Chapter 01/?? Click HERE for this fic’s masterlist!
Reader is a troubled pediatrician at Hawkins lab when she crosses paths with this lovely orderly. Nothing will stand between Peter and his revenge. Not even really pretty distractions.
Pairing: Peter Ballard x f!reader
Word count: 1117
Ratings & warnings: SPOILERS, period typical sexism, violence, blood, NSFW, swearing, no (Y/N), no described defining features for reader. Ratings may change as chapters are added.
A/N: your wish is my wish as well my command!
She doesn’t talk much.
Not to her colleagues, at least. She speaks with dr. Brenner because she answers to him and she speaks to the children when they need her.
But not to the other doctors and nurses, not to the other orderlies. Not to him.
It has never bothered Peter before. He doesn’t need her, has no reason to let her live when his plan eventually comes to fruition. In his mind, she is just like everyone else who works at Hawkins Lab. Another mindless sheep pretending to care for the children, but in reality only interested in prodding their supernatural brains in the name of science and a paycheck at the end of the month.
Eat. Sleep. Work. Reproduce. Die.
It was stupid of him to let her become a distraction. He should have killed her when he had the chance.
“Peter,” one of the kids in the rainbow room groans to him, tugging on the spotless white sleeve of his uniform.
He crosses eyes with little 015 when he looks down, the boy looks paler than usual and his lips are chapped. The kid’s eyes are watery and his nose runny.
“I don’t feel so good, Peter.”
Alec locks eyes with him and then nods, signaling that it’s fine, under the illusion that he can handle these kids on their own while Peter is away.
“Come with me, 015. The doctor will make you all better.”
A disheveled mess greets the pair when he and 015 arrive at the sick bay, something that he’s not used to from the Hawkin’s lab pediatrician.
Though usually neatly put in a tight bun, her locks now tumble in unkempt tresses down her face and deep, purple circles have appeared under her eyes. It is out of the ordinary and bound to capture Peter’s attention.
“015 is not feeling good,” he states the obvious, expecting her to ignore him as she usually does. When her eyes find his deep blue ones before they wander off to 015, his interest is piqued once again.
Something is off, which meant the puzzle pieces could change and be rearranged. Peter always keeps his eyes open for little shifts in the matrix that could mean he has to change his initial plan. Has the doctor’s obvious distracted state any real meaning to him? Could and would she form a problem?
Peter watches as she sits the kid down in her office, producing a penlight and has him follow the light for her.
“Does it hurt anywhere, 015? Do you remember when it started?” She asks him, squatting in front of the kid so that they’re at eye level.
“I’ll come back later to pick him up,” Peter says, but before he can make his way out of her office and back to the rainbow room, she calls after him. Knitting his brows together in amusement, he turns around on his heels to look at the doctor.
“Yes?” His hands are folded neatly behind his back, ever the friendly, harmless orderly. She’s at least a head smaller than he is.
“I know we’re not supposed to intervene with the kids. And I’m not asking you to,” her eyes dart around the hallway. He wonders what she has to hide. “But tell dr. Brenner if you see any of the bigger kids picking on the smaller ones. I’ve had too many kids in here with nosebleeds that didn’t stem from their powers.”
“Why?” He asks. Not why should he tell dr. Brenner. He understands her motivation behind that. But why him? Why can’t she tell Brenner herself? Unlike Brenner and himself, she has always been on good terms with the man. What happened?
“I…” she hesitates, worrying her lip between her teeth as he looks down upon her. “You seem like a good guy, Peter. You’re here every day, you spend every waking moments with these kids. I know you care for them. Please?”
Please.
Please? Fuck.
If Peter was the person she assumed he was, good and kind, maybe he would fulfill her request. But he is far from that person and she must surely be delusional to think he cared. The only person Peter looks out for is number 001, and that meant that drawing attention to himself would only make dr. Brenner suspicious of him. He could and would not risk it, not even when she asks him so prettily.
“I’ll be back for him. After dinner,” she looks dejected, but it doesn’t matter to Peter. The clicking of his shoes on the tiles announce his retreat.
With a disappointing huff she watches the lean orderly go before turning back to 015 with a fake smile plastered on her face.
“Alright, kid. Let’s get you all better.”
It’s long after dinner when Peter makes his nightly rounds around the lab, enjoying the peace and quiet, free of the chatter between doctors that could be heard during the day. It’s moments like these Peter enjoys most. The deathly quiet where he can take a moment and think.
Back when he had just been assigned the job of an orderly, he used to take these moments and try as he might to rekindle his power. Every night for days, weeks, months he tried, until he had no choice but to accept that the blocker in his neck did it’s job. There was no way around it.
Later, he took these moments to order his thoughts and form a plan. An escape plan that not even dr. Brenner could see coming. He would be sure to make them all pay, Martin Brenner the first to atone and the last to die.
Nowadays, he saw these quiet moments as the calm before the storm. Much like a spider, he shakes his long limbs loose and his mind wanders off to a place he’d be able to call home. Somewhere he could be well and truly alone.
“For fuck’s sake!” Peter’s head snaps up at the muffled cussing coming from behind a closed door. His body stiffens and his breathing becomes steady like an animal ready to pounce on it’s prey.
Seconds pass like rain droplets joining a winded river as he waits for another sound.
Suddenly, a door on his left flies open and he has his hand halfway lifted before cursing dr. Brenner and his idiotic power blocker.
To his surprise, it’s not one of the other staff members on duty, or even one of the kids.
It’s the pediatrician.
And she’s not wearing her lab coat or her white pants, either. She’s wearing a pastel nightgown. His hand falls, in sync with her face when she notices him.
