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coffeecaffineandeverythinginbtwn · 4 years

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Here is my @maribat-secret-santa-2020 gift for @liquid-luck-00

I’m really sorry It’s not finished (i had trouble finishing it due to school and some rough mental health problems) but I will be posting the outline so you can know the rest of what I had planned!

again i’m so so so sorry it’s not done. happy new year! please enjoy!

:readmore:

Marinette and the Runaway Assassin

Marinette Grason and the Runaway Assassin

The first thing they could remember was always flying.

Their parents always told them that the first thing a Grayson ever did was fly.

Whether it be him tossing his sister in the air as she did flips, or flying on the low swing trapeze with his mother and father. they were born soaring.

Their family was the best of the best. Humans with the agility and grace of birds. Their family never stayed on the ground for long. Nothing could keep a Grayson on the ground.

Until they fell.

Their wonderful parents never flew again.

Dick was trying his best to keep it together, for his sister, but the pain was almost too much. He was just 16. What was he supposed to do now? He wasn’t of age to care for Marinette and he certainly didn't have much money at all.

It was two days after the fall that killed their parents. Dick had cried himself to sleep, so full of grief, stress and uncertainty the night before. He wanted, no, needed to keep his sister safe, but what were they supposed to do? Live on the street? Marinette deserved better than that. Not to mention her schooling. There was just so many things he needed to think about he had no idea if they’d ever even survive -

A knock sounded at the door, startling Dick from his thoughts.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice came from behind the door, “I would like to speak to a mister Dick Grayson.” With those words the pit inside his stomach grew. It was probably some social worker coming to separate him from the only family he had left.

Dick opened the door and saw a large man with dark hair and blue eyes in a suit, “If you’re here to take me and my sister to some orphanage, leave now. It’s not going to happen. Get lost.” Dick, the normally polite boy, ended his statement by quickly closing the door.

“Wait!” The man jumped in, using his foot to jam the door. “I’m not a social worker. Mister Grayson I presume?” Dick just narrowed his eyes and nodded his head, “My name is Bruce Wayne. I was hoping to come to an arrangement that would greatly help you and your sister.

Dick had the urge to scoff, but he let the man, Bruce, continue.

“You see, I lost my parents at a young age as well. I want to make you and Miss Marinette my wards. You two would both get to live in my manor with your own room and have all the things you two would need to live a happy life. And you would not be separated. This can all happen effective immediately, as soon as you say the word. So, What do you say?”

This was insane. It was everything he and Mari could need. They could lead a normal, safe, and good life. There were so many goods that could come of this and yet…

Graysons are never tied to the ground my little robin. We must never be afraid to spread our own wings and soar. We are free spirits and we fly our own way.

With only that thought in his head, his ressove hardened.

“While I appreciate the offer Mister Wayne, I’m afraid I have to decline.” He began, “My parents used to say that we should never let ourselves be tied down. They were free-spirited and loved to travel. I want my sister and I to continue their legacy.”

Bruce looked a little shocked at this, and also a bit put out., but he quickly covered it with a determined look of his own.

“I see. If I cannot assist with housing, please let me help in any other way possible. Money is no issue, I can promise you that.” Bruce looked so ready to help them. And hell, if they couldn't use the help.

Dick was at a loss for words, “I- Mister Wayne- I can’t thank you enough!” Marinette would get to have the life their parents would have wanted for her. He didn’t have to worry about money any more. They could be free and go where the wind would take them. This flood of relief he felt did ease his grief a little for only a moment. It was one weight lifted off his shoulders.

“It’s the least I could do Mister Grayson.” He nodded, looking a bit relieved himself.

“Please, call me Dick Mister Wayne.” At that Bruce’s mouth quirked upwards the tiniest bit.

“Only if you call me Bruce.”

Over the next few years, Dick and Marinette went everywhere imaginable, traveling with the circus.

Eventually they decided to travel at their own pace. Marinette instided they spend more time in their favorite countries. They spent a few months in each, both gathering a love for each culture and language. Marinette especially took a bit of every country with her, absorbing each like a sponge.

Without the circus to keep them active in their travels and with barely any means to keep themselves protected, Dick and Marinette accumulated a mesh of different fighting styles. Neither ever truly mastered one, but both fought in a way very specific to them.

Currently somewhere in Italy, the two were waiting for one of their mentors to arrive for a meeting.

“Duckie!!” Marinette, now nine, ran to her brother with that particular spark in her eye, “Duckie! Guess what!”

Dick, smiled a little at the familiar nickname, “What’s up Nettie?”

Marinette jumped up and down excitedly. “Look what I can do!”

The small girl smiled and ran a little ways into the field nearby and did three handsprings to the shock, and pride of her brother.

“Good job Marinette,“ A voice that was not Dick‘s called from behind them, “I’m glad to see that you are improving well.”

An overall average looking man in his late 30’s wearing a firm, yet warm expression walked towards them.

Their mentor, Malachi Dobraski.

“Uncle Chi!” The Marinettw siblings voiced, running to him.

Malachi’s mouth turned upwards at the sibling’s outburst. “Yes, yes I have finally arrived. You two are, of course, ever so humbled to be in my presence.” There was a stretch of silence before the three burst out in laughter.

“Wonderful to see you two as always.” He said as he bent down to give Marinette a hug.

“So what did you need Malachi? You never call meetings so early in the month.” Dick said as he turned to face him.

Malachi hummed in an impressed manner, “Very astute Richard. I asked you here today because I wanted you to meet a friend of mine I had mentioned earlier. Gina, If you remember.”

At the mention of the woman Marinette perked up, The one who travels all around the world like us? We really get to meet her?” She topped off her questions with a wiggle of excitement.

“We’ll have to see about that Nettie.” Dick spoke fondly as he smiled at his sister’s antics. He then turned his attention to Malachi, “Will she be in town soon? You’re rarely one to throw out praise for no reason and you’ve spoken highly of her in the past.”

“She is a lady well deserving of my praise, Richard. To answer your question, yes. Ms. Gina will be in town Thursday evening.” their mentor said with another small grin.

Dick hummed while tapping his chin, “That’s about two days from now. Unfortunately me and Mari probably won’t be able to meet with her right away. We’re tied up until Saturday I believe. Will she be in town for long?”

“Gina is a free spirit, so it’s hard to say. However she has been interested in you two since I mentioned I was taking students again. I expect she’ll stay long enough to meet you.”

“That’s great!” Dick said, as cheerful as ever, “That settles it then.”

“Yay! We get to meet aunt Gina!” Marinette exclaimed, jumping up and down.

Instead of correcting his sister, Dick just shook his head with a laugh. Why does everyone we hear of instantly become family?

Marinette sat at a tall table in a quiet cafe. Her tiny legs swung eagerly underneath her as she hummed to herself. Her brother was up at the counter ordering their drinks. She was sketching, or trying to. It was really hard to focus when she was so full of jitters.

Today was the day they were supposed to meet Ms. Gina and while Marinette was excited, she was just as, if not more, nervous. She has always been this way with new people.

————————

That is the end of what i have written BUT NOW the outline:

Section One

Dick is older in this 16/17

Mari is 5 or 6

They grow up with their parents, until they die, again.

Dick is old enough to be emancipated/take custody of Mari

(Bruce didn’t adopt them but he helped Dick get emancipated and gave them loads of money)

Their parents were free spirits and loved to travel

Dick decides they should keep that alive.

The two stay with the circus traveling for around a year

And they continue to travel for 1 or 2 years

They meet Gina

Dick kinda wants to settle down Gina recommends Paris

They go to Paris

They get an apartment (thank you plot convenient Bruce money)

(she’s around 10 or 11 now. He’s 19 or 20 now)

Dick wants Mari to make friends or get a feel for regular school so she goes to FD

Section Two

Separately, Damian and the league are in turmoil (the coup happens)

Thalia might die Idk

Damian, not knowing what else to do, flees to Paris?

Tom and Sabine have always wanted children but were never successful

They find this aggressive child on the streets of course they take him in

Damian would grumble about their ‘lower status’ but would of course be secretly grateful and surprised at the unconditional love and care he receives from T and S

Section THree

Back to Mari

Being raised by Dick, she learned to be true to herself and also headstrong

She takes no crap from Chloé

(She eventually learns of her situation with her mother and they become less aggressive towards each other)

(she also learns a lot of different skills and fashion things)

Section Four

Damian arrives at FD

(He’s like 10 or 11 Mari is like 11)

Damian and Mari are both ahead of the curriculum (Both home schooled) same class

She is her kind self, doesn't know anyone else well and Dami is another new kid.

They stick together out of a sort of necessity

He’s cold at first but (go figure) he softens for her eventually

They slowly grow closer as friends

Dick becomes another behaviour mentor and Brother esq figure to Dami

Dick also sees Daminette’s in love right away

He teases Mari about it

Bada Boom they're 13 now

Section Five

Miraculos canon GO

Mari gets ladybug Dami gets cat

Mari doesn't get a crush on Adrien (the gum incident doesn’t happen because Chlo and Mari are on better terms)

Mari and Dami both immediately recognize each other in costume

Mari’s outfit is black with red detailing sans her cape/glider that’s full red with the five black spots. Has deep red boots that go up to the knee. Her ribbons are longer and can detach to use as a makeshift ribbon dance things (she also goes by Ladybird instead of Ladybug)

Damian’s outfit is his assassin outfit but black and tan undertones with cat ears (his pupils don’t change to slits) Damian goes by Leopard

Dick notices a change immediately He confronts Mari, She caves and tells him too

(She consequently reveals Damian’s Identity as well. No one could have that kind of chemistry with Mari that quickly)

He signs her up for many martial arts classes (She already had training in a few, picking up a lot from her travels)

Damian also helps train Mari in some ~Assassin Skills~

Basically, they’re bad asses.

The only thing stopping them from defeating Hawkey boy quickly is the fact that they can’t find where he is

Section Six

Moving on, Salt

Lila happens

Lila still sets her sights on Adrian (he’s got money at this point Damian is just a baker's boy to Lila.

Lila isolates the two from the rest of the class, even more so than they already were

Damian thinks the class are even bigger idiots

Lila is still an awful person and wants to make both Dami and Mari’s live miserable

Lila tries to go to Dick about Mari “bullying” her

He laughs in her face (he choses laughter instead of seething anger. thanks Hawky)

Lila then tries to get through to Tom and Sabine about Damian

This time it works, they have less reason to trust Damian (and he was also a major prick when they first took him in

(this happens over a year or so. Lila slowly gaining the trust of the class and Tom and Sabine)

The environment gets very toxic Dami and Mari decide to leave the school and go to online schooling (like at college level)

Section Seven

Time skip. They are 16 now

The two have had feelings for a while, they now realize them

Dami is less emotionally stunted, having both Dick and Mari around (Tom and Sabine too but they kinda suck now) so he doesn’t panic much

Mari is full panic mode

Dick is just in the corner all smug-like. (“you didn’t know you loved him? I’ve known this for years”)

Que pining

Lots of pining

There’s some angst, Tom and Sabine are negligent towards Damian (not mean but still neglectful)

He ends up staying with Dick and Mari more often than not

Eventually they both confess after a particularly rough akuma battle (the one where mari becomes the guardian?)

Both of them almost watched the other die. That was too heartbreaking for either of them to not confess

So they are together now.

It was an easy transition, they were already married pretty much

They’ve already figured out who Hawky boy is. They just need evidence

They get evidence. They also discover Lila was working with him

They take care of the Hawkmoth situation

Section Eight

Everything is good now right? Wrong

Batman Finally goes to Paris once Hawky is defeated,

(he kept in touch with Dick all these years and knew what was going on, {He practically became their “uncle Bruce”} He only stayed away cuz Hawkmoth)

When Damian sees Bruce visiting Mari’s House he freezes,

Mari: “what's wrong Dami?”

Dami: *whispers in her ear*

M: “He’s your WHAT???”

D; *whispers more*

M: “I- You- Um- WHAT”

D: *walks up to Bruce* “Hello, I know this is an odd way to meet but I am sure you know of Thalia Al’ Ghoul.” *B nods wairily* “Yes, well, I am your son. And unfortunately hers as well.”

“Yes, I’d be perfectly happy to do a blood test.”

Dick and Mari are shook

“Damian, You must come to live with me in Gotham”

Dun

Dunnnnnn!!!!!

End Part One

Again I am sincerely sorry I was not able to complete this story in time. Like I said before, I will (maybe/probably) be finishing this and planning a part two! I hope you enjoyed! (even though it’s the first fanfic i’ve written)

#maribat #maribat secret santa #platonic dickinette #sibling dickinette #daminette #maridami #mlb x dc

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leftonraed · 4 years

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The Night We Met - Episode 1

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 2.4k summary — Taehyung gets terrible news and finds himself in a delicate situation

Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7

The past month has been a complete blur. If you asked Taehyung to narrate the course of events after the moment he had been in charge of his niece, he wouldn’t be able to, especially when that small time frame included the one event he thought he’d never attend this quickly in his lifetime —

Hwiin got a little startled after he answered the door. While gauging his mood after several weeks of silence, she couldn’t take her eyes off the sullen man who seemed absent.

He was dressed in a dark suit. His hair was fully covering his eyes and had been dyed black, she was just at that moment able to notice it’d never been that long before.

The small heels of his shoes echoed loudly inside as he shuffled towards the living-room.

The gloomy winter sky, visible through the wide windows, narrowed the penthouse and gave the impression they lived in a black and white movie.

The shades of grey clashed unpleasantly with the barely audible cartoons displayed on the wide flat screen where Hina was sitting in front of. She hardly glanced Hwiin’s way.

She removed her purse and coat and put them on the couch while Taehyung kissed and whispered words to his niece. He didn’t get any response either. He stood up and joined Hwiin.

“I didn’t know how to do this-” he trailed softly as her eyes followed his hands feebly unfolding a paper with her eyes. He cleared his throat constricted with sorrow, “I wrote a couple of things down. If I forgot anything, send a text.”

She took it from him and realised she hadn’t said anything yet. What were you supposed to say in this situation, she wondered. The man she thought she knew so well almost struck her as a stranger and left her struggling for the right words.

Hwiin carefully looked up at him and felt her heart hurting at his sight. She should’ve been there for him those past weeks. She became angry with herself the longer she stared at his forlorn expression.

“Taehyung...” She hugged him tightly, as her way to make it up to him. He remained still. He didn’t want Hina to see him break down and cry.

“Thank you,” he only managed to whisper before she took a step back.

She quietly watched him walk out and never before had she felt a greater need to be by his side. She didn’t do anything of this sort.

She walked around the couch to sit next to the little girl she had been requested to look after for the day and tried to empty her mind. All she wanted was for this day to end.

So did he.

___________________________________________

He didn’t seem present during the entirety of the funeral.

His parents, he used to be so close to but had drawn away from after his debut as an idol, didn’t even manage to make him say anything. They didn’t bother him about it and respected his own way of mourning the family loss.

Taehyung could sense his brother’s in-laws itching to ask him about Hina but held themselves.

While he made other attendees think he looked elsewhere and “too expressionless” in their opinion, he’d actually been doing his best to keep it to himself. He couldn’t tell what helped him hide his emotions, it was so unlike him but he had held steady.

He was right behind his home’s door when he heard Hina’s cries before he even walked in.

Worry instantly frowned his face as he found Hwiin holding the little girl in her arms, soothing her.

“She’s been crying the whole time since she woke up from her nap,” she informed him with a hint of despair. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Hina looked at him and he felt his feet naturally pulling him towards her when her arms stretched outward in his direction.

He held her closely and she tightened him to herself, burying her face in his neck.

He would never know for sure but she sounded grief-stricken and gave him the impression that he was the only one left capable of assuaging her.

Taehyung felt his legs give in and knelt down.

He was finally giving in.

Tears, held deeply back within, coursed down in an unbroken stream to dampen her dress. His body hiccoughed his ache so violently, it seemed it wanted to retaliate for the strains he’d inflicted himself.

Hwiin watched silently with sorrowful eyes as the two of them sought comfort in each other. She caught herself wondering if his niece somehow understood she’d never see her parents again.

__________________________________________

Taehyung never questioned his brother’s wish to have him take care of his daughter if something were to happen. He isn’t living the ideal kind of life to raise a toddler and there are many to criticize him about it, his manager being the first of them, but having Hina feels surprisingly right.

He’s grateful to have her keeping his mind off things but she also reminds him unintentionally of her father and the other way around will inevitably happen.

He sometimes ponders the doubts he has as a caretaker, unpleasant thoughts that come flooding his mind every time he’d fail doing the right thing or get rejected by her; he gives a chance to others scenarios playing out different outcomes but they never satisfy him.

He seeks comfort in the reality that he needs a lot of time to get better at it and that there’s no reason to rush. It’ll give him enough to make his mind about the way he’ll have to address their reality one day.

One of his priorities is to make sure his home has everything his niece would need. This meant visiting his brother’s empty house. Hwiin had asked him if he’d need her but he preferred to be on his own and planned not to linger longer than necessary.

__________________________________________

“You didn’t tell me what you’re planning to do about the few shows left,” Hwiin suddenly initiates, locking her phone.

Taehyung sighs when Hina whines at his umpteenth attempts to keep her from drawing on the wall. Defeated, he stands up to show his manager out.

“Did you hear from Seojun?”

“Nope. I sent him a text a few days ago. He never answers my calls.”

“I can’t see myself going anywhere with her. And I’m definitely not bringing her with me.”

It’s Hwiin’s turn to sigh, although she does it out of light exasperation. “What about my babysitter idea?”

“Out of question.” She lifts her head at his sudden firm tone. “I don't want her to be around strangers.”

“What will you do if you don’t hear from him anymore? Taehyung, you can’t stay at home indefinitely.”

“If I have no choice-” He cuts off himself. “I’m sure everyone will understand.”

She pinches her lips and cranes her neck up to stare somewhere in the empty hallway, keeping her calm.

Leaning on the hand he’s holding the door with, Taehyung tilts his head to glance at her with a hint of amusement.

“I’ll call him myself.”

She looks back at him and blinks slowly, thankful. They say their goodbyes and he closes the door.

When he comes back, Hina’s still putting the finishing touches to her art and Taehyung ponders the thought of throwing the felt tips away once she’s done with them.

He plops himself down on the couch and takes his phone out of his pocket. He quickly finds his bodyguard’s number and makes a phone call. The line rings once.

“Taehyung!”

“H-hi,” he answers, surprised at the man’s quick answer. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m happy you called! I’m doing really good. What about you?”

“I’m okay- I think.”

“I know you’ve heard it when we last talked but I’m really, really sorry.”

“Thank you. I’m doing okay, ‘promise.”

Seojun doesn’t need to see him to doubt his words but gives him the benefit of the doubt. He tries to change the subject, “How’s the little one doing?”

“Good…” Taehyung’s gaze is directed at Hina's long hair. “I still didn’t get one word from her though.”

“Don’t worry about it, she’ll talk when she’s ready. You shouldn’t force these things.”

Taehyung hums in thought. “How did your break go? How’s everyone ?”

“Very good. Everyone’s doing great.”

“Glad to hear that!” Taehyung smiles a lazy grin and remembers the purpose of his call. “Seojun, I’m sorry I bring this a little abruptly but- when do you think you’ll be coming back? Hwiin told me she tried to contact you-”

“Ah yes,” he suddenly exclaims. “I actually wanted to talk to you directly.”

Amused, Taehyung’s brows furrow slightly. “Right.”

“I’ve never liked the way she looked down on people. But you do well to bring that up.”

He frowns a little more, anticipating.

“I… I don’t think I’ll be coming back anytime soon, Taehyung.” There’s a short pause. “I've been thinking about it lately and we’ve talked a lot with my wife… The fact is that- my family misses me and I miss them.”

Taehyung doesn’t know what to say immediately, “I’m sorry to hear that... But I understand.”

“Really? It’s just that- they’ve barely seen me the past six years and I thought maybe I needed to extend that break for a little longer while.” Seojun feels terrible now that he’s brought the news. As if the death of his brother wasn’t enough of a change.

“I totally do- I just- I don’t know what to do to keep working and look after my niece at the same time. I mean, th- there’s no one else I trust equally to look after her when I can’t.”

“I know and I’ve made sure you guys wouldn’t be left hanging.” He’s quick to reply, “I found someone to take over. Your agency’s already abreast of it. They’re okay to hire that person but they told me they wouldn’t make any decision until they get your last word.”

“Can you tell me more about him?”

“It’s actually a woman, she’s around your age. She’s attended the same security school I did and was the top of her class. I know her personally and was the one who offered to take the helm. I wouldn’t recommend anyone else to stand in for me.”

Taehyung would never doubt Seojun. They regard each other as family, so if Seojun trusted that woman enough to take charge of his responsibilities, he wouldn’t question him further.

“Okay.”

And it’s not like he could think of a better solution to tell Hwiin.

Seojun is relieved when he hears his answer, however he can feel he doesn’t seem totally convinced.

“I promise you, you won’t miss me once she starts.”

___________________________________________

“Hina,” complains Taehyung. “Why are you being so difficult? I thought you liked mashed carrots.”

He’s helpless and covered in what once has been her lunch. She’s on the verge of crying and shaking her legs, irritated. Her arm sways her small plate and Taehyung catches it before she makes an even bigger mess. She starts whining loudly.

“One second,” he mutters while cleaning her stained face before standing up to take her out of the high chair. She stops crying and leaves to watch cartoons still on T.V.

“I’ll go change. I’ll be in the bedroom,” he announces like he doesn’t know he’ll be ignored and leaves.

The doorbell rings a couple of minutes after, taking both Taehyung and Hina by surprise.

Seeing her uncle nowhere around, she stands up to totter toward the entrance holding onto her soft toy. Taehyung just got rid of his dirty clothes when he decides to come out only dressed in a pair of red boxers, remembering he’s expecting Hwiin to come by.

He finds Hina trying to reach for the handle, perched on her tippy-toes.

“Let me help you,” he smiles lightly at her when he looks down, seeing her small face after she craned her neck to the fullest. He taps in the security code and opens and she hurries to push it wide open.

“Hello.”

Hina walks to go behind him at the sight of a stranger. There’s a short silent while that lasts awfully long the second Taehyung understands he’s in his underwear and that he doesn’t recognize you.

“You’re not Hwiin,” he trails quietly.

You shake your head looking back at him very calmly.

From the corner of your eye, you notice his niece hiding behind his leg, peeking shyly at you. You squat at her level and blood rushes up Taehyung’s cheeks.

“You’re Hina, right?” You look at her. “This is for you.”

He pulls himself together. “You didn’t have to,” he chuckles abashed.

His niece stares at the toy piano you offer her. You press one key to make a sound and lit it up in hopes to get her pleased with it.

Taehyung can’t help but think a gift is the last thing she deserves after the tantrum she threw just minutes ago. “Say thank you, Hina.”

She carefully takes it from you and there’s a hint of a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Who’s Hwiin?” You gaze up at Taehyung.

Shit. You need to get up. He needs to put on some clothes, he thinks.

“My manager. Are you-”

“Y/N, your new bodyguard.” You straighten up with your hands behind you.

