herself.
“It means Trinity asked what I needed,” you said.
“I asked if you needed me to take Malia.”
“You assumed the only help I could need was someone removing her from my care.”
“That is not fair.”
“Maybe not.” The admission kept the conversation from becoming a fight. You breathed through the ache gathering in your hips. “But that is how it felt,” you continued. “Every time I said Malia was okay, you asked whether you should take her. Every time I said I was managing, you questioned whether I was well enough to know that.”
“Because you have pushed yourself past your limits before.”
“I know.”
“You’ve gotten hurt.”
“I know.”
“You’ve ended up in the emergency department.”
“I know.”
“And I was the one who had to manage everything when that happened.”
There it was. The old ledger opening between you. Your illness on one side. Everything she had done because of it on the other. You felt yourself beginning to fold. Your shoulders rounded. Your voice nearly followed. Then Trinity looked toward the hallway. She could not hear the words. She saw your posture. The line between her eyebrows deepened.
I’ve never seen you treat yourself so small.
You straightened. Not much. Enough.
“I know you carried a lot during our marriage,” you said. “I know there were times you had to take care of Malia because I physically couldn’t. I know that hurt you.” Your ex did not respond. “But that doesn’t mean every time I ask for help now is proof that I’m failing.”
“I didn’t say you were failing.”
“You don’t have to use that word.”
“That’s not fair either.”
“Probably not.”
You rubbed your thumb against the edge of the phone case.
“I’m not trying to blame you for everything,” you said. “I’m trying to explain why I don’t want Malia transferred back to your house every time I have a bad symptom day.”
“She needs stability.”
“She needs to know she can still be with me when I’m sick.”
Your ex went silent. You pictured her expression. The tiny crease between her brows. The way she would look away when something landed too close to guilt.
“Malia hid that she felt sick yesterday,” you continued. “She thought that if one of us was sick, she wouldn’t get to stay for my weekend.”
“What?”
“She said sick people don’t get custody time.”
“I never told her that.”
“Neither did I.”
“Then where did she get it?”
“From watching.”
The word came out quietly. It hurt both of you. You could tell by the way your ex’s breathing changed.
“There were times you couldn’t take her,” she said.
“I know.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“I’m not saying you did the wrong thing.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That we didn’t explain it well enough.”
You pushed away from the wall and paced two careful steps into the bedroom, then back. Your joints wanted movement and hated it once they got it.
“She thinks illness means separation,” you said. “I’m trying to change that.”
“By having someone she barely knows sleep over?”
The frustration returned. You stopped pacing.
“Trinity stayed on the floor.”
“That is not the distinction you think it is.”
“I didn’t bring a stranger into the house.”
“She is a stranger to me.”
“She isn’t to Malia.”
“That is part of what concerns me.”
Your jaw tightened.
“You don’t get to decide who Malia knows during my custody time.”
“I do get to know which adults are spending the night around our daughter.”
“And now you know.”
“After it happened.”
“Because it was not planned.”
“Neither was Malia being at the hospital the other day.”
The words hit precisely where she intended them to. You went still. The old version of you would have apologized. Would have agreed that the entire weekend was evidence of poor planning. Would have promised a better system you could not guarantee. Instead, you looked at Malia through the doorway. She had lifted one side of her headphones and was whispering something to Trinity. Trinity pointed at the screen, redirecting her attention without glancing toward you.
“Malia was safe at the hospital,” you said. “She was safe last night. She is safe now.”
“I’m not saying she wasn’t.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying this is fast.”
The answer was honest enough to stop you.
You leaned against the bedroom doorframe.
“Nothing is happening.”
“Something is.”
You did not answer. Your ex continued more quietly.
“I heard Malia talk about her. I saw how Dr. Santos looked at you.”
Your pulse fluttered.
“She was angry with how you were speaking to me.”
The words slipped out. Your ex went silent. You immediately wished you could retrieve them. Not because they were untrue. Because you had revealed too much.
“She said that?”
“After you left.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“That isn’t relevant.”
“It is if she’s commenting on our parenting relationship.”
“She wasn’t.”
“She was commenting on me.”
“She was commenting on how I reacted.”
Your ex gave a short laugh. Not amused.
“Let me guess. She thinks I’m cruel.”
“No.”
“You just said she was angry.”
“She didn’t like that I apologized for everything.”
“You were responsible for some of it.”
“I know.”
“There you go again.”
You frowned. “What?”
“Agreeing with whoever is currently speaking.”
The observation landed strangely. You had expected criticism. Instead, it felt almost like recognition. Your ex sighed.
“You did that with me too.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.”
You looked at the floor. There had been years of this. You absorbing her frustration until you no longer knew where it ended and your own self-assessment began, but there had also been years before that, when she had known your habits before either of you understood how damaging they could become.
“You would agree with me just to end the argument,” she said. “Then resent me later.”
“I didn’t always know I disagreed until later.”
“I know.”
For the first time, her voice sounded tired rather than sharp. Not triumphant. Not vindicated. Just tired. You sat slowly on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you.
“You’re right about one thing,” you said.
“One?”
The old dry humor surfaced. It startled a small laugh out of you.
“Don’t push it.”
“I’m listening.”
“This is complicated.”
“Yes.”
“And Trinity being here matters.”
Another silence. You pressed your palm against your aching hip.
“But it mattered because Malia was sick,” you continued. “It mattered because I was scared and didn’t want to be alone. It mattered because she helped without making me feel incapable.”
You heard your ex inhale. You had not intended the final sentence as an accusation. It became one anyway.
“I did help you,” she said.
“I know.”
“For years.”
“I know.”
“I rearranged my work. I cancelled plans. I took every night feeding when your joints flared after Malia was born.”
“I remember.”
“I carried you off the bathroom floor.”
“I remember that too.”
“So don’t act like I never helped you.”
“I’m not.”
“It sounds like you are.”
You closed your eyes.
“I’m saying there were times your help made me feel loved.” Your voice trembled. “And there were times it made me feel like a debt you were keeping track of.”
Your ex did not answer. The quiet grew heavy. You stared at the medication bottles on your nightstand. At the compression socks folded over the chair. At the private machinery of your body that your ex had once known as intimately as you did. When she finally spoke, her voice was low.
“I was angry.”
“I know.”
“I was exhausted.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t always handle it well.”
“No.”
The word came out before you could soften it. Your ex released a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.
“You never used to say that.”
“I’m trying something new.”
“Dr. Santos’s influence?”
The question carried an edge, but less than before.
“No.” You thought about Trinity’s hand around your wrist. Her head against your leg. The way she had asked before every touch. “Maybe,” you admitted. Your ex was quiet again.
Then, “Does Malia like her?”
You looked toward the living room. Malia had abandoned the cartoon and was now stacking crackers on Trinity’s knee. Trinity sat perfectly still to preserve the structure.
“Very much.”
“And does Dr. Santos understand that Malia gets attached?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve discussed that?”
“Not formally.” Your ex made a skeptical noise. “But she’s careful with her,” you said. “She doesn’t make promises she can’t keep. She looks at me before agreeing to anything involving Malia. She doesn’t use her to get closer to me.”
“You’ve thought about this.”
“Yes.”
The admission settled between you. Your ex knew what it meant. So did you.
“Are you going to date her?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to?”
You looked at Trinity. She had discovered the cracker tower and was pretending not to understand how it had appeared on her leg. Malia’s mouth was covered by both hands to contain her laughter.
“Yes,” you whispered.
It was the first time you had said it aloud. Not to Trinity. Not even to yourself in language that direct. Your ex heard. For several seconds, all you could hear was the faint sound of the cartoon from the other room.
“Okay,” she said.
You blinked.
“Okay?”
“I don’t like finding out this way.”
“I understand.”
“And I don’t want Malia introduced to someone as a potential partner before you know whether that relationship is stable.”
“She hasn’t been.”
“She calls her T.”
“Malia gives everyone nicknames.”
“She calls Dana Dana.”
“Dana wouldn’t tolerate alternatives.”
“That’s true.”
The tension eased by one thin degree.
Your ex continued.
“I’m not saying you can’t see her.”
The words irritated you on instinct.
“I don’t need your permission.”
“I know.”
You waited. It was the first time either of you had said that without turning it into a weapon.
“I am asking that we talk before overnight guests are around Malia,” she said.
“Even in an emergency?”
“Especially if it becomes a regular thing.”
“It isn’t regular.”
“I know.”
You considered the request. Part of you wanted to refuse on principle. Your home. Your custody time. Your decisions, but co-parenting required information even when permission did not.
“I can tell you if someone is going to stay overnight around Malia,” you said. “When I know in advance.”
“And if it’s unplanned?”
“I’ll tell you afterward, like I’m doing now.”
“You didn’t tell me. Malia did.”
You winced.
“That’s fair.”
“I don’t want to hear about important changes from a six-year-old describing pancake quality.”
“Also fair.”
Your ex’s voice softened.
“How is the pancake?”
“Structurally unsound.”
“I heard.”
A small, unexpected laugh passed between you.
It felt like opening a drawer and finding something from your marriage that had not been ruined.
Not enough to want it back.
Enough to remember why it had existed.
“I’m going to call Malia again later,” your ex said.
“After she rests.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll text you if anything changes.”
“Thank you.”
You hesitated.
Then, “I’m not sending her back early.”
Your ex was quiet.
“I wasn’t going to ask.”
“You already did last night.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“She wanted her weekend with you,” she said.
Your eyes burned unexpectedly.
“I know.”
“Let her have it.”
The call ended before you could answer. You remained seated on the edge of the bed with the phone in your lap. Your body felt wrung out. Not defeated. Different. As though you had used muscles that had been allowed to atrophy. You had disagreed.
You had acknowledged where your ex was right without turning that into proof that she was right about everything. You had not apologized for existing. Your hands began to shake. The adrenaline leaving. The pain catching up. You pressed both palms against the mattress and waited. Trinity appeared in the doorway. She did not enter.
“How bad?”
You looked up. She had removed the plate from Malia’s lap and tucked the blanket around her. Behind Trinity, you could see Malia lying on the couch with her headphones still on, eyelids drooping.
“Yellow,” you said.
Trinity studied your face.
“Actual yellow?”
“High yellow.”
“Can I come in?”
The question almost undid you. You nodded. Trinity crossed the room and stopped a few feet away. She did not ask what your ex had said. She looked at your hands.
“Dizzy?”
“A little.”
“Nauseous?”
“No more than usual.”
“Pain?”
“Hips. Lower back.”
“Do you want the heating pad?”
“It’s in the kitchen.”
“I’ll get it.”
She turned.
“Trinity.”
She stopped.
You looked down at your phone.
“I told her I wanted to date you.”
The sentence fell into the room with no preparation. Trinity did not move. When you finally looked up, her face had gone blank with surprise.
“You what?”