“Peter?!”
“Doctor.”
A/N: well, that’s the end of chapter 01! If people enjoy it, I’ll definitely continue. I have a bunch of ideas for this pair and I love getting in Peter’s head to discover his motivations etc. Also lmk if you want to be tagged for future chapters!
[A/N: Okay so I actually dreamt this whole fic last night and just had to write it, if you watch Riverdale then the first scene of this fic might seem familiar because I can’t lie and say I didn’t feel inspired by a specific scene from the show!
I live for angst and pain but then love a happy ending.]
‘Steve.’ Your voice crumbled under the pressure of your words. ‘I’m standing here and I’m asking if you love me. If you’ve ever loved me, in all the years we’ve known each other.’
‘Of course I love you, Y/N!’ He exclaimed raising his arms up into the air. ‘You’re great, you’re a great girl, Y/N.’
Steve sighed.
‘You’re amazing.’ He said softly. ‘You’re my best friend.’
You sucked in a sharp breath, you waited for the inevitable.
Cautiously Steve stepped towards you, his hand reached out for yours and he took it gently. His grip was weak and his skin was cold against the clammy palm of your hand, together your hands swung gently in between the empty space of your bodies.
‘I don’t want to risk what it is that we have.’ He concluded.
Steve’s eyes avoided yours, careful to avoid being caught in his own bullshit. He looked down at your hands and rubbed softly against the back of your knuckles, as though his touch burnt you pulled your hand from his grip.
‘Just say what you mean, Steve.’ Your voice was quiet, scared that if you spoke any louder the air -like glass- would smash and fall into a million tiny shards around you.
‘Y/N.’ His voice sounded desperate, he didn’t want to say those words.
Silently you puffed out your chest and raised your head, you wouldn’t show him the broken girl inside of you.
‘If you’re going to break my heart Harrington, then at least do it properly.’ Your voice was defiant of your inner turmoil, the gentle sniffle you gave was the only indication of your crumbling facade.
Finally his soft brown eyes found yours, his brow was furrowed and his lips downturned, he didn’t want any of this.
‘I don’t love you, Y/N.’ He whispered, forced to say it by the look in your eyes. ‘Not like that.’
Your bottom lip trembled at his words but you were determined not to fall, harshly you bit down on your lip and slowly nodded. You took in one final deep breath until you were sure you could hold your voice.
‘Goodnight, Steve.’ You muttered before turning on your heel and walking swiftly to your porch.
Steve called out behind you, his voice a mixture of desperation and anguish, you ignored his calls and slammed the door shut behind you.
In the safety of your house you crumbled and slid to the floor. You were thankful it was late and there was no-one around to witness the results of your first heartbreak.
Over the sound of your muffled sobs you listened out for the tell-tale signs of Steve leaving, it took a while but after around ten minutes they came. You listened as his car door slammed shut and shortly after the sound the engine came to life, for a brief moment his Queen cassette tape blared into the empty neighbourhood before quickly being shut off.
You listened on as you heard the soft hum of his engine continue to rattle on patiently outside, what was he waiting for?
A few more minutes had passed before you realised you were now sat in silence, the hum of the car was long gone and your stale tears had left a salty residue along your face. You wondered how pathetic you looked sat crumpled in front of your door, more than likely streams of mascara littered your face and your eyes were most certainly bloodshot.
You resigned yourself to the fact that frankly you didn’t give a shit.
You sat in the basement of the Wheeler’s house, you had your feet kicked up in the coffee table and the menacing sound of the Jaws soundtrack blared from the television in front of you.
From the ages of fourteen to seventeen, you regularly babysat a lot of the neighbourhood kids, and the money you earnt went to your vast collection of records and cassette tapes. You swore for your last year of high school you were going to take a break from the babysitting business and spend more time studying. However, just after Halloween, when the Byers kid had gotten sick again, you had a phone call from his mom Joyce. From now on she always wanted someone to babysit the kids, she knew in retrospect that the kids were old enough and smart enough to care for themselves but the thought of anything happening to Will again had her sat permanently on the edge. The other kids parents didn’t care enough to agree nor disagree with Joyce, so they readily let you into their houses without so much as a glance.
At eighteen years of age you agreed to do it for free, you couldn’t deny that part of you felt sorry Joyce and the pain she had suffered both when Will was briefly missing and now with the sudden death of her boyfriend Bob. You also knew the Byers family wasn’t the most financially stable of families and although Joyce would continuously try to push five dollars into your hand you’d always hand it back with a smile. Even though sometimes the kids were dipshits, they were also sometimes cool to hang out with.
Your foot tapped nervously against the wooden table, it wasn’t that the great white shark scared you, it was that you weren’t babysitting alone. You weren’t the only teen that regularly looked after the band of nerds sat in front of you, often Nancy and Jonathan would watch over them, but more often than not your partner in crime and best friend Steve Harrington would turn up and make the night a little less boring.
You just wish he hadn’t turned up tonight.
As far as you could gather, as the words ‘what is he doing here?’ tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, Dustin had practically begged Steve to come over with his copy of the VHS Jaws.
It was vital, apparently, for the kids to watch this film tonight.
You trained your eyes to focus solely on the television, the water, the shark, the cast, they were all just one blare of motions swimming across your eyes. You couldn’t shake the feeling of Steve’s eyes glancing over at you every minute or so.
You had curled your body as closely as you could into the left corner of the sofa, Maxine and Jane sat cosily in between yourself and Steve, his arm was reached out across the sofa - fingertips almost grazing your right shoulder.