“Taehyung. Nice to meet you.” He feels Hina, pulling the hem of his boxers and swiftly takes her in his arms. She keeps an iron grip on the toy. “Uh- Please, come in.”

You step inside when he moves away and closes the door behind you. He stares at you as you take a look around, surprised you remain unaffected by his lack of clothing but still thinks it’s not the appropriate way he should have welcomed you in.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I didn’t know you’d come home so early.” He explains as he puts down Hina. “Make yourself at home. ‘Be right back.”

You watch him disappear without a word, his niece follows him while gazing curiously at you. You bring your eyes back on the splendid view the penthouse overlooks.

When Taehyung comes back, closely followed, you’re still standing nearby the window. He’s intrigued and curious as to what made you so special in Seojun’s eyes.

///////////////////////!\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Feedback very much appreciated Reblog if you wish to read more

#taehyung smut #taehyung scenarios #Taehyung fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #taehyung angst #bts imagines #bts reactions #Taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

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thinkingaboutyoungroyals · 3 years

Text

Falling For You But You Are Worlds Away: Chapter 4

AO3

Three months passed. The winter snow melted and made way for spring showers.

Simon was proud to say that he had managed to adjust to life in New York fairly well.

The first month was difficult, there was no doubt about that. He was constantly sad and missed his mother, Sara, Ayub, Rosh, and… Wilhelm. He mostly stayed home unless Ana or Tia Elena would drag him out. He hated the subway and how loud and tight it was. And he rarely talked to anyone at school unless he really had to and mostly stuck to Ana’s side during lunch and GSA meetings.

But, eventually, he got used to all of it.

His homesickness was often abated by speaking to his mother every week and messaging Sara, Ayub, and Rosh on Instagram almost everyday.

“How are you, mi amor?” his mother would ask.

“I’m fine, Mama,” he would reply.

“How’s school?” she would follow up.

And, then, Simon would tell her about his day, what he and his new friends have been up to, and toss something in about how much the subway sucks.

“Spoken like a true New Yorker,” Ana said when she heard him.

Simon also made a new Instagram so he could post photos of his adventures in New York (he had to abandon the old one – there were too many creeps sliding in his DMs and many of them made him sick to his stomach). After much urging from Ana, he finally joined the school’s Glee Club and met some nice people he could hang out with. And he and Darren from GSA had become very good friends.

It was obvious from the get-go that Darren had the biggest crush on Dominic, the GSA president, and was always flirting and trying to get the older boy to go out with him. Dominic always refused, stating school as the priority over dating. It never deterred Darren, though, as he kept trying. Simon both admired his persistence and found him kind of idiotic for going after someone who didn’t want to go out with him.

(“All in the name of love, baby,” Darren said in response to Simon’s blunt observation.)

And, speaking of dating, Simon was pretty proud of himself for actually managing to go on a date. Even though he said he wasn’t looking to date, at first, he found himself wanting to give it a shot. So, he said “yes” to the one boy from Glee Club who asked him out. He was nice and had a beautiful singing voice. It didn’t really go anywhere, though. Simon partly blamed it on the fact that the boy wasn’t really his type and partly because he really wasn’t over Wilhelm, yet.

But, it was progress… right?

And, today, he was making one more step towards it.

“I think you’re next,” piped Ana from the seat beside him. “You sure you want to do this?”

Simon swallowed the lump in his throat. “Y-Yeah,” he managed, a little nervous. “You said this will help.”

His cousin bit her lip and shrugged. “I mean, it’s a superstition… belief… thing. I don’t know if it works but people say it does.”

“No harm in trying.” Simon fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater. “Besides, it’s getting long anyway.”

“Hi,” said the kind-looking Asian woman. “It's your turn.”

Simon nodded as he stood up. He followed her until they reached an empty chair, which she swung towards him. He sat and she whirled it around to face the mirror.

“What would you like?” she asked as she fastened a long black cape over his body.

“Um… can you cut about… three inches?”

Her eyes widened. “Really? You have nice curly hair. Prettiest I’ve seen.”

He blushed. “Thanks. But, um, yes, just cut it, please.”

The hairdresser looked a little sad at the prospect of cutting Simon’s hair but she nodded and prepared her tools.

Simon took one last look at his hair – his curly mess of a hair that Wilhelm loved to playfully tug and run his fingers through.

It will be gone soon. And, maybe, along with it, his feelings for the Crown Prince of Sweden.

..........

Wilhelm was making no progress in moving on. Maybe because he didn’t really want to move on.

He had been regularly meeting with the school therapist. It helped his anxiety a little but it wasn’t like he could really talk about missing Simon, regretting his decisions, and how he wished (for the thousandth time) that he wasn’t a prince.

But, if there was anything he learned from being royal was that if you wanted something done, efficiently, you can either delegate or do it yourself. And since he could not delegate his search for Simon to others, he would do it himself.

The smell of hay and horses greeted Wilhelm as soon as he stepped into the stables. It didn’t bother him, he liked horses. They were nicer than people so he understood why Sara liked them so much.

One black horse tapped Wilhelm’s head as he passed and Wilhelm paused to rub its nose. The horse snorted, making Wilhelm chuckle before going on his way.

As expected, he found Sara in Rousseau’s stall, happily brushing him as she made small talk.

Wilhelm paused, unsure about continuing. She was still angry with him and he couldn’t blame her. But, three months had passed and he was desperate. He would face her wrath if it meant he could finally know where Simon was.

Clearing his throat, he stepped closer.

Sara turned her head and as soon as she saw him, her smile disappeared and her eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing her, Prince?” she practically hissed.

Wilhelm bit his lip. “I just… want to talk to you.”

Sara turned back to Rousseau. “I’m not telling you where my brother is.”

“Sara, please.”

She put away the brushes before turning to him. “Why should I do that for you?”

Wilhelm bit his lip, stumped. Sara’s gaze was piercing on him and if looks could kill, he had no doubt he was a goner.

“You’re not… doing it for me. Not really.”

She quirked an eyebrow.

Wilhelm took a deep breath and released a sigh. “I made a mistake,” he confessed. “What I did to Simon… it’s unforgivable. I shouldn’t have left him alone. I should have… done something different. But, it’s done and there’s nothing I can do anymore. That’s why I need to talk to him again. I need to make it up to him. I just… Sara, I just…” He bit his lip again. “I miss him… I miss, Simon. And, I know I don’t deserve him. But, I miss him.”

Sara continued to stare at him, her face unreadable. She wasn’t budging.

Wilhelm swallowed, not really wanting to resort to what he ended up saying next.

“And... You owe him… and me.”

Sara blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Wilhelm took another deep breath to strengthen his resolve. “I know that you knew that August leaked the video.”

He watched as her expression finally changed – from indifference to shock.

“He promised to help you apply for a grant but he didn’t. So, you told Felice what he did and she didn’t speak to you for a week. I know because she told me but begged me not to do anything. She cares about you. And I wouldn’t have anyway because you’re Simon’s sister and he loves you.”

It was Felice who helped Sara get the grant, gave her recommendations and everything.

“But, you never told Simon any of this. So, yes, you owe him and you owe me.”

She glared at him. “I don’t like you.”

“I know.” Wilhelm took a tentative step closer. “Please, Sara. I need to talk to him.”

She sighed. “Mama will be angry with me.”

“I won’t tell her that you told me.”

Sara pursed her lips as she looked at him, as if examining him for more lies. Then, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again to catch his gaze.

“Just so you know, I’m just telling you so that you’d leave me alone. And don’t you dare tell Simon about me and August. I… I’ll tell him, myself. Just not right now because he’s not here and I don’t want him to be angry with me while he’s so far away.”

Wilhelm held his breath, his heart beating as he waited in anticipation.

“He’s in New York. We have an aunt there. He’s living with her.”

New York. Simon was in New York. That was only eight hours away by plane. The Royal family had a private jet. Could he get away with borrowing it and leaving for a weekend? Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to just pop in, right? He could come up with some excuse to his mother. Hell, maybe she didn’t even have to know!

“Wilhelm.”

His mental plans were disrupted by Sara’s firm voice. He looked at her as she frowned at him.

“I know what you’re thinking. And you shouldn’t. Simon is okay there. He has friends. And he likes New York.”

The hope in Wilhelm began to wither.

“It’s not forever, you know,” said Sara. “He’ll be back.”

Wilhelm swallowed, fingers digging into his palm. “Does he hate me?”

To his surprise, Sara chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do to make Simon hate you.” She stepped up to him and awkwardly patted his arm. “You don’t have to worry about that. Just… let him be, for now, okay?”

Wilhelm nodded. “Okay. Thank… Thank you, Sara. Thank you.”

She offered him a small smile. “Anything else?”

He shook his head then looked at Rousseau. “Need help?”

Her eyes widened at that. “A prince? Helping at the stables?”

He shrugged and walked over to Rousseau. “I know how to ride and I’ve helped take care of horses before.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious, before shrugging. She picked up the brush again and tossed it at him.

“Then, get to work, Prince.”

Wilhelm smiled. He and Sara barely talked before, even when he and Simon were… together. He felt a little awkward around her, sometimes. But, maybe they could be friends. After all, they were both missing Simon. That was one thing they had in common.

“I still don’t like you, though,” she said.

One step at a time.

........

Wilhelm kept his promise to Sara and resisted getting on his private plane and taking off for New York.

He lasted until June.

And, it wasn’t his fault, really.

He heard Madison and Felice talking about the latter visiting her in New York during workies.

So, Wilhelm had leaned over and asked, “Can I join you?”

Maddie blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Can I join you in New York?”

Maddie's brows furrowed. “Um… sure. But, why, though?”

Wilhelm grinned. “Simon is there. And I want to see him.”

#young royals #simon x wilhelm

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

Push and Pull (Part 18)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, angst

-------

Daphne sat in a plush chair in front of a large solid wood desk. She was silent as she watched across to Mrs Grimes who was pouring over all of the evidence with silent rage. She'd gone through the file and was now on her fancy ass computer looking at the billion pictures she'd found. One of the large tinted windows in the room was cracked open, birds chirping from outside as a nice breeze came in. The weather was quite warm that day, the sun shining brightly as spring was well under way. Daphne had on a strappy black maxi dress with thigh high slits, her boots on and her deep purple hair was in two French braids. The most effort she'd put into her hair in a while. The nice weather had encouraged her to make an effort.

She picked at her black chipped nails as she patiently waited for the older woman to look through all of the evidence. The silence was deafening and Daphne kept finding her thoughts drifting off. It had been two days since she'd last seen any of her new friends and Karen's words kept itching at her brain before she opted to ignore them. She’d had a few texts from Foggy checking in with her and thankfully she hadn't seen or heard from Matt at all. It was peaceful.

"That rat bastard! He's making a mockery of me, he's not even hiding it!" Mrs Grimes finally snapped. Daphne had sensed it was coming. She chose not to respond, not knowing what to say. Usually she would say a few mildly comforting words to her clients but Mrs Grimes wasn't heartbroken, she was just pissed at the blatant disrespect. Daphne couldn't blame her. Mrs Grimes stood abruptly, stalking over to the cabinet and pouring some drinks. She didn't ask Daphne, but as the glass full of alcohol that was no doubt the same price as a month of rent was placed in front of her, she didn't argue as she took a large pull from it. It was smoother than what she was used to but she wasn’t surprised since this wasn't the bottom shelf shit she was used to.

Mrs Grimes sat back down gracefully despite her building anger. She took a sip of her drink and looked like she was thinking things over. Daphne just waited patiently as she enjoyed her moment with the fancy scotch.

"I want revenge," the older woman said after a moment. Her voice was calm like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"Oh?" Daphne quirked her brows, curious where this was going.

"He's making a fool of me and blatantly so. I want a divorce but there’s also another way to hurt him," Mrs Grimes mused softly. Daphne settled deeper into the chair, her curiosity burning.

"My husband has always kept the business from me, said I didn't need to be involved. But over the many years with him I've learned some things and he has no idea," she paused to take another sip of her drink.

"My husband is a man in power. His job allows him access to a lot of private client information that in the wrong hands would be… catastrophic. But he's also a greedy leech, and I found out a few years ago that the Italian mob had been paying him. He's been selling clients information to them. Some of them would go bankrupt and others...well they just vanished, never to be seen of again. I think we're smart enough women to figure out where they went," she muttered tensely. The bottom of the Hudson no doubt.

"Why are you telling me this?" Daphne asked bluntly. Mrs Grimes chuckled at her, seemingly enjoying the no nonsense approach Daphne often had.

"He's a criminal, assisting worse criminals to boot. I could take him down, get him locked away. His name would be tarnished and he'd have nothing left. After I divorced him obviously," she said carefully.

"Do you have proof?" Daphne enquired. Honestly, this was pretty big. The kind of thing Brett would like to hear. Mr Grimes would know all kinds of information they could use to try and get the Italians.

Mrs Grimes heaved a sigh and crossed a leg over the other.

"Not here. We have another house, he's stayed there more and more over the years and now I rarely see him. That's where he'd keep it all, in his study," she explained. Daphne pursed her lips. Another house? These fucking people.

"Can't you go and get it?" She asked pointedly. They couldn't do anything without that information and sending the cops to go and search would be useless. They'd need a warrant and she knew that would be difficult when it came to a powerful and wealthy man like Mr Grimes, who could easily pay people to sweep it all away.

"Can I be frank with you, Ms Weaver?" She asked seriously. Daphne nodded, as if they'd been anything but during this unexpected conversation.

"He's already taken the other house over. He has security and if I turned up they'd send me away. They have no respect. That's how I know where all his shady business goes down because I'm forbidden to go in there. I think he knows I know something. And I worry if I tried to force my way in, it wouldn't end well for me. All he'd need to do is say the word to the criminals he associates with and I'll be gone," she muttered bitterly. It did sound promising though that there was something in the other house worth hiding from his wife.

"How do we get it then? You're forbidden and it's heavily guarded, there'll be no chance," Daphne sighed.

"That's where you come in," the older woman grinned. Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes and groan. Of course it was.

"My husband is throwing a ball next week, I'm not invited of course, but it's given us a way to get you in. It's mostly upper-class, no doubt some of the Italians, god knows who else. I can pull some strings, get you on the guest list. You can just say you're from a well-off family, no one will really care. But once you're in, you can try to get to his study and get what we need," she explained. Daphne was mildly impressed. It was a sneaky plan. But she also didn't like her part in it.

She stayed silent for a moment as she ran through the options. It was the only plan really, they didn't have another. She gave no shits about Mrs Grimes petty revenge on her husband but she did care about the Italians and this was another way in. That was the only reason why she was considering something like this when it could very seriously go ass upwards. Mrs Grimes watched her carefully as she mulled it over in her head.

"I know it's dangerous, which is precisely why I'm not turning up there. I will pay you handsomely for doing this and I know you can see it through," she pressed on. She scribbled something down on a piece of paper before sliding it to her. Daphne's eyes bugged out of her head for a moment as she saw how much the woman was going to pay her. Maybe it wasn't much since this was her life on the line if things went wrong but $8000 was a huge amount of money. She didn't really need it. She wasn't one for material things and she was fine how she was. She had a steady income that paid her well. She thought back to something Karen had said in passing the night she came over and it was similar to something Foggy had complained about numerous times to her.

Daphne blew out a sigh, downing the rest of her drink.

"I have a counter offer," she proposed, a stern look on her face. Mrs Grimes nodded to hear it.

"I'm risking my ass by going in there. I have history with the Italians and one slip up, I'm bleeding among sharks. If I do this for you, then when you get the divorce, you hire Nelson and Murdock for it. You pay them the same amount you were going to pay me. And if you like their services, which I'm sure you will, you'll recommend them to your friends. But just so you know, they won't represent genuinely bad people, so be careful who you send there," she gave the older woman an expectant look unsure of what she should say.

"I know you would have gone to some fancy ass lawyer to get it done but these guys are good and they care about their job. So much so that most of the time they take on cases for barely any money or none at all. They need that money and you need the evidence. That's my only offer," she added with a stern face. She could have taken it for herself, but why? She didn't care about it. But Foggy, Karen and even reluctantly Matt did care. She hated how despondent Foggy would get when he worried about the firm. How they were in the negatives. How he wasn't sure how much longer they'd be able to stay open. They couldn't even afford to pay Karen which is what led her to the Bulletin in the first place. And while she didn't like Matt and she'd never seen him or Foggy in action, she'd heard nothing but great things and praise about them at the station. Not everyone had money for a decent attorney, but that didn't matter to them. Everyone deserved that help. She had a chance to help with that and she was running with it.

"Deal," Mrs Grimes settled with a nod. Daphne was a little shocked by how easy it was but then again she guessed she really wanted to nail her husband to the wall. She leaned over shaking hands with her before she grabbed her backpack and got ready to leave.

"Here. This is what I owe you from the investigation you already did. And I’ll pay for you to get a dress for the ball so you don’t stand out too much," she handed her $1000 in cash and Daphne stuffed it into her bag, watching as the woman scribbled something down on a small piece of paper.

"I'd recommend these stores. Tell them I sent you in and it’ll be taken care of. It's a very grand affair, tell them it's a ball and they'll pick some things for you to try. I'll also put you down with a plus one on the guestlist. It might be a little less… conspicuous if you took someone with you," she murmured, gesturing to Daphne's purple hair. She squinted in slight offense but took the piece of paper anyway and put it in her hoodie pocket.

Once again the driver had been instructed to take her home. She opted for him to drop her off down the street. Now she knew the Italians were involved in this somehow, she didn't want to chance people knowing where she lived. She didn't know if Mr Grimes was having his wife monitored or not. When she did finally arrive home, she was hot and tired. The sun was glaring through her large window by the fire escape and she opened it letting in some air since she didn't have AC. She kicked off her boots and lay on her back on the couch. She tried to run through how the night at the ball would go but there were far too many variables. She just had to hope for the best. It should be busy and filled with self important people who wouldn't think about looking into who she was too closely. Once they were all distracted, she could slip away and leave, hopefully without incident.

She thought back to Mrs Grimes' advice on bringing someone and she grumbled. It would make her look less noticeable and if she was alone there was every chance guys may approach her to talk. She wanted to slip under the radar as much as possible. Having a date would fix that but she had no one. She wouldn't ask Foggy. Not only because he was in a relationship and it was weird even as friends, but because of how dangerous it was. She refused to ask Brett. She decided not to tell him about the intel she had until she got the proof. He wouldn't approve of her doing this and if the cops got involved prematurely then the evidence would get destroyed. Mrs Grimes would also most likely disappear and she refused to have the death of another client weigh on her conscience.

The only person that kept coming to mind was Matt and she hated it. He would be perfect. The unassuming blind man, no one would suspect them. He also had his super senses that would prove to be incredibly useful and if things got hairy she knew he'd have her back. It would risk him exposing himself if it really came to it and he had to fight but that was the worst case scenario. She really just didn't want to speak to him though. The last time they spoke had really pissed her off and she'd been enjoying the peace of him not being around lately. Did she really want to disrupt that? As useful as he would be by her side, she didn't want to do that to herself. They'd have to blend in as a couple, dancing and being nice to each other. She didn't need the headache.

She came to the conclusion she was better off going on her own and saving herself future annoyance when it came to the vigilante. She lay on her sofa for a little while just too tired to move. She wasn't sleeping much at all and she'd found herself going to Fogwell's gym everyday the last two days to take her frustration out on the punching bag. She always made sure to go at a time when Matt didn't tend to go so she didn't run into him. She wondered how long it would be before she burnt herself out completely.

A rhythmic knock sounded at her door that let her know it was Foggy. He usually did a weird little knock when he came to see her.

"Come in," she called from where she lay. The door opened and she glanced at the door as Foggy walked in.

"What is this? You're just too lazy to open the door and greet me now? That hurts," he pouted. She laughed but made no move to get up as he waltzed over and flopped into the armchair.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr Nelson?" She yawned softly into her hand.

"A weird thing just happened. We got a phone call from a Mrs Grimes, a real wealthy woman. She asks us to help her with her divorce. Her husband's a cheat and into some illegal things apparently. She says someone recommended us to her. She paid us $4000 dollars up front with another when it's all over with. $4000! Can you believe that?!" Foggy asked incredulously.

"That's a lot of money," she murmured in agreement.

"Yeah… funny thing though, Karen seemed to recognise her name. Mrs Grimes is the name of your client and her cheaty illegal husband is the guy you've been spying on…" he trailed off, waiting for her answer.

"Small world, huh?" She smiled at him.

"Seriously? You think I don't know you had something to do with this giant heap of good luck?" He scoffed. She groaned as she sat up, rubbing her eyes a little before settling into a sitting position.

"Fine, you got me. She wants some extras for her case and offered me a lot of money. Money I don't need but I know you guys do. So I made a deal with her that you'd be her lawyers and she'd pay what she would have given me," she explained. Foggy still looked stunned and he shook his head.

"What does she need you to do that costs that much?" He asked bewildered. She sighed, wiping a hand down her face wearily.

"Oh god, is it that bad?" He asked hesitantly.

"Kinda. But since I just practically gave $8000 to keep your firm in practice, I expect no lectures from you when you hear it," she asserted with a raised brow. He nodded reluctantly, not able to argue with her.

"The illegal stuff she said about her husband? He's in bed with the Italians. He sells them client information. She said that some of them ended up bankrupt and some just went 'missing'," she did air quotes and Foggy's jaw gaped a little.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

"She wants to get back at him for cheating. She said he humiliated her with how blatant he was about it. She wants to expose him, get him locked up but she needs proof and she wants me to get it. It's a whole complicated thing… but yeah. I'll be going to a ball Mr Grimes is throwing next week undercover and I need to sneak into his office at some point and look for proof. Some of the Italians might be there and who knows who else so I'll be dressed up and acting as a rich bitch," she blew out a breath after her attempt at explaining.

Foggy blinked at her for a moment.

"I really want to tell you that this is a bad idea and you shouldn't go. But I agreed no lectures and you did just basically help us keep our doors open at the firm. But I will say that I'm worried. Very worried," he muttered tensely.

"I'm honestly nervous too. But if it goes well then I'll be fine. I'll be extra careful and if it seems too hairy then I'll get out of there. I promise," she reassured. She meant it too. Mrs Grimes refused to go herself because of the risk so she'd get it if she had to duck out and try something else.

"Okay… I guess I'll just have to accept that," he said reluctantly. She was happy he wasn't fighting her on this because it was already stressing her out.

"And you can't tell Matt," she pointed at him. He frowned deeply and sighed.

"What do you mean I can't tell Matt? He was there when Karen made the connection, you don't think he's gonna be curious about the amount of money?" He asked incredulously.

"Just tell him it was what she was paying me for the normal investigation. She's got more money than sense. He'll have to believe that. I really don't need him butting in with this, not when Mrs Grimes already thinks I should take someone with me to the ball," she huffed.

"Okay now I'm just confused. Wouldn't Matt be the perfect person to take with you?" He asked with furrowed brows.

"If he wasn't a dick then yeah," she glowered. Foggy nodded, leaning forward with his arms on his knees as he looked at her.