“She asked.”
“And you said yes?”
“I said I didn’t know whether I was going to.”
“That is not the part I’m stuck on.”
Despite the exhaustion, you smiled faintly. Trinity took one step closer.
“You want to date me?”
You could hear Malia’s cartoon through the wall. A brightly voiced character explaining friendship to another brightly voiced character. The universe lacked subtlety.
“I want to want to,” you said.
Trinity’s expression softened, but confusion remained.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
“Can you translate?”
You breathed in slowly.
“I want you.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“But wanting you terrifies me,” you continued. “Because it isn’t just me. It’s Malia. It’s my health. It’s work. It’s my ex. It’s every part of my life that could become another reason someone decides I’m too complicated.”
Trinity moved closer. Not close enough to touch.
“I already know your life is complicated.”
“You know pieces.”
“I want to know more.”
“What if you hate it?”
“Then I tell you.” The answer hurt. Trinity saw it. “I’m not going to promise I’ll love every part of this,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”
“No.”
“I might get frustrated.”
You swallowed.
“I might need boundaries.”
Your fingers curled into the blanket.
“I might say the wrong thing.”
“You already do that regularly.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her mouth twitched.
Then she became serious again.
“But I’m not going to turn your illness into evidence that you’re unlovable.”
Your eyes filled before you could stop them. You looked away. Trinity crouched in front of you. The movement put strain on her knees, but she did it anyway.
“Hey.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
You gave a watery laugh.
“There it is.”
“Green, yellow, red only works if you don’t lie.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“You said high yellow.”
“Emotionally, I’ve escalated.”
“Red?”
You shook your head.
“Still yellow.”
Trinity rested her hands on her own thighs.
“Can I hold your hand?”
You nodded.
She took your left hand between both of hers. Warm palms. Steady pressure. No squeezing hard enough to hurt the joints.
“You don’t have to decide anything today,” she said.
“You stayed overnight.”
“Malia was sick.”
“You held my hand in the kitchen.”
“You offered it.”
“You’re crouching in my bedroom.”
“You invited me in.”
Each answer was simple. Grounded in what had actually happened. No grand story built around it. No demand that it become more.
“I don’t want to keep pretending this is nothing,” you said.
Trinity’s thumbs moved gently over your knuckles.
“Okay.”
“You say that too much.”
“It’s versatile.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She looked at you.
“What do you want it to be today?”
You considered the question. Not forever. Not next month. Today. The apartment smelled faintly of pancakes and disinfectant. Your daughter was recovering on the couch. Your ex had not been defeated or transformed. She had simply heard you speak in your full-sized voice for once. Trinity was holding your hand.
“A first date,” you said.
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Today?”
“No. Malia has a stomach virus, I’m wearing yesterday’s shirt, and you smell like my floor.”
“Harsh.”
“When we’re both off.”
“Dinner?”
You hesitated. A restaurant meant arranging childcare. A public place. A specific start and end. It would feel too formal and somehow not formal enough.
“Breakfast,” you said.
Trinity glanced toward the kitchen.
“I feel like we’ve done that.”
“That was emergency pancake medicine.”
“A respected specialty.”
“Breakfast somewhere outside this apartment.”
“Just us?”
Your stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
Trinity smiled. Not her sarcastic grin. Something slower. Almost shy.
“I’d like that.”
“Good.”
“We can discuss my application.”
“Your what?”
“For the position you said you weren’t hiring for.”
“You remembered that?”
“I keep things.”
The words drew your attention toward the kitchen, where Malia’s space drawing still waited to become refrigerator art. You tightened your hand around Trinity’s. She looked down at the movement. Then back at you. Neither of you leaned closer. Malia was ten feet away. Your body was exhausted. A kiss would have been too much. Holding her hand felt like the largest thing you had done in years.
From the living room, Malia called, “T?”
Trinity looked toward the doorway.
“What?”
“I need the bowl.”
Both of you moved at once.
Trinity stood too quickly and nearly lost her balance. You pushed yourself upright despite the pain. She pointed at you.
“Stay.”
“You stay. Your knee just cracked.”
“I’m thirty.”
“Apparently an ancient thirty.”
Malia called again, more urgently. Trinity reached the living room first. You followed with your cane. Malia was sitting upright with one hand over her mouth. Trinity grabbed the basin and placed it in her lap. You sat beside her and gathered her hair back. The nausea passed without vomiting. Malia sagged against you.
“T made me sick with the pancake.”
Trinity looked scandalized.
“You ate one bite.”
“It was powerful.”
You pressed your lips together.
“This is a hostile household,” Trinity said.
Malia rested her head against your shoulder.
“You can still stay.”
Trinity looked at you. Not asking Malia. Asking you. You shifted the blanket around your daughter.
“You can stay until she falls asleep.”
Malia’s eyes were already closing.
“That could take minutes,” Trinity said.
“Then you’d better make them count.”
She sat on the floor beside the couch. Her shoulder rested against your knee. This time, she was awake. This time, you placed your hand in her hair deliberately. Your fingers moved once through the dark strands. Trinity leaned into the touch. Malia sighed against your chest. The three of you remained there while the cartoon played.
Warning: fake fighting, mention of past abuse, fluff, small amount of angst, Fury is weird and worried
Note: Thought you all deserved this post early because you've all been really understanding!
Word Count: 6.7k
There had to be some truth to your lie, or it wasn’t going to convince Wanda or you. Yelena coached you on how to avoid her powers. Repetition. The more you thought about it, the easier it was to hide that you were lying. Suppress any guilt about lying. Replace that feeling with confidence or indifference. Lock the lie away. Lock it behind a door or a vault. And, well, if that failed, pick a song and sing it on a loop in your head.
Regardless, you were a nervous wreck when Wanda knocked on your door. Deep breaths. Steady your heart. Believe in the lie. “Come in.” From sleep and barking orders, your voice was wracked. The door opened softly. The sound pounded in your head.
“Hey sweetheart,” Wanda’s voice was soft. Her footsteps were softer as she rounded to the side of your bed and sat down. The bed shifted under the additional weight, but you kept your face buried in the pillow. “Kate said you weren’t feeling well.”
It was part of the plan. At first, you wanted it to be America. It seemed more believable if it came from her. But America was awful at lying. Next, you would have picked Yelena. However, the Blonde had lied so much to the witch and her sister that any truth was hard to believe. So Kate was the best and only option. “My head hurts,” you whispered. “And my body aches.” You saw the witch frown out of the corner of your eye.
“Here, let me feel your forehead.” Groaning, you rolled over to your back and squinted at the lights in your room. Her hand felt cold against your skin. “You’re a little warm. Have you taken anything?”
“Yes,” you rolled back to your side. “Kate gave me something before she went and got you.” That was the truth. Surprisingly, you woke up with a headache and your stomach in knots. Wanda stood by the edge of your bed, hands on her hips, and lips pinched together. She was deep in thought.
Then you felt something. Yelena described it as being watched. Kate said it felt like her thoughts were slipping out of control - memories were being forced to the surface. Even Peter told you he felt like this pressure. None of it was done on purpose. They said Wanda’s powers just slipped. You remembered the feeling of her entering your dream on the way back home from Russia. That time you welcomed it. Now you needed her out.
The first song that popped into your head was American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. And them good o’l boys were drinkin whiskey and rye. Singin’ this will be the day that I did. “Do you want me to sit out of the mock battle? Just in case you need something?” She asked.
“No,” you said suddenly. “No. Everyone has been working so hard. I just,” you sighed, burrowing yourself deeper into the pillow. “I just need a few more hours of sleep.” Your eyes were already fluttering closed. “I’ll come down later.” Wanda sighed, pushed some hair out of your face, and kissed your forehead.
“If you need anything, you tell FRIDAY, okay?” You hummed and nodded. You felt her presence as she shuffled around your room. She fixed your blanket and made sure you had water. Finally. Finally! She kissed your forehead one more time and left. As gently as she could, she closed the door behind her.
Once the door closed, you opened your eyes. You refused to move from your bed on the off chance Wanda changed her mind. Then your phone buzzed. Quickly, you snatched it and saw a text from Peter. It was a link. Without a thought, you clicked on it, and a video feed popped up.
The security camera followed Wanda. She paced around the kitchen a few times, trying to keep her hands busy. A flicker of guilt plagued your heart. You hated worrying her. Then she took the elevator to the training area.
That was your cue. You climbed out of bed and made a beeline to your closet. Clothes were already placed out. Jeans, shirt, and sneakers that offered better ankle support, according to Cassie. Once your hair was fixed, your teeth were brushed, and deodorant was on, you put your backpack on and went to your door. Taking a few steady breaths, you opened your door and walked to the stairwell.
Clint said the best way to get to the vents above the training area was from the library. A map was on your phone. The hope was not to get lost or fall through the ceiling, which could result in bodily harm and your plan being discovered.
Once you got to the library, you placed the com in your ear. “Grandmaster is ready to start the climb.”
“Aye, aye, Grandmaster,” Kate replied. “See you on the other side.”
Alright, let’s do this.
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
Tony desperately needed to hire someone to clean the vents. There was dust everywhere. It was making your eyes water. According to the map, you were close. You had no idea how Clint spent so many hours up here. You were wondering how you would last during the mock battle.
Finally, you made it above the track. It was better than being over the 15-foot drop. You sat up, took your backpack off, and began setting up your area. The tablet was set up on a small portable table that rested across your lap. Shuri gave you a second screen to attach to it because you learned during your practice sessions it was easier for you to read the numbers. The glasses were set on the floor, ready for you to wear them when the battle started.
Next were the three water bottles you brought. You hoped that would be enough. A small bottle of ibuprofen was put within grabbing distance. Wearing the glasses for a long time gave you a massive headache.
That was everything you needed. Your phone was in your bag because you weren’t going to need it. Everyone you spoke with was going to be fighting. Going through the bag one last time, you grabbed a brown bag you never put in there.
Curiously, you opened it. You pulled out a bag of cough drops, two protein bars, a sandwich bag of candy, and a piece of paper. Well, it was two pieces of paper folded on top of each other. The first was a letter from America. ‘Figured you wouldn’t have time to eat breakfast this morning, plus some cough drops and sweet treats. See you after we win.” Smiling, you put the letter down, and your smile only grew more.
It seemed that America got everyone to sign a piece of paper wishing you luck and saying they believed in you. You weren’t sure why tears formed at the corner of your eyes. Quickly, you wiped them off your cheek before they ruined the note—all of your life you wanted to be seen and heard. Now you were with people who saw you, and you weren’t going to let them down.
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
You chewed on a protein bar as Maria explained the rules one more time. The mock battle would consist of 3 stages; the winner would be determined by the best of the 3 rounds. Maria and Bruce would count up the points after each round to determine the winner. That small break would allow the team to get water, go to the bathroom, and have something to eat. It was a mock battle after all, not the real thing. Sighing, you pushed the glasses up to the top of your head and pulled your knee to your chest, resting your chin on it.