The tension in the room was almost palpable, you were sure the kids could feel the energy radiating from both of your bodies and slowly it was becoming too much. The twitch of your foot slowly moved into your hands and you wrung them together anxiously.
There was a burning in the back of your throat and a bubbling in your stomach and damn it - you couldn’t sit here any longer. Without a word you stood up from the couch, Jane and Max eyed you curiously, the boys attentions never wavered from the television and Steve finally fought against the urge to watch you.
His jaw tensed as he placed all of his focus into watching the bright screen.
With a wavering breath you ran up the basement stairs and into the dim kitchen, your heavy footsteps drew the boys out of their television induced coma, before the door shut behind you you heard Dustin ask:
‘What’s her problem?’
You had made it to your car before you were interrupted.
‘Y/N, wait!’ His voice called out and it stopped you in your tracks.
Your keys hung lamely in your hand, the soft blow of the wind made your keyrings chime.
‘Please don’t go.’ He begged. ‘We can fix this.’
You laughed mirthlessly, emptiness now filled the void that was once subjected to the butterflies and heart palpitations that Steve once upon a time gave you. Cautiously you turned to face him, your face unreadable.
‘I need some time, Steve.’ You explained, hoping he would understand.
‘Y/N.’ He said your name as though it was the most delicate item in his possession.
‘I thought I could do this.’ Your voice wavered. ‘But it’s too much, too soon.’
Steve took a step towards you, you held up your hand.
‘Don’t. Please.’ You begged, tears were beginning to pool at your eyes.
You fumbled blindly behind yourself and secured your grip on the door handle, swiftly you span around and shoved your key into the door unlocking it. You heard hurried steps making their way towards you but before they could you had made it safely into your car.
Steve was stood by your window, his arm rested on top of the roof of your car and his eyes desperately searched yours. It wasn’t fair that you had done this to him, thrusted your unsuspected love onto him and expected him to love you back. You had disrupted the careful balance of his life post-Nancy, wherein he still had a girl to rely on that wouldn’t break his heart, or so he thought.
You had broken his heart in the worst way, by forcing him to break yours.
Weeks seemed to pass slowly without Steve around you, empty lunch hours felt like they never ended, late nights without his phone calls seemed to feel endless, and babysitting the kids was almost torturous.
You still saw him in the hallways or at the supermarket, his tall physique and quiffed hair was hard to miss in and amongst the crowds, but you tried your hardest not to look at him. Each time you did, however, you would feel your heart swell at the sight of him only to deflate like a punctured balloon seconds later.
You missed him, it was hard to deny, but was it more torturous avoiding him than it was to have him back in your life - you couldn’t answer that.
That’s why when you turned up at the Henderson house for one of your routine babysitting gigs you were caught between flight and fight when Harrington opened the door. He let out a nervous breath upon seeing you, as though he had come prepared for this moment and then lost all nerve. You turned your head towards the street, Steve’s car was nowhere in sight, so what the hell was he doing here?
‘I parked a block over.’ He started to explain, his words were rushed as though he was expecting you to turn and run at any moment. ‘I thought if you saw my car outside you’d never come in.’
He was right.
‘Steve.’ His name fell from your mouth as though it was foreign, this was the longest you had avoided using his name since you had both been friends.
‘Please let me just explain, Y/N.’ He interrupted.
‘Where are the kids?’ You asked.
‘With Nancy and Jonathan at the arcade. Y/N, if you’ll just let me-’
‘So you’re just hanging out in the Henderson’s house?’
Steve groaned in frustration at your incessant questioning, he brought his hand up to rub over his features, clearing it of his annoyed expression. He smiled softly and it caught you off guard.
‘Would you believe me if I told you this was all Dustin’s idea?’ He asked quietly, his eyebrow raised.
You let out a breath that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, with it nerves rolled into your body. You felt the tips of your fingers beginning to tremble and your knees becoming weak underneath your weight.
‘I’d believe that.’ You said shakily. ‘What-’
‘I missed you.’ He confessed. ‘A lot. More than a lot. A shit tonne of a lot.’
You stood motionlessly in front him, your silence implored him to continue.
‘It’s like you’re gone, but also, like you’re also right in front of me and just out of reach. Like a ghost and I can see you but I can’t ever speak to you or touch you again.’ His voice was quiet, as though this was a secret for just the two of you to share. ‘I’ve never missed anyone quite like this, Y/N.’
‘Steve-’ you didn’t trust your own voice to say much more.
‘I never expected this to be so hard, Y/N, I thought this was the- the better solution and it turns out I was wrong.’
Your brows knitted together, better solution to what?
‘I lied.’ He whispered. ‘I lied because I thought it would be better than disappointing you.’
‘I don’t understand.’ You muttered. ‘Lied about what, Steve?’
You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed silently and he drew his bottom lip between his teeth.
‘I thought that, that in the long-run things would work out okay but now it’s been nearly two months and we’re both as miserable as ever.’ He sighed. ‘I’m not good enough for you, Y/N, I make a crappy boyfriend and Nancy showed me that.’
You began to feel the long-thought dead butterflies in your stomach rise from their pit at Steve’s words. What exactly was he trying to say, had Steve thought about being your boyfriend before?
‘But Dustin told me I should give this a chance if I was really serious about how I felt for you. And I am serious. And he said that maybe I just wasn’t a good fit for Nance and -goddamn it I can’t believe I’m taking relationship advice from a fourteen year old.’
You laughed breathlessly at his ramblings and Steve’s eyes zoned in on yours, the faint trace of a smirk graced his lips.
‘You know-’ you sniffled and took in one deep breath to regulate your breathing, ‘Dustin’s pretty wise - for a fourteen year old.’