"I don't know what went down after I left the other day, but this feels way worse than normal and I don't like it,"he mumbled forlornly. She rubbed her temples and raked her teeth over her lower lip as she stayed silent.

"Was it what he said? About Mr Lee?" He questioned gently. She'd almost forgotten he'd been there for that remark. Her lips stayed firmly sealed as she glared at the coffee table, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Talk to me, Daph. You and Matt are both my friends and it's hard being in the middle like this. He's done nothing but mope around doing his Catholic guilt thing since you last saw him and you seem miserable. I care about you. I'm not gonna sit here and force you to like him or even spend time with him, but I want you to talk to me," he implored. She took a deep breath, mulling over if she should tell him. But he’d wore her down and she found her mouth opening anway.

"His words really cut me deep. They hurt me and I didn't expect that. We've said a lot of shit to each other since we met but that was just… it was cruel. And I get it, he was scared and he lashed out. He said sorry and I actually believe him. But I'm mad at myself. I'm mad because I let him in somehow without realising it. I gave him the power to hurt me with his words. I'm mad because somewhere along the way something changed and I actually care about what he thinks of me," she whispered without looking at him. She almost felt ashamed to get it all out, lay it all on the table. But Foggy wasn't Matt. Being vulnerable around him wouldn't get her hurt.

Foggy scratched his chin, looking at her sadly.

"I wanna say something and I don't want you to interrupt... I think that maybe you need to come to terms with the fact that feelings are involved in this thing with Matt," he started. She opened her mouth to protest but he shot her a look, promptly snapping her mouth closed.

"You both can deny it until you're blue in the face, but it's there. It's always been intense with you two. Since the moment you met, up 'til now. No matter what emotion it is, it's strong. And there's a fine line between love and hate," he added.

"I don't love Matt!" She protested, unable to keep quiet at that ridiculous notion.

"Maybe not love. Not yet. But something. You both get under each other's skin so easy because you both care about what the other says. You get hurt when he's genuinely been a dick and he's hurt because he knows he's hurt you. I get it's weird and complicated with you both. And now there's intense sex thrown into the mix and its all blurry. But at some point you two stopped being mere annoyances to each other and denying it is just making things worse," he frowned. She clenched her jaw, really not wanting to be part of this conversation.

"Matt's been through so much in his life. Like a rigorous amount of bullshit and I sometimes don't know how he keeps going. And he's lost a lot of people one way or another. He shields himself because he's scared. He doesn't wanna get hurt again. But you… I think you got to him. I think you chipped at the armor he wears and that terrifies him. So his only way of dealing with it is being an asshole to push you away. And something tells me you're exactly the same way," he murmured.

"You don't know me," she snapped without meaning to. He looked hurt and nodded.

"Fine," he stood up and walked to the door. She scrunched her face up feeling like the worst person ever. Foggy was the last person she ever wanted to hurt and her chest felt tight.

"You know what? No, it's not fine. You're doing it right now and I'm not biting!" He frowned, whirling back around and pointing a finger at her. She lowered her head like a scolded child but took it because she deserved it.

"I'm not saying you guys are in love or that anything will come out of it. But I know my best friend more than anyone and I know when someone's affecting him. And I've seen it with you two from the start, even if you both refuse to admit it. But what I'm saying is that maybe it's time you both just stop. Stop with the angst and the bullshit because you're only hurting yourselves. Try to be friends or something. Anything’s better than this endless loop you're both on," he groused and she stood up to face him.

"I'm not like you, Foggy. I can't just… I don't know how to connect with someone. The only way we became friends was because it's you. You just have this way about you and it's so easy to be around you. And I've tried with Matt, I've shared things with him, personal things and he threw them back in my face. So yeah, maybe I do shut down and I'm not easy to be around for him but it's because he makes it impossible. There is no way out of this endless loop. You told me that me and Matt are a lot alike and honestly I think you're right. Which is why it would never work being friends or anything else with him. I know he can be a great guy, I've seen it. But he's not that guy with me," she frowned.

Foggy hung his head and nodded.

"I just think… if you guys moved past this crap, you could make each other really happy. But I'll drop it," he relented. She stayed silent as her emotions were all over the place. She didn't know what to think any more.

"We're all going to Josie's tomorrow night to celebrate the money thing. Karen really wanted you to come as a thank you… but no pressure," he murmured quietly.

He gave her a hug before he saw himself out and she just stood there for a moment. She couldn't help but think back to what Karen said and how similar it was. She had no idea why people seemed to think there was something there with them both when they couldn't even manage to be friends. They were both hard headed and stubborn and lashed out when someone got too close. That wouldn't make anyone happy. But she couldn't deny the fact that Foggy had some points that rang true. Because it had turned into something somewhere along the way. If it hadn't then she wouldn't have been hurt by his words and she would have brushed them off like so many times before. Maybe feelings were involved but she had no idea which ones. She wasn't used to having them.

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

15 notes · View notes

samwrights · 4 years

Note

I’m sorry but ukai with a breeding kink😳yes PLEASE

I swear I saw another ask that asked for Ukai with an impreg kink

*ahem* anyways—WOW this one was a doozy but holy shit did I have fun writing it. 11k words you guys. 11. K. It is a lot so grab some cocoa or coffee and a blanket because this is a read. It even has to be split into two parts because I hit the fucking text limit, BUT this also means there is no actual smut in this portion. You can find that here.

If you guys need some ear candy, I recommend the following:

Day N Nite (Crooker’s Remix) by Kid Cudi

Pursuit of Happiness (Extended version with Steve Aoki) by Kid Cudi

Breaking Me by Topic

C’Mon by Ke$ha

Flannel by The Cardboard Swords (it has to be sad somewhere)

Magic in the Hamptons by Social House

Fun fact: Ke$ha was actually the primary inspiration for this fic and for DJ!Ukai. God bless her.

Warnings: language, nicotine and alcohol consumption, implied drug use, implied emotionally abusive relationship, breeding/impreg kink, dirty talk, rough sex, risky sex, road head, slight dub-con, praise, multiple smut scenes, 3rd person POV reader-insert—because the word ‘you’ just didn’t seem to fit.

Without further ado, please enjoy the filthy depths of my brain followed by a relatively happy ending that I’ve titled, “Between the Lines’” :-)

“You’ve been more tired lately, and you’re showing up right when practice starts. Is everything okay?” Was the question that Takeda had asked Ukai Keishin that haunted him for years to come. Sure, he had wanted to gain more independence from his parents, wanted to start being more adult-like and take over the mortgage and the bills so his parents could finally rest. At the age of twenty-six, it seemed like a good idea at the time. With four years passing, however, Keishin was so damn tired, but it wasn’t like he could just stop working.

He was still tending to crops every morning, tending to the shop, coaching for Karasuno, but in the four years time, he had adopted one more job on the weekends—Ukai Keishin was a local nightclub DJ. He’d discovered the job opportunity one fateful night that he was out with his friends from the neighborhood association. To this day, he was still unsure of why he was approached with the job, especially considering he didn’t know the first thing about being a DJ, but the woman who had offered him the position had taught him everything he needed to know.

It turned out that he had a natural affinity for the position, seeing as he was still at it years later under the alias Spira. Ukai kept telling himself that he would quit the gig eventually because there was no way he could continue working four jobs—it was inhuman and the money didn’t even really matter to him. Okay, that last one is a lie; his DJ gig has been a substantial contributor to his savings funds to the point where he was even able to afford a newer, larger, (and slightly) used SUV in full compared to his tiny, old yellow beater. Even his mortgage bills were starting to look less daunting with the current cash flow.

Who needs sleep anyway? Ukai survived and thrived off of nicotine and caffeine anyway. Besides, sleep was the last thing on his mind whenever he set foot into the club. It was impossible to think of anything other than the writhing bodies of sweaty, young adults that were already drunk or high or were practically fucking each other with their clothes on. Perhaps that was part of the reason Keishin felt the need to quit this job—he was envious. Envious of the fact that he never got to indulge in his youth like these kids did; he started working and helping his family out right away after college. Sure, he went out here and there, but these twenty-something-year-olds were living their best life, while he was thirty and catering to their whims.

To say he was a bit bitter would be an understatement.

Bitterness aside, however, it did him good to see the youth enjoying exactly that—their youth. They got to do as they pleased between exams and becoming functioning members of society and, while he was jealous, Ukai was proud to be able to contribute to their pleasure.

He’d arrived to the club early, as he often did, to try to grab a drink before he was due for stage time. Ukai was thankful the bartenders knew him enough that he didn’t have to verbally order considering the music was too loud to hear him in the first place. A rum and coke manifests itself in a small, plastic cup that the blonde raises in thanks before weaving and bobbing around the various partygoers. For the most part, he’s successful in dodging the flailing bodies as he mutely notes the very upbeat remix of some female pop artist playing.

But only remotely successful as Keishin attempts to salvage his drink from spilling as he raises it over his head as one of the partygoers is pushed into him. “Hey, careful!” He snaps toward the younger, [hair color]ed woman. She only looks half-offended by the scolding, but otherwise unperturbed. If anything, the dominating expression on her face was confusion.

“Coach Ukai?” He’s surprised to hear both his given name and his title, let alone coming from a club patron, as they all knew him as Spira. Recognition slips his mind entirely—he’s never met this girl in any way that he can remember. Certainly, he would never forget crossing paths with this beauty, even if she was dressed in a similarly juvenile fashion to the other ravers. Tight crop top tee cinched together by a knot at the midriff, with army green high-waisted shorts attempting to cover the bare skin, face painted with makeup, glitter, and sweat; even underneath the garb, she brought forth no recollection. “Uh, d-do you remember me?” It’s a challenge to hear over the music, but she presses forward close enough that her lips are right in Keishin’s ear.

“Can’t say that I do,” he yells right back into hers.

“Karasuno class of twenty-twelve, I was Sugawara’s girlfriend.” Oh.

Oh.

Now he remembered, vaguely, but he doesn’t ever remember her looking like this. The last four years had been incredibly kind to her, in more ways than one. Back in her Karasuno days, [name] had always looked pleasant, for lack of better term. But there was always a lifeless, matted, dull glaze to her eyes that screamed she was searching for something more. While it was still somewhat present, there was a substantial joyous air around her. It looked good on her. However, as much as Ukai wanted to stay and admire, he had to go get set up for the evening. Or rather, that was the excuse he used when he said he would catch her after the show. “[name], did you know who that was?” The woman in question gives a nod, confused at the sudden star struck gawks that her friends held.

“Uh, yeah? My ex-boyfriend’s volleyball coach?”

“No dude, that was the DJ, Spira.”

“What?”

Being the closing act meant a lot of different things to Ukai Keishin. On the negative spectrum, it meant he was going to have to tend to crops as soon as he finished cleaning up his set. That also meant he wasn’t going to get to go to bed until nearly eight in the morning after his shift at the farm. Yet, for him, the positives greatly outweighed the negatives. For Keishin, watching the audience lose themselves in euphoria, albeit probably a drug-induced one, just hit different for him. It was a sense of satisfaction that only came from a select few activities, with coaching volleyball being the other major contributor. There was just something about the way the crowd was overwhelmed and screaming the second underground remixes of old Kid Cudi tracks with his own twists overtook the speakers that granted Keishin a sense of enlightenment.

For him, being a DJ allowed an audience to flow and vibe with the journey of his life and all its constant up and down motions while under the guise of anonymity. As Spira, Ukai opened up the complexity and conflicting feelings of his inner mind and brought it to fruition through his mixes. He felt that in his soul, he’d done his art of storytelling justice. The audience felt it. Hell, his mom at home probably felt it. Perhaps it was one of the main reasons this dingy, hole-in-the-wall club kept asking him to come back every weekend.

His mind wanders further as he clutches an electronic cigarette in his hand, mixing beats on the turntable while taking hits of nicotine in between. He wonders if the girl he had ran into just a few minutes prior had been frequenting here as often as he had. Then, thinking back to what little information she supplied earlier, Ukai’s mind drifts off to the former third-year setter from when he first started coaching. Sugawara was a nice boy with a firm, almost parental, hand that walked dangerously along the lines of being a partner and being a control freak. When it came to his relationship, things had to go his way. And while his girlfriend that came to every tournament was much more outspoken yet easy going, she was opinionated and didn’t shy from confrontation.

Now that the coach had given it more thought, it was a wonder that one tolerated the other at any point in time. If anything, Ukai imagines the two of them would typically be at each other’s throats. From the few times he had interacted with her, she was always more free spirited and couldn’t be weighed down by any one else’s opinion, but seeing her now was different—she was in her element in the dingy, dark club with the glitter on her cheekbones refracting light off of her face. There was laughter and true, unabashed joy on her face. She had a light of her own—like she was ray of sunshine in the center of a storm.

Three hours past midnight when the club closed was always Keishin’s sign to leave, regardless of the countless attempts to attend the after party he’d been invited to. He had to go to work, after all. Sure, a part of him had always been a little green with envy at all the DJs that got to hook up with club patrons after, but after being at this gig for a few years, he figured that the right girl for him would eventually come to him if he continued working on himself. After all, he didn’t want to just have a string of one night stands with a bunch of fresh adults that could barely function after the small drop of Malibu rum—he was too old for that.

“Uh, coach?” [name] felt strange calling him that, but she didn’t feel familiar enough with him to address him otherwise. He was halfway in his car, the blonde ready to leave for the weekend to go back to his regular day-to-day work. “You coming to the after party?” [name] asks when Keishin only looks at her in question, cigarette hanging betwixt his dry lips.

“No, I actually have to go to work right now.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t mean to express her disappointment, but it slips anyway, “guess I’ll catch you later then?”

“Uh, yeah.” A tight lipped hybrid of a pained grin and grimace crosses her wet, gloss covered lips. Without another word, Ukai closes his car door, a little more brusquely than he intended to, before backing out and leaving the young woman to her own devices. His mind wanders once again with him humming absentmindedly to the soft acoustic punk playing over the car radio. His eyes are focused on the passing greenery, the cars that are weaving and bobbing off the freeway—hell he even noticed the way the tendrils of the sun are just barely starting to peak over the horizon because it reminded him of her. A thought he banishes immediately because he feels creepy for even thinking that.

Yet no matter how much scenery flitted through his honey eyes, his mind keeps traveling back to one thing, or rather one person, only.

Goddammit.

On Monday’s practice, Ukai Keishin’s mind is flooding and drowning in memories of his first year as the volleyball club’s coach. It was as if his mind was coercing him to attempt to reach out to the girl that plagued his mind for the last forty-eight hours or so. Though, he had no way of contacting her. Instead, with every step along the wooden floors, he can remember the way she would walk Suga to practice, almost physically seeing her standing in the doorway to kiss the third-year setter goodbye. As if he could see her sitting underneath the third window from the left, quietly doing homework and exchanging small talk and airy laughter with Kiyoko and Daichi. As if he could see the same sunny smile she gave in the audience from Saturday night at the club between the lines of the woodwork in the floorboards.

It was a repeating pattern day in and day out that was beginning to make Ukai question his sanity.

“Hey, man,” his assistant coach and fellow Karasuno alumni, Tsukishima Akiteru, places a hand on his shoulder and looks at him in worry. “Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all week.” In what world did a week translate into three days, the older blonde coach didn’t know.

“I’m fine, just tired,” Keishin all but bites back. He didn’t want to admit his conscious had been running rampant with thoughts of a girl he’d briefly met at a club. It felt almost as disturbing and perverted as it sounded in his mind.

“The team’s worried about you. Why don’t you take an early weekend and get some rest? We’ll see you back on Monday, yeah?” Normally, Ukai would have vehemently refused. However, his circumstances were far from normal and he was gracious for an assistant coach he trusted wholeheartedly to do the work that needed to be done. And so, Ukai heeded Akiteru’s advice and went home before practice even began on Thursday afternoon.

It was slightly disorienting for him to go home and nap, but he was incredibly thankful for the gift. Waking up just before he was technically supposed to start his shift at the shop, Keishin jumps into a cold shower to bring him to life before heading downstairs. A bellowing yawn passes his lips through his teeth as he starts his evening. Maybe his team was right—he really did need a break. Thankfully, he knew that the second the doors to the Sakanoshita were locked, he was done for the evening and wouldn’t need to reawaken until three the following morning. Just a few more hours until then, he thought.

With it being a slower evening as well, Ukai was able to kick his feet up on the counter as he always did, pull open the newspaper from earlier in the morning and casually flip through. Briefly, he considers giving up one of his four jobs because this was something he missed doing. But consideration aside, he was far too in love with the cash flow and the thought of paying off his mortgage to entertain the thought for long. Maybe one day, he would finally sell the Sakanoshita store or quit helping on the farm—

“You still work here?” Huh. Her voice sounds different when it isn’t drowning under the speakers of a nightclub.

“I do own this place, you know.” Ukai snarks at the woman who’d been consuming his brain for the last week. She looks different without glitter reflecting off of her unreal cheekbones or the heavy layers of foundation and eyeshadow. Even more than before, Keishin definitely recognized [name] now. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Shopping,” she snorts as if it were the most obvious thing, “why else would I be at a store?”

“Dunno, maybe you’re just here to see me.” Ukai responds without skipping a beat, turning the page of the paper to play into his guise that he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised at [name]’s presence.

“Uh...actually...” her voice is quiet, prompting the coach to quirk a brow and fold up the paper he was now pretending to read. It wasn’t like he could focus on anything right now outside of the woman standing before him, spearated only by a thin counter. Without talking again, his brown eyes lock with hers, silently goading for her to continue speaking. “I-I just...I don’t know. It was just really weird to see you at the club and then to find out that you’re Spira on top of that. I haven’t seen anyone from Karasuno since I graduated and—“

“Woah, kid, breathe.” Ukai interrupts her before she can continue spewing word vomit at a hundred miles an hour. “So what if I’m Spira? Though, you better not tell anyone that. My stage name is a secret between us, alright?” For a moment she’s quiet, gears turning in her head. The secrecy didn’t make sense to her because, if anything, he should be proud of the fact that he’s rather well known in the underground electronica scene. Or at least, she was in his stead, because [name] would have been proud of Ukai regardless of whatever occupation he held.

She supposed it came with the territory of having an unrequited crush on the coach years ago, that continued well beyond high school and even university, back when she was still dating Sugawara Koushi. It was the reason she had even bothered to come sit in on his practices and partially the reason she would come to his tournaments and matches. Not that she didn’t want to be supportive of her then-boyfriend—it would have been a fight had she not—but seeing the hot older coach was definitely a bonus in her book. “But why?” She offers, not wanting conversation to end despite her not having actually bought anything.

“If the school ever caught wind of me doing that, I could lose my position as the coach. Some shit about Karasuno’s image or whatever.” [name] gives a small nod, fidgeting subconsciously, as an attempt to shake her nerves and anxiety, by sifting through various candy bars that were in front of her before grabbing her favorite. Without a second thought, she peels the wrapper before placing the candy between her lips, the puffy pink skin greatly contrasting the chocolate coating. “Ya gonna pay for that, kid?” Ukai irks, his honey brown eyes steeling over in irritation. The nickname she’s given hits the final nail on the coffin and seals away [name]’s trepidation. Instead, her own sass comes out to join the fun.

“Nah,” she hums playfully, the chocolate-covered wafer cookie crunching between her teeth. “Quit calling me kid, coach. I’m a lady,” the irony isn’t lost on either of them as she speaks with her mouth full.

“Still a kid, kid. And quit calling me coach, I’m not your damn coach.” The familiar, grumpy attitude of his brings [name] back to the Ukai she knew back in high school. In a mix of nostalgia, warmth washes over her as the haughty tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine like it did a few years back.

“Sure thing, coach,” she teases again before tossing the wrapper of the stolen candy bar into the nearest bin. “You’re at the club tomorrow, right?” The question adds a bit of context and confirmation to Ukai—it seems she knew when Spira was performing, meaning she must have been a patron for a decent amount of time. Part of him wonders how she never realized who he was before, another part wonders how he’s never noticed her considering she could make all traffic stop if she stood in the middle of a freeway. At least, that’s what looking at her did to his heart.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe this time, you’ll join us at the after party.” Without another word, [name] pushes herself away from the counter she’d been leaning on while talking to the blonde man. With Akiteru giving him the weekend off, he actually entertained the thought of attending this time. Even if her invitation was rather blasé and indirect, he didn’t see the opportunity of him attending one presenting itself any time soon. He may be old, by his own standard, but there was a unknown allure to the thought of showing up to a wild party with a woman that was so adamant of his attendance.

Or rather, adamant in his mind. Whether she actually wanted his company remained to be seen, but the curiosity was gnawing at him, and was something he would have to unearth sooner rather than later.

Having an entire night, or a day’s worth, of rest was a rather disorienting, yet pleasant feeling for Ukai. After tending to crops and returning home in the early hours of the morning, the blonde coach was able to catch a solid nine hours of sleep before his shift at the Sakanoshita store with another chance to nap before he needed to head to the club. Despite knowing he had the ability to do so before another restless night, his mind felt the need to keep him awake and alert. Even after showering and styling his blonde tresses into their usual mane—mundane acts that usually came to him automatically—he was hyper aware of the slightest unruly flyaways.

Ukai Keishin was nervous.

He didn’t know what to wear or if there was a dress code or if anything he typically wore would be deemed worthy of an after party. A part of him wanted to leave it alone and let him sport his usual white track pants and tight, maroon muscle tank, but that part of him immediately drowns in the ocean of his anxiety. Another string in his brain prompted him to dress up just a little bit to help him look the part—it had nothing to do with impressing a certain club patron, no—he tried to convince himself. A miserable attempt, but still one nonetheless.

Eventually, he settled on crisp, dark-washed jeans that hugged his muscular legs without being suffocating, paired with a vibrant, crimson muscle tee that hugged his biceps all the same. Ukai still felt a little out of place in the attire, as he often had back when he first assumed the alias Spira, but headed out the door of his apartment before his conscious could dispute it.

He was early again, even more so than normal. Desperate for a drink to calm his nerves and replace his blood with liquid courage, Ukai worms his way around to the bar, signaling the attendant for his usual. Rum and coke in hand, the DJ stands off to the side, hiding like a wallflower, while he studied the sweaty, dancing bodies. Did he know why he was looking for her—no. Maybe partially to tell her she owed him for the candy bar, maybe to tell her he was joining in on the after party this time around.

Maybe to just see her.

Keishin banishes the last thought with a shake of his head before skulking off to the attached patio to smoke. Pulling a cigarette from his pack and a lighter from his pocket, the flame torches the end of the filter at the same time the blonde inhales. Forcefully pushing the smoke out past his lips, Ukai takes a hearty sip of his drink until it’s nearly gone. He was going to need something stronger tonight.

“Is it that time already?” The older man’s head snaps to the voice that had been haunting him subconsciously.

Part of him wishes he didn’t look.

As if to play into her question, [name] checks the large, rose gold watch on her right wrist—an incredibly stark contrast to her outfit for the evening. Maybe it was a hunch when Ukai felt that he had been underdressed, as if his intuition knew that she was going to be dressed to the nines in a black skater dress. Even with a modest neckline, the lace cut out detailing on the sides of the dress accentuated her curves impeccably, playing well with the volume of the skirt, while the open back she was sporting dipped dangerously low.