Suddenly, your phone vibrated, and you quickly grabbed it to silence it. You waited. One second, two seconds, then 3 - no one came to look for you. You unlocked your phone and saw that you had two unread messages. The first one was from Clint; he wished you luck for today and asked you to let him know how it went. You sent him a heart.
The second was the Young Avengers group chat. It was from Yelena. She sent a group picture that was taken last night before everyone went to bed. You saved the picture to your camera roll and zoomed in on the faces. Everyone had big smiles on and arms wrapped around each other. It truly was a big family photo.
“Grandmaster,” Kate said in your ear piece. You quickly put your phone back in your bag and the glasses on. “Ready?”
“No.” You answered honestly. Everyone laughed.
“That’s the spirit,” Shang-Chi teased. “I actually think I’m going to puke.”
“Maybe puke on them,” Yelena offered. “Might get us bonus points.”
“Or disqualified.” Shuri mumbled.
“Children,” you smiled. “We got this. Win or lose, we do this together.”
“Together,” Kamala repeated.
“Together,” America said, and you could hear the smile in her voice. Yelena faked a gag.
“This is too sweet this early; I may puke.” You rolled your eyes, laughing slightly. You took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. There was still a deep sense of anxiety that you were going to mess all this up. At least you would mess it up together.
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
Okay. Maybe it wasn’t Shang-Chi or Lena that was going to throw up but you. Your head was spinning as numbers and stats moved across your vision and tablet. The headache happened 10 minutes into the first round, which the Young Avengers lost. Not by much. That was the worst part. Small errors where you hesitated to make the call cost you points. But you were still finding your footing. The speed of the game was unlike anything you’ve experienced.
When you played chess with Vision, he allowed you time to think before you made a move. He even allowed you space to talk through the pros and cons. There was no time for that. Not even yesterday’s practice prepared you for the level of speed and intensity the Avengers fought with.
Although you hesitated, your team did not. If you told someone to move, fall back, or push forward, they listened without question. They needed you to win them this round for it to fall on the last fight.
You gave orders without thought, without guessing each move.
“Spidey, fall back.”
“Hawkeye, we need coverage. Left side.”
“Fire ant, move center. Iron Heart, air support due south.”
“Widow, move towards target. America, engage Okoye to provide coverage. Shuri, take a breather. You got time.”
Every order was answered with a yes, affirmative, on it, boss. Gone was the hesitation from you. It was strange. Made your stomach twist if you thought about it too much on how easily they fell in line to listen to you. But you couldn’t think about that right now.
“We have them on the ropes.” Kate was ‘it’ this time, while Natasha was ‘it’ the other time. “Ms. Marvel, stay with Hawkeye. Everyone else, separate into two teams: Ironheart, Widow, America, and Shang-Chi hit them high and from the right side. Divert as much of their attention. Spidey, Shuri, Fire any, go low.”
“Aye, aye, Grandmaster.” You watched them move through the glasses. Riri arrived there first through the portal that America created. That drew Tony’s and Bucky’s attention. Yelena dodged Steve’s shield with the help of Shang-Chi’s rings. Peter was stopped by Okoye but managed to escape her by swinging onto Cassie as she flew past.
But there was a problem. They stayed close to their king because they knew they were losing. You had to draw them out. “I got a real stupid idea.” You mumbled.
“Love it,” Kate chuckled. “Do it.” You rolled your eyes. To draw out the king, you were going to implement two chess strategies: piece sacrifices and deflection.
“Mrs. Marvel, join the fight on group 2.” You ordered. She left Kate without protection. That was noticed immediately by Carol, Wanda, and Wong. Their heart rate elevated slightly. “Widow and Ironheart shift to group 2. Ironheart first, then 30 seconds Widow will move.”
“What is the plan here, Grandmaster?” Shuri questioned.
“We are overloading one side,” you explained. “Making them think there is a weakness they can exploit. No matter what, do not fall back. Keep pushing.” You knew it was in their DNA to see a member of their team in trouble and rush to save them. “Spidey, America, on my mark you two get Hawkeye out. Regardless of who you are fighting.”
“On it.” “You bet.”
“Shang-Chi, move to group 2.” He left America alone, and that was enough for the older team to sniff out a weakness. As soon as Steve pushed forward and to the right, the others followed. America was overrun. Instead of fighting them, she let them pass. The Avengers rushed towards Kate. But you waited. You watched Yelena’s heart rate spike, but she remained where she was. Kate remained calm because she trusted you. The timing had to be perfect. They had to be close enough to Kate that they wouldn’t have time to get back to Natasha, but not so close that they left Kate in trouble.
“Spidey, America, now.” It was fluid how they moved. America opened the portal about Kate as Peter dropped out of it. The archer raised her arm as the web was wrapped around her hand, and she was pulled through. “Drop her at the target. Move in.” You ordered.
Kate landed behind Natasha. “Boo.” She teased and grabbed onto her wrist. The others pointed their weapons at the Black Widow, and Maria called game. It took her and Bruce less time to announce the winners than it did to announce the Young Avengers.
You enjoyed the sound of their cheers in your ear piece. It would all come down to the free-for-all. “Good work, team,” you smiled. “Maria said this break will be longer, so get some water and electrolytes in you.”
You took the glasses off and rubbed at your eyes. “You hanging in there?” Yelena questioned.
“Yeah, how’s the team?”
“Winning thanks to you.”
“Not winning yet,” you laughed. “We got one more event left.”
“Maybe do not use Kate as bait this time.” You smiled.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” One more event. One more fight.
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Natasha was stunned. Proud but stunned. She expected the second, not the third, battle to go like the first. The youngsters were hesitant, a little sloppy, but they moved well as a team. By the second round, they found their footing so much so that they won, and Steve called an emergency meeting to discuss tactics. The whole team was rattled.
The plan was to take on the Young Avengers they knew. It may end in a draw, but the hope was to accumulate enough points to secure the win for them. A cheap way to win, but it would be a win nonetheless.
Sighing, Natasha stretched out her neck and took a sip of her water. She was getting too old for this. Now more than ever, she was jealous of Clint. “Should we be worried?” Wanda asked, appearing next to her. “That she isn’t down here yet.” Natasha wasn’t sure. This week had been long. Everyone needed sleep, including Y/n.
“No,” Natasha answered. “FRIDAY knows to inform us if she needs us. She’s probably just exhausted.” Wanda pouted, which caused Natasha to smile. “Come on. The faster we win this, the faster we can go check on her.”
Wanda laughed. “Cocky.” Maria signaled to get ready. Natasha smirked.
“I thought you liked that about me.” The witch rolled her eyes and kissed Natasha’s cheek. “See you in a minute.”
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When the whistle blew, Natasha made a beeline for her sister. It made sense. They were both trained in the same place by the same instructors. Natasha knew her sister’s fighting style probably better than her own. But she was surprised when Yelena ignored her and took off towards Wong. Instead of her sister, she was facing off against America - a girl she had only gone on a handful of emotions with and truly did not understand the full strength of her powers. “You seem surprised,” America said.
“You weren’t who I was expecting.” Around the room, her team seemed just as startled to see who they were facing off against. Tony was dealing with Shang-Chi. Peter and Kamala were back-to-back, fighting against Steve and Bucky. Carol was being annoyed by Cassie. America laughed, which drew Natasha’s attention back to her.
“We figured as much,” she smiled. “Besides, it’s like one big game of chess.” Before Natasha could figure out what she meant by that, America began to move. Her lessons with Strange and Wong were paying off because Natasha was quickly out of breath. But she was starting to learn the pattern of when America would use her powers.
Then America pulled back, and Shang-Chi replaced her. Natasha had to start the process all over again. Fight, learn, fight some more. Shang-Chi lasted longer than America, but she was gone before she could get the upper hand. Somehow Natasha found herself fighting Shuri and Cassie with the help of Scott and Sam. But then Cassie left and in came Kamala.
Natasha huffed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. After a barrage of attacks, she finally had a moment to breathe. She had never seen them move like this. It seemed random, but there was a reason behind the chaos, like a game of chess. That was what America said: like a game of chess. Natasha looked around until her eyes scanned over the ceiling. Where was her daughter?
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Something was wrong. Natasha’s movements weren’t easy to predict. She moved like a woman on a mission, bypassing Yelena’s attack and ignoring Peter. “Houston,” you said. “We have a problem.”
“What?” Yelena asked. You watched as Natasha climbed up to the second floor and up to you. You jumped as the roof tile popped off and Natasha’s head popped off.
“Hi, molniyenosnyy zhuk (lightning bug).” She smiled.
“Shit,” you kicked at the roof tile and jumped down onto the track you were above. As your feet hit the ground, you took off running.
“We have a mole.” You heard Natasha give her team the signal.
“I’ve been made.” You reported.
“Do you need backup?” Riri’s voice was the first to ask you. Before you could respond, you were stunned as Wanda’s magic allowed the witch to float her up to the top and land on the track blocking your path.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Wanda smiled. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” you squeaked out. “Much better, actually.” You glanced at the tablet. America was free. With two Avengers on you, the Young Avengers had a numbers advantage. Then a stupid, crazy insane thought came to you. You were definitely going to get yelled at later.
“America,” you said. “Catch me.” You dropped the tablet to the ground and moved before Natasha and Wanda could react. You climbed over the railing and jumped. The couple yelled your name, but you had no time to answer as a portal appeared around you. The fall through her portals felt different than falling through the multiverse. One moment you were falling, and the next you were standing next to America. The girl placed a hand on your shoulder to steady you.
“Hi.” America smiled.
“Hi,” you looked at the couple. Their face mixed with worry, fear, and a small amount of amusement. You waved at them, and then the glasses you were still wearing started beeping. You looked around until it targeted something flying towards the glass roof.
“We got something incoming,” you said through the coms. “Brace for impact.” The sound of glass shattering startled everyone. America covered your body with hers as glass and debris fell. Once the dust settled, you pulled away from her and stared at the God of Thunder.
“Dude,” Tony stopped flying and took his mask off. “I just fixed that.”
“My apologies, Stark,” Thor said. “You did tell me to make an entrance.” Your eyebrows pinched together in confusion.
“Are we about to fight a God?” Cassie was the first to ask. Well, you weren’t the only one to withhold information.
“Grandmaster,” you looked towards Shuri, who threw a spear at Riri. Riri flew overhead and dropped the spear in your hands. It was similar to the ones the Dora Milaje used
“The plan remains the same.” You took off the glasses. “We watch each other’s backs, and we finish this with a win.”
“And what about Thor?” Kate asked, running over to you to stand by your side. You smiled at the God and slammed the end of the spear to the ground. Electricity formed at the button, and you felt the change in the air. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.