You smiled at your own joke and was met with one to match, both soft and unsure but with the message that they were sorry and willing to forgive.
‘I love you.’ He said with sincerity. ‘And I’m not saying that because I think it’s what you want to hear, I’m saying it because it’s true. I love you, Y/N L/N.’
The butterflies in your stomach were elated, they fluttered wildly and knocked the breath from your body.
You stepped towards each other tentatively as though walking on air, but then his warm palms reached out towards the side of your face and cupped either side, grounding you and pulling you towards his gravity. Your own hands curled around his neck and found their way into the mass of hair at the base of it, his soft curls laced your fingers.
Breathlessly you leant in and time seemed to stop, your lips met with a spark and molded together perfectly - as though these were the only lips you were ever supposed to kiss. Your noses brushed together as you sunk towards each other, closer than you’d ever been in your lives and at the same time the furthest away you were ever willing to be again.
‘I love you.’ He whispered once more against your lips.
‘I love you too, you idiot.’ You smiled and kissed him again.
I’m going to have to rewrite this so that it sticks to one POV, because the other 10 pages are all from Hopper’s POV except for this bit. Still, it sort of works on it’s own, so have at it, internet.
Will eventually be a part of the same fic as this, if I can ever finish the darn thing.
It’s 9:08 am in mid-July when Flo’s phone rings.
“You’re late, Chief,”
She hears a groan on the other end of the line. “I know. I’m not going to make it today--actually, I won’t make it in all week. I’ve got to get my daughter ready for high school.”
The police station is silent as Flo’s pen drops to the floor. “Your what?”
“My daughter. Listen, it’s kind of a complicated story, and I’ll be sure to tell you every little detail when I get a moment, but I’m taking some comp time, alright? I’ve got to get this kid registered and get her some new clothes. And a house.” Hopper groans. “You know anyone who’s selling their house? A 2 or 3 bedroom, in a nice neighborhood?”
It takes Flo a flabbergasted moment to catch up. “The Hollands were, but I don’t know if they still are.” She bites her lips and thinks and stalls. “What’s your kid’s name, Hop?” Callahan’s got a mouthful of donut across from her when he mouths kid?
“Jane.” The pride beaming in Hopper’s voice isn’t fake. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but I’ll try to drop by the station with her later today so you can meet her, alright?”
“You better.” Flo threatens, and and before she even hangs up the phone, turns to Powell and Callahan and goes “Hopper’s got a kid.”
By noon, nearly all of Hawkins has heard tale of Jim Hopper’s new daughter.
--
(He tells Flo and the boys later that he slept with Jane’s mother shortly after Sarah died, a drunken one night stand he barely remembers and mostly forgot until he saw the name. He’s surprised Terry Ives remembered him enough to put his name on the birth certificate. He never knew Jane even existed until he got the call. “Been fighting with her Aunt Becky over custody, but she’s made friends here, and she wants to stay in Hawkins, so she’s gonna stay with me, I think.” He looks off in the distance, “Would’ve been different, if I knew.”)
“You poor thing,” Flo coos, and offers Jane another cookie from her hidden stash. “No wonder she’s so quiet! How old are you, sweetie?”
“Thirteen,” she says, rehearsed, quietly chewing on an oatmeal raisin cookie. “Fourteen in the fall.”
“Small for her age,” Powell whistles.
“She’s got your eyes, Hop,” Callahan chimes in, studying Jane with surprising seriousness. “Same shape, just a different color. Looks just like you.”
That stops Hopper in his tracks, and he looks Jane over, like he’s never noticed the resemblance before himself. “Huh. Guess she does.” He grins, and squeezes Jane’s shoulders, and she smiles back.
--
By three, it seems like the whole town knows the story. Karen Wheeler hugs her son tightly when he gets home from Lucas’s house. “That was so sweet of you, taking care of Jim Hopper’s daughter like that.” She kisses his forehead, even as he pushes her away, blushing. “If you had just told me, I would have let her stay in the basement.”
“Mom, you and Dad thought she was a Russian spy!”
(Ted Wheeler still thinks she’s a Russian spy, actually. He calls the government hotline the Feds left with him a year and a half ago. Luckily, Dr. Owens answers the phone, and gives Ted Wheeler the same story Hopper told, and claims that Jane Hopper “is an American-born citizen, sir.” Which is good enough for Ted.)
“Fine,” Karen concedes. “But no more secrets from now on, young man!”
In the evening, Mrs. Wheeler brings a boxload of Nancy’s old things to Hopper’s trailer, including an old dress Jane has worn before. Mrs. Sinclair brings him a casserole. Mrs. Henderson brings him a cake.
11/10 will be patiently sitting and waiting for another chapter of “Change of Heart”. that man has me WHIPPED and the way you wrote him!? absolutely captivating. <33
Change of Heart
Chapter 02/?? click HERE for this fic’s masterlist!
Reader is a troubled pediatrician at Hawkins lab when she crosses paths with this lovely orderly. Nothing will stand between Peter and his revenge. Not even really pretty distractions.
Pairing: Peter Ballard x f!reader
Word count: 1403
Ratings & warnings: SPOILERS, period typical sexism, violence, blood, NSFW, swearing, no (Y/N). Ratings may change as chapters are being added.
A/N: bit of a backstory on the reader and more character building for these two <3 I also made a little playlist, check it out if you’d like. Also, I will be updating this fic bi-weekly!
Thick, visceral silence fills the hallway as they stare at one another. Him, all long limbs and easy going smiles, clad in the same uniform as always. Her, caught like a deer in headlights in nothing but a pastel nightgown.