It took everything in Ukai to not throw every milliliter of restraint and inhibition out the window and fuck her right then and there.

Taking a lengthy drag of his cigarette to hold himself back, Keishin inhales deeply, the smoke billowing past his lips emerging densely and grey in color. “I’m a little early—needed an extra drink today.” The man manages to choke out, downing whatever is left in his little plastic cup for added emphasis.

“Need another?” [name] chirps politely; almost too politely as if to deliberately dispute the salacious thoughts flooding the coaches mind.

“I can get—“

“I owe you anyway,” she reminds him, alluding to the candy bar she had eaten without paying for from the previous night. “Pick your poison.”

“Double rum and coke.” He concedes. [name]’s lips twitch upward slightly at the corner before she plucks the empty cup from Ukai’s hand. He doesn’t miss the way the shellac on her nails grazes against his skin, leaving the whispers of contact to run warm. Immediately, the blonde man uses the nearly dead cigarette between his teeth to light a fresh one—heaven or hell knows he needed the nicotine right now.

Given the silence, Keishin takes the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. From the general direction that [name] initially came from, she wasn’t around any of her friends or really anyone that he knew. That was good at least; there wasn’t anybody else that knew of his presence. [name] returns, two clear plastic cups in her hands and surrenders the darker of the two to the man awaiting. “Hold mine for a sec?” Without thinking, Keishin holds his cigarette between his left index and middle fingers, his drink in the same hand, while taking hers. To his surprise, she pulls out her own pack of menthols and a torch lighter, setting the leaves ablaze before taking her obvious vodka cranberry back.

“You took up smoking?” The older of the two asks in surprise, noting the way her lipstick leaves the slightest bit of residue along the brown filter. [name] gives a shrug.

“Surprised you didn’t notice it sooner, coach. I’ve been smoking since second year.” Ukai gives a roll of his eyes at the use of this strange pet name he’s been dubbed by her. But he thinks about it, thinks about how Suga must have felt probably knowing that she did. Thinks how it just added to this strange, sassy yet happy, wild and free exterior she now had. And [name] notices instantly the very same look Ukai had in his face when he was trying to strategize, trying to figure out a way to navigate a conversation with his team about becoming better—she knows what’s coming next. “Yeah, yeah, I know I should quit or whatever. Suga lost that argument a long time ago.”

“Can’t really tell you what to do when I’m just as guilty.” Ukai gives a laugh—one that is embedded with bitterness and envy at the mention of the third-year setter—yet is just as vivacious as he is. A sound entirely different than she’d ever heard leave his lungs before. She likes it.

After finishing his smoke, Keishin gulps down a hefty swig of his drink before patting [name] on the shoulder before announcing his departure. “I’ll see you inside,” the girl, woman, calls out thoughtfully as she gives a small wave with her cigarette filter between her fingers. Ukai doesn’t verbalize the same sentiment. He doesn’t want to slip up and admit he’ll be looking for her.

But it’s painfully obvious that he is when he takes over the booth. Unable to hide the fact that with every chance that he looks into the audience, he’s searching for that black skater dress that hugs her all too perfectly, [hair color] locks swaying as she moves in the crowd. Ukai can’t hide it at all—not behind the turn table or new remixes meant to get the crowd moving.

He can’t hide the urgency he feels to find her outside in the crisp evening air, smoking on the back patio of the club after his set. [name] is talking and laughing with her friends while thin grey smoke billows from her open mouth before her eyes land on him. Some of her friends take notice to the tension and their shared gazes, some of them whispering his alias in excitement. But [name] just smiles knowingly, if not a little cocky, because she can see that urgency, that desperation, that Ukai was trying to hide. “Wait, [name], do you know Spira?” A bystander asked. Clearly, they weren’t present the last time this was brought up.

“Yeah, I may have met him once or twice,” the woman in question snickers as she strides over closer and closer to the aforementioned DJ.

“Cute,” Ukai sneers teasingly at her jab before instinctively reaching for the half-gone cigarette she pulls to her stained lips. At first, she thought he was going to put it out, considering their little conversation from a few hours ago. Instead, the volleyball coach puts the filter to his own lips, noting the damp fabric probably from her freshly applied lipgloss, and takes a drag. It tasted like watermelons and mint.

“Cheeky,” [name] returns, plucking her cancer stick back from the blonde man. While her friends are still behind her murmuring about the familiarity between the two of them, Keishin and [name] are lost in their own little world. “So since your set is over, and considering you’re still here, I’m assuming you’re joining me for the after party? Or do you have to go to work again?”

“I told them I’d be out of town this weekend,” Ukai tries to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, ties to swallow it down his nerves with rum and nicotine. It proves rather difficult considering the coy smile on [name]’s face is wearing and cracking through his resolve rather quickly. But at least, to him, he could confirm his mind was not playing tricks on him and [name] was just as adamant about his attendance as he initially thought. Even more so with her next statement.

“Cool. Your car or mine?” It took him a minute to process her words even—lust thickening and constricting the flow to his brain at the vague question. Ukai was getting far too ahead of himself, but goddammit how could he focus when the fabric of her skirt hit her mid-thigh and framed her like a Venetian goddess—“I don’t mind driving there.” She adds to coax him away from his silence.

“Nah, I got it. We’ll take mine.”

“Lead the way,” [name] chimes sweetly as she wraps an arm around the coach’s forearm. The physical touch is everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last few days—hellfire and brimstone and sunlight and goddammit why did he wear jeans that were only getting tighter and tighter?

Ukai opens the passenger door to his SUV, supporting the woman as she clambered in cautiously so as not to stumble from her heels. Getting settled in, the coach surrenders his unlocked phone to allow her the entirety of his music library. The irony of the DJ surrendering DJ rights to the passenger was not lost on either of them. Much to his surprise, [name] put on soft acoustic punk as he usually did on his way home from the club. The kind of softness one would turn on to accompany the fragile pitter-patter of rain against the windshield. “Cardboard Swords?” Ukai asks in surprise, more than familiar with the band.

“Flannel is a favorite of mine. I’m kind of surprised it’s in your library.” She adds after she begins directing him to this evening’s party location. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the way her full lips are moving along each word with expertise. He sees the way her [eye color] orbs soften slightly and he can tell this song hits home for her.

She’ll never say why—she’ll never tell him this was the song that helped her move on from Sugawara Koushi while restoring her inner peace.

But Keishin is no fool. He can tell that this is physically hurting her—crushing her soul into the leather seat of his car and, instinctually, he wraps a large hand around hers that’s resting in her lap. “I came out tonight to have fun with you, so don’t you go getting sad on me.” He means each word with innocent intent, yet he cannot ignore the almost hidden, salacious drip to each syllable and neither can she. How could she when his touch sent volts of electricity through her skin?

“Right, right,” she says in a conceding tone, switching the audio to something much more upbeat and a little flirty. “Why did you agree to go out tonight?” If Ukai had an answer, then it died on his lips as he let go of [name]’s hand to reach for another cigarette. The process of lighting the tube, inhaling, and exhaling bought him an extra minute to come up with an excuse; her doing the same giving him another thirty seconds.

“I don’t know.” It’s a blatant lie—a lie that [name] believes all too easily—but Ukai can’t bring himself to admit the truth. He can’t admit out loud that she’s the only thing that’s been on his mind all week or that he jumped at the opportunity, created one even, to be able to have a one-on-one moment with her. Keishin can’t admit that he can tell there are intricate webs spun in her mind and that all he wants to do is untangle them one by one.

And he certainly can’t tell her that even the mere sight of her sends his brain into overdrive and all he wants to do is repeatedly fill her over and over with his seed until she is entirely his, inside and out in mind, body, and soul. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that Ukai Keishin was going to admit to his sinful thoughts.

“It’s just up here.” [name] points with gaunt fingers, cigarette between them as her voice is half choked from inhaling her own smoke. Mirroring the man’s actions earlier, she indulged in her own nicotine habit to quell the budding disappointment from Ukai’s lackluster response. They drove up a slight winding hill and as the trees pass by, the itch for her truth and her history was gnawing at him. He wanted to know why this rambunctious party girl invited him all week to these elusive after parties. Why Flannel ate away at her insides like it did his. Why did her and Sugawara breakup?

But he decides against it for the moment.

“Where are we?” Ukai asks. There’s cars all lining the sides of the road of varying worth—he felt even more out of place than normal with his older SUV, even if it was an upgrade for him, considering the large number of luxury vehicles.

“Bevelle’s house.” [name] says simply, pointing to an empty space in the streets as she throws the butt of her cigarette into the road. The casual way she name drops the owner of the club makes him gawk, catching flies in his mouth had there been any at the hour. With a satisfied, cheesy grin, she hops out of her seat and walks in the grass to meet Ukai on the other side as he clambers out of the vehicle as well. In familiarity, she grips into his forearm once again as they walk towards the forest mansion.

Keishin wasn’t sure what to expect when the two of them walked in, but a home full of people screaming his pseudonym and her name was not on that list. Younger hordes had surrounded [name], greeting her warmly and telling her how glad they were to see her again for the evening. Others were approaching Ukai, telling them how rare and a momentous occasion that the infamous artist Spira was amongst their midst.

“Glad to see you could join us, Spira.” His boss and club owner, Bevelle, approaches the mismatched couple. Bevelle was an alias used by the middle aged woman, her real name unknown to those that didn’t know her know her, and was once upon a time her stage name. While she had chosen a quiet location in the Miyagi prefecture, Bevelle was quite known in the underground scene. Granted, Ukai didn’t know any of that when he’d taken the job. If anything, it was all thanks to her that he was able to learn for his own success as well as granting him the opportunity to learn in the first place. “Good to see you too, trouble.” Bevelle affectionately goes to muss at [name]’s hair, to which she only replies with a cheeky grin.

“How do you know Bevelle?” Ukai presses his lips towards the ear of the woman still hanging onto him as she expertly leads the way to the kitchen. The car ride left her feeling slightly uncomfortable, ashamed even though she would never admit to that, and she knew she definitely needed a drink after it. Part of her was heavily rebuking herself for trying to pry into his mind by asking why he came along, even more so when she put on the one song that shattered her heart every time she heard it. It just excited her that he had it in his library, that he even knew who The Cardboard Swords were, and that he enjoyed the same obscure taste in music as much as she did.

“She’s a close family friend!” The chirp that [name] gives isn’t entirely convincing, like she isn’t telling the truth. Regardless, Ukai washes down his doubt with the beer he was handed, figuring she probably had her reasons. And as soon as the plastic is in each of their hands, [name] downs the contents immediately, hoping to drown out the nerves ebbing from her stomach with vodka. She should have been ecstatic—her old high school crush, her unrequited crush, was here with her, drinking side by side but she can’t help but feel the tension between them—sexual or otherwise.

Just as the two of them down their second round, a piercing voice cuts through the thicket of the masses, calling out her name and capturing her attention. “It’s your song! Come on!” A shrug and a smile crosses [name]’s features as she’s all but dragged away to a different part of the mansion. Much to his surprise, she grabbed onto Keishin to drag him along as well.

The two of them are presented with a myriad of sweaty, rolling bodies—much more gone than Ukai had ever seen at the club itself. It was oddly...sensual, if it could be called that, to see the fluid movements between party goers. Sensual, intimate, strange—all of them could be used interchangeably at this moment.

[name] is dancing with another woman, mouthing all of the words to the current pop song while bobbing and jumping around excitedly before her eyes lock on his. She’s in her element now. All sunshine and smiles like Ukai had seen from on occasion from years ago or most recently at the club, but they’re directed at him for once as she pulls him closer onto the dance floor. The taunting beats and repetitive call of “come on” and the way [name] loosely wraps her arms around his neck as she dances brings Ukai to the realization that this was the end of the line.

The end of the line, because Keishin can’t hold himself back anymore.

Not with the way her hips are grinding against is and she’s laughing warmly and heartily at his slight discomfort and her teeth are glittering off the lights in the dark room like stars in the night sky. Not with the way her head is thrown back and her dress drops low enough to flaunt the expanse of bare skin of her neck and collar bones that are just begging him to sink his teeth in. Not with the way her [eye color]ed orbs are locked with his as she sings along with the music, oddly enough alluding to some form of confession of her feelings.

He can’t fucking take it anymore.

The large hands he has on her hips move just under her arms to hoist her up, [name] instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist to keep her balance. Their eyes are locked, honed in on each other with the rest of the party melting into the background. With her deepest, most wild high school fantasy driving her actions, she grins. “Hi,” is all she says before Ukai cranes his neck back to cover her lips with his.

His kiss is everything she imagined it would be after years of pining. The smell and taste of smoke and wood floods her senses as his tongue laps at the watermelon lip gloss on her bottom lip before seeking refuge within her mouth. His hands, now wrapped around her thighs give intermittent squeezes, either to keep them grounded in reality or just because he needs something to clutch at—she’s unsure of which. In response, her manicured fingernails tangle into his messy blonde locks. Their kiss pours out their desperation, laying it all out on the table for the both of them to see clear as day.

The only thing that prompts them to break apart is the ending of the song.

“You wanna get out of here?” Ukai asks as he tenderly puts [name] back on the ground. As if he weren’t just making out with her moments ago, the motion is delicate and gingerly and almost loving.

“Not yet,” there’s a knowing, smug lilt in her voice as she turns on her heel and throw herself back into the throng of party people. Or rather, attempts. While she’s attempting to flee, Keishin snatches her wrist, pulling her closer until their chests are flush against each other.

“Nuh uh,” the blonde man tuts, “you’ve been asking me to join you at a party all week, now here I am. The hell makes you think you’re leaving my side tonight?” [name]’s grin only grows wider.

“I’ve waited for years for this opportunity, coach, so if you think I’m not gonna have fun with it, you’re dead wrong.” The word ‘years’ constricts the man’s heart—forces his pupils to blow into dilation with her modest, yet blunt confession.

“Years?”

“Years,” she repeats, “ever since that first practice you stumbled into the Karasuno gym as the temporary coach. Why do you think I came to every single exhibition match and tournament? Or came to study and do homework while you guys had practice?” This girl was grinding at every steel line of self-control that was left in Ukai’s body because every word spilling past her lips added an additional ten volts to the sexual tension between them.

“We’re leaving.” He bites out despite the delicate tone. Wrapping his hand around hers once again, Keishin tugs her along time dodge the party goers that threw the two of them curious glances, wondering why they were quick to leave shortly after their arrival. Just to tease him further, [name] almost wants to offer a rebuttal and tell him that they should stay longer and enjoy the show. However, she knows she’s done enough waiting and if he was taking her home, she wasn’t going to argue.

While urgency and desperation was their game, Keishin didn’t cut corners when it came to presenting himself as a gentleman as he helped [name] back into the car. Hormones be damned—he was still going to help a lady into the passengers seat. “You never did tell me why you finally agreed to come out tonight.” She says quietly, as if the two of them hadn’t been making out and dry humping a few minutes prior. “And it’s clearly not because you knew I had a crush on you all throughout third year—“

“Don’t act like you’re the only one with feelings in this.” Ukai grits out, speeding much faster back home than he did on the way to Bevelle’s house. Paying that no mind, [name]’s ears perk up at his own wayward confession. When she asked for clarity, a rumbling groan shakes his chest as he patted down his pockets in search for his nicotine sticks. “I didn’t recognize you the first night at the club because you look different now. Happiness looks good on you.”

“Happiness?” She echos confusedly, turning to face Ukai fully after lighting her own cigarette.

“You used to always look content back then—just barely content and nothing more. And I can’t stop thinking back to those days because you’re this ball of sunshine, kid, and I can’t stop wondering what the hell Suga did to you to dim your shine that badly. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week.”

[name] is quiet for a moment at his own rendition, his own version, of a confession and she’s stunned. And she can’t tell if she wants to cry or kiss him because this is not that way she ever fantasized this conversation going. It was going better than she dreamed. Better, because the words that Ukai is saying adds an entirely new layer to his amped up personality—he wasn’t just the sexy volleyball coach that she used to pine over. He was a person with deep rooted feelings for justice in the sense of wanting to understand how someone could inflict damage to the innocent and he wanted to rectify said injustices. He wanted to know how someone like Suga could try to dampen her sunlight instead of allowing her to thrive and bloom.

She wants to kiss him, she decides, but since he’s driving, she settles for placing a chaste one on the corner of his mouth. “Serves you right,” she jokes when she pulls away, “it’s been a long four years for me. It’s your turn to suffer.”

“Trust me, this car ride is torture enough.”

[ next ]

#haikyu!!#haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #ukai keishin #haikyuu ukai #hq ukai #ukai x reader #ukai scenario #keishin ukai x reader #dj!au #haikyuu sugawara #sugawara imagine #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #nsfhq

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morosoro · 4 years

Text

Reuben

Chapter 20

Summary: Reubens happy little Valentine’s Day bubble pops the moment he gets home.

Ao3 link here

He came home after school to find two visibly upset Scottish women taking tea on the sofa as his boy crawled about on the floor playing with a stuffed rabbit toy. Playing was a generous term, actually, Neal was more so just dragging it around and giggling as it moved each time his hand did. Quality entertainment for a baby, Reuben was sure.

He avoided the scowls from the older women as he crouched down to play with his son, gently taking the rabbit and making it wave to him. The babe giggled at that too. Oh what simpler times, when your happiness would depend on whether something moved or not. Reuben longed to be in the child’s place as Glynis cleared her throat.

“The Hatters called us yesterday.” She supplied.

Reuben huffed a sigh. He was getting tired of people asking about Jefferson. He’d had to answer several people today when asked, and not once had it been met with the aloofness he thought it deserved, Yes, they had a fight! It didn’t seem like a very big deal to him! “Yeah? What about it?” He asked.

“Mrs. Hatter informed me that Jefferson are no longer friends? That you told him to stop acting like himself? Now she didn’t explain precisely what happened, I get the impression she doesn’t know her son as well as she should, but Edith and I got the gist of it. And we are immensely disappointed. We thought we raised you differently.” The women told him, jaw set firm and spine rigid in her discontent.

“What? In the two months I’ve been here? Yes, a lot of raising done on your part.” He replied sardonically.

“You say that as if we weren’t pivotal caretakers of you since birth. You know full well we brought you up just as much if not more than your parents did. Now I suggest you start explaining yourself.”

“We had a disagreement. So what? It’s hardly the end of the world!” He was instantly in a sour mood as soon as this conversation had begun. He was so done having to explain himself to people who refused to understand. Even Belle had been upset with him when he told her what had happened in full. She’d told him he was in the wrong and that should apologize. He had thought out of all people she would’ve understood where he’d been coming from. Now his Aunts seemed to be antagonizing him too?! How come nobody could just give him the benefit of the doubt or see his side?!

“It was more than a disagreement and you damn well know it.”

It’s not like he’d really meant anything he said anyways. He just didn’t like the implications Jefferson’s words had set on the table. Jefferson needed to be taught a lesson, that’s all.

“Okay so I got tired of the jokes. I’m sorry that I don’t want people thinking I’m a bloody buftie who's shagging a dude behind his girlfriend's back.” He sneered, fed up of the conversation already. “I’m sorry for setting some god damn boundaries. In all honesty I think that if he were really my friend and not just hopeful he could ‘turn me queer’ or whatever then he would respect said boundaries.”

Edith gasped at his language, still remaining silent. Glynis’s glare only hardened. “You sound an awful lot like yer father saying words like that.” She said coldly.

His head whipped over to look her in the eye, bewildered rage taking root. How could she say that?! “You take that back!”

Glynis stared right back at him. “Or what? You’ll call us auld hags? Stomp around and break things?” After a beat of silence where he said nothing in preference of continuing to fiddle with his son’s stuffed toy, the woman continued. “Oh? Ignore us then? Your father liked to do that too.”

He stood to his full height quickly, discarding the rabbit as he went. He gestured sharply as he shouted. “Shut the hell up! I’m nothing like him!”

His son started to cry, obviously startled by the loud volume. He froze, staring down at the scared little boy in alarm. Oh no… what had he done? Had he hurt him- he didn’t think he did… but then again he had tossed away the toy pretty carelessly. Had it hit him? No! The idea made him sick.

Could he really be turning into a copy of his father? Was this proof?

Before he could think to reach for his son to try to comfort him, the boy was picked up by Glynis instead. “I wouldn’t be so sure, the lines seemed quite blurred lately.” She hissed in response.

“Glynis- please!” Edith pleaded, her expression softer but still troubled. “Give the lad break? He’s been through a lot lately.”

“That’s no excuse for bigotry and slurs! Did you not hear him, Edith? ‘Buftie’, ‘Queer’? Doesn’t that upset you?” The other woman asked, sounding incredulous.

“Well, yes…” Edith agreed before pausing to sigh lengthily. “But I’m also aware that he’s in a very tough spot. He’s still only a boy, see… He’s bound to have bad days and ugly moments. We all are, Love.” The other said, calm but firm. “ Besides, shouting at him and making him feel like shite won’t get us anywhere productive...”

Still holding the sniffling child, and with her jaw still set Glynis also sighed heavily through her nose. She seemed to calm slightly before deciding “Fine then, you deal with him. I’ll be taking Neal for a stroll down the paths. I suppose I could use some air.”

Edith nodded. “I think that’s best, dear. Thank you.” She then looked at her still visibly angry and hurting great-nephew. “Why don’t you go to yer room? Put on a tape, read a book… calm down some? I’ll come up and speak to you before dinner, Aye?”

Reuben, with clenched fists and hunched shoulders, let out a grumbled “Fine…” before hurrying his way upstairs.

—

He was only a couple chapters further into his copy of ‘Lord of The Rings’ (borrowed off of Moe, actually. The man had recommended it to him a couple of weeks ago) and the chorus to Genesis’ ‘Land of Confusion’ was playing when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

Sighing, he paused his cassette, marked his place in the book and called for the person to come in. To no surprise, Edith entered, and she had brought more tea for the both of them.

She sat herself on the foot of his bed and offered him the mug, he accepted it and took a sip. They sat in silence for a moment before she finally decided to speak. “You know lad, it doesn’t matter how upset you are, it’s never okay to be disrespectful.”

He stayed quiet, only grunting over the rim of his mug in response. She continued. “But we’re not going to talk about earlier today. Glynis and I are older than dirt, we’ve heard it all. We can take it. I want to talk about what happened with Jefferson.”

“We had an argument. What more is there to talk about?” He responded lowly.

“Why?” She asked. “Why were you arguing with him?”

“Because I was sick of the gay jokes.” He answered. “The ones that implied… stuff. I’m no feckin’ fag and he can’t bloody turn me into one!”

The woman let out a hissing sound, as if she had be burned. “See, what we’re not going to do is use terms like that.” She told him, stern voice in place. “Like Glinnie and I have both said, upset is no reason for disrespect.”

The teen was once again quiet as he sipped his tea again. The woman moved ahead in the conversation. “A person cannot ‘turn’ gay or straight. They either like the same sex or they do not. And it is not a bad thing to be that way.” She explained.