“Leave the God to me.” You saw the rest of the Young Avengers fall into line beside you. The Avengers stood across from you. Yelena laughed.
“You are insane.” She said.
“I have to be,” you smiled. “Only way we are going to win this thing.” You looked at your friends, then to the ‘enemies’ you were about to fight. You gave a slight nod to Kate.
“Avengers,” she smiled. “Assemble.” Chaos erupted around you, but you stood facing Thor.
“You were not part of the original report.” He said.
You laughed. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” He looked you over. His eyes calculated everything that he saw in front of him.
“I believe we are to use nonlethal fighting methods.” He gestured to the electricity around your feet.
“And yet you are holding Mjolnir. We can drop our weapons on three,” he nodded. “3,2,1.” Nothing. The spear remained in your hands and the hammer in his. “Well, it appears we are at a standoff.”
The scene felt like one out of an old Western you read. Definitely the only one because Westerns were not your preferred genre. Chaos was all around as the sheriff and the outlaw stared down each other. Thor laughed. “I’m a God, little one.”
“I know, and I’m just me.” he kicked your ass during training, and that wasn’t him at his top form. There was no way he would go easy on you, especially in a must-win fight. There were bragging rights on the line. “But this time. I’m not alone. Mrs. Marvel, I need a lift.”
“On it, boss.” You jumped in the air as Kamala built steps for you to reach Thor. When you were above the God, you jumped down and swung your spear. He blocked it, using his hammer. When the two weapons met, thunder rumbled overhead. The people living in this city had to be so tired of the Avengers. You were distracted, looking up to the sky. Thor used it against you. He threw you off.
“Wow!” You yelled, flying through the air. Your stomach dropped.
“I got you,” Peter swung over to you. His fingertips grazed yours, but Wong’s magic yanked him back. “Oh shit!” He cried.
Time seemed to move slowly as you fell back towards Earth. But you were stopped suddenly as your body came into contact with metal. “Can never trust a man to do a woman’s job.” Riri teased.
You laughed, a little breathless, but you laughed. “Thanks for the save,” you smiled. “Think you can get me back to the second floor?”
“Roger that.” Riri flew you to the part of the track where you jumped. Your glasses started to beep.
“Projectile incoming.” You both dove to the side as Tony shot at you.
“I think they are pissed we are winning,” Riri said. You huffed and stood up. Carol and Tony flew over to you. Carol smirked.
“Not bad, kid.” She praised.
“Thanks, but I don’t have time for this fight,” you glanced around the room. Shuri was fighting with Natasha and Bucky. “America, switch Shuri and me.” Without a word, you jumped into the portal and ducked out of the way of a punch from Bucky.
“Sorry, kid,” he said. “That punch wasn’t meant for you.” You tilted your head.
“Not sure if that’s better.”
“Grandmaster, duck.” You dropped to the floor as an arrow flew over your head. You rolled away until a spear like yours appeared by your head.
“Hi, Okoye.” You smiled. She smiled back.
“I would like to see all that you’ve learned.” You jumped to your feet and blocked her attack. Your arms vibrated by the force. She matched each step, each swing. When she moved, you followed.
“Fire ant, need some help.”
“On it,” Cassie said. The girl ran from her father and turned small. Although she disappeared from everyone’s sight, the glasses tracked her movement. Cassie ran over Okoye’s arms, the back of her neck, and her legs.
“Wonderful lesson, general, but I must be off.” You bowed and ran back towards Thor. Then red magic grabbed at your legs. It was gentle, but Wanda dragged you to the ground. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Wanda pulled you back. “Shang-Chi!” You called out. His rings came from the direction. Wanda dodged, which allowed you to move. “We gotta end this.”
“You got a plan?” Yelena questioned.
“No.” You answered. Kate laughed.
“Well, I do.” Thank GOD! “We immobilize Thor, we win this. Spidey, aim your webs at his feet. Shuri, use those gauntlets on his arms. I’ll give you the signal.”
“10-4.” “Can do.”
“Grandmaster, you are with me.” Side by side with Kate, you ran towards Thor. The archer winked at you.
Something changed in you. You weren’t sure whether this person you were now had always been in you, or if the Avengers had brought it out in you. One minute you were worried about where to get your next food, and now you were planning battle strategies. There was a time you were utterly alone, and now you had a family.
When you trained with Okoye, you imagined a younger version of yourself, and you stood between her and your father. You wished you could speak to her. Tell her that she wasn’t to blame. That the loneliness wasn’t permanent. She was going to be alright one day.
“Shuri, Spidey now!”Kate ordered. Peter’s webs stopped Thor in his tracks. With the combination of Shuri’s gauntlets, Thor dropped Mjolnir. You and Kate were quick to move.
The blunt end of your spear was pressed against Thor’s chest. An arrow was pointed at him by Kate. Your chest was heaving. Heart pounding. But you smiled. “Checkmate.” You called out. A smile formed on Thor’s face so big that it overtook his entire body.
“Well done, young ones,” you took a step back and looked around. America and Kamala had Natasha and Carol cornered. Yelena had her Widow Bites trained on Bucky and Tony. Cassie had her father pinned down, which left Shuri, Riri, Shang-Chi, and Peter with their weapons on Wong, Okoye, Steve, and Sam. The only person not defeated was Wanda. You stared at the witch as she assessed the situation.
Her hands went up in the air. “I surrender.” Just like that, it was over. Kate put her arrow away.
“We won,” she said in disbelief. “We fucking won!” She picked you up into a hug and twirled you around. The spear you were holding dropped to the ground.
Your laughter broke the rest of the tension. Once she stopped spinning you, you watched one by one as the Young Avengers withdrew their weapons and helped everyone up. You walked over to Wanda. “Sorry for lying,” you smiled. “I had to keep it a secret.” The witch narrowed her eyes at you. You were expecting a lecture, but none came. Instead, she hugged you tight.
“I am so proud of you.” Her heart was racing against yours. She squeezed you so tight that it almost became uncomfortable, but you endured it. Then Shang-Chi ruined the moment by jumping on your shoulders.
“You are insane!” You stepped out of the hug with Wanda into another one from Shang-Chi. He was sweaty and gross, but you accepted the hug. You were equally sweaty too. Then you were pulled out of one hug and into another. Peter replaced Wanda.
“A free fall!” He laughed. “From 2 stories!” You shrugged.
“I knew she would catch me. I knew any of you would have if given the same order. America was the only one that was free.”
Clapping drew your attention to Maria. “Now that was impressive,” the deputy director said. “A little sneaky.” She smirked at you.
“Like they weren’t withholding information,” Riri rolled her eyes. “Thor was never part of the team.”
“And neither was my kid.” Natasha countered. You shrugged. “Whose plan was it?” You stayed where you were, feet frozen to the ground. Until a strong shove pushed you forward. You glanced at the culprit, and Yelena winked at you.
“It was like 86% my idea.” You cringed. The Black Widow laughed with a fondness in her eyes.
“Congratulations,” Steve said. “You’ve bested us in a way that none of us were expecting.” America stood next to you. Her shoulder nudged yours. You smiled at her. “Now it’s time to celebrate this accomplishment.”
“Let’s drink!” Yelena cheered.
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There was a buzz still in your veins, no doubt from the adrenaline of standing up to Thor. But you felt good. The Young Avengers won. You cemented the idea that you had a spot on the team, which you weren’t trying to. The point of joining them was to help them. You weren’t going it for the recognition or the glory but to help your family. “Hey kid,” you looked towards the voice and saw Nick standing by the balcony. The man tilted his head towards the door - a clear invitation to join him. The party hadn’t started yet, so you grabbed a water and followed him.
Nick held the door open for you, and your skin prickled at the cool air. You leaned against the railing and looked over the city. You had a love-hate relationship with the city below. “You led the team to victory,” he said. You chuckled and turned to face him, putting your back on the railing. You weren’t surprised to know the results.
“It was a team effort,” you shrugged. “I couldn’t have done without them.” The floor began to fill in. You made eye contact with America and smiled. She winked, and your stomach flipped. “Besides, I was offered some good advice.” The man shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, and walked to stand next to you. “Can I ask you something?” You saw him glance at you but kept his eyes on the city. He nodded. “Do I worry you? Is that why you’ve been watching me?”
The man was quiet. You weren’t sure if he was going to answer. “The stones rarely warn us of something good.” You frowned. The common floor was fuller now. You could faintly hear the music. The only one missing was you. Family. That was the toast you gave last night. You never had a family or a place to call home. Now you had it all. Two people like Natasha and Wanda that made you feel safe—America, who made butterflies fill your stomach. Then there were Kate and Yelena, who felt more like your aunts than friends. You knew they had your back. Your friends, though. This group of geniuses and superheroes was more to you than what they could do. They all put their lives on the line for those around them. Never would you have thought you would be the one they had to fight to keep others safe.
“I’m not going to hurt them,” you looked at him fully. “The stone is wrong. I’m not the enemy.”
“I never said you are.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Nick sighed. Finally, you looked away from your family and back to the city.
“I think you are just as worried as why the stone chose you too.” You were. You were terrified that the stone knew deep down you were a monster like your parents thought you were. It was why you trained so hard and worked so hard to help the Young Avengers to prove to everyone and yourself that you could do good.
You dug your nails into the meat of your arm. “Promise me, Nick,” you said. “If the stone is right and I become the reason they are getting hurt. You stop me. Whatever it takes.”
“You have my word.” He said without hesitation. And you knew he meant it.
“You done interrogating my kid?” You spun around to see Natasha at the door. Her hip was cocked out, and her arms were crossed against her chest.
“I am not interrogating her,” Nick deadpanned. “I am congratulating her on putting you and the others in their place.” Natasha seemed unfazed by the snarky reply.
“Then,” Wanda appeared next to her girlfriend. “Let the girl celebrate.” Nick huffed.
“Nice talking to you, kid,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”
“Bye, Nick.” The man disappeared into the tower and walked over to Maria. In no time, Natasha and Wanda closed the gap to you.
“Are you okay?” Wanda asked, rubbing her hands up and down your arms. It pushed away the night chill.
“Yeah,” you answered with a smile. “He’s just being weird.” Natasha chuckled, wrapped her arm around you, and kissed your forehead.
“Are you sure?” Natasha questioned. She looked at you, eyebrows pinched together in concern. “Your heart is pounding.” Your heart had been pounding since Natasha discovered you in the vents.
“Promise,” you said. “Probably from the adrenaline.”
“Then let’s go relax and celebrate.” Wanda cheered. Her energy was amazing, and you were ready to have fun!
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“I’m still in awe.” Tony praised. He hadn’t stopped singing your praise since you came in from the balcony. “I knew she was smart, but this whole plan is evil genius level.” After a few moments of mingling and drinks, they got you to sit down and tell them how you came up with the plan. You left out some details, like Nick’s involvement.
