It Was Three in the Morning
I am physically weak when it comes to making new AU’s. I tried and I failed miserably. So here ya go!
Project Hail Mary x Iron Lung x reader (platonic!)
A/B/O AU but not related to the one where they’re on the Hail Mary. This is more of a modern, non-space AU.
Reader is 20, Laika is 19, Rocky and Adrian are mid forties, Grace is early forties, Simon is late thirties.
MDNI
Masterlist Here!
TW: foster care system, inaccurate descriptions on how the foster care system works, angst.
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“I’m tired of you two being brought in here. How many more phone calls are we going to get?” Laika (your best friend) and you sat in the office of the town sheriff. It could’ve been the second time or the hundredth time, you weren’t exactly keeping count.
“Laika at least has the sense to look guilty.” The sheriff sighed angrily, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I understand you both are in a tough situation, but you can’t be running around at night causing trouble.”
“We weren’t causing trouble!” You tried to defend, but the sheriff glared at you, that kind of glare only alphas could pull off, like an angry father or a mother about to throw a slipper at you, “Walking around on top of buildings at three in the morning is the exact definition of causing trouble! You two were trespassing and endangering yourselves! What bright idea had the both of you twelve stories up?”
“Recording a music video..” Laika mumbled, burying herself deeper into her worn jersey you’d sewn planet patches onto in highschool. The sheriff didn’t seem to like that answer, the crease in his brow deepening, “Laika, the social worker will be here in a second to pick you up.” You shared a worried look with the girl, were you about to spend a night in a cell? Was the sheriff that done with your shit? The anxiety festered and your scent turned sour with fear, making the sheriff soften in worry, “[Name], you’re getting placed with a foster family until further notice.”
“What?!” Laika gasped.
“What?!” You growled, complaints on the tip of your tongue, but there wasn’t a chance to ask anymore questions when an elderly man was let into the room. The social worker who was probably more like family to you and Laika than anyone else. You stood with Laika, angrily following the man out of the office and into the waiting room. The lady at the desk, who was always very kind to you both, waved with an excited smile. You had a feeling she heard about the foster family.
You and Laika were both unpresented, barely twenty years old, living in the system. You’d both grown up in it, stuck together like otters in a fast-moving river. She and you came from similar situations, bonding over the similar traumas you shared. You didn’t want to be separated from her, but the system didn’t give you a choice, not until you were twenty five anyways.
The social worker, Mr. Weston, ruffled Laika’s shaggy brown hair and gave your shoulder a comforting pat, “[Name], this is Rocky. He’ll be your foster parent for the foreseeable future.” You reluctantly looked up, eyes landing on a man who looked built to last. He had brown hair going gray, glasses perched high on his nose, olive skin, and looked like he hit the gym regularly. His jacket was big and green, full of pockets, probably used for work. He looked tired, which wasn’t a surprise since it was almost four in the morning.
You’d been sent to foster homes later than this; he could suck it up.
Rocky stood up and waited for you to join him, “bye [Name]..” Laika looked like she was about to cry, quickly doing your secret handshake before she was ushered out the door by Mr. Weston, who waved goodbye with a wish of luck.
You stood there anxious and angry, hands shoved in your hoodie pockets, refusing to look at Rocky. The man sighed, running a tired hand down his face, “C’mon, my car is out front.” You followed him, reluctantly tossing your bag into the passenger seat’s floor and clambering into the black pick-up. You and Laika learnt early on to carry all of your belongings everywhere you went, having gone from school to homes without any warning. That bag was literally everything you owned- which truly wasn’t much, but it was better that way.
Rocky got into the driver’s seat and started the car, reaching over to buckle you in before setting off into the night. You curled up in the seat, knees up to your chest as you stared out the window, watching the orange glow of streetlights pass by. Rocky’s scent was overwhelmingly fatherly, like he was made to have pups, but my god why did it have to be you??
“Like you heard, I’m Rocky. I got a phone call about an hour ago to see if I could take you in, so my mate should be setting up your room right now.” You internally groaned. Great. There wasn’t just one, there was two.
“Mm.” You replied, still not looking at him. He didn’t seem offended, driving for a bit longer until he pulled up to a rather large home in a typical looking suburb. You got out and grabbed your things, waiting until Rocky headed for the door before following, staring down at your shoes as he let you inside.
You didn’t want to memorize the home or what was inside, you wouldn’t be here long anyways-
“Rocky! You’re home! This must be [Name].” That made you look up, staring up at a blonde man who looked much too excited for how late it was. You were anything but that, the words angry and murderous coming to mind. The blonde smiled at you like the sun, the overwhelming scent of a happy (but albeit anxious) omega hitting you like a freight train, almost making you cough. Rocky smiled and kissed the man’s cheek, “I’m heading to bed, can you get [Name] set up?”
“Yeah, Adrian just finished setting up their room and Simon is still asleep.” You froze up, stopping dead in your tracks. How many people lived in this house?! Was there a whole pack in here?! You couldn’t help the anxiety that tainted your scent, gripping the strap of your duffle bag like it could ground you in reality. The blonde smelt it, immediately releasing a calming scent in return. You hated how it made your nerves settle, able to take a deep breath through your nose, “Sorry hun, that must’ve been a surprise. We do have a few more people living in the house with us, but they’re all very kind.” He held his hand out to you, “my name is Ryland Grace, but you can call me Grace.”
“You already know my name..” you snarked under your breath, shaking his hand unenthusiastically. His brow furrowed into something worried, but he didn’t seem angry, just that concerned look everyone always stared at you with.
You hated it.
Rocky made his way back to bed and Grace showed you to your room, “You have your own bathroom since this is normally the guest room. There are clothes in the dresser in all kinds of sizes, but if nothing fits we can go to the store. Uh- and there’s unopened shower stuff in the cabinet below the sink.” You dropped your bag on the ground beside the foot of the bed, sitting down on the freshly laid blankets, “thanks..”
“Of course. We’re upstairs, second door to the left if you need anything. We’ll see you in the morning.” He shut the door and you let out a weary sigh, thumping back-first into the bed and pulling your phone out to shoot Laika a text,
“Made it. They’re nice. Sleep well.” She wouldn’t respond until morning, so you curled up on top of everything and shut your eyes, kicking your shoes to the ground.
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That’s all for now! Hope you enjoyed! Have a nice day and stay safe!
- Moss man