“Sure, okay… whatever.” He replied. “It still doesn’t fucking matter. He crossed a line and it made me uncomfortable so I told him to knock it off. That’s it. I don’t see why everyone’s making such a big deal out of it!”

“Because you hurt his feelings. And I think you knew what you said would hurt his feelings. That’s not okay, Reuben. You need to understand that.”

“I get it!” He barked. “I was just upset, okay? I lashed out. It happens…”

“Then it sounds like you need to work on controlling yourself. Maybe start by thinking things over before you say anything, like why Jefferson’s jokes upset you so much in the first place.” And with that she got up to leave again, throwing a casual “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” Over her shoulder as she went.

After the door shut behind her and he was by himself again he let out a frustrated growl. After setting down his tea, he drew his knees to his chest and raked his hands through his hair frustratedly, head hanging low. Why was he like this? Why was his anger like a light-switch? This was definitely something to bring up with his therapist next time.

He sighed then as he made a small connection in his head. Dr. Hopper had told him last time that he ought to take time for himself to think and figure things out and work on ‘self-improvement’. Edith had just told him to do pretty much the same thing. He glanced to his nightstand where the crinkled pamphlet-turned-coaster sat, and after a moment’s consideration, he reached for it, taking it out from under his mug. He turned to the second page.

‘Ask yourself ‘Why?’. Contemplate response. Consider your reasonings. Repeat.’

Why did Jefferson’s Joke upset you?

“Because it made me uncomfortable.” He mumbled.

Why did it make you uncomfortable?

“Because… I could picture it?”

Picture what?

‘I’m straight!’

‘So is spaghetti until you get it hot and steamy.’

‘Hot and steamy’

Hot and steamy...

“Fuck!” He growled out, tossing the pamphlet away. “This is bloody stupid! I’m not getting anywhere!” He told himself as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to will the unwanted images away. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him today?! He hated it. He hated himself.

It was hard to believe today had started out so lovely, with his girlfriend in his arms and a promise ring in question.

“I need a nap.” He decided. “A long one.”

———

Doctor Hopper was a strange individual. The kind of man that made Reuben wonder how his son Archie had become… well… Archie. Guys like Archie tended to have strict, straight-edge, academics-obsessed fathers. The type with the big glasses and button-down shirts that they tucked so neatly into their khakis. They were a vision of who their sons would become, but not Doctor Hopper.

No, Doctor Hopper was more laid back. Yes, he wore khakis and button downs but in a much more sloppy-casual sense. His hair was long and he wore a cowboy hat atop his head. He didn’t tip-toe with his words, he just spoke freely from his thoughts (and his degree, hopefully). He was also just odd enough for Reuben to believe he’d likely had a few run-ins with the law in the past. Yes, Reuben could definitely see this man scamming people of their money, or being picked up off the street where he lay a drunk… or something… fool. And yet this man was somehow his therapist and he was supposed to trust him and his advice. It was certainly a peculiar situation.

They currently sat opposite each other, Reuben on a large leather sofa, and Dr. Hopper laid back in the matching armchair. The latter was having a cigarette as he listened to his patient’s concerns.

He puffed out a measured stream of smoke before speaking. “So, basically, you’ve been acting like a cunt to your friends and family and you don’t know why?”

“Uh…” Reuben shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. “Yeah?”

“You just freak out when you feel targeted? As in you just suddenly feel like you have to defend yourself… but really all you're doing is spewing shit?” At the teens nod the therapist took another puff, answering with his exhale “Sounds like anger issues to me, kid. Probably got it from the alcoholic disgrace you call a dad.”

Reuben huffed a worried sigh. “So what? You think I’m going to wind up like him?”

“Nah, unlikely.” The man responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You both have issues and bad trauma, but yours is just…” he mimicked the sound of an explosion. “Different. That stuff really shapes a person. You’ll be fine… or well… as fine as someone like you could be.”

Someone like him? He wondered what that implied. He didn’t want to ask. Instead he focused on the positive. “You think so?”

“Yeah, kid. As long as you keep trying to get better, hell yeah! Anger issues? No problem kid. We can manage that with just a bit of work.” The adult said before taking another draw.

Curious, Reuben asked him “What kind of work?”

“Thinking. Self-help work, kid. You know about it, it was in the pamphlet. First off, why do you think you were acting like a cunt in the first place?”

Running his hands through his hair, Reuben groaned. He should’ve known. “Because my friend was making jokes that I didn’t like. They made me uncomfortable.”

“Okay, but why?” The man prompted him to expand on it.

“Because they were implying something that I didn’t want to be implied.”

“So it’s something you’re insecure about then?”

That gave Reuben a moment’s pause. Was he insecure about his sexuality? “.... no?” At least he didn’t think so.

“You don’t sound sure about that.”

Fuck.

He huffed, frustration growing. “What do you mean? I’m definitely secure about it!” He snapped.

“Whoa man-“ the therapist warned. “Don’t go acting like a cunt on me now. I’m just trying to help you figure this out.”

The teen pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated with himself more than anything. “I know… I’m sorry. I just don’t know why it upset me.”

“Then you just gotta think a little deeper about it sometime. But don’t try to rush it. Take your time to figure you out, Y’know?”

“I-I guess?” They were quiet for a moment before he asked “What do you think the reason was?”

“Hey, I can’t really say for sure, I’m not in your head. But to me it just sounds like the jokes just hit too close to home. He hit a nerve, something you're insecure about and don’t want to address. Whatever it is, you should probably address it before you try to apologize to this guy. You do want your apology to be as genuine as possible, right?”

Confused and practically in a stunned silence, he realized the implication his therapist had just made. He only swallowed thickly and nodded, squeaking out a broken sounded “Yeah, right.”

#ouat #once upon a time #fanfic #rumbelle #Rumplestiltskin #high school au #80’s au #this is my ventfic

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aprils-arcadia · 4 years

Text

Opportunity

Member: Wonpil Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1,8k Summary: On a rainy night Wonpil meets someone that helps him see the world a little differently

People always say that you should take an opportunity when it arises. Wonpil on the other hand didn't see it that way. He wasn't good at that sort of thing. Taking advantage of a situation. He was way too shy and awkward to act quickly or even make up his mind and most of his opportunities passed him by with an almost comically whooshing sound. The opportunity to earn a few extra bucks by asking the boss of the convenience store when he found out the sales increased since Wonpil started working there. The opportunity to take a trip with his parents just by agreeing to something immediately. The opportunity to finish some of his courses earlier. All these opportunities had vanished right before his eyes.

But by now he had gotten used to it. He didn't need to be an opportunist. Especially because by now he sort of felt like being that kind of person would be somewhat selfish and reckless. No, he decided to walk this life at his own pace on his own path. Sure he regretted missing a few possibilities but he tried not to dwell on it too long. What good would it bring? Probably nothing.

He was walking across campus back to his dorm when it suddenly started to rain. Within seconds this small rain developed into a downpour, with the clouds spilling out all the water they had stored for the past few weeks. He didn’t bring his umbrella since it had been a mild summer night and he didn't even notice that a storm was brewing. He sprinted across the quad until he arrived at the architecture faculty. Its pompeus design offered just enough shelter for him to avoid the falling rain. He panted. Physical activity really wasn't one of his strong suits. Normally he spent all his time holed up in libraries or lecture halls and didn't really find time to do anything apart from occasionally biking into town or sprinting to a lecture when he once again found himself to be late.

He let his hands rest on his legs and tried to steady his breathing.

The night had been clear until a few seconds ago but now everything was filled with the mist of the falling water and the splashes in the quickly forming puddles. He sank to his feet and leaned against the cold stonewall of the building, letting his head fall. Amidst the gushing water he heard a faint hum. Probably just a nearby party that was just about to start but gradually the hum grew louder and closer. He heard the splashes of the water change their pattern. It wasn't just the rain anymore.

He could make out a small figure steadily making it’s way towards him but apparently not in a straight line. Instead it turned and swayed in the hazy rain. The sound of squeaking sneakers becoming more and more pronounced. By now he was able to recognize the faint hum as a melody one he wasn’t quite familiar with. Wonpil waited in anticipation to see what kind of person would be happily humming and dancing in this downpour.

The figure came closer and he could make out the features a little clearer. It seems to be a young woman probably about his age. But he couldn't really be sure. The humming stopped the second they locked eyes. Wonpil quickly averted his gaze not wanting to give the impression that he had been watching her. He heard the squishing sound her wet sneakers made coming closer until something was dripping on his shoulder. He looked up to see her standing in front of him holding out her hand. Inviting him to stand up.

“Come on. Up you go,” she said making a motion with her fingers. She smiled brightly at him, her round face framed by strands of wet dark brown hair. Her navy blue shirt that almost appears black from the water, was clinging to her body in several places. She had slung a flannel shirt around her waist that was now slowly dripping and forming puddles in front of his feet. He didn’t know what to do. Was she really serious? What would she want with him?

“Come on. You can't let me wait here forever. I’ll look like an idiot.”

Wonpil looked up to her and found himself utterly helpless. What on earth was she expecting from him?

“But you don’t even know me,” he said silently almost to himself.

“Well frankly I don't have to. I mean look at you. You're sitting here drenched looking like it had been months since you’ve had a good time. So why shouldn't I give it a shot. I mean what else did you have planned. Sit here feeling sorry for yourself?”

Wonpil’s expression hardened. She didn't have to be this blunt about it. Obviously he didn’t have any plans. The only thing left on his agenda was cooking himself a cup of ramen in the dorm and maybe read a few chapters of his current book. So nothing particularly thrilling. He grabbed her hand, just to prove her wrong. Much to his surprise it was warm considering the fact she’d just taken a complete shower in the rain, and got up from the ground.

Instead of letting go she had grabbed his hand tightly and dragged him back into the rain.

“Now do me a favor. Just look up at the sky. Close your eyes and just feel the rain on your face. Isn't it one of the most amazing feelings? Can you feel how every raindrop is caressing your skin? We often just run out of the rain as fast as we could without even appreciating its beauty. Just think about it. When was the last time you just stopped to appreciate a moment?”

Wonpil couldn’t tell. It felt like he was running on autopilot for quite awhile now. His life split into work, college and the few moments he had to himself.

“See. Your silence just says it all. Now let's have some fun, shall we?”

He turned his eyes back to her and noticed her mischievous smirk. The faint light of the streetlights that framed the path enveloped her in a warm golden glow and made her features appear softer than they probably were. He wondered how she must look like in bright daylight. Would she still look as kind as she did now or would the harsh reality of the day reveal a different side of her. He shook his head to get rid of the thought. It wasn't what this was about and for once he didn't want to overthink something. As she said, it had been months since he really enjoyed a moment.

“So what now?” he asked equally scared and in anticipation of what she would have in mind.

“When was the last time you jumped into a puddle? I mean like really jumped. Not just trying to jump across one and failing but to seriously aim for it”

“Excuse me?” Wonpil did not expect this question. What was he, a four year old? But while he was formulating a good response in his head he was met with a huge splash of water to his side that reached up to his hips.

“You didn’t seriously just do that, did you?”

“Indeed I have and I highly recommend you try it. Now get that stick out of your a** and jump”

“But what about my shoes?”

“Oh boo hoo. They are wet anyway. Why not make it worth it?”

Wonpil seriously started to wonder what he just got himself into but he could practically feel her eyes on him, waiting for him to jump. So what other option was he left with? So he just ignored the fact that grown ups don’t do this sort of thing and jumped into the next best puddle. The water came gushing towards him and he could feel his shoes fill up with water. A loud laugh escaped his mouth and he could hear clapping from behind him.

“Well done,” she rejoiced. “Now that’s what I call a smile. Finally you don’t look like a week of gloomy weather.” she giggled to herself at the joke she just made and waited for him to react. Instead he just stood there with a grin on his face that he wasn’t aware he was even still capable of.

They spend some time jumping from one puddle to the next and laughing like children. It was weird at first but by now he just enjoyed the sound the water made when his feet hit the ground and how much joy such a simple and albeit childish thing could still bring him.

She let her head fall back and looked at the sky, starting to hum that unfamiliar melody again. The melody was beautiful and the sound of the falling rain and the cicadas in the background rounded up the arrangement perfectly. She stood near a streetlight and it felt like he just wandered into his very own movie scene or maybe more accurately her own world.

“What’s that song?” he asked as he walked closer to her trying his hardest to remember where he could have heard it.

“It’s a song from one of my favorite movies. It’s actually a waltz? Wanna give it a try?”

“What do you mean by-” Wonpil’s question was interrupted by her taking his hands, placing one of them on her lower back and placing her hand in the other one.

“I... I really can’t-”

“Let me guess you can't dance. Well neither can I. But that doesn't stop me from doing so. Just listen to the melody and trust your instincts.”

With those words she resumed to hum the melody. He couldn’t figure out how it had gotten to this but at this very moment here he was standing in the pouring rain only inches away from a complete stranger dancing to a song that couldn’t have been anymore perfect. This felt so out of character for him that he questioned if he was awake or if someone had taken over possession of his body. Things like that didn’t just happen to him. They happened to others. To the popular ones. To the jocks and the preps, but not to him. His life wasn’t magical like that.

“Who are you?”

“It doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

She might be right. Right at this moment it might not matter but this time around he didn't want to miss an opportunity. He didn't want this to end without knowing who she was. Without having the possibility to meet her again. This was the first opportunity in a long time he was willing to take.

“It matters to me,” he said, impressed by the firmness in his own voice.

She met his eyes and smiled at him. A smile that said more than he could have read into it.

“We'll see each other again. Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure of that.”

#day6 #fanfiction #day6 fanfiction #Kim Wonpil #Wonpil #wonpil fluff #aprils fanfiction #aprils arcadia

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buckleysjareau · 4 years

Text

you light my fire

Emily's face stays complacent as JJ reaches out her hand to shake, only dropping the smug act and smiling genuinely when she reaches for JJ's hand. "Welcome to the team, Pennsylvania Petite."

Jemily Firefighter AU

Chapter One out of Three

Word count: 1829

Read on AO3

Moving from a small town in Pennsylvania to a city as big as Los Angeles had been a culture shock for Jennifer “JJ” Jareau. Not only the setting had been completely different, but when it came to the calls she’d answer as a firefighter, she was astonished. Going from small house fires and silo rescues to earthquakes, tsunamis, and generally odd calls was definitely something new. Something she could get used to.

Applying and transferring to the Los Angeles Fire Department had honestly been a very spur of the moment thing. Her recent divorce had just finalized so she had nothing keeping her there anymore, no more connections left there for her. So, she brought it up with the Fire Chief of LA and East Allegheny and got it all worked out. In three weeks, the town she’d spent the entirety of her thirty years of life was behind her.

Her first day on the job, she realizes that it was the best decision she could have ever made. She loved her team more than she ever thought she could love co-workers.

There was of course the captain of the one-twelve, Captain David Rossi. She knew who he was, had watched his Firefighter Guide videos while she was in the process of getting accepted into the academy over and over. To say she was a little shocked to hear a voice she definitely had imprinted in her mind would be an understatement. Embarrassingly enough, the first she says to him is ‘Oh my God, you’re the reason I didn’t completely obliterate the Chief’s interview.’ He doesn’t even get the chance to greet her.

Then there’s Derek Morgan, a smooth talker with a lot of that LA confidence she’d grown used to. He asked a lot of questions, seemed to notice a lot of things. He’d noticed the tan line where her ring used to be automatically and when he’d asked, he’d been hit upside the head by the Captain himself.

She meets two of the paramedics as Rossi - the only time you should call me Captain is when we’re out on calls, don’t be so formal here - gives her the tour of the firehouse.

“Callahan, Reid, this is Jennifer Jareau from Pennsylvania.” Rossi introduces. “She’s come highly recommended by Chief Hotchner.”

Reid’s eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the firefighter from Pittsburgh that did the Maneuver on a man with a gun.”

Callahan recognizes her then, too. “That’s right! Alvez wouldn’t shut up about it, and kept showing us the video. Think you’ve got a fan here, Jennifer. Understandably, though. You’re a badass.”

JJ smiles. “It’s nice to meet you both. You can call me JJ, by the way. I’ll also be sure to have a pen at the ready if this Alvez guy asks for an autograph.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” Reid jokes. “Welcome to the family, JJ.”

JJ squeezes her eyes tight in embarrassment when she replies with a you too.

“You know, for someone who smoothly executed the maneuver on a man with a gun, you think you’d be a smoothtalker.” JJ hears behind her and her heart stops the second she turns around to see the embodiment of Heaven.

“Leave her alone, Prentiss.” Callahan giggles. “Just ignore her, she likes to tease.”

“People have their moments.” JJ tries to act cool. “I’m JJ, nice to meet you.”

Emily’s face stays complacent as JJ reaches out her hand to shake, only dropping the smug act and smiling genuinely when she reaches for JJ’s hand. “Welcome to the team, Pennsylvania Petite.”

Her handshake is firm and a little tight but her hands are so soft and JJ has to stop herself from asking what lotion she uses, not wanting to embarrass herself twice in one minute.

“And what should I call you?” JJ thinks she’s flirting, is she flirting? Is this how people flirt? Suggestive, teasing tones? It’s been way too long.

“You can call me tonight.” Emily grins. “Or you could just call me Emily.”

Someone whistles from the right of them, and it’s then she realizes the others have gone in different directions and it’s just them. And someone new, they’re here too.

“As much as anyone loves sexual tension you can cut with a knife, I have to cut in before we get a call and I don’t have a chance to introduce myself. I’m Luke Alvez and will happily let you do the maneuver whenever.”

JJ laughs. “Happy to take that offer. Nice to meet you, Luke.”

“Come get breakfast before you can’t!” Another guy calls down from the loft.

Emily places her hand on JJ’s lower back and she prays that Emily can’t feel the chill that just went through her at her touch. The last time she felt like this was when she met Will at that bar in New Orleans seven years ago.

Emily doesn’t pull her hand away until she’s stopped pushing her to the table. JJ wants to curse herself for being the biggest bisexual disaster anyone will ever meet, but really, anyone would understand if they saw Emily. No one could blame her.

“Ooooh, is this the new probie?” The man standing the sink asks.

JJ scoffs. “I haven’t been a probie in ten and a half years, thanks.”

The man puts his hands up in defense. “My mistake, my mistake. I’m Matt Simmons, welcome to this chaotic, dysfunctional family we’ve got at the one-twelve.”

Introductions are made with three other firefighters and breakfast is half way done before the bell rings. JJ suits up in record time as she focuses on what type of scene they’re about to go to. There’s a five car pileup on the 101, no fatalities, fire and medical needed.

“You get many pileup calls in Pittsburgh?” Emily’s voice comes through the static of their headset.

“I actually worked with the East Allegheny Fire Department, thirty minutes outside of Pittsburgh so not really. It was mainly farm fires and silo rescues but we’ve been called to assist in major accidents in the city, so it shouldn’t be too new.”

“Farm fires and silo rescues? Were you a farm girl, JJ?” Simmons teases.

“I was more into sports than I was into anything farm related but I did have a horse. Blue.”

“The jock and the goth trope, nice.” Alvez jokes and Emily smacks him before JJ could ask what he means.

When they’ve pulled up to the scene, JJ’s eyes automatically land on a pregnant woman, clearly distraught. She’s holding her stomach in agony and it makes her skin crawl. Her first call with the one-twelve and memories are already being triggered.

Compartmentalize. Focus. Listen to instruction.

“Alvez, Jareau, I need you with CO2 on these vehicles now. Prentiss, Simmons, make sure everyone is out safe and see who needs help. Reid and Callahan are triaging. Let’s go!”

She goes through the motions. She’s used to this, this is the job she’s done for the past ten years so it comes naturally while her mind lets her suck every emotion back in while she’s there. Alvez is already looking at her weirdly, like he can sense something’s up but there’s no way he could know why she’s gritting her teeth so hard they could crack.

“You alright, JJ?” Alvez waves a hand in front of her face. “Focused?”

She shakes her head to clear whatever mental fog was there. “Peachy. What’s next?”

It’s the end of the day and after the first call, she’s not ready to go home to an empty house.

Emily and Kate look over. “JJ, you coming out tonight?”

Emily Prentiss, you saving grace.

“Are you paying?” She raises an eyebrow. “I’ll be there.”

“Just ride with us, we’ll get your car in the morning.” Kate offers. “It’ll be good getting to know the newbie.”

Emily snorts. “You know Alvez will always be the newbie. Oh, you get to meet the best 9-1-1 dispatcher tonight.”

“Penelope, this is Pennsylvania Petite, Jennifer Jareau.” Alvez grins. “I can finally stop being the newbie.”

“Be quiet, Newbie.” Penelope smirks.

“Told you he’s always going to be the newbie.” Emily grins. “Alright, shots are on Luke tonight!”

“Not fair!”

“Aw Alvez, it’s my first day, you can’t expect me to pay?” JJ winks.

Luke sighs. “Only because you’re a legend.”

“Atta boy.” JJ grins and pulls on Emily’s hand, dragging her to the bar. Holding her hand feels nice. Being near her feels nice. Being at this bar with her feels so much nicer than she felt meeting Will.

Not to say she doesn’t love Will, she probably always will love him, but he’s not here now. He’s back in Pennsylvania, and JJ needs to start new.

She hears Penelope literally pur beside her. “Look at him.”

JJ turns her head to find Morgan dancing against three girls. He’s got moves, she’ll give him that, but she’s seen better.

“Look at him move, he’s like a cat.”

Emily snorts. “More like a dog.”

“He did not ask him to dance. They asked him.” Garcia defends and JJ feels before she sees Luke tense beside her. Someone’s jealous.

“Okay, he’s a cat. An alley cat.” Emily smirks and turns to Luke. “Stop with the desperate pining and ask her to dance with you, moron.”

Luke sighs. “I’m not drunk yet.”

Emily just shakes her head and looks at JJ. “So what’s your story, farm girl?”

“My story?”

“Yeah. Why’d you move to LA? Tell me about your ex husband, if you want. Or ex wife, I don’t discriminate obviously.”

JJ’s eyebrows raise so high they might have hit her hairline. “Well you’re getting right into aren’t you?”

“I’m nothing if not forward, you should know.” She smirks. “If you don’t feel comfortable with talking about it, you don’t have to, though. I just wanna get to really know you.” The wink kills JJ.

“Ex-husband doesn’t matter. He’s in my past. What I’m really interested in is my future.” JJ really hopes she’s flirting. Like she said, she hasn’t flirted in so long so she’s kind of hopeless.

Emily grins. “Well, let’s go show Morgan how it’s done, yeah?” She holds out her hand and JJ grabs it, lets Emily drag her to the dance floor and oh my god, she looks so good.

She’s having more fun than she’s had in years, dancing against her coworker like she’s a pole and her body feels light and she missed getting drunk with friends. It’s been a while since she had fun while drinking alcohol.

The only thing that would make things better if Emily would kiss her.

Little did she know, Emily was thinking the same exact thing.

Neither wants to complicate it though.

Until JJ can’t take it. She takes Emily’s hand, drags her outside the bar, and kisses her with force.

She thanks every lucky star of hers that Emily kisses right back. Everything feels heightened and yeah…

JJ is fucked.

#jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #luke alvez #garvez #jemily fic #my fics

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arthurmorgen · 4 years

Text

To Be Hunted

Prompt: Arthur teaching the reader (his girlfriend) to hunt? - laurenskiee

A/N: This was really supposed to be short and sweet...but yeah. A big thanks to everyone who recommended songs. They really helped me write (recommendations are ALWAYS welcome). Also requests are still open, but I do have a little list, so it may take time. Basically I won't close it until I get overwhelmed. :)

Angst

Words: 5,217

It was late July, and hot as the fire Uncle just crudely pissed beside. Everyone sat miserably waiting for the scouting party to return. Dutch decided it was best to move camps, needing to be closer to some sort of wealth, so the ‘men of the camp’ were out searching for greener pastures. Or really just some place the gang had yet to tap dry.

You had been riding with said gang for the past eight months.

After your life didn’t quite end up as you planned, you kinda stuck with the mindset of: this world is rough so you gotta be tough.

Which really had already built you up too much. In truth you were found walking aimlessly in the Heartlands, after your horse had collapsed, dead.

If it hadn't been for Arthur being kind enough to take you to the gang, who knows where you’d be by now.

The fact was nobody gave damn about you, until he found you.

And you’ve enjoyed your stay for the most part. You had food, a place to sleep, and probably the most beneficial you had constant protection. However, you didn’t want to sound ungrateful or spoiled or anything, but Dutch was very protective of the ladies, and did not want them involved with much of anything. A little pickpocketing here, a little playing a damsel in distress there. But that was really it.

As a general rule he wanted all of you doing the domestic work, while the men got their hands dirty.

He meant it nobly you supposed, but for a woman like yourself, it didn’t sit right. You missed doing things, and going places. Even if it were risky or out of your comfort zone. You just felt like you could do, and perhaps be more.

That was all until you started going steady with Arthur. Then little, by little, you had picked up more responsibilities. Small, unimportant things if you looked at the big picture, but better than cleaning Bill’s soiled union suit.

You mainly helped steal livestock. Always late into the night, and always with Arthur by your side. And on the very rarest of occasions you’ve helped with some homestead robberies. They were a little more intense, and you could tell that they made Arthur a nervous wreck.

He had given you one of his revolvers and had shown you all the basics, but you still weren't great. If practice makes perfect, then how the hell were supposed to learn?

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard horses and laid your eyes on Arthur leading the group. His freshly cleaned blue shirt was brown with mud and his coat was missing.

They hitched their horses, all looking very irritated, and seemed to be avoiding Arthur’s gaze.

“What the hell happened?” You called out while making your way to them, eyes worriedly searching Arthur for injuries.

“Damn O’driscoll’s.” Arthur stormed past you infuriated. He made his way to his tent and threw his hat onto his bed. Then he kicked the side of his trunk while muttering all kinds of things, then sat down with his hands in his hair, and his elbows resting on his legs.

You were frozen to the spot, not sure what you should or shouldn't do. This was, for sure, uncharted territory. Arthur didn't lose his cool.

Hosea walked up and stood beside you. “We were ambushed. Those damn Irish bastards somehow knew...If it hadn’t been for his quick thinkin’ I reckon we’d all be dead right about now.” He gently patted your shoulder and left you alone.

Your relationship was still pretty new. You’ve known that you’ve liked him since meeting him but it didn’t get serious until a few weeks ago.

And boy did it get serious, fast.

At first he seemed reluctant. He liked you, but you had to keep convincing him that you wanted the relationship. And then, after some questioning, and maybe even an ultimatum, he had told you about Mary and the damage that she’d done...and then, then he told you about Isaac.

You're not saying that you fully understood. You couldn’t, you had never had nor lost a child. But it helped you recognize and understand certain behaviors and tendencies of his. When he’d pull away from you, or why it took him so long to kiss you. Or, sometimes why he needed space. He was, at times, the most self loathing person that you'd ever met. It didn't necessarily hurt your relationship but it did make it, at times very challenging.

It happened the first time, a couple of days after he told you about his son. In a way, the confession freed him. He touched you more, albeit in private, but that was fine by you.

Then he asked if you wanted to take a trip to Strawberry.

You were excited, not having left camp in what felt like months. He bought you dinner, and offered to buy you a new outfit, but you declined. You hoped to soon earn your own money and buy your own clothes. He worked too hard for the gang to waste his money on a dress, when people in the camp were hungry.

He was anxious about something, and you weren't sure what it was until he nervously rubbed the back of his neck and stated that it was getting late, and that he could buy a room if you wanted.

You blushed and nodded ‘yes’ that you wanted to stay. He moved so quickly to pay that he almost tripped over his chair.

He grabbed your hand, his palm was uncharacteristically sweaty, and the other couldn’t stop fidgeting with his collar. As he led you up the stairs into the small yet cozy room.

It was your first time sharing a bed and you were worried it would be awkward. Especially because of how different he was acting.

You both stripped down to your underclothes. He complimented you and told you how beautiful you were. You both got under the covers, you were too worried that you were somehow pressuring him into this.

But in reality he was just waiting for you to make the next move.

The room was cold and Arthur was warm, and before either of you knew it you were snuggled closely, drifting off to sleep.

You woke to the sun creeping in from around the dark drapes. Disoriented at first until you felt his strong arms holding you firm against his body. You turned slightly, just enough to look at his face.

He looked so peaceful, something you weren't used to seeing. Dutch was gonna work him to death. And that was the thought that urged you forward. You softly kissed his brow, and then placed one on either side of his slightly parted mouth.

His eyes opened slowly and when they locked with yours, he could no longer hold himself back. His mouth explored, and his full concentration was solely on you.

The only way to describe that morning was, you, for the first time in your life felt complete.

Ever since your trip to Strawberry your relationship was different. He had developed an appetite that only you could satisfy. He still wasn't keen on public affection, he just wasn't comfortable with all the wondering eyes.

So you were the one that insisted on letting the camp know he was yours. It made you proud, and you knew that deep down Arthur was thankful for your boldness. So you’d grab his hand or reach up to kiss him anytime you felt that he needed it, or whenever you did, it didn't matter who it was in front of.

Though, you were still not sharing a tent. You wanted to, but didn’t want to push him into anything he wasn’t ready for.

That was the imbalance of your relationship. He sometimes wouldn’t talk, and sometimes neither would you.

As you watched him sitting on his cot, you realized that for as long as you've known him, you couldn’t recall ever seeing him like this. You didn’t know what he needed, and you didn’t want to make the wrong move. He truly was fragile. More so than anyone knew, anyone but you.

You slowly walked over to him, his head still hung low. “Arthur, you ok?”

He looked up hesitantly, the untrained eye wouldn't have noticed, but you saw the extra moisture in his eyes.

He plastered on a fake half smile and said “Would you want to go hunting with me tomorrow?”

You were taken aback and felt your eyebrows pinch together. “Arthur?...”

You gasped as he suddenly reached forward and grabbed both of your hands. “I just really think we should go hunting.”

“O..ok. Whatever you want to do tomorrow sounds good to me.” You tried to smile, but you felt it fall flat. Something wasn't right, and you were more than worried about him.

He stood abruptly “Good, we’ll leave first thing in the morning.” He kissed you on the top of your head and pulled you into a fierce hug that almost winded you. Then as quick as it happened, he let go, and walked across the camp to Charles.

You couldn’t sleep. Anxiety found its place in your chest, your breath was short, and your heartbeat felt a few beats quicker.

The hours ticked by slowly until the moon disappeared and the sun lit the sky a soft pink.

You sensed his presence and heard his footsteps, before you heard him gently calling your name. You turned over slowly pretending you had just had a good night's sleep.

He looked fully prepared for the day. Hat and coat were already on, and you looked over to your horses only to see that they both were saddled and ready.

“You about ready to go?”

You stood slowly, feeling probably how you looked, tired. When you studied his features from under the brim of his hat, you noticed that he didn’t look much better.

“Let me change and eat something.”

“Here.” He passed you a can of biscuits.

You looked at him a little angry at his impatience.

“Stew ain’t done yet, and I want to get out of here before Miss Grimshaw gets mad at me for takin’ ya.”

You nodded accepting both the biscuits and the explanation.

You wore your favorite outfit. It was a black buttoned up top with dark jeans that you liked to tuck into your black boots. It matched perfectly with your black hat that had a green ribbon around the base. You liked to call it your ‘outlaw’ uniform, because you always wore it when you were ‘outlawing’ (plus it made you feel badass), but Arthur hated that.

He hated what he felt that he made you into one. He hadn’t though, you would have become one, one way or another, either that or died. It was truly inevitable.

When you met him at your horses, he looked you up and down, a not so subtle frown on his face. He had grown to hate the outfit. It wasn’t that you didn't look great, it was the implications of it.

“I don’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to ruin any of my other clothes.”

He exhaled out of his nose and moved his horse forward, not even waiting for you to mount.

You stroked your horse lovingly, stuck one foot into the stirrups and then swung the other leg over until you were sitting high on his back.

You didn’t rush to catch up to Arthur. If he wanted to ride with you he’d have to slow down to your pace. You were gonna savor every second away from those annoying people you called your family. You weren't going to let his strange mood ruin your fun.

After a few minutes he seemed annoyed that you weren't beside him, so he turned around making a big circle and until you were riding alongside him.

It was then you noticed that he had two bows and what seemed like an excessive amount of arrows. You felt a thrill, more than a little excited to learn something new.

He led you to a spot not too far away from camp, maybe forty five minutes. And if you considered your slow pace, not far at all.

He offered to help you off of your horse, the first sign of your Arthur that you've seen in what felt like a long time. You accepted his hand as he helped you down.

He smiled at you as his hands naturally found your hips. He looked like he wanted to say something but instead he reached behind him and handed you the bow. “Charles made this for ya.”

“For me?” You looked at the dark wood with little vine-like carvings. “Wow, it's so beautiful.”

He swallowed thickly, and his eyes wandered not being able to look at you for too long. “You can thank him when we get back”.

“Oh I definitely will. I’ve always wanted my own bow.”

He looked back to you, the same strange expression on his handsome face.

“We’ll follow the sun a bit.” He pulled out his binoculars and looked ahead. “There’s always deer around these parts.”

“Should I be taking notes?” You were trying to poke fun to lighten the dark mood, but either he didn’t hear the humor in your voice, or maybe he didn't think it was funny.

“Nah, you've got a good memory.”

He then taught you how to hide your horses, but to never hitch them. That way they'd be able to come when you whistled. Which was very important when you had a large animal carcass.

Then he led you, on foot, through some trees, until you came upon an area of dense brush. He crouched and you copied him.

“Alright. Now I’m gonna teach you about tracking.”

You nodded like the diligent student you were. You liked ‘instructor’ Arthur. He was demanding and intense. It turned you on…

“You even listenin’ to me?”

You blushed and ducked your head. “Of course I am.”

“Then what did I just finish sayin’?” He stood, cocked his hips to the side, and then placed both hands on his gun belt.

You stood and tilted your head in an attempt of defiance.. “You were talkin’ about tracking.”

“What about it?”

After your long pause, he grew slightly frustrated. He took off his hat and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his face and back of his neck. Then he messed with the fold of his hat before placing it back on his head.

He did the action to calm himself down. You suspected that it stopped him from fussing at you.

“Look, if you ain’t gonna take this seriously…”

“I want to learn.”

“Ok then.” He went on to explain how to track, and all the things you could find that animals left behind. Fur, droppings, and all kinds of fun stuff like that.

After tracking for a few minutes, he found a trail. He expertly followed it, speaking lowly, but still giving you plenty of pointers along the way.

Then he looked back at you and brought one finger to his lips. You quietly caught up. There were five deer, spread far enough apart to see individually, peacefully grazing on grass.

He whispered so softly you could barely hear him. He explained how to pick the right one to kill. You wanted to make sure it wasn’t sick, or had a fawn nearby.

He grabbed his bow, briefly showing you how to hold it, grabbed an arrow, and stood. Then he pulled the arrow back with his strong arm, gave a quick whistle, and when the deer looked up he let go. Killing the animal instantly.

The whole process was a bit sad to you. But the way that Arthur handled it, was the most humane way to do it. You needed to eat, the deer was food, and Arthur didn’t let it suffer.

You had never killed anything so seeing the animal laying there was a different experience. You ate animal every time you ate stew, and to eat stew someone had to do the exact thing you had just witnessed.

It was something that you’d get better at, you’d already felt less squeamish the more you looked at the dead animal.

“If we come across some more before it gets too late, I’ll teach you how to skin it, and the cleanest way to get its meat.”

Before you could protest the morbid idea, not quite trusting your adjusting stomach to go that far, he whistled loudly and after a few seconds you heard his horse galloping.

He took the arrow out, wiped the blood off, and placed the deer on the back of his horse. You went ahead and whistled for your horse as well, for some reason you wanted them to stay together. Then you both lead them to a secluded area, so you could continue your hunt.

“Ok, this next one is all you.” He gestured for you to take the lead.

You gulped. You had paid attention, you truly did. But having to remember things on the spot made you slightly nervous. That and the fact that Arthur wasn't himself. He was more intimidating and serious and that made you more than a little anxious. You didn't want to disappoint him.

At first you were doing great. After a few minutes of looking for droppings, you had found some, and that made the trail pretty clear. So you followed and followed, until you lost it completely.

He was positive and encouraged you. Afterall, this was your first time doing so. Frankly, he just seemed happy that you’d remembered some of his lessons.

Then a couple of hours later, you had lost count on how many animal turds you had inspected, you had finally found a small herd.

You smiled back at him, and as he caught up looking at what you'd found, he briefly let a smile escape through whatever was going through his head.

“Now what?” You stood close to him and whispered.

He nodded to your bow, which you pulled out, and went a step ahead and retrieved an arrow as well.

He stood behind you, so close that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. He gently placed your arms where they needed to go pressed his body firmly against yours, pulling the bow back.

You held your breath as you felt his strong arms guide you, and when you felt his warm-calloused hands grip your hand and then your hip, you couldn’t help it, a little moan escaped as you looked up at him.

Unfortunately for you, this was at the same time he chose to release your arrow. It flew and fell a good ways away from the deer, causing the herd to disperse.

“Goddamnit!” He yelled.

You jumped at the unexpected outburst.

“Why can’t you just pay attention!?” He threw your bow down and started walking the opposite way, back towards the horses.

You stood frozen for a moment, and tried to understand what had just happened. Then when you were over the initial shock you picked up your bow and followed.

When you caught up you walked backwards so that you were facing him. “What the hell was that Arthur?” You were angry and your voice let it show.

His brows were pinched tightly and the brim of his hat was pushed down lower than usual.

He ignored you, and continued walking with long strides.

“Hey.” He didn’t stop.

“Hey!” You stopped in front of him, causing him to run into you before he looked up and stopped.

“What?” He had the nerve to grumble at you.

You took a deep breath and calmed down before speaking. “Look, I don’t know what's going on with you…”

“It’s nothin’.” He cut you off sharply.

“Well it's obviously something.” You took off your hat so he could see your expressions more clearly. “I know that I ain’t a natural or nothin’ but you don’t have to treat me like an idiot. This was my first time, and you know that.”

“You were distracted. You weren’t even paying any attention.” His voice was harsh and absolute. His eyes avoided yours.

“Yeah that's cause this guy who i've been courting had his big strong arms on me.” You said in a southerbell voice, while fanning yourself with your hat dramatically. You regretted it immediately when he didn't even smirk.

“Look I’m not going to apologize that I'm attracted to you.” You took a step forward getting just in his space. “And when you put your hands on me, I think of all the things those hands have done and can do.”

“A lot of killing.” He murmured

“Yeah...that’s true. But that ain’t quite what I was thinkin’.” You stood on your toes and kissed him.

It was the first time he hadn’t eagerly responded to one of your kisses, and an icey fear shot through your veins.

You took a giant step back. It all made sense now. “Are you trying to break up with me?” Your voice sounded dead to your own ears.

That got his attention. His whole face crumbled, and your Arthur came back. He took off his hat so that you could see him as he could you. “God no. How could you even ask that?”

“Well you seemed to be pretty annoyed with me.”

“I...I ain’t annoyed.” He sighed and shook his head.

You placed your hands on your hips, and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m really not.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“It’s not an easy thing for me to explain.”

Your face cooled down and your hands dropped by your side. “It’s ok we got time.” You looked up at him pleadingly. “Talk to me, please.”

He took a deep breath and nodded his head. He knew that he had to come clean, but he wasn’t sure he could do it. He looked around for a comfortable spot. “Fine. Let's go sit under that tree.”

He walked you over to a smooth boulder, under a big tree. You sat down side by side, thighs barely touching.

He placed his hands in his lap, as his fingers played with a tear in his pants.

You wanted him to speak first, no you needed him to speak first. Even though he said he wasn't ending things with you, it still felt like it. So you waited and waited, until he finally cleared his throat a few times and started to speak.

“Yesterday, when we was out lookin’ for a new camp.” He paused and worked his jaw a few times. “Everything was fine one minute. Bill was saying all these ignorant things and Hosea was schoolin’ him…” His eyes squinted at the memory. “And then out of nowhere, we were surrounded by O’driscoll’s.”

You laid your hand on his thigh, and without a second thought he grabbed a hold of it tightly. You felt a little less scared at the reassurance. His hand in your hand made the world feel right again.

“Dutch froze. He looked so shocked and angry. Like he couldn’t believe this was happenin’ to him.” His gaze was on the horizon, it looked as though he was reliving every detail.

“And then what happened?” You asked as your thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hand.

“He, he pulled out his guns and just started shootin’ em’.”

Your eyes widened. “Without trying to talk to them first?”

He shook his head. “He didn’t even try.”

“That doesn't sound like Dutch.”

“No it doesn't.” He sighed heavily. “Everyone but Dutch ran for cover. He just stood there in the middle of the field. Guns blazing. He looked insane, I don’t think he even blinked. I told everyone to cover him, while Charles and I went around them and flanked the bastards.”

“I’m glad at least you had a plan.” You said proudly. You knew that it wasn't important to him, but you always felt that he would make a good leader. He had something most leaders didn't, he actually cared about people.

He gave a humorless chuckle. “I suppose.”

“Why did you show up so dirty?”

“I came up on a group of them. I started shooting and then this sonofabitch tackled me from behind. We fell off of a small cliff and landed in mud.”

You panicked slightly. “You said you were ok.”

He turned, his piercing eyes stared straight into yours. “I’m fine...I know that we only fell for a few seconds but, but for the first time in my life...I was scared I was gonna die.”

“Cause he…”

“Cause I was afraid I couldn’t get back to you.” His eyes welled with tears and he quickly looked away in frustration. “Damnit, I’ve just never felt this way before, and I don't really know what i'm saying or how to say it.”

You sat quietly trying to take the confession in. Did you make him weak?

“...and if all of us would have died. What would have happened to y'all back at camp?”

“We would have figured something out.”

“None of you can even hunt.”

Then all the pieces fell into place, and the picture was clear. “Arthur I’m a grown woman..”

“And you're mine to look out for.” He squinted like he didn’t like how that sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No you are right. I am yours. Always. But you don't have to always look out for me.”

“I do though.” He turned fully towards you taking both your hands, reminding you of yesterday. “Look if I die out there, doing god knows what.”

You violently shook your head as tears welled up in your eyes.

“It, it could happen. And we both need to face them facts. If I were to not come back...I, I can’t die thinkin’ that you was left alone, not knowing how to defend yourself, or how to find food.” He leaned into your palm as you wiped a tear. “I ain’t strong enough for that. It scares the living shit out of me.”

He returned the favor and wiped some of your falling tears. “Don’t worry about me like that. I’d figure it out, you know I would.”

“I can’t help it. Leaving you would be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, and knowing that I made you an outlaw. Knowin’ that you couldn’t find honest work, or an honest husband because of me...”

“It ain’t your fault. You saved me.”

He pulled you to him. Unable to continue. He just wanted to forget everything.

The hug was fierce and you held on for dear life, and you heard him whisper, mostly to himself “and you saved me.” He was anchoring you at this very moment, without it you don’t think you would have been strong enough to stay upright.

“And I couldn’t help but think that I never would have gotten the chance.”

“What chance?”

He pulled back so he could look at you. “To tell ya how much you mean to me.”

You smiled. “I would have known.”

“I love you.”

You smiled wide. Your whole body felt warm and your heartbeat quickened. “I love you too Arthur. So very much.”

He kissed you. It wasn’t gentle but it also wasn’t rough. A perfect balance.

He kissed you until you felt his ridgid shoulders soften, and all the stress of yesterday disappear.

He looked in your eyes and spoke softly. “I’m so lucky.”

“Make me a promise then, please.”

“Anything.” He responded resolutely.

“If you ever have something like that going on in your mind you talk to me. Ok?”

His eyes hardened a little.

“I’ve spent the last twenty four hours worried about you. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn't eat. I even left the biscuits you gave me back at camp. And if you would have just told me how serious this was to you I would have been a better student.”

He smiled. “You were a fine student. I was just a little impatient is all.”

“No I most certainly wasn't. I was far too distracted by the teacher. Even if he was a little impatient.” You winked playfully.

He smirked.

You turned serious again. “Promise me. Please?”

“Alright I promise. But you have to know by now I ain’t an easy man to live with. Sometimes I bottle up and I’m not exactly sure why. And I'm definitely not used to being loved...It feels amazin’ don't get me wrong, I just ain’t used to.”

“Then I guess I got to work on you then.”

Grinning at your playful tone, he started kissing you again.

It was much, much later before you both returned to camp. The sky was purple and stars were becoming visible. The campfire was blazing, and, thankfully, the night air was much cooler.

You brought back two deer carcasses. Mr. Pearson was very happy and began prepping them right away.

After dropping off the deer, Arthur grabbed a beer, while you walked over to your bedroll. You packed all of your stuff and just as you stood, Karen walked up with a knowing look about her.

“And where do you think you're going?”

You stood proudly. “Arthur and I are sharing a cot.”

“About damn time.” She laughed while sashaying away, looking for trouble.

On your way to his wagon you passed by Charles, who was carrying a load of firewood.

“Oh Charles, thank you so much for the bow. It is the most beautiful one i've ever seen.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. Arthur made me build it so fast I was worried I wouldn’t have time to add the details.”

“It’s perfect, honest. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome. Anytime you need something like that let me know. All I ask is to give me some time in advance.”

You chuckled. “Ok no problem.”

You made your way over to his wagon and paused while looking at all of his stuff. It wasn’t the first time you studied his pictures, but it was the first time you noticed Mary's was missing.

At the start of a vulgar campfire song you looked over to your strange family. Arthur was probably on his second beer by now, and judging by the way he was enjoying himself it would be far from his last.

You sat a few of your beloved trinkets down on the table next to his flower in a jar. Set a picture of your parents next to the one of his mother, and placed your bow next to his in the corner. Then you shoved the rest of your things, and your clothes under his cot. You’d have to get some storage of your own soon.

You stood back admiring your work. Everything of yours looked somehow better mingled with his.