“I knew Vision teaching her chest was dangerous,” Sam teased.
“I did not think teaching her the game would lead to this.” Vision added.
“I wasn’t the mastermind behind everything,” you smiled. “I just moved the pieces accordingly.”
“Speaking like a true grand master,” Bucky said. You shrugged and felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw America.
“You done being the center of attention,” you rolled your eyes at the girl. Luckily, the conversation moved off of you, and you were able to stand up from the couch and follow America. She led you to a small table in the corner away from the party. “Felt like I haven’t seen you in forever.” You smiled.
“I know,” you interlocked her hand with yours underneath the table. “Been a crazy few hours.”
“I am proud of you.” She said.
“I’m proud of all of us.” You countered. “I think the world is in good hands once these lots retire.” America laughed.
“You know,” America said slowly. “Natasha and Wanda gave me a long talk before the party.” Your eyebrow raised to your hairline.
“Are you okay? Did they threaten you?” America laughed.
“No, they didn’t try to scare me away.” Good. You would never have forgiven them if they had done such a thing. “They just made me promise a few things.”
“Like?” You questioned. America smirked.
“My lips are sealed.” She used her free hand to zip her lips. You rolled your eyes.
“You are so annoying.” The girl laughed with her head tilted back.
“I am,” she teased. “Unfortunately, you are stuck with me.”
“Yeah,” you smiled fondly. “I am.” You leaned across the table. She met you and your lips touched. You were never going to get used to the feeling of her lips against yours. She made your stomach drop. All of the noise from the party disappeared. All that mattered was her.
Until someone cleared their throat and pulled away from her, you stared at Yelena. “Am I interrupting?” She teased.
“Yes,” you deadpanned. “You are.”
“Then don’t have your tongue down each other’s throat in a public space.” You felt America tense up, but you held the Blonde’s glare. “Come on, you two love birds. The party is waiting for you.” America sighed, stood up from the table, and kissed your cheek.
“I’ll catch up with you.” You promised. America nodded and left you alone with Yelena.
“So,” the blonde walked closer to you. “Do your mamas know about this development between you and America?”
“Technically,” you answered slowly. “Natasha talked to me yesterday, and they both gave her a shovel talk. What they said to her is a mystery to me.” Yelena hummed and crossed her arms.
“Just to be clear, if she hurts you, I will hurt her.” You shook your head.
“No, you won’t,” you stood up from the chair. The blonde raised her eyebrows. “Regardless of what happens between her and me, if you hurt her, I won’t speak to you again.” Yelena scoffed. “And you’ve known her longer.”
“You’re my niece.”
“I know.” It made you feel all warm inside when Yelena brought up your new relationship. “Still correct on what I said. Besides, I’m not worried about her hurting me.” Yelena smiled and threw her arm around your shoulders.
“Happy for you.” Yeah, you were happy too.
No one questioned the way you sat too close to America with her hand in yours. It seemed second nature for the two of you. Tomorrow coming was bittersweet. It marked the end of the week-long initiative, and you survived. But it meant all your friends were leaving. Shuri was already on her way back to Wakanda with Okoye. Cassie and Shang-Chi were leaving early in the morning to go back to California. Riri was going back to school, and the rest of the team would be spread across the world to save the day.
This was the last night with all your friends. “I’d like to make a toast,” Steve said and stood up with a beer in his hands.
“I’m gonna take notes,” Kate pretended to flip open a notepad. “I have to work on my speeches.”
“Whatever you said clearly worked,” Natasha said, sipping on her drink. Yelena used both her hands to squeeze Kate’s cheeks. The archer pushed her away, and you could make out the blush on her cheeks.
“Anyways,” Steve laughed. “Although this week was to get all of you ready to take over when we step down. I think this week cemented the idea all of us already knew: you are all capable heroes.”
“Aw, he’s getting sentimental.” Maria teased. You looked over your shoulder. The Deputy Director winked at you.
“I do not know why I put up with you all.” He said, putting his beer to his temple.
“Because you love us!” Tony cheered. You cupped your mouth and cheered. That started a chorus of shouts and cheers. Some people were stomping their feet. Others were clapping their hands. Shang-Chi put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. When the noise finally died down, you noticed a glimmer in Steve’s eyes. The man was desperately holding back tears.
“I do,” he said. “I love all of you.” The tone shifted. Everyone seemed to sit up a little straighter. “And I think I wouldn’t want to fight alongside anyone else, although the future is uncertain. As long as we are together, there is no obstacle we can not face. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” Everyone raised their drink. Slowly, you sipped on the root beer float that Natasha made.
‘The stones,’ Nick said. ‘Rarely warn us of something good.’
You were going to be the exception. You were going to make sure of it.
What if kamala and yn have a small argument, nothing major or smth like that, but it leaves both girls sad and behaving angsty (like end of the world everyone hates me teenage angst)
And so kamala goes to space with Carol, obvs she's broody and moody, and yn stays with her mom and it's also quiet and everything.
That leaves Carol calling wandanat asking all defensively what yn did cause kamala si seconds away from asking goose to swallow her so the pain wouldn't be as bad, and wandanat is confused in return asking also in defense what kamala did cause yn is being just as broody and more short tempered than ever
Get get to talking and from what they can piece together they understand it's just a small misunderstanding and both girls just need to be face to face and talk cause it's clear they both are upset and wanna talk to the other but too chicken to do so
So they stage an intervention
Before You Go
Part of Family Series
Warnings: angst with a happy ending, Kamala is a lover girl, mention of past abuse and trauma, reader needs a hug, self-deprecating thoughts, Carol and Natasha being protective, small hint of Wandanat x Maria. Maria speaks Spanish
Word Count: 3.3K
Relationships: Kamala x reader, Wandanat x reader (platonic), Maria x reader (platonic)
Natasha believed she knew her family well. She could stop a fight between Billy and Tommy before it started. She knew when Wanda’s guilt and grief became overpowering. Then there was you, a young girl with so much darkness in your past, but you continued to shine. A young girl who trusted and loved her whole heart, but it got broken too many times. Now you were learning to love again, and it was beautiful. Usually your bad days were few and far between. You spent a lot of your days laughing and smiling, but Natasha knew healing wasn’t linear. She knew to expect the bad days.
Today was a bad day. You were sitting on the daybed, looking at the backyard with a book in your lap. The Bartons were visiting the city, so the twins were playing outside with Lila and Nate. You opted out and stayed inside. Laura, Wanda, and Cooper were at the store for the week, which left Natasha to babysit. Natasha grabbed a bag of chips and headed to you. You took breakfast, barely ate lunch, so the Black Widow needed you to eat something.
“Hi, bug.” You kept your eyes in the window. “Think you can eat these for me?” Still nothing. “Hey,” Natasha knelt next to you. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on inside your head.”
“Do you think I’m a bad person?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the backyard. “Maybe that’s why bad things keep happening to me, because I deserve it.”
“You’re not a bad person, sweetheart.” Natasha placed a hand on your knee, but you flinched away from the contact as it burned you, like you weren’t allowing yourself something good. You hadn’t flinched away from her in a long time. It hurt, but she dropped her hand against the pillow. “You did not deserve all the pain you endured.” Natasha began. God, she wished Wanda was here to help. She sighed. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” You whipped your head to look at her finally. Natasha almost laughed.
“No, of course not.”
“What about your mama? Is she a bad person?” You shook your head. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes. She hated to upset you, but you needed to hear it. “Then give yourself the same grace. You aren’t a bad person, because bad things have happened to you.” It took a long time for Natasha to come to terms with that. You nodded. “I will always remind you of that.”
“Thanks, Mom.” It was instinct for Natasha to kiss your forehead this time. You didn’t flinch. She was unsure if she had helped, but you opened the bag of chips and started eating, so she counted that as a win.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Carol was still learning how to work with others. She spent so many days alone; it was an adjustment now. Now, with Kamala and Monica a constant on her ship, it felt weird when they weren’t here, or something was off. Kamala was here, but something was wrong.
This girl was always a ball of energy, loud and authentically herself. Tonight, she was quiet. A quiet Kamala was scary. The girl was standing by the map, looking at the different galaxies, but her gaze seemed a million miles away. Carol stood with her arms crossed and stared. Not even Goose walking over to her could pull her out of whatever slump she was in. “Hey,” Carol said. “Are you hungry? I was thinking we could swim by Galaxy Stop.”
“Yeah, sure.” Her voice was distant. Carol frowned.
“We could stop by the Bazaar.”
“Sounds good.” She took a few steps to close the distance.
“Kamala,” the sound of her name tore her eyes away from the map. “What’s wrong?” She watched the young girl think it over. She opened and closed her mouth.
“Just tired.”
“Go lie down. I’ll come get you when we land.” To her surprise, Kamala walked to the sleeping quarters without a fight. “Kid,” She stopped. “If you need anything, I’m here.” Carol watched Kamala shake, but she kept looking forward.
“Thanks, Carol.” And with that, she continued to her room on the ship. Carol sighed. She hoped Kamala would come to her if she needed her.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“Romanoff,” Natasha turned around to see Carol walking towards her. Well, to be more correct, the very pissed-off Carol Danvers.
“Carol,” she said slowly. “What’s the problem?”
“What the fuck did your daughter do?” She must have misheard her. Natasha blinked slowly.
“What did you say?” The Black Widow questioned, allowing Carol to rephrase the questions she asked. Instead, the captain doubled down.
“I asked what the fuck did your kid do,” Carol said again. “Kamala hasn’t been the same since their last date night.” Natasha ran through the mental math in her head. Two days before the Bartons came, you had a date night with Kamala. You knew you weren’t going to have a lot of time to spend with her because you wanted to prioritize hanging out with the Bartons. That was when your mode began to change.
“My daughter?” Natasha said. “And how the hell do we know this wasn’t your kid’s fault?” Carol scoffed, shaking her head. Natasha saw her jaw clench.
“Right, of course. My fault. I forgot your daughter can do no wrong.” Natasha stepped closer and could feel the heat radiating off Carol.
“I am going to need you to think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” Carol smirked.
“Try me, Romanoff.”
“Hey,” both of their heads snapped to look at a very pissed off Maria Hill. There wasn’t a lot that scared Natasha. She’s gone toe to toe with enemies that were stronger than her, but she wasn’t scared. However, staring down a pissed-off Maria put a shiver down her spine. It was up there when her wife got angry with her. “How about you both get the stick out of your ass and calm down?” She stepped between both of them.
“She started it.” Natasha had the nerve to say.
“And I’m fucking ending it.” Maria snapped. “Now, before you go at each other’s throats,” she roughly pushed him down on the couch. Natasha landed with a quiet huff. “Maybe use that big brain of yours to think what the problem is, instead of blaming each other.”