“What? You’ve never seen a girl in a nightgown before?” Her tone is cold when she breaks the silence, but he can tell the pediatrician is nervous by the way she crosses her arms in front of her chest, and doesn’t dare to look the tall orderly straight in the eye.
“I have. Just not in here,” his reply has her roll her eyes in the back of her head, but Peter watches the slightest blush creep upon her cheeks. How amusing.
“Forgive me if I’m wrong, doctor, but your shift ended hours ago.”
“Yes, it has,” she is purposefully being evasive, her walls are right back up and stronger than ever after Peter smothered her request earlier that day.
Certain that the door she opened for him prior remains ajar, he reminds himself that surrender is not something that comes to him naturally.
“And yet, you’re still here,” a soft smile graces his lips, signaling that there is no bad intent behind his questions, only curiosity. “Why?”
She sighs, taking in the lanky figure of the orderly in front of her. He towers over her, much taller than she herself is. His hands are folded neatly behind his back like always and despite her indecently dressed body and his fully dressed frame, he keeps a respectable distance between the two of them.
She’s never thought of him as anything but friendly, the way he greets her like clockwork despite her insistence on ignoring her coworkers. And although he shut down her request, she knows he cares for the kids at Hawkins lab. Peter Ballard might be the most trustworthy guy in the entire facility. Really, what’s the worst thing that could happen?
“If I tell you, can we get out of this hallway? There’s cameras everywhere and I don’t need my business discussed like it’s the morning news,” He nods, blond hair falling in sync with the incline of his head.
“I will follow your lead, doctor.”
And so, they arrive back at her office, though it looks more like a makeshift bedroom now. On the floor lies a sleeping pad meant for camping trips, and her uniform is neatly folded and placed on the chair where 015 was sitting earlier that day. On her desk stands an electric kettle and a few dishes, ready to be used.
Peter quietly watches as she puts a large cardigan on over her nightgown before facing him again. His arms are crossed in front of his chest now, and her desk supports his frame as he leans against it.
“Tea?” She’s stalling. He shakes his head.
“I’m more interested in you than I am in tea,” the corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile when she tries to hide her reddened cheeks for the second time that night. How easy she is to coax. “Don’t you have a loving husband to return home to? Why is it that you’re still here, when it’s nearly midnight?”
Eat. Sleep. Work. Reproduce. Die.
That comment seems to set her off, her face brewing up a storm.
“Please, don’t. That is the festering root of my all my problems,” she scoffs, walking over to the desk where Peter’s tall frame is leaning against.
“Your husband?”
A bitter laugh escapes her.
“I’m happily unmarried, Peter,” she explains, lifting herself up upon the desk. He scoots over to give her the space to sit without breaking eye contact.
“But ever since my mother passed, my father is hell bent on finding me a man,” now her guard is lowered, but her fingers are still anxiously tying themselves in knots, Peter notices.
“He wants me to marry a man who can provide for me. He was always against the whole med school thing, but my mother had my back. I graduated some time ago, and my mother passed away not long after,” she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from crying in front of him, afraid of what he might say or think of her.
“He’s old school. He believes women belong in the kitchen and going to university and having a job is just my rebellious phase until I settle down,” she scoffs.
“I would rather die, Peter,” the tone of her voice is so genuine that something deep inside his chest reacts to her words. His lungs seem to expand further against his ribcage and something warm and unfamiliar slashes aggressively, needy, at the base of his belly.
“I would rather die,” she repeats, “than live the life my mother lived. I’d prefer death over having my academic aspirations squashed because I’m busy cooking dinner for a husband who doesn’t see me as a person, raising kids I never wanted and cleaning up after them every single day. Even the idea makes me nauseous.”
“When I told him I wanted to specify in pediatrics, he laughed at me. He said my maternal instinct won after all. God, I was so angry I considered changing my mind.” the memory of it boils her blood all over again until Peter squeezes her clenched fist with his cool hand. He weaves his fingers through hers until her hand relaxes in his. Only then, he lets go.
“What happened today?” He asks.
“He arranged a date for me, tonight. Some desperate old fool who gets off on the thought of having a younger wife,” the tone of her voice is bitter, but he can detect something else in there.
Fear.
“I couldn’t go, Peter,” she says. He understands.
“My dad and I had a fight this morning, right before I left. He told me if I didn’t show up tonight, I shouldn’t bother coming home at all. Ever again,” a shakey sigh leaves her lips. “Dr. Brenner said it was okay for me to use the office, at least for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll face my dad again. But right now, I just need some time to recharge.”
Eat. Sleep. Work. Reproduce? Live.
She softly bumps his shoulder with her own when he stays silent like he has for most of her rant. Worry settles in her bones.
“I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think badly of me, now. I don’t even think… I mean, I don’t know what I was thinking, really,” she carefully slides off the desk to create some space between herself and the orderly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said… anything.”
“You shouldn’t worry about what I think,” her shoulders loosen a bit when the words leave his mouth.
“Or what anyone else thinks. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re a magnificent young woman,” he, too, takes a step away from the desk and towards her, overcome with the sudden urge to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Instead, he digs the heels of his shoes in the solid tiles of her office floor in an attempt to ground himself.
“You shouldn’t have to conform to anyone else’s idea of who you are,” his voice is so soft and his words nearly addictive. She could hear him speak for hours upon hours.
“You don’t think it’s selfish?” she asks, frowning in disbelief at his opinion on the matter.
“It is never selfish to choose yourself, doctor,” he cocks his head to the side and sends her the same comforting smile he gave her earlier, and this time, she smiles back.