Satisfied with how everything looked, you made your way over to the campfire. He saved you a seat, greeted you with a big slightly drunken smile, and offered you a fresh beer.

After a few bars and a few beers, you found yourself happily singing along.

#arthur morgan x reader #one shot

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anteroom-of-death · 4 years

Text

Life, for Dummies p1

a/n: plz love me and go easy. i haven’t written anything since dodos were alive....

You were new to the “fam”. The Doctor picked you up randomly like a stray. Not that you minded most days. It felt like transfering to a school in March: the middle of the semester. And much like high school, friends groups were already formed. Hell, you couldn’t believe that Yaz and the Doc weren’t slamming each other against the walls and making out running down corridors and such.

Graham especially treated you well. Like a pottering but wicked smart granddad. Ryan too, you could bond over basketball and other fun stuff. But still. A second out of step. Any time you had these thoughts, you shoved it down and cursed not totally growing out of your middle school “I’m not like other girls!” mindset. Which, what the fuck? You were a grown ass woman.

“Y/N?” the Doctor said waving a hand in front of you, snapping you from your reverie as you came to the present. You are on Gallifrey and there’s some psycho of the week- named the Master looking ferally at you all like he was planning what bathtub you’d wake up in with a kidney missing. You totally zoned out. The Wii Mii music might as well be what plays when you enter a room.

Shaking yourself you tried to size up the current threat. So- this is where the Doctor’s from? No bad considering it looked like a mix between Dresden after the bombing and Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It had lots of open fields. Big skies. Plenty of sunlight from two burning suns so no “When the street lights kick on, you come back in!” The image of a tiny little blonde baby-Doc bobbing around chasing space fireflies was cute.

Damn reveries.

“Be afraid Doctor!” He said five minutes earlier.

How could anyone be afraid of that. Sure when swapping past stories they told you he was crazy and killed people. The grunting he made coming through the portal was not something fearful. They were oddly sexual. The Doctor’s greatest enemy? Was right before you?

“I should have had more coffee!” You whined under your breath. Honestly. All this running, you didn’t know if you needed to mainline Folger’s or get one of those dorky water packs suburban white dads had for hiking.

This fucker grinned at that. “You’re funny!” He giggled pointing at you. Figures he had like, super sonic hearing. “You didn’t tell me you had funny little humans with you this time!”

“Hilarious dude! Can you even reach the shelves in the grocery store?” It was a pithy attempt at humor. The man had no right calling humans small.

He laughed and looked like he was debating killing you. He gave a resounding twirlin’ and then went onto monologue as if he were written by Joss Wheden. Mainly at the Doctor. But he kept glancing over at you. Yaz and Ryan were obviously acting on primal instinct of figuring how to take the Master down and Graham looked half bored. They’d met him before. Graham looked like he was just waiting for it to be done. Graham was chill. Reliable. He didn’t fly off the handle as much as the rest of you all. He was older. He was one margarita away from becoming a Parrothead. You liked that.

The Master’s glances felt disarming. Like he’d already seen you without your clothing. Not that it felt like a bad thing. He wasn’t unattractive as far as aliens went. Actually, kind of hot. The kind of hot you’d go for if it wasn’t for the fact he was massively evil, tried to kill all humans, and is currently being a bastard to your close friends. Something unique about his clapping. You did that when you were over excited.

He was dashing.

His eyes were large and just drew you in, mentally you knew every time he glanced over. Like he wanted to let you know it was for you and you alone. And he was fit, still soft. Something about the soft jaw, slight roundness to thighs and slight slouch of the tummy. The swagger and toothy grins? His skin looked soft and nice too. Crazy fashion sense. Maybe the inability to dress yourself was a Time Lord thing?

G-d, those lips, so round and full and a nice color. You shoved a thought about, other parts being that color away. Were you really here, having a team huddle, imagining the evil bad man’s cock? Desperation, party of one. You hadn’t been laid in a long time, but really?

“Y/N!” Yaz asked as you looked over and the Master smirked directly at you, like he knew you were trying to picture his cock at that moment. “What do you think?”

You groaned, “I don’t know!” your voice peaked a hoarse few octaves. The Master had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even touch you.

“He seems mega powerful.” You throw your hands out to exaggerate. He turned and pointed you out, “You have no idea what powers I have.”

“Man, shut the fuck up, or I’m gunna hit you.” You said plainly. Your eyes rolled back into your skull. You were suddenly your normal self again. He was just some dude, like any you’d see on the streets trying to undermine your confidence or get you to give him the time of day.

“No you won’t.” And he was right.

So you all just followed the lead of your fearless leader, the Doctor…

_________________________3 Weeks Later __________________________

You were back home. It was Corona Time. And definitely not the fun kind. You were worried absolutely sick. Was the Doctor alive? What about Gallifrey? What was all of that? So many questions raced through your quarantined mind. That and a few errant daydreams about the Master taking you with what you assumed had to be a massive cock. What was that overused phrase you’d seen the internet use? Big Dick Energy? The man had got to have had a set of cojones on him for the amount.

You couldn’t shake that son of a bitch from your mind.

He was hauntingly attractive. But evil. You were in a moral panic 24/7. You felt like those soulfully pained eyes followed you around your house all the time.

You were trying to focus on finding work from home jobs that were legitimate. You gave up your career to run around and play 5th wheel and now you were paying. Shelter inside? More like buying lots of unneeded skincare to fill a new void in you.

You were just ready to click “apply” on Indeed when those asthmatic engine noises started pounding in your yard. Was that the Doctor? Saving you from going insane and buying the 200 plus dollars in your cart on DHC’s webstore.

No, you didn’t see a kitschy blue box, but a stately match for your shed, but nicer.

Who should appear? But the rat bastard himself.

Boy, you were so screwed.

Suddenly he smiled politely and waved at you through the window. He pointed at your back door and was asking to be let in.

Cautiously you opened the window. “Go away, Master.”

“Is that polite to say? I’m your first visitor in weeks and you shove me-” He faux-shocked put his hand over his mouth “away?” You couldn’t tell if he was faking being insulted or for reals.

“I’d shove Timmy down a well if he killed my best friend and all her people.”

“Let me in, I just want to talk.” He opened his hand like he was caught red handed.

You slammed the window down harder than probably recommended. You felt the slam’s noise in your jaw. He’d get the message maybe. Or maybe you’d let him in and pin his ass to the living room carpet. Choices, choices. You went back and clicked ‘place order’, your bank account app dinged and said you had less than fifty dollars left. No one was going nowhere so it didn’t matter. You finished your tea in a few gulps. You made your choice.

Opening up the window, you shouted “Take off your jacket and place all of your weapons and your TARDIS key on the patio. Shoes too. Toss them into the Rose of Sharon.” You’d be damned if he was gonna kill you in your own house, surrounded by your own possessions, in your own damn town.

“What’s a Rose of Sharon Y/N?” He asked, genuinely confused. “It’s the dead bush that’s claimed the entire ramp up to my patio…” Sighing you pointed at it.

He giggled and obliged.

Always giggling.

He knocked as you were rooting for your sharpest whatever you could find. You opened the door and ushered him in. Almost comically, you began patting him down and weidling your weapon of choice. Excellent ass, you had to admit. Soft, yet firm.

“Having a good feel, love?” He asked as you were admiring it.

“Hey, you never know…” You off-brand sighed. He was nice to touch. It was addictive.

He paced around your home, looking at the photos of you and your family. The stack of bills in boxes, your life. Like he was examining art in a museum.

“I don’t appreciate you fondling my fruit.” You said when he’d made his way into your kitchen.

He grinned, “Isn’t it customary for you humans to offer a beverage or a snack to guests?”

Massaging your temples you handed him one of those nutri grain granola bars that crumble everywhere and a can of Coke.

“Not very much, huh?”

“There's a pandemic out there you dense motherfucker!” You shouted almost singing the words “pandemic” and “motherfucker”, throwing your arms upwards for examples.

You felt like you could swear around him. With the rest of your current social circle you felt like there was a PG-13 limit to your speech.

“Forgive me.” He rolled his eyes. Tit for tat matching you. He leaned heavy on his seat and opened up the can and drank politely. You almost believed him

“So why are you here?” sitting down across from him cracking your finger joints and wrists out of habit. “Run out of people to piss off in space?”

“Oh, always plenty there.”

You snorted.

“You seem very sure of yourself. Different from her other little pets.” He said. “Or, is it just a show…” He bore directly into your soul. “I’d believe it.” You glared at him, still holding your weapon, sure it wasn’t much. But to quote a legend “That’s my purse, I don’t know you!”

“You know what they say when you assume…” You put it out there.

“I don’t know!” He fumed on a hairpin notice. “Something about a donkey!”

“Relax, Jeeze.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

He grinned that megawatt, perfectly white smile with teeth better than most Hollywood actors.

“You’re bored.” He observed.

“I’ve been confined in my house for three weeks.” You stated.

“What if...you weren’t.” He weighed the words out. Almost physically with his hands. G-d those hands. How soaked in blood were they? But how dexterous were they? You swatted away thoughts of how nice they’d be buried in you, “Oy, gevalt!” You said. Noticing you had been staring at his fingertips for a second too long…

“You seem distracted...Is it me? Is the Doctor’s little pet wanting to try out some real leadership?” He mocked, but there was some other little tone to it. Care? Amusement? Yearning? A combination of all four? Who knows. You didn’t.

His eyes had the most whimsical gorgeous glow, and his eyelashes had the most attractive flutter.

“Ya caught me!” You barked with all the false sarcasm you could feign.

“Oh, I promise that I won’t blow up any planets, kick any orphans, wreck a ship carrying puppies and kittens for adoption... I’ll just show you the real way to see the stars. None of that running through corridors and fighting for your life. The way it should be seen.” He said, his nice waistcoat coated in crumbs.

“Or are you a coward? Afraid to see the other side of the coin? Y/N.” You were inherently a little bit of a coward. He crooked a crooked grin.

You pondered and helped yourself to an apple. Hoping that he’d see your teeth and that’d be another layer of “Don’t fuck with me, Please!” Though you desperately almost craved to be fucked with at this point.

You pause and consider this, is it betrayal? To follow your instincts and go off with a literal madman instead of your new “fam” because and called you on your self-sure bullshit?

“Is she alive? Is the Doctor alive?” You pleaded. A bit of tears threatening to come up.

“Yes, of course.” He assured you. It was very comforting. He slowly grabbed at your hand. “I may not be a man of a lot of truths, but I’ll tell you this. She always somehow comes out on top. It’s frustrating.” The warmth was real in his voice and in his eyes.

You closed your eyes and willed yourself sane. But the little nagging at your core said to. Give in, give up. Go with him.

“‘Kay.” You nodded. Suddenly sullen. “I’ll go.” The smile you gave was tired and you got up. You were almost shaking. He touched you and you came undone. This was not healthy. You’d blame the self-isolation, but deep down you knew it went deeper. Your jaw was trembling a bit. Self-preservation was gone.

You screwed yourself up again and poked a finger on his chest. “Try anything funny that gets me killed and I’m stabbing you.”

“No, you won’t.” This time, it was an order. An order wrapped in velvet and coated in chocolate.

You turned to go pack and he grabbed at your wrist. “No, you don't need that. I got a wardrobe department worthy of choice.” He grabbed at his shirt and brandished his look.

“Fine.” You said. So tired, but feeling more alive than you had in years at once.

Grabbing your hand and all his stuff out of your yard he pulled you into his TARDIS and it left. Off to the next….

#personal #i wrote this #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #reader insert #doctor who #doctor who self insert fiction #fanfic #yes my life is a wreck #im a mess and i want to die a bit

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maren-as-an-adult · 4 years

Text

The 2020 Experience, Part 2

When I flew back to New York a few days later (yes, I braved the airports and a plane) I could not stop crying. What should have been a loving and heartfelt reunion between myself and Graham turned into an awkward situation for him, with me bent double in the front seat of his car sobbing inconsolably.

And suddenly I had to adjust back to life more or less on my own. I couldn’t have friends come over, my family who lived in NYC were too far for me to get to them without public transit, and Graham’s mother was immunocompromised so we couldn’t spend much time together. I was back to sitting at my computer, taking online surveys for the promise of money and sending out application after application. Jena and Julia, my other two roommates, were still not back, so it was just me and Polina.

Things started to get a little better though. I had applied for Medicaid so I had some health coverage again. I scheduled an appointment with my new doctor, I started talking to a therapist again in August, and I stopped budgeting for birth control and got it for free. The after school program was up and running again, this time remotely (only one of my schools was able to host their program though, so my work hours were still cut). I looked forward to every other weekend, where Graham would drive out and pick me up to spend a few nights at his place. Jena came back and announced she was moving out, and our new roommate Michelle moved in. Michelle and I had a lot in common, and I found it easy to talk to and connect with her.

I even got out to see my family. I braved the subway to see my family up in Astoria, and Polina told me about the ferries I could take that brought me to my family on the Upper East Side.

One day in late September, however, I woke up with abdominal pain. It was pretty mild at first, but it kept getting worse. As someone who has periods, I assumed it was just week-early cramps brought on by stress combined with a poor diet that didn’t include much fiber. I tried to assuage the feeling by eating an apple, but after a quick trip to the bathroom it made a reappearance coming back up the way it went down. I decided to do what most people do (and what doctors hate) and look up my symptoms online to try and self-diagnose. The two big contenders for what I was suffering from were IBS or an ulcer. I texted Graham and told him what was up, and he asked what I was going to do. My current plan was to try and wait it out, and if things still felt bad in the morning, I would go to the ER.

If it wasn’t for Graham’s suggestion that I go to an urgent care center (which I had completely forgot existed at this point in time) I may have died.

At 7:12pm I grabbed my bag and walked three blocks to the urgent care center closest to my apartment. Unfortunately, they were no longer taking walk-ins for the day, but told me that another urgent care center was open until 8 and would take walk-ins.

It was 17 blocks away.

I walked 17 blocks with severe abdominal pain to this urgent care center just to be seen and tell a health professional I wasn’t feeling well. I knew there wouldn’t be much they could do, but maybe they could give me a better idea of what was wrong with me. I called Graham and gave him the address of the urgent care center, asking that he come out to be with me. Whatever was happening to me, I did not want to go through it alone.

I made it to the urgent care center fifteen minutes before they closed. I was taken to an observation room where a brusque young Russian woman took down my vitals and information as we waited for the RN to come see me. When he finally did come in and I started telling him what was wrong, I barely finished explaining what happened after I ate and failed to keep down the apple that he interrupted me saying, “You need to go to the ER immediately, because what you described sounds like you have a GI bleed. You’ll need an endoscopy, where they take a camera on a long, thin tube and feed it down in through your stomach and into your intestines to see if you’re bleeding internally.”

It was getting late, I was alone, and I was TERRIFIED.

I was told where the nearest ERs were, was given a printed referral, and then dismissed for the evening. All I could do was wait for Graham and tell him what was going on... and then call my mother and tell her.

I love my mom. I’ll likely never not love my mom for the rest of my life. But sometimes she takes a bad situation and makes me feel even worse. When I told her I had called Graham to come get me, she pointedly asked why I didn’t call any of my family who lived closer than Graham. Well, of my family who live in the greater metropolitan area of New York City, we have:

- My Aunt Barbara and Uncle Danny, currently NOT in NYC and instead staying out in Milford, PA

- My Uncle Brian, Aunt Corinne, and cousin Nikki up in Astoria. My aunt cannot drive and gets panicked easily, my cousin only has her learner’s permit, and my uncle (though I love him) would not be the most comforting presence to me at the moment, being VERY pro-Trump Republican and a FIRM anti-masker

- My Uncle Mike, Aunt Gloria, and cousins Maura (and her husband Andrew), Brendan, and Kevin. Maura, at this point in time, was nine months pregnant and due to give birth any minute, and I was not going to be responsible for pulling my aunt or uncle away from the birth of their first grandchild

With this information presented to my mother, she did concede that calling Graham had not been a terrible idea. Continuing to fret, however, she said I should at least have called them to let them know what was happening. She took it upon herself to do that, and additionally call my father and tell him (dad was on the road at that point and so missed my initial call of “Hey, jsyk, I’m going to the ER, wish me luck!”). Graham pulled up, I ended my mom’s call telling her I’d keep her posted, and headed off to the unknown.

As we were driving to the closest ER, my dad called. Thankfully, he gave advice that calmed me down. He listened to my symptoms, told me it was likely an ulcer, and told me what would happen when I went in: I’d be admitted to the ER, they’d take my vitals, I’d explain my symptoms over and over and over to multiple people, they’d probably admit me overnight, knock me out and do an endoscopy, and in the morning I’d be sent home with a prescription to help with the ulcer. I felt better.

Graham and I made it to the ER at about 8:45pm. I was admitted immediately, my vitals were taken, I was given a cup to pee in, an IV was placed in my arm, my blood was taken, and I told my story to two different doctors and a few different nurses. I went in for an ultrasound to rule out pregnancy, endometriosis, and ovarian cysts. I waited, with Graham by my side.

The doctor came back at about 11:30pm and told me my urinalysis and ultrasound came back unremarkable, but my bloodwork showed a high white blood cell count, which meant my body was fighting off an infection somewhere. This is absolutely something I did and did not want to hear in the middle of a global pandemic. On the one hand, go immune system! Keep me safe, you beautiful, hard-working bitch! On the other hand, what was it my body was fighting off?

The doctor said if I wanted to leave at that point, I could, because nothing obvious was found. “But,” she said, “I would strongly recommend we do a CT scan just to be safe.”

It was late, both Graham and I were tired, and my abdominal pain wasn’t awful to the point where I was bent double anymore. I could stand and walk around with only a slight discomfort. The thought of getting out of the ER, a frankly dangerous place to be in these COVID times, was deliciously appealing.

“What the hell, lets do the CT scan.”

I was given almost two liters of fluid to drink to prep for the scan. It didn’t taste bad, actually, kind of like a flat lemon La Croix that had been left in its aluminum can too long. At 12:30am I went in for the scan. Two hours later, Graham and I were still waiting for the results. At around 2:30am Graham turned to me and said, “Honestly, I’m ready to go. I won’t leave you here alone, but I’m exhausted and ready to get out of here.” I responded, “Honestly, I am too.”

At that moment, a doctor walked around the corner into our area and said, in a too cheery voice, “Hi there! You have appendicitis.”

I swear in that moment I could feel the cosmic force of the universe tremble with suppressed laughter at this finely crafted moment of ironic timing. My only response to the doctor and Graham was, “Well... I guess I’m staying here for the night?” Remember when I thought it was IBS? Couldn’t we go back to that?

I’ve mentioned before the idea of surgery scares me. I’d hoped I’d only have to experience anesthesia from getting my wisdom teeth removed. I fully expected to break down in hysterics then, but I guess I was just too tired and overwhelmed to react in such a big way. I called my mom and told her what was happening, and the first suggestion she made was for me to come home and heal in Chicago.

...mom, I love you, but getting on a plane immediately after major surgery in the MIDDLE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC FROM AN AIRBORNE VIRUS is frankly the DUMBEST IDEA EVER.

After realizing that would be a bad move, she suggested she come out to be with me while I heal. While an appealing process, it ultimately wouldn’t be of much use, because she’d have to quarantine for two weeks before seeing anyone at that point. Eventually, she offered to book a hotel room for me and Graham for a long, extended weekend to help me recover. It was extremely generous of her, and I’ll forever be grateful she did it.

I was hooked up to antibiotics to prep for surgery, and the attending surgeon explained the procedure to me. Everyone was so calm and sure of themselves that I felt okay, and the inevitable wave of panic was held off. At 4:30am, I was wheeled up to the operating room. Graham stayed by my side as long as he could and walked all the way to the doors of the OR hallway with me and the attending. I made sure he and my mom had each others’ phone numbers so he could give updates. I was wheeled through the doors, and met with my operating team.

The anesthesiologist and practicing surgeon assured me that they felt fine, well-rested, and at the top of their game, and I was able to relax some as I moved off of my gurney onto the operating table. Once I was on the table, clad only in a thin hospital gown and gripper socks, my body started to shake. Whether it was from the cold or the panic had finally set in I wasn’t sure, but I calmly told the doctors that I thought my fight or flight response was kicking in, and they might need to consider restraining my shaking limbs.

They did, and they also put a heated (and somewhat weighted) blanket over me which relaxed me so my limbs weren’t shaking so violently. An oxygen mask was placed on my face, sealing my nose and mouth into a thick plastic chamber. I tried to breathe deeply and evenly, forcing myself to think of pleasant thoughts and not spiral into a headspace of worst case scenarios. I think what helped most was actually an attending nurse reading out loud my patient chart for posterity and recording’s sake, and he said, “Patient is a twenty-seven year old female named Maureen Ford.”

The annoyance I felt at being misnamed (again as Maureen) cut through the second wave of panic buildup, and my only goal was to correct him. The oxygen mask muffled my voice, but I like to think if you were to listen to the audio recording of my surgery, you would hear, very faintly in the background, me indignantly stating, “It’s pronounced MAREN!”

My last thought before I went under was that I need to make sure that nurse was corrected.

When I woke up, I felt more comfortable than I had in a very long time. The only thing that kept me from being in a total state of comfortable bliss was the slowly incoming knowledge that my mouth was drier than the Sahara desert at noon in July. Despite this, and the residual effects of the anesthesia still in effect, I was pleased to find that not only could I clearly hear and understand the conversations happening around me, I could also coherently speak and communicate with people. I asked for water as soon as I could, and the nurse told me that they’d have to work me up to water. We’d start with a lemon swab in my mouth, followed by ice chips, and then I could get water. The attending surgeon came in to tell me the surgery went smoothly without complications, and I asked her if she could make sure whoever called me Maureen was corrected on my name pronunciation.

I really hope it wasn’t written off as a sleepy patient’s delirious request, because I was absolutely serious about it.

After eating some very powdery eggs and drinking an apple juice, I was discharged and told to get my medications, rest up, avoid lifting anything over 15 pounds, stay away from submerging my sutures in water, and to schedule a one week post-op follow up with my primary care provider and a two week post-op follow up with the attending surgeon.

Graham drove us back to Bay Ridge, and I gave him my keys to go grab some essentials from my apartment. I gave Michelle and Polina a heads up that he was coming up (and I had let them know what was happening before I went into surgery) and that I’d be gone recovering through the weekend and partway into the week. They both wished me a speedy recovery, Graham grabbed a few essentials for me, and we drove up the street to pick up my meds from Rite Aid.

For some reason, they had only filled two of the four prescriptions. One they didn’t fill because it was a controlled substance and the hospital hadn’t submitted the proper authorization for it, and the other prescription (one of two laxatives) I have no idea why it wasn’t filled. Eventually, I got both my pain medications and one of the laxatives, with the other laxative to be filled and picked up at a different Rite Aid, closer to Graham’s work.

Exhausted, sore, hungry, and (in my case) in desperate need of a shower, we made it back to Graham’s to spend one more day there before going off to the hotel my mom had booked us. Graham had been scheduled to work that day, but after calling into the office was told he should only come in if he thought it was absolutely necessary. He ended up catching a few hours of sleep before going in for the late shift at work. I managed to take a shower and fell asleep on his couch as his bed was too soft and sent my abdomen into absolute agony. I blinked in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waiting for Graham to come home with my last bit of medication. In that time, my dad called to check on me and ask how I felt, what I was prescribed, and what was expected of me. As we were talking Graham called, and I excused myself so I could answer the call. Nothing could have prepared me for what Graham was going to say to me.