Carol leaned closer to the nostrils here. “She’s kind of hot when she’s mad.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Natasha mumbled and looked at the agent. Maria had her hands on her hips, a smirk on her face, because she definitely heard what was just said. She rolled her eyes. “What do you know, Maria?” The agent sighed and set out on the coffee table.
“Not much,” She leaned forward with her hand on her knees. “I ran into Y/N after the fight. She didn’t tell me much, but what I gathered was that it was regarding Kamala’s prom.”
“Shit,” Carol rubbed her head. “I forgot that was coming up.” Maria hummed.
“My guess,” Maria said slowly, “because I know the girls well. Kamala says she wasn’t gonna go, she wasn’t gonna go. She didn’t like that answer, and a fight broke out.” Natasha groaned. Teenagers were a mess. Teenagers with trauma were even messier.
“I don’t think they’ve talked since then.” You weren’t addicted to your phone, but you liked being on it. Since dating Kamala, you’ve been talking more on the phone lately; she hasn’t seen you on it.
“We just got to get them to talk,” Carol said. “Sorry.” She turned to look at the Black Widow. “I shouldn’t have come at you like that. I just-”
“I get it.” Natasha placed a hand on her shoulder. “You care a lot about the girl. I would have done the same thing.” Maria smiled.
“That was so cute.” She teased. “I got a plan to get them to talk. You both in?” Oh, 100%.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“Look, Yelena, I don’t have-“ You stopped when you entered the conference room, and a door shut behind you. “You are not Yelena.” No, sitting at the conference table was Kamala, the one person you’ve been avoiding like the plague.
“And you are not America.” The girl seemed just as surprised as you were.
“That means,” you connected the dots in your head and groaned.
“We’ve been set up.”
“It appears so. Sorry for wasting your time.” You turned around to open the door, but it was locked. No matter how hard you pulled on it, the door remained closed. “Friday, open the door.” You ordered the AI.
“I’m sorry, Miss.” The AI said. “But I am under strict orders not to let you and Miss Khan out of this room until you have resolved the fight between you two.” Your head fell against the door with a thud.
“You know I can just faze through this.”
“I would advise against it. Mr. Stark has placed an electromagnetic wave around this room. You can not leave until he or I deactivate it.” Unbelievable.
“Hi,” Kamala said. You turned to face the girl. “You look,” she paused, eyes taking you in. “Tired.” You laughed, shaking your head. Yeah, that was one way to describe how you felt, because you were exhausted. Sleeping felt like a chore, because your mind was your biggest enemy. You were tired, but so was the girl in front of you.
“So do you.” Kamala chuckled. You could see the bags underneath her eyes. Usually, there was always a smile on her face. Not right now. It was weird seeing a frown.
“Look,” you both said at the same time. A smile came to your face.
“You first,” Kamala said. Sighing, you leaned back on the door with your hands folded in front of your stomach. You made sure not to cross your arms. More broadly, it was considered a nonverbal cue for defensiveness rather than disinterest. That wasn’t your attention. You both needed to talk without yelling at each other. “I am sorry,” you said. “Not for what I said, but how I said it.” Kamala’s jaw clenched. “I still think you should go to your prom, even though I’m not going.” Finally, you moved towards her, not next to her. You weren’t strong enough to be close to her. You sat across the table from her. “It’s going to be one of the best nights of your high school career. I want you to enjoy it.” Kamala closed her eyes, squeezed her hands into fists, like she needed to keep herself calm.
“Have you ever considered it won’t be the best night because you won’t be there with me?” You weren’t expecting that response.
“I shouldn’t go to prom with you.” You decided on.
“And you said that.” Kamala stood up from her chair, palms face down on the table. “But you couldn’t give me a reason why. So give me one, and I’ll drop it.” You opened and closed your mouth, because each excuse was as bad as the next. You had met a decent amount of Kamala’s classmates. You had been to her school. Since you had been to a few parties with her, it wasn’t the music or the crowd.
“Because,” you whispered, “You shouldn’t be seen with me at prom.” Honestly, you almost laughed as you watched confusion morph around Kamala’s features, her brain rebooting like a computer.
“What did you say?” You threw your arms to your side. Why was she making this so difficult? Why couldn’t she come to the same conclusion as you?
“Kamala.” You gestured to your body, then pointed to hers. She still stared at you, blinking slowly.
“I’m gonna need something here,” she said. “I’m not a mind reader, like your mom.” Gods above, you wish she was.
“I can’t go to prom with you,” you said slowly. “Because I don’t look like you and the other girls you go to school with.” Some of the scars have faded, but you saw them every time you looked at your bare skin. “And maybe,” you hated the way your voice cracked. “You’ll see why I’m no good for you.” The tears you were desperately trying to hold back fell down your cheeks. “Then I’ll be alone.” Kamala acted before you realized what was happening. She climbed over the table and hugged you, as the tightness formed in your chest.
It felt natural to fall into her arms and allow her to hold you. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.” You said, inhaling her scent. It calmed you down right away.
“I’ve missed you too.” Kamala kissed the top of your head. “Now we’re gonna stay right here until you’re ready. Okay?” You nodded, allowing yourself the simple enjoyment of being held by her. Finally, your heart calmed down and matched hers better. “Better?” She asked.
“Much.” You sat down, and Kamala sat in the chair next to her.
“Have I ever given you any indication that your scars are something to be ashamed of?” You shook your head.
“No, no, it’s not you, it’s me.” An awkward silence fell between the two. It lasted three seconds before you both erupted into laughter.
“That was so bad.” Kamala laughed. You wiped the tears that fell. Tears weren’t sad or angry. You had shed many sad tears since your fight. These were happy tears. Once the laughter settled, Kamala grabbed your hand. “So, to recap, you don’t want to go to prom with me because you’re afraid I’ll find someone more attractive and leave you.”
You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Kamala said quickly and firmly. That was the best thing about Kamala. She never made you feel stupid about the irrational thoughts. “You’re the most beautiful person to me, no matter what room you enter. I am with you because I don’t want to be with anyone else.”
“I’m going to look like an idiot,” you said. “I’ve never been to a school dance.”
“I’ve been to a few, and I still look like an idiot.” That got you to smile. “If you truly don’t want to come, then I respect that, but if you’re choosing not to come because you think I’ll be embarrassed by you, then I can’t accept that as an answer, because it’s not true.”
Sighing, you looked at the window towards the city below. Somewhere deep down, you wanted to go. You wanted to have a normal high school experience, for once. The stress of finding an outfit, awkward photos with Kamala in front of her house or yours. Maybe Wanda would cry, and Natasha would threaten Kamala to have you home by 11. You wanted it all. “Ask me.”
“What?” Kamala questioned. You huffed, rolled your eyes, and smiled at the girl.
“Ask me again,” you repeated. “To go to prom with you.”
“Oh,” Kamala’s eyes widened. “Oh, okay,” Her back straight as if she was about to give a report to the team. She cleared her throat. “Will you, Miss Romanoff-Maximoff?” You rolled your eyes again. “Go to prom with me?”
“Yes.” And her face looked like a Christmas tree on Christmas morning.
“Yes?” She questioned. You nodded to confirm quickly. She hugged you so hard and fast, the chair almost tipped over. You could feel her shaking. “It’s gonna be so much fun.” She stood up abruptly, telling you about the theme, the two dresses she was debating, or whether she was going to the after-party. “I’m excited to see what you decide to wear. You’ll look hot in anything.”
You laughed; the smile on your face kept growing and growing until your cheeks started to hurt. As you watched your girlfriend talk about all the things related, you came to the conclusion you’ve known for a very long time. You were so in love with her. She made everything easier; this time away from her made you realize how much you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her.
“Kamala,” she stopped her rambling to look at you. “I love you.” A strange noise erupted from the back of her throat. She had said it before. You woke up from her nightmare, which woke her up. She held you as she calmed you down and whispered, ‘I love you.’ She never rushed you to say it back.
“I love you too.” Her voice was the same. She kept it steady to make this confession a big thing, because she knew you hated when people made a big thing about your recovery. Then she continued, as if nothing had changed between you and her, because something had: it was still you and Kamala, and you liked that.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“My guess is that little setup was your idea.” You stood at the door of Maria’s office. She was looking at a file in her hand, but you could see the beginning of a smile. You walked over to her desk and closed the door behind you. “I told you about our fight in confidence.”
“And I had to stop your mom and Carol from killing each other in the common area. I had to pick and choose my battles, cariño (sweetheart).” The pet name settled something you weren’t sure was broken. Maria was another constant for you. She was there when your moms were busy. More recently, she was over at your home for dinners at least once a week. She fit perfectly in this puzzle you were building. “So,” she placed the file onto the pile. “Are you and Kamala good?”
“Yeah,” you walked over to the small couch with a sigh. “She asked me to go to prom with her.” You took off your sneakers and lay fully on our couch. Maria hated shoes on her furniture. “I didn’t respond well the first time, but we talked, and now I’m going.”
“Is that a good thing?” You nodded, closing your eyes.
“Gotta go shopping for something to wear,” You yawned. “And still have to ask Nat and Wanda if it’s okay that I can go.” You heard Maria chuckle, and her chair rolled against the hardwood floor.
“Something tells me they won’t say no to that.” Maria’s voice was closer, but you kept your eyes closed until you felt the blanket draped over you. “Me alegro por ti (I’m happy for you).”
You smiled, letting the words wash over you. “Gracias.” You closed your eyes. You heard Maria sit down on the coffee table, hummed a song, and you fell asleep knowing you were safe with her.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Once Maria knew you were asleep. She took her phone out, snapped a photo of you, and sent it to the group chat she was in with Natasha and Wanda. Wanda hearted the picture. Maria knew the witch was busy with the dots’ appearance.
Natasha typed out a reply, ‘Thanks for taking care of her.’ The dots appeared again, disappeared, and reappeared. ‘We still on for Friday?’
‘Yes,’ Maria typed back. ‘I’ll text you both when I’m on my way over.’ Both liked the message, and she slipped the phone back in her pocket. Her attention turned back to you. You looked so much younger when you slept. This wasn’t the first time you decided that her office was for you to take a nap. Maria felt honored that you felt safe enough to let your guard down and sleep. She stood up slowly, kissing the top of your forehead before returning to work. She never thought kids were in her future. Her job would never allow it. All she had to do was fall for two people who came with kids; it seemed like a great deal to her.
just wanted to say: love your x trinity santos series where the reader is dana's daughter. it's so sweet and heartwarming that she gets unconditional love and support from not only the reader but her family as well. i humbly request that you continue it (no pressure, obvs <3)
Thank you so much!
I've had so much fun writing for the pitt. It's definitely been a nice break from all the Marvel stuff.
I got some ideas for what would be fun to do next for that little mini series. But if you have any ideas let me know!!!
if you don’t mind me asking is the next chapter of lightning bug out soon? don’t wanna rush you or pressure you into writing, just curious and excited for the next chapter!