“Thank you,” she says, while taking a step closer to him. The cardigan she had put on earlier is starting to slip off her shoulder, and she’s so close now that he can feel her breathing on his face. She smells like pomegranate and lemongrass and he wants to touch her now, find out if her skin is really as soft as it looks, if every part of her is as pretty as he imagines it to be.
“No need to thank me,” he says instead. The fabric of her cardigan is soft against his touch when he slips it back up her shoulder, covering her from his wandering gaze.
“My point still stands,” she then says.
“And what point is that?” he asks.
“You are a good guy, Peter.”
Taglist: @sunweee @ancientbeing10 @njutul
Lmk if you want to be added/removed to the tag list!
Reader is a troubled pediatrician at Hawkins lab when she crosses paths with this lovely orderly. Nothing will stand between Peter and his revenge. Not even really pretty distractions.
Updates are not according to a set schedule.
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Prefer to read this fic on AO3? Click here!
You can listen to the Change of Heart playlist here.
Chapter 04/?? Click HERE for this fics masterlist!
Reader is a troubled pediatrician at Hawkins lab when she crosses paths with this lovely orderly. Nothing will stand between Peter and his revenge. Not even really pretty distractions.
Pairing: Peter Ballard x f!reader
Word count: 2010
Ratings & warnings: SPOILERS, period typical sexism, violence, blood, NSFW, swearing, no (Y/N), no described defining features for reader. Ratings may change as chapters are added.
A/N: his name is Peter and he has spidey senses….. who is he? The answer might surprise you. Special thanks to @pechvogal who motivated me to write this chapter <3
6 months ago
The office where she is waiting for the infamous dr. Brenner to meet with her is a cold, empty space. The walls are decorated with the same white tiles that the floor exists out of, eerily similar to the design of a padded cell. The desk that is centered in the middle of the room has no picture frames on it, or anything else that might hint to dr. Brenner’s personal life. The pediatrician suspects it might be done on purpose, to keep his professional life and his personal life separated from one another, in case his staff or the lab’s psychokinetic test subjects turn on him. If that were to happen, there would be nothing here they could potentially use to target him. Except for the plastic nameplate that reads ‘Dr. M.R. Brenner,’ there is nothing else present that even alludes to the office being his.
She softly exhales through her nose, these exact precautions taken by a highly esteemed scientist remind her once again of the dangers she’s exposing herself to, but it does little to shake her determination. All she wants to do is to help. Help science, of course, but more importantly, help the children within the lab.
With a soft click, the door behind her opens and the tall man who she recognizes from the newspaper clippings as dr. Brenner steps inside the austere office. She stands up from her seat to greet the older man, and he takes her stretched out hand to shake it.
“Welcome. I’m dr. Brenner, research scientist and director of this laboratory. It wasn’t too difficult a place to find, I trust?” A smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes rests on his face as she politely laughs at his joke.
“Certainly not, sir. I thank you for taking the time out of your day to meet with me,” he gestures for her to sit back down as he himself takes a seat in the sleek, black office chair behind the desk.
“No need to thank me. I’ve read your résumé,” he states, crossing his arms over one another while his stern gaze sweeps over her face. “Not only do you have a master in pediatrics, but also in psychology. And that at your age. I would say that is quite the achievement.”
“I’m a firm believer that those two go hand in hand, not to mention that certain disorders of the mind can be discovered, and thus treated, at a much earlier age, given the right guidance,” refusing to bother with small talk, she latches onto the praise of the accomplished scientist sitting across from her, and launches into the job interview.
“you don’t suppose pedagogy covers both these specialisms?” He challenges, seemingly as unimpressed by small talk as she is. The topic he broaches convinces her he has in fact read her thesis.
“I don’t think so. I find pedagogy only covers half of each specialism and although very useful in theory, the practice of it is entirely different. With both my masters I’m specialized in fields that can be of great use to you, sir. Not only do I know children physiologically, I also know them psychologically,” Dr. Brenner leans back in his office chair with an unreadable expression, but he hasn’t shut her down yet, which she takes as a good sign.
“Go on,” the white haired man nods.
“With me and my fields or expertise working within this lab, you would have a great advantage over the ch- the test subjects. I can easily distinguish the beginnings of a mental health problem from a physical problem, and provide guidance for both,” she explains, her words brimming with ardour.
“I would save this laboratory time as well as money, things that are extremely valuable, especially within the field of science,” the enthusiastic twinkle in his eyes reflects her own, though his body language remains neutral.
“You are certainly a persuasive young woman, I’ll give you that,” dr. Brenner speaks as he uncrosses his arms and the fabric of his tailored suit falls back into place as he does. “It doesn’t surprise me that you were able to obtain two masters, with this ambitious approach to your academical life.”
“Thank you, sir,” she politely acknowledges his compliment, though she can feel a dreaded ‘but’ coming her way.
“This laboratory would undoubtedly gain a valuable asset should we hire you,” he continues, tapping his fingers together. “But I have to ask you, miss. What’s in it for you? What do you want?”
The next time Peter sees her, she looks more rested than she had that evening. She blends in amongst the other doctors and the sleek bun from before has made it’s reappearance. The uniform she wears has been washed and ironed so there is no evidence left of the crumpled up fabric it had been not too long ago. Once again, her stony façade is firmly back in place. Peter finds he prefers the disheveled version of her.
When it comes to Peter himself, he has resumed his nonsensical chatting with the other orderlies, always listening for information that might prove to be useful to him later.
Much like a spider notices changes in the air through the vibrations of it’s web, Peter senses something is now different than before that night. Their oblivious coworkers notice nothing, but the pediatrician smiles at him, now. Their eyes meet from across the room and her lips curl upwards into a soft smile before she casts her eyes down and hurries along. He absentmindedly returns her smiles with ones of his own, and wonders if this is what it feels like when two people share a secret.
“Heading out, doctor?” The sudden baritones of his voice pull her back to the cold exterior of the hallway she stands in, rummaging through her bag for her keycard.
“Fu-“ she whirls around to face the man behind her, her frame relaxing when her eyes connect with the familiar orderly. A soft smile involuntarily creeps upon her face. “Oh, Peter, it’s you! You scared the living daylights out of me!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologizes, amusement dancing in the blue of his irises.
“That’s alright, I just didn’t hear you. We have to stop meeting like this, though,” she jokes, and a deep chuckle escapes him. She likes the sound of that.
“I wondered,” he starts, slightly hesitant on how to word his thoughts. “If you’re alright.”
“I’m… better than I was, before,” she answers, taking a step toward him so no one can eavesdrop on their private conversation.
In that brief moment, the fleeting scent of pomegranate and lemongrass cloud his sense of smell, and nostalgia hits him like a ton of bricks. The soft tickle of grass underneath his bare feet while making a dainty crown out of daisies. The heat of the sun on his skin lessened by the cool waters of lover’s lake where he used to swim. The pink in the night as the sun settled, instead of the harsh fluorescents and the inescapable blinding white everywhere within the lab. The slow crawl of his spiders when they would walk up his arms. He misses nature.
“We talked, and my father promised he’d stop pushing me to find a husband so much,” the sweet and soft ring of her voice forces him out of his nostalgic daydream. “Of course, his promises don’t last. I give him a week before he’s back to his usual behavior.”
“Why do you still live with him when he treats you like this?” Had it been Peter’s own father, the man would have been dead for a long time.
“He’d be all alone. My mother is gone and his age is catching up to him,” her expression falters. “Don’t get me wrong Peter, I want to live my own life. But I’m afraid the guilt would consume me if I left now and something happened to him.”
For a mere moment, they simply look at one another. Him, so tall and so pretty with his full blond head of hair and his thick eyelashes, the slope of his sharp nose and the curve of his soft looking lips. Then there is her, a head smaller than the man in front of her and so caught off guard by this beautiful creature standing in front of her.
“I never did thank you for listening to me that night,” it is she who breaks the comfortable silence.
“You don’t have to,” he says.
“But I want to,” her insistence shuts him up, at least for a little while.
“I know I don’t talk to people here, and I’m sure you’ve noticed it too. I don’t like opening up because I don’t like being vulnerable, so I avoid it where I can. I would rather have people think I’m a bitch than a weak woman. But you… You are so easy to talk to, Peter. You let me speak without interrupting me and without making me feel bad for expressing my emotions. So, you deserve a thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice reduced to a rasp. Unsure of what is coming over him, he closes in on her with a single step. Whether it is because she blossoms when she is around him or simply because it’s her, he feels moved and something stirs within him. Her breath hitches in her throat because of his close proximity, but he senses it is not from fear.
Instead, she tilts her face, her beautiful face up towards his own, and Peter is once again overcome with the urge to touch her wherever he can, and then some. He wants to rip off the padded winter coat she wears and then run his hands along her ribs, feel the warmth of her skin shiver under his cold hands before moving them further up, exploring the soft skin that is currently covered up by the atrocity that is the Hawkins laboratory’s uniform.
“Peter,” her voice is an urgent whisper, her eyes darting from his own to his full lips, and he knows she feels it too. The burning in the pit of their stomachs, the heat rising to their cheeks, they are in sync. Her face is so soft when his thumb and pointer finger graze her chin, so soft that he wonders how it is even possible.
“Hey! Are we still walking together, or what?” It’s one of the nurses who interrupts the pair before he can even get a taste.
Annoyed, he takes a step back from his pediatrician and he falls back into his usual posture, hands behind his back and his face, angelic, she thinks, neutral.
“Oh, Peter. Are you leaving too?” The nurse asks. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the pediatrician smoothing down her coat.
“No, I’m not. I was just discussing 015’s recovery with the good doctor,” his smile is nothing but kind, but murder is on his mind.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m trying to get her to make friends within the lab. A day’s work goes by so much faster when you have friends, y’know?” the nurse rambles on, but it’s obvious to Peter that she didn’t catch wind of their little rendez vous.
“Yes, well,” he abruptly interrupts her, not interested in hearing another word coming out of her mouth. It’s the pediatrician he looks at when he speaks next. “Drive home safely. I will see you again, tomorrow.”
He turns on his heels, and then, he is gone.
“I will assist and guide the test subjects wherever they need me, dr. Brenner. I will do so on one condition,” the pediatrician states.
“Ah,” he simply acknowledges with an unsurprised soft grunt, having suspected this.
“I will help Henry Creel, too. I will pick up the pieces you’ve left him in, and I will rehabilitate him. And you will let me.”
A/N: ik I’m the one who writes this but this bitch interrupting their MOMENT?! She’s the real threat at hawkins lab
Chapter (03/??) click HERE for this fic’s masterlist!
Reader is a troubled pediatrician at Hawkins lab when she crosses paths with this lovely orderly. Nothing will stand between Peter and his revenge. Not even really pretty distractions.
Pairing: Peter Ballard x f!reader
Word count: 1192
Ratings & warnings: SPOILERS, period typical sexism, violence, blood, NSFW, swearing, no (Y/N), no described defining features for reader. Ratings may change as chapters are added.
A/N: it took me literal ages to fine tune this just the way I wanted omg. I apologize for the shortness of the chapter, but I really wanted to upload it today <3
Is he really that shallow?