Summary: A code black leaves you trapped inside the Pitt with an unstable explosive and Jack helplessly watching from the other side of the glass. With neither of you knowing how the night will end, the feelings you have both been avoiding become impossible to ignore.
Pairing: Dr Jack Abbott x F!Reader
Warnings: Bomb and explosive threat, blast injuries, blood and medical gore, serious injuries, emergency medical procedures, hospital evacuation, near-death situations, panic and anxiety, emotional distress, trauma and its aftermath, protective Jack, angst and hurt/comfort.
Warnings vary between parts. Please read the individual warnings included at the beginning of each chapter.
Summary: With the offer Gloria provided still on the table, you sit down with your girlfriend to bring up the idea of working at the PTMC.
Warning: implied sex, mention of death, sexist comments, blood, stitches, violence towards the medical staff, reader gets punched, just a normal first day in the PITT, medical inaccuracies
Word Count: 4.2K
Relationships: Trinity x reader, Dana x reader (platonic)
Change was inevitable, especially as a resident. Change was part of the job. Still, it was heavy and scary. The paperwork sat in your backpack. All it needed was your signature. You’ve spoken to Gloria. You’re attending Mercy. Your mom, Doctor Al-Hashimi, all gave their stamp of approval for the transfer. Now you had to sit down and tell your girlfriend. You weren’t sure how to do it.
You weren’t sure how she’d take the news. Trinity would support you in any decision you made, but this was a big shift. Living together was one thing, but being coworkers was a completely different beast, especially with the paperwork. You had to sign the paperwork from HR.
The clock on the stove read 930, which meant Trinity should be home any minute, since she left at nine and you lived 30 minutes from the hospital. Sighing, you tasted the broth one more time before grabbing a beer from the fridge. You figured a home-cooked meal of Trinity’s favorite was the best way to start the conversation. When you took the first sip of the beer, the door opened. The quiet curse from Trinity and the sound of her backpack on the ground were normal. It made the place feel like home. “Do I smell Sinigang? Were the first words out of her mouth.
“Yes,” you laughed as your girl rounded the corner. She was wearing the black tank top because the heat in Pittsburgh was unforgettable and unforgiving in August. And her scrub pants. She looked tired. That was to be expected after a long shift in the ED. “Work was good?” You questioned. You hadn’t received many texts from her, which was a good thing. Trinity hummed and closed the distance between you and her.
In seconds, she was slumped against you, and you felt the shift to leave her. She nuzzled her head against your neck and inhaled deeply. “Missed you,” she mumbled against your skin.
“Missed you too.” You kissed her forehead. “Go sit, and I’ll bring you food.” Trinity refused to let you go, even when her stomach growled. “Baby,” you smiled. “You’re hungry. We can cuddle after we eat.” Sighing, Trinity released you.
“Fine,” she grumbled, grabbing your beer and a beer for herself. You laughed and poured the soup into the bowls. Trinity was already sitting on the couch with an episode of Bob Burgers on. It was a comfort show for both of you. “Thank you.” She took the bowl.
“Of course, baby.” You both settled into a comfortable silence. Being together for so long meant not having to fill the silence. Trinity finished the bowl in record speed, pulled herself off the couch with a groan, and got a second bowl. This time, she ate it more slowly, savoring the taste.
“Why’d you make Sinigang?” She asked. You shrugged.
“I wanted to.” In truth, you did. She deserved a home-cooked meal, and you had the day off. “And,” your bowl was half empty. A knot began to form in your stomach that lessened your hunger. Trinity raised an eyebrow at you. “I gotta run something by you.” Trinity placed the bowl next to yours and turned fully to face you.
Her arm rested on the back of the couch, fingers playing with the short hairs. It helped displace the anxiety. “On the fourth, Gloria told me they were looking to bring in the placement for Samira. She offered the spot to me.” Trinity blinked at you slowly as she digested the information.
“Have you taken it?” She asked. You shook your head. “Why not?” You scoffed.
“Because it’s your hospital, Trin. I don’t want to decide without asking you.” You sighed. “Living together is one thing, but working together is different.” Trinity was quiet. You could hear the gears working in her head.
“Come here.” She hit her thigh. You glared at her. “I’m serious.” Sighing, you swung one leg over Trinity until your knees sat on either side of her thigh. Naturally, her hands found a home on your hips. “Hi,” she gave you a goofy smile. Now you understood when Dennis and Javadi said her pupils would turn into hearts when you weren’t looking.
“Hi, baby.” You smiled. The intention was to talk. You needed to talk, but you were only human, and she looked so pretty as she looked up at you. You kissed her slowly. She tasted the food you made, bad hospital coffee, mint gum that she definitely took from your mom’s bag. You smiled into the gifts and cradled your jaw gently. Trinity sighed, and you captured the sound.
She ended the kiss slowly, small and short kisses, until she finally leaned back. “That is not why I asked you to come over here.” You shrugged.
“You don’t hear me complaining.” Your hands went behind her neck as your chest pressed against hers. “I very much like kissing you.” The blush that started at her cheek rose to her neck. It was one of your favorite colors.
“You’re impossible. You cannot say stuff like that.” Flustered Trinity was your favorite Trinity. You laughed and rested your head on your shoulder. Her hands moved up and down your back. “Take to offer.”
“Are you sure?” Trinity nodded. “We’d have to go to HR, file paperwork, keep our hands to ourselves in the ED.” Trinity’s body shook as she laughed and you smiled.
“Everyone knows, including Doctor Al-Hashimi.” There wasn’t as much venom in your girlfriend’s voice when she spoke about the new attending. The fourth was a bad day for everyone, including the attendant. But Dr. Al-Hashimi apologized, and they came to an understanding. You weren’t sure whether it was Trinity, your mom, or someone else who told her about your relationship. She brought it up to you when you met her over coffee.
“Besides,” Trinity moved her head to kiss you, then her lips traveled down your neck. “It would be stupid of me not to want to see my sexy, intelligent girlfriend show off in front of everyone.” She bit down gently on a sensitive part of your neck.
“Fuck, Trin!” You groaned, hands squeezing onto her shoulders. You felt her smile.
“My girl,” she mumbled. “Showing off in front of my colleagues. Everyone knowing she is mine.”
“Yours,” You agreed. “Only yours.” She gently laid you down on your back, with her chin resting on your stomach. “Are you gonna make me feel good, baby?” You asked, running your fingers through her hair. She nodded. You chuckled as she kissed your stomach over your shirt and rested there for a moment.
“You know,” she teased you. Her fingers skimmed over the waistband of the pants you were wearing. “You didn’t have to make dinner to tell me life-changing news.” You moved your hips to get her attention, but she held you down. A pathetic whine left your mouth. Trinity chuckled, venturing down until she nipped at your thigh with her teeth. “But you do make a good housewife.”
“Trin.” You whined. She massaged your thighs.
“I know,” she cooed. She rested her head on the meat of your thigh and looked at you. Eyes blown out. Pupils that covered every inch of green. “I love you.” You placed your hand on her cheek, rubbing your thumb against her skin.
“I love you too.” You whispered.
“Promise?” She questioned.
“Always.”
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
August 11th, the first day of your official job at the PTMC. You knew this hospital better than Mercy. The best coffee machines, the vending machines that, if you hit them correctly, gave you free food, and the quietest places to catch up on sleep. You knew this hospital as the daughter of the best charger in all of the PA, not as a doctor. The Fourth of July barely counted as a shift. Trinity parked the car and turned her attention to you. “You good?” She asked.
“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Your hands twisted in the fabric of your scrub pants.
“Well, wouldn’t be the first or last time bodily fluids ended up on the PITT floor.” Trinity deadpanned. You rolled your eyes, trying to hit Trinity in the stomach at her joke, but she caught your hand. She unfolded it and kissed your palm. “You’re a brilliant doctor. Today is just any other day, and you know these people.”
That was the problem. You knew these people, and there was already an expectation on you. They knew your mom was excellent at her job, kept the ED moving and grooving. You knew they expected you to be her level or better. “Let’s go before I chicken out.” You mumbled and stepped out of Trinity’s car. It was nice that you could carpool together. Trinity laughed as she got out.
“Will run around Pit Fest with a gunman, but can’t walk into an emergency room she grew up in.:“ You chose to ignore that comment and walk through the chairs to get to the ED. It was busy, and you ignored the comment about wait time and pushed through the door to the chaos of the PITT.
There was something about the chaos of the emergency room that you found to be a source of peace and order. You knew you wanted to stay in emergency medicine. Maybe become an attending like Jack or Robbie. You had time to decide. “Unbelievable,” Jack said from the hub. “I’ve been trying to get you to be a Nightcrawler for years.” He was standing next to Al-Hashimi going over handoffs.
“Day shift has a better view.” You winked at Trinity, who tried and failed to hide the blush that traveled up her neck. Your mom scoffed.
“No flirting on company time.” You smiled at her.
“I’m not even clocked in yet.” You turned your attention to the day attending. “Good morning, Doctor Al-Hashimi.”
“Doctor Evans.” Her eyes squinted at you, trying to decide if she made the right call on allowing you to transfer to this hospital. “Are we gonna have a problem?”
“No, ma’am.” You answered. “I wasn’t just referring to Doctor Santos when I said the views are better during the day.”
“Ignore this one, Doc.” Parker threw her arm over your shoulder. “She’s a menace.” She teased.
“I’ve learned it all from you.” Parker playfully punched you in the stomach, and you dramatically hunched over in pain. Al-Hashimi huffed out a laugh, and you saw amusement dance in her brown eyes.
“All right, children.” Jack clapped. “Nightcrawlers start the process of handoffs so we can GTFO.” You rolled your eyes at the man.
“Are you to blame for that?” You asked. Parker. The doctor shrugged.
“Me and John probably.” She answered. “Emery is a pretty bad influence on him too.” You smiled. Maybe you could switch the nights for a few days.
Dr. Al-Hashimi introduced you to the day shift as an official member of the PTMC. It was met with a lot of cheers and an awkward chance of a speech, which an incoming trauma saved you. Similar to Mercy, there were two attending on the day shift. Something that should have been implemented a long time ago. Robbie, being the only day shift attendant, definitely contributed to his mental health decline.
You worried that you weren’t going to mesh well with the others. They had been working together for months, but you found your place. Whether it be leading a trauma with Casey or stitching up a six-year-old boy with Princess, you fit in the well-oiled machine in the PITT.
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
12:15. The patient wasn’t yours. He was a 19-year-old college student who came with his buddy because of a cut on his forehead. Her name was Claudia, an R1, a capable doctor and a nice girl. Trinity had spoken about her a few times over dinner.