Peter sits silently at one of the many annular, white tables that the break room within Hawkins laboratory is packed with. His colleagues chatter away, taking no account of the quiet, brooding blond sitting alone, so absorbed in his own world that he barely tastes the stale food the canteen provides. Today is not a day where he can find it in himself to participate in the usual meaningless, mind numbing conversation.
The overwhelming surgical white exterior of the laboratory transits throughout the entire building, save for the rainbow room. Paired with a scent he can only describe as sterile, clean, perfect, it all adds onto his immense discomfort. The sore muscles in his legs warn him of their stiffness whenever he shifts his body, which has him subconsciously clenching and unclenching his jaw. Peter is on edge, and he knows exactly why.
The pediatrician.
Just as she was the evening before, friendly, kind, slightly apprehensive of him, she now echoes through his mind without any order. The freshly forged memories dance behind his eyes, as if she stands before him like she had the night prior. Her pastel nightgown loosely hanging around her frame, dipping just slightly by the waist, while the carefully knitted matching cardigan hugs her torso. The strict dress code for all medical staff working within the laboratory calls for the same white uniform Peter himself wears. It has been six months ever since she filled the position for pediatrician, and within those six months he has seen her in the same clothes with her hair pulled back from her face.
Still, it is the nightdress she wears when she enters his wandering mind.
The metal of the fork he uses scrapes unpleasantly against the porcelain of the plate, but his train of thought drones on.
The human brain is hardwired to be lured in by beauty and symmetry, a fact Peter is well aware of. He is no stranger to it’s effects. To say she is his first colleague to have blessed with a pretty face would be a lie. Even when mutual attraction was on the table, not one of them had been able to shake his resoluteness. It goes against his morale.
Peter knows himself to not be so shallow as to not look past her physical… assets. There is more than meets the eye with this woman. Potential bubbles at her edges, clawing it’s hungry way up her throat and begging so sweetly to overflow. The buried truth of her beliefs resonate with his ideology, and even Peter can’t deny the similarities between the pair.
Whether he likes it or not, parts of her resemble parts of him. She has captured his attention, now.
And he hers, so it seems.
Despite his friendly, thoughtful demeanor, he too remains guarded. It would be stupid if he didn’t.
It struck him as odd for her to seek him out after six months of radio silence, though there could very well be a handful of logical explanations for this drastic change of heart.
A reserved nature could be one of them, Peter thinks to himself, she could have needed time to feel comfortable enough within her new place of work before attempting to make friends. The situation she faces at home could have preoccupied her as well.
But Peter knows who he is and he knows who the pediatrician works for. Martin Brenner is a man who should not be underestimated, and Peter refuses to do so.
His appetite ruined by his endless overthinking, Peter scoffs in vexation and then pushes aside his plate.
“Not done already, are you Peter?” The chair next to his own screeches when his colleague, Alec, pulls it out to sit next to the blond. “You’ve barely eaten.”
“I’ve had enough, Alec,” his short answer sounds. “Thank you.”
He is up and away before Alec can protest, taking long strides away from the break room. An empty smile graces his lips as he makes his exit. He will remain vigilant, for now. Trusting a stranger, no matter how beautiful, could mean the end of him if he doesn’t watch his back. But perhaps there is something within her that could prove to be useful to him.
The projector in the conference room steadily whirs on as the pediatrician’s attention begins to wander away from the projected image on the white wall across from her. Other doctors surround the table she sits at, quietly listening to dr. Brenner dissecting progress reports on the children.
Fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling begin to have a drying effect on her eyes after the extended time spent in the conference room, and her head is pounding.
The night before was spent talking to Peter Ballard and sleeping on the shitty sleeping pad dr. Brenner had provided her with. The eventful night is now taking it’s toll, she realizes as she stifles a yawn.
Peter has been friendly with her from the very start and the talk from the night before has only helped strengthen her confidence in the man who is only just a couple of years older than her. He had been empathetic with her and shown her his concern for her situation, kindness radiating off of the tall man.
“Doctor?” It takes her mere seconds to realize the conference room has emptied out, save for dr. Brenner and herself. The older man looks at her in anticipation.
“Yes, sir?” she swallows.
“I expect the bed you have at home is more to your liking,” the old man’s eyes are kind when he scans her face, but it does not withhold her from worrying her lip between her teeth.
A polite laugh follows.
“It is, sir. But as I’m sure you’ve read in my rapport already, it has been a productive night,” she says.
Dr. Brenner’s hand reaches towards the brown folder in which her rapport rests. In thick, blue ink a name is printed upon the folder, ‘001 (HENRY CREEL)’
“I have,” the tone of his voice indicates nothing good. She digs her heels in the ground below her to steady herself, ready to take in his brutal critique.
“I’m not sure about this approach of yours,” he doesn’t sound condescending, but his disapproval is obvious. “001 isn’t your typical patient.”
“Which is exactly why my approach is unorthodox, sir. I think there is a lot of good I can do for Peter, which in turn will help your research.”
Dr. Brenner seems almost uninterested as he flips through the folder, and biting down on her tongue is the only thing containing her chagrin.
“Sir, you out of all people knows that Peter doesn’t conform to the seventh printing of the DSM-II. Frankly speaking, Peter doesn’t even conform to the human laws. None of the patients here do!” The mini outburst catches his attention, and a slow nod from him is all the approval she needs.
“I just hope you know what you’re doing. Don’t make me regret hiring you,” he says.
“You’ve tried it your way, sir. Now let me try it my way.”
A/N: I will genuinely suck your d1ck/cl1t if you lmk what you thought of this chapter <3 plot twist whaaa