Normally, you wouldn’t get involved. You would get an attending or Ahmed, and allow them to deal with the patient. But the sexist comments were getting to you. Maybe it was because you had to deal with this sexist man yourself and wouldn’t listen to anything you said. Then Dennis came in, repeated everything you had told your patient, and the patient finally agreed to treatment.
Honestly, you were just disappointed more than angry. Still, the comments from these obnoxious college students were pissing you off. On your third pass, you stopped at the room. “Look,” it was his friend talking. “If I were as hot as you, I wouldn’t be a doctor. You’d get more money working at Paradise Nights.” Paradise Nights was a local strip joint.
“It’s the same thing as being a doctor.” That voice was Claudia’s patient. “I bet you’d be helping more people than you do here.” Your jaw clenched.
“Everything okay, Doctor Evans?” Your mom asked, appearing next to you.
Peachy,” You stepped forward and pulled open the curtains. The conversation stopped, and everyone seemed surprised by your sudden appearance. “Doctor Bell,” you smiled at the girl. The relief was instant on her face. “They need you in North 2. I can finish up here.” You tried to speak more with your eyes than with anything else. It’s okay to step away. Do you need my help? Do you want me to go?
“That would be great, Doctor Evans.” The girl stood from her stool as she removed her gloves. “Thank you.” You took her spot, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. You could do these types of stitches in your sleep.
“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” His friend asked. You smiled.
“Just going to numb the area a little more.” Usually you gave people a warning. Instead, you injected another small amount of local anesthetic around the wound.
He winced. Good. “Ow.” Maybe he would learn what it meant to be uncomfortable. You waited only long enough to confirm the medication had taken effect before beginning.
The first stitch was efficient, though you weren’t wasting the effort to make it gentle. You held his head firmly to keep it still. “Try not to move.”
Another stitch. The thread slid through his scalp. He flinched, not from the pain but the pressure. “You’re being rough.”
“I’m preventing you from moving while I close a wound on your head.” You tied the knot. “If you’d like slower treatment, I can take twice as long.”
Johnathan paused. “….No.”
“Thought so.” You started the next suture. The room settled into silence except for the soft click of metal instruments.
Until his friend broke it, “So is it a requirement for all the doctors to be good looking here?” You stooped and glared at this friend. “I’m just joking around.”
“Huh,” you said. “I thought jokes were meant to be funny.” Another knot, then trim. He shifted. You immediately held his forehead steady. “Hold still.”
“You don’t have to push so hard.”
“I do when my patient keeps moving.” You weren’t hurting him, just forcing him to sit with being uncomfortable. The final stitch went in, and you whipped away the remaining blood. “You’ll have a mild headache for a couple of days,” you peeled off your gloves. “Keep the wound clean and dry for the first 24 hours. Stitches come out in seven to ten days.” You wrote down everything in his chart.
You stood up and walked to leave. But then you paused, remembering the way Claudia relaxed when you walked in. How long was she on edge before you came in? “Hypothetically,” you started. “If patients were to make inappropriate comments that interfere with patient care, there are consequences.”
“We were just messing around,” Johnathan said. You placed your hands behind your back, interlocking your fingers.
“The staff here is to provide medical care, not to be evaluated, flirted with, or subjected to comments about their appearance.” You took a small step forward. “But we are all speaking hypothetically, of course. If this behavior would continue, security will be asked to remain with you during your treatment, and we’ll document your behavior in your medical report.”
“Are you threatening us?” You tilted your head.
“No,” you said. “Unless you did something to warrant the threat, right?” You smiled. “I hope your head feels better, Jonathan.”
And with that, you left and ran straight into your mom. It appeared a small crowd was outside as Claudia stood next to Doctor Al-Hashimi, chewing on the skin around her thumb. “You okay, kid?” Your mom asked.
“Yeah,” he smiled. “They should be all set.” You walked over to Claudia and squeezed her arm.
“She’s kind of terrifying.” You heard Dennis mumble. Trinity was charting, but her eyes locked onto yours, and you winked, telling her you were truly okay.
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At 4:25, you were given a 46-year-old male who was agitated when he was brought back. Your mom assigned Ahmed to stand outside the door. You weren’t sure if she was doing it because you were her daughter, or the trauma of her own attack, and Emma on the fourth was still on her mind. It was appreciated, though. “Hello, Mr. Farley. My name is Dr. Evans.” The eyes track your every movement. “I’m just gonna recheck your vitals to see if the oxygen has helped.” The man grunted. You took that as consent.
“Great.” You smiled and took off your stethoscope. “Gonna take a quick listen to your heart.” You warmed up the metal. The last thing you wanted was to put a cold metal on a pissed-off patient. It never happened, though. You barely were able to listen to his heart when the punch came. One minute you were upright, and the next you were on the ground. “Fuck!” You said, touching your nose, and you felt the blood. There was a rush of movement. Ahmed and Jesse came in to restrain the patient as Cassie appeared before you, gently taking your face in his hands.
She had the audacity to laugh. “Like mother, like daughter,” you groaned.
“I hate this fucking place.” She helped you. As you wobbled, she grabbed onto your elbow to steady you and walked out of Mr. Farley’s room. You made eye contact with your mom. Her eyes widened, jaw slack. She looked like she was seeing a ghost.
“What’s open?” Cassie asked.
Princess answered for your mom. “South eight.” Cassie led you that way, with your mom close behind. Thankfully, Trinity was in a trauma while this was going down. You could deal with your mom; then you could deal with your girlfriend, but both together you would need to be sedated.
“Someone get Al-Hashimi when she’s free.” Your mom ordered. You rolled your eyes as you sat on the bed. “McKay’s gonna do a full workup.”
“I know.” Cassie put on gloves and began the process of cleaning the blood on your face,
“And you’re reporting it.”
“I know.” You winced slightly. Your mom’s anger dissipated. “Are you okay?” She asked. You huffed, hands twisting in the fabric of your scrubs.
“No,” you admitted. “The seven-year-old MVC victim didn’t make it. I dealt with two different cases of sexist men, and I was just punched. So no, I’m not okay.” Dana sighed, kissing her temple. She made sure not to get in Cassie’s way.
“Trial by fire,” Cassie smiled. “This place likes to do that to you. Everyone’s first day is rough.” The older resident had a point. “It’s not broken. I’d still like to get a CT, and I’ll put in an order for ibuprofen.”
“Thanks, Cassie.” She squeezed your arm once her gloves were off. “Can you give me an ice pack?” You lay down, and Cassie gave you a thumbs up as she left. Your forearm covered your eyes, but you heard your mom moving around the room.
“She’s gonna freak out.” You groaned at the mention of your girlfriend.
“At least she didn’t see me covered in blood.” You tried to joke, but when your mom was quiet, you removed your arm and looked at her. She was staring at you as if she still saw the blood on your face. “I’m okay, Mama.” She sighed and grabbed onto your hand.
“Scared the hell out of me,” she said. “I’ve seen you covered in blood far too many times.” After your recovery, you sat down with her over wine and talked about Pit Fest. She was absolutely terrified.
“I’m sorry.” And you were. “Can’t promise it won’t happen again.” Being in the healthcare industry was a thankless job. Although this was the first time you were on the receiving end, you’ve seen it happen to your coworkers a few times.
“Just take it easy on me.” She patted her heart. “Not as young as I used to be.” You laughed.
“Do you think you can stay in here with me?” You asked. “At least until I get my CT.” Dana scoffed.
“You act like you had a choice in the matter. Move over.” You smiled as you adjusted on the bed, and Dana climbed in next to you. She was careful with your injuries, as you laid your head on her chest.
“Love you, Mama.”
“Love you too, my songbird.”
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By the time Al-Hashimi and Trinity were given a few moments to check on you, you got the CT and were waiting on the results. The lights were dim, ice pack on your nose, and your head was pounding. Once the adrenaline wore off, everything started to hurt from your nose to the shoulder that caught your fall. Trinity rushed in. “What the fuck happened?” You winced.
“Love the enthusiasm, babe.” You said. “But can you take it down a notch? My head is killing me.” Trinity’s green eyes softened. You looked at the attending, a deep frown on her face as she took in your injuries. “Statements over there, Doctor Al-Hashimi. Just need your signature.” You gestured to the table with a folder, water, and saltine crackers because your stomach had turned after the CT. Princess placed an IV in your arm to help with your dehydration, and they pushed old Zofran for the nausea.
“I like to hear it from you.” Trinity moved closer to you and took your hand, sighing. You closed your eyes.
“A 46-year-old man was agitated when he was brought back in. Oxygen levels were low, so Jesse put him on a nasal cannula.” You winced, but before Trinity could make a comment, you continued. “Didn’t say a word to me. I narrated every step, and before I even touched him with my stethoscope, he swung at me.” Trinity squeezed her hand hard. “I hit the ground. Jesse and Ahmed came in to restrain the patient in case he gave me the full workup.” You opened your eyes as Doctor Al-Hashimi flipped through your charts. “Still waiting to see what the CT says.” You took the ice pack off. Trinity made a strange sound from the back of her throat as she took in the bruising. “Somehow, Ahmed has a betting pool going.”
“For what?”Trinity questioned.
“To guess what drugs he was on?” You rolled your eyes. “That is the working theory on why he was a dick.” A faint smile appeared on the attendant’s face.
“I have a meeting with Gloria tomorrow, where I’m going to push for more security, Doctor Al-Hashimi said. “I will be speaking with legal departments so this will be handled correctly.”
“Thank you.” You liked her. She came in with a lot of new ideas, and that change scared people. But she had empathy for her staff and the patience that Robbie lacked.
“CT is clear,” Cassie said, entering the room and giving the chart to Doctor Al-Hashimi. “I would like you to stay for a little longer to monitor that headache and nausea.” You gave her a thumbs up.
“Not gonna hear me complain, Doc.” Cassie laughed.
“Never had a doctor make such a good, easy patient.” You smiled.
“Well, when I have lightning going through my head, I can’t really be useful in the ED.” Besides, you had no energy to deal with people yelling at you if you tried to return to work. “Next time, I’ll be an ass.” The three women frowned, but you were too tired to determine what it meant.
“Come get me if you need anything. I’ll come check on you later.” You gave her a salute.
“I am sorry this happened on your first day.” The attendant said.
“Trial by fire is what Cassie said. All part of the job. If possible, Doctor Al-Hashimi’s frown deepened.
“It shouldn’t have to be.” She turned to look at Trinity. “I’ll make sure your patients are covered. Stay with her for a bit.” A smile finally returned to her face. With that, she left you and Trinity alone. You glanced at the girl.
“She likes you.” Your girlfriend huffed.
“I tolerate her,” which meant Trinity liked her. “You gotta stop this.” You raised an eyebrow at her. “Me sitting by your side while you are in the hospital bed.” You laughed, which made your head hurt even more. Trinity frowned and brought your hand to her lips. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll look after you.”