“I was just hit by a truck.”

*click*

#part 2

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 4 years

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Their Hero Academia - Chapter 53: Aftermath Part 3

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

The portions of this installment featuring Endeavor was written by @msalliepants (with other acknowledgements to my friend Paul, who’s been vital in developing some backstory elements for Endeavor)

Earlier chapters can be found here

Eri was absolutely exhausted by the time she returned to U.A, the sun setting in the sky. A long morning of using both her Quirk and her medical training on the civilians and Heroes brought to Mustafar General, then making her way deeper into Tokyo to check the Heroes, friends, and students there, had left her with a weariness she hadn’t felt since cramming for her medical school exams. She’d spent the rest of the day there, pitching in where she could, even if she’d almost completely exhausted her Quirk.

She operated almost on autopilot as she entered the small on-campus apartment she shared with her husband, finding her way to the bedroom and collapsing on the bed in an instant. Blissful darkness started to overtake her almost immediately. The stresses of the day slowly began to ebb away.

She didn’t regret that she’d used up enough of her Quirk earlier, so that she couldn’t help Katsuki. Dad had taught her long ago that she could make herself crazy if she thought too much on those she couldn’t help. When she’d announced that she’d wanted to be a Medical Hero and help people, he’d been firm in helping her understand that she had limits and that she couldn’t let doing that consume every moment of her life.

But some part of her still wondered if she couldn’t be doing more. Every day out there, someone was getting injured, somewhere. She could heal that. And if she rested long enough…

No. Going down that route wasn’t rational. Going down that route lay madness. She should just lay here and let the darkness take her.

“You know, you should probably change out of that costume. Not that I don’t appreciate the way your ass looks in it…”

Eri’s eyes snapped open and she turned her head to see her husband standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. He smiled in that charming, boyish way he had, like every time he was seeing her for the very first time. She stretched out and threw a pillow at him, but he caught it. “You are the worst,” she said, though she obviously didn’t mean it.

The smile quickly gave way to a more somber tone. “I heard about Bakugo and the kids. And we’ve been watching the news. How bad did it really get out there?” He crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to her, rubbing her back in slow, lazy circles.

“Bad,” she said, quietly. “We got lucky that as few people died as they did. As it is, a bunch of Heroes are going to be out of action for a while.”

“And the kids?” Kota asked.

“I didn’t see all of them… but I know Dad’s going to recommend sessions with Hound Dog for anyone who saw any kind of action. Especially Shota and Katsumi. And Monoma, too, for that matter.”

“Poor kids,” he said, still rubbing her back. “Trauma like that doesn’t fade easily.”

“It doesn’t,” she agreed. She’d lost track of the number of times she’d woken up in the middle of the night, screaming. When she was little, Dad and Mom would come running into her room, holding her, telling her everything was going to be all right. Dad had sometimes had to activate his Quirk, but she was never frightened of him.

When attending U.A., it had been her friends, like Rinko and Hanako, rushing into her room and coming to her rescue. They’d comforted her and brought her tea and done everything they could to make her feel safe again, reminding her of her own strength. They weren’t afraid of her Quirk, even though she’s absolutely positive she took a month off of Rinko once.

Now, it was her husband. He had his own terrors and his own nightmares. And when they needed to, they held each other. He was strong and kind and gentle and she was never a monster in her eyes. He reminded her so much of Mirio and Deku, her first heroes. Now, he was her hero, each and every day.

She rolled over, so that she was looking up at him. “Tell me something good,” she said.

His hand moved to stroking her hair. “After we got the okay to stand down, I managed to get Himari’s bed put together. Only took me three hours.”

Hard to believe they’d be bringing that sweet little girl home in just a few days. They were going to get to be parents. They both had a lot of love to give, but Eri… she’d been so worried about passing on her Quirk. She believed she had done a lot of good with it, but it was a frighteningly dangerous one, especially in the hands of a child. And a frighteningly tempting one for those looking to use it for evil.

Eri knew how to protect herself. And she lived in one of the safest places in Japan. But she would not expose a child to that kind of risk.

So adoption it was.

She gave her husband a smile. Her first one in many, many hours. “Only three hours? Were you following the directions this time?”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “I’m not that bad.”

“You’re not,” she agreed.

“I can follow directions.”

“Then follow this one and just hold me.”

***

Eventually, Kota had convinced her to get out of her costume and they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. Someone pounding on their door woke them with a jolt.

“Ugh…” Kota groaned. “What the hell?”

Eri tried to cover her head with a pillow. “Think they’ll just give up and go away?”

The pounding increased. “Doesn’t sound like it,” Kota told her.

She sighed. All she’d wanted was to sleep through to the next morning. The clock told her it was a little past midnight. Not quite the same thing. She’d been well taught, both by Dad and by her medical schooling, to catch sleep when she could, under some of the most stressful of circumstances. But that didn’t mean she lamented its loss any less.

“We’re coming!” she shouted in the general direction of the door as she tied on a bathrobe. If they were trying to wake her up in the middle of the night, it probably meant a medical emergency. She was the staff doctor after all. She really ought to ask about putting in for a nurse…

She opened the door and found Midnight standing outside the door. “Aunt Nemuri?” she asked. She looked tired, wearing an fluffy bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, which wasn’t surprising, given the time and the stress they’d all been under today. As much as the woman claimed to still be a party girl at heart, she also professed a great need for her beauty sleep. “What’s going on? Is one of the students hurt…?”

Midnight shook her head. “It’s Nezu,” she said. “He was exchanging messages with me about plans going forward after the attacks today and…”

She held up her phone, it showed what looked like a normal exchange of messages, until it descended into gibberish on Nezu’s end. It was less than five minutes ago. It was entirely possible he had dropped his phone or perhaps spilled tea on it, but then he would have let her know what was going on some other way.

Eri took a breath, then nodded. “Give me three minutes to get dressed and grab my medical bag.”

She managed it in one and a half.

***

The living arrangements of the teaching staff at U.A. varied. Mister Yagi lived off-campus, with Izuku’s mother. Dad had an on-campus residence in the teacher’s dorms, as did Battle Fist, but both also lived off campus with their spouses when time allowed (Battle Fist was, in fact, currently off campus with her husband and daughter.). Super Ball, Hawkeye, Skyline, Hopper, FireFox, and Figure Sk8 lived in the teachers’ dorms full time, as did many of the second and third year teachers. Rikido had an off-campus apartment and Power Loader had one off the main workshop. While Aunt Nemuri did have a place with Uncle Hizashi, she also spent the majority of the weak in the smaller subset of apartments offered to teachers. She had one, Principal Nezu had one, Hound Dog had one, since he… was not especially suited to long-term close cohabitation, Recovery Girl had the one next to theirs, and as a married couple, she and Kota had one.

Nezu’s door was only two down from their own. Kota and Aunt Nemuri behind her, she rapped heavily on it. “Principal Nezu! Principal Nezu!”

There was no answer and Eri felt a growing sense of dread. Fortunately, as the school physician, with the potential need to access any building or room, she had a key which could unlock any door on campus. She quickly stuck it in the keyhole in Nezu’s door and… it did not turn.

“Him and his paranoia,” Aunt Nemuri growled. She looked at Kota. “Can you break it down? Fire hose it or something?”

“Only if you want it to go flying off its hinges,” he replied. “I can get Hound Dog. He can probably kick it down.”

Eri just held out her hand. “Give me your hairpins, Aunt Nemuri.”

To her credit, Aunt Nemuri didn’t protest or complain. She pulled the hairpins holding her hair up out and handed them over, shaking her long, dark hair loose. Eri supposed there were some things she just couldn’t turn off. Regardless of the demonstration, it didn’t take long for Eri to defeat the lock. She hadn’t had to use that particular set of skills in a long while, but they were on the long list of things Dad had insisted she learn how to do and keep in practice on. It actually wasn’t a complicated lock.

Of course, knowing Nezu, she suspected that if anyone wanted undue access to his home, he’d already accounted for it and made plans accordingly. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d always intended for her to get in this way. Carefully, she opened the door and they slipped inside. “Principal Nezu?” she called out again. “It’s me. I’m got Kota and Nemuri with me.”

No answer. That wasn’t good. Worry began to creep further into her brain, as Eri desperately tried to recall what she knew about Nezu’s biology. She’d reviewed his medical records before—all staff were required to submit to an annual physical, even if not administered by her—but she’d often suspected there was much those were leaving out. All she knew was that every year, the paperwork turned up. Whether he was fabricating them or had his own medical specialist, she did not know.

Nezu apartment was much like him, tidy and neat. The carpets were plush, the furniture a dark wood. Tasteful art decorated the walls and somewhere, Eri could hear a grandfather clock ticking away. There were several bookshelves, each of them filled with books. Many looked old and leatherbound, and many looked to be in foreign languages.

“Nezu!” Aunt Nemuri shouted. “Nezu! Where are you, you damn rodent?!”

Again, no answer followed.

Kota walked through a doorway into what looked like a small office. “Eri…”

She quickly followed. It was a miniature replica of his office at the school, with a big desk covered in paperwork. There was even a cup of tea, still slightly steaming. His desktop computer was still on. It looked like he’d been working. There was an oversized, leather chair, its padding thick. It had been pushed back from the desk awkwardly, up against the wall.

Carefully, she moved around the desk. There, on the ground, limbs spread out awkwardly, was Nezu, clad in pinstriped pajamas, a long cap on the ground near his head. His beady black eyes were still open, staring at nothing. Eri placed a hand on his neck, checking for a pulse.

Nothing.

Carefully, she opened her bag and slid the small mirror there from it, placing it in front of his face. If he was still breathing, it would fog.

Nothing.

Finally, she pulled the portable heart rate monitor from the bag, pulled up his tiny pajama top, and attached the leads. Switching on the device, a steady, high pitched tone filled the room.

She switched it off.

One of Eri’s hands went to her horn. It had grown a little since she’d slept. How much could she turn back? Maybe a ten minutes? How long did brain activity persist…?

No. She’d never used her power on someone who wasn’t still living. She didn’t want to think about what might happen if she tried.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She turned to look at Kota and Aunt Nemuri.

“He’s dead.”

***

A part of Eri wished she’d hadn’t sent Kimiko Ojiro home with her family. The girl’s Quirk would have been infinitely more useful and accurate than the limited imaging technology the medical building had. But Eri made do. She didn’t have the facilities to do an autopsy, but she could at least get an idea of what had happened.

Dad, Kota, and Midnight filled the waiting room. The other teachers had been roused and were patrolling campus, just in case this had been part of an invasion or attack. After the way today had gone, she wouldn’t have been surprised.

Still, she appreciated the presence of family. Nezu had meant quite a lot to her. He’d understood what it was like to be thought of an as nothing more than an object for experimentation. He’d known what it was like to be helpless and tortured, without anyone you could trust. He’d known what it was like to be offered hope, to thirst for kindness even if you didn’t understand the word.

Dad inclined his head slightly. “Eri?” he prompted, kindly.

“I can’t do an actual autopsy, of course,” she began, “but with the examination I was able to do, my opinion is natural causes, a heart attack. Probably brought upon by extreme stress and exasperated by his age.”

No one had ever actually been sure how old Nezu was, not even himself. And no one had been quite sure what his lifespan was. Most people hadn’t even been sure what he was. But he had had been at U.A. in some form or another for more than thirty-five years and had been a friend of Mister Yagi’s for even longer than that. Nezu had certainly begun to slow down more in recent years, his fur no longer quite so lustrous, dependent upon a cane to get around.

“He started working when the news broke about the Nomu attacks,” Aunt Nemuri said. “And was still working at midnight. I’m not sure he stopped. Every time I checked in on him, he was thinking and planning. I think he wanted to be sure we could weather whatever was to come.”

She clenched a fist. “Dammit. I should have known he was pushing himself too hard. I should have made him take a break.” Her shoulders started to shake tears began to roll down her face, forcing her to remove her glasses to wipe her eyes.

Dad gave her a look. Not completely unkind, as he gently patted her shoulder, but still within the realm of looks he usually handed out. “Were any of us ever able to get him to change his mind? He thinks—thought—in ways and circles us mere humans couldn’t possibly understand.”

She could tell by the way his eyes were twitching that he too, was fighting back tears.

“I know I always felt dumber just being in the same room with him,” Kota added.

Aunt Nemuri just shook her head. “Somehow, I always thought he’d be here forever. I don’t know what we’ll do without him.”

“We’ll need to think of something, at least in the short term,” Dad said. “Until we can get a new principal, you’ll have to be in charge, Nemui.”

She gave him a look like he’d just sworn at her or brought up her age. When he didn’t flinch, her gaze relaxed. “I suppose I should have expected that. Comes with the Vice-Principal job.”

“Think you’ll get put in charge permanently?” Kota asked.

“Over my dead body,” Aunt Nemuri said. “I’m good with people. It’s why I took the job when Nezu offered it to me. To help be a bridge between the teachers, administration, and students. I couldn’t possibly think big enough to do what he did.”

That and, Eri reflected, she’d confessed she’d been getting too old to continue to operate in her usual Hero attire.

“That can be settled another time,” Dad said. “We’ll all have enough on our plates. The students will be returning tonight. Many of them will need therapy sessions. The staff who are off campus will need to be briefed. And we’ll need to make funeral arrangements for Nezu.”

“Did he have any family we should contact?” Kota asked. “I know he was friends with All Might…”

“The school was his family,” Aunt Nemuri said. “It was his life.”

Eri looked at the time. No use going back to bed now. It was going to be a long day.

***

His morning had been off to a good start. His grandchildren were all sleeping under his roof, while his son stayed overnight with their mother in the hospital. His wife was still sleeping when he rose and he’d been reluctant to leave her warm embrace, but he had always been an early riser and continued to be so even now.

The ringing of his cell phone, his son’s voice announcing “I am here!” broke the silence of the kitchen. The news on the other end of the call had not been good.

“Yes, thank you for telling me, Aizawa. Please let me know if I can be of service.”

Toshinori Yagi was familiar with the concept of loss. As a very young and very Quirkless boy, he had lost what he had thought was his family. As an all-too young man, he had lost the closest thing to a mother he had ever had. As an adult, he had made peace with his own impending death. As an older man, he had stood by the boy who had become like a son to him, while he buried his father. And as an old man, he had said good bye to his own mentor.

Now, he could only stare dumbly at the phone in his hand, his mind still reeling from the news Aizawa had given him.

“Everything all right, Toshi?” asked a voice from the kitchen doorway. There, Inko stood, yawning.

Every time he saw her, Toshinori was aware of just how lucky a man he was. For almost all of his life, he’d thought the things of a normal man’s life were forever beyond him. He had so many blessings these days. A wife, a son, three beautiful grandchildren. There were so many reasons he should not have had them, so many reasons why he should never have made it to be an old man.

To say that all these years later, he was still head over heels in love was not an exaggeration.

“No,” he said, softly. “That was Aizawa. Nezu… Nezu passed away during the night. A heart attack, they said.”

Tears began to well up in his wife’s eyes. Like their son, she cried easily, felt others’ pain easily. “Oh… oh no…” She crossed the kitchen and put her arms around him. Had it not been so serious, the disparity in their sizes would have made it almost comical looking. “I’m so sorry, Toshi.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I’d told him he needed to take it easier, but he always insisted he knew what he was doing! I should have tried harder, should have convinced him to take a break…”

Inko broke the hold, giving him a stern look. She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Now you listen to me, Toshi. None of this is your fault. Any choices Nezu made are on him, not you.”

“But..” he began.

“No buts,” she told him. “This is not your responsibility. You still carry enough on your shoulders as it is.”

“You know, you’re really quite forceful when you want to be. But no, you’re right… It’s just…”

Inko simply looked into his eyes, giving him time to gather his thoughts.

“There was a time when I did not have many friends. There was Naomasa, of course, but very few who I could let close to me. Nezu was one of those few. I think I’ve known him longer than anyone. It seemed like he’d always be with us.”

His mind raced back to the first time he had met Nezu, newly escaped from his tormentors, scavenging for scraps in a city park. He hadn’t believed his eyes at first, the strange creature seemingly beyond even the variations Quirks had wrought on the human form. But he’d offered him food and tried engaging him in conversation. Nezu had been distrustful and fearful, but had taken the food and spoken two simple words. “Thank you.”

Later, when Nezu had walked into a police station and applied for asylum, Toshinori had been his one phone call. How he had managed to associate a random stranger with the Number One Hero, he wasn’t sure, but he put little past his old friend’s intelligence. He had put all his political capital behind the petition for Nezu to gain rights and citizenship. Combined with Nezu’s own stunning legal arguments, it had been enough.

First working with the police and then with Heroes, Nezu’s intelligence and commitment to justice had proven itself time and time again. He proved himself to be a true friend and one of the few people to have earned Toshinori’s complete trust. When he’d entered the field of education, becoming first a teacher at and then the principal of U.A., Toshinori had been surprised, but he’d long learned by that point not to question his decisions. Nezu operated… had operated on a level few could understand or keep up with.

The world would be lesser for his loss.

She nodded, reaching up to stroke his cheek. He obligingly bent down so she wouldn’t have to stretch. “He was a good man. He’s going to be missed by a lot of people. Do they need you at the school?”

Toshinori shook his head. “No. Nemuri and Aizawa are taking charge for today.”

“Good. Then you’ll come with us when we go to see Ochaco today?”

He nodded. “I will. They’re supposed to be sending her home today, right?”

“They are. Izuku said she’d have to take it easy for a while, but she’s going to be fine.”

She took his hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. “You know I’m here for you, Toshi, no matter what. You lost a friend today. I know that hurts. But you can lean on me all you want.”

Toshinori allowed himself the smallest of smiles. The world was a little emptier, but there was still so much in it he was thankful for.

***

Enji Todoroki, the disgraced former Number One Hero known as Endeavor, walked into the hospital, doing his best to avoid coming into contact with anyone. He didn’t really go out much these days. Not since the horrible things that he’d done to his family back in his younger days had come to life, forcing him into retirement to avoid bringing further shame to his family.

In the end, Enji had seen it as the right thing to do. He had been horrible to his family, treating them more like a minor nuisance than being a proper husband and father. He’d driven Toya to become the villain Dabi, ignored Fuyumi and Natsuo and written them off as useless, pushed Shota to hate him, and laid hands on his wife, Rei, and pushed her over the edge. He had tried to be better once he became the Number One Hero officially, to be someone that his family could be proud of and make up for the horrible things he had done, but the damage had been done. When his crimes came to life, he stepped down. He might have not wanted to, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

He didn’t speak to his family much after that. Well, they didn’t really want much to do with him. Fuyumi was the only one who really talked him, though her husband, the former Ingenium, made it very clear that he absolutely detested his father-in-law. Enji took it. He didn’t blame his son-in-law for disliking him. Natsuo had told him very colorfully where he thought his father could go when Enji reached out to try and make amends with him. And as for Shoto….

After his mistakes with Toya, he should be thankful that Shoto didn’t end up the same. Yes, his youngest son had made quite the name for himself. As the Number Three Hero, Enji couldn’t help but feel overwhelming pride for his son. After everything he’d been through, after what Enji had put his son through, Shoto had succeeded and put his childhood behind him. Though he hadn’t spoken to him since his granddaughter, Izumi, was a toddler.

To Enji’s effort, he’d tried to repair his damaged relationship with Shoto. Shoto’s wife, Momo had been helpful in that. Then Izumi was born, after an extremely rough pregnancy. Izumi was born into the world frail and premature. No one was sure if she would make it past the first few weeks of infancy. In a misguided attempt to comfort his son, Enji had said that Shoto and Momo could try again.

Looking back, he knew that he did not take the most tactful approach, and fully deserved the punch in the face that Shoto had given him when he’d said that. In truth, Enji had been worried for his granddaughter’s life. He was often at the hospital, though he tried to take different shifts from Shoto. But Izumi pulled through, and her parents took her home.

Enji doted on his granddaughter, and she became the apple of his eye. He and Shoto started to repair things, slowly, for Izumi. He talked to Rei, and felt that he was making up for the horrible things that he did to her with each conversation that they had. His life was getting better. Slowly, he felt like he was earning forgiveness that he knew he truly didn’t deserve. He spent as much time with Izumi as his good, his face lighting up every time she beamed at him with her little smile and rushed towards his calling out “Grandpa!”

Then Izumi had gotten sick when she turned four , and she nearly died. It was Enji’s fault. There was no getting around that. The Villain who was responsible for getting her sick knew that he would do anything for his granddaughter. They offered him two things: the cure for his granddaughter if Endeavor came clean about his abuse and mistreatment of his family, or they would go public about the worse things he did with his Hero career. Though at the time, Enji had not seen himself ready to retire, he’d felt like he had no other choice. He came clean about his past, and retired.

The thing worse than retiring though, was losing his relationship with Izumi forever. His past misdeeds, beyond even what he had done to his family, had made his granddaughter a target, a bargaining chip of a desperate man. After he came out publically, Shoto snapped, and Enji had the worst argument with his son he could possibly ever have. And even though Enji didn’t want to lose his granddaughter, he was willing to respect his son, no matter how much it pained him.

Enji allowed himself to fade from public life after that. He cut all ties with almost everyone. Hawks occasionally stopped by to visit, but he always turned him away. He saw Fuyumi once in a while, and she had allowed him to see her daughter Kukio, but for the most part, he very rarely left his home. It was better for everyone that. It was better for his family. Enji was a shell of his former self, and truly a broken man. And he deserved every part of it.

He did try to keep up with Izumi where he could. When he heard that she had made it to UA, he watched the Sports Festival for the first time since Kukio had been a student. He couldn’t have been prouder when, despite all of her previous limitations, she made it as far in the Sports Festival as she did. His granddaughter, the apple of his eye, was going to make a fine Hero someday.

He caught word of the Nomu attack when he turned on the news. He watched footage of Shoto, Momo, and Izumi fighting in different areas. And then Enji did something he never did. Making sure to cover himself up so no one would recognize him, he left the house, heading for the hospital that his family had been admitted to.

Shoto was fine, but being checked for Quirk Exhaustion. His daiughter-in-law, Momo, had suffered some injuries, but would be fine. It was Izumi he was concerned about. Though she had not been injured, she had over extended herself, and was being treated for Quirk Exhaustion, as well.

Izumi was sleeping when Enji arrived at her room. That was good. He didn’t want her awake to see him. If she saw him, she’d have questions, and he would have to tell her not to tell Shoto. He didn’t want her keeping secrets from her father.

Enji hadn’t seen Izumi since she’d gotten sick as a child. She looked so much like Rei. He smiled softly. She truly was becoming a strong young woman, overcoming every obstacle set in front of her. He couldn’t be prouder. Enji gently reached down, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He wished he could talk to her, but he knew he couldn’t.

Enji set down a stuffed rabbit down on the table next to her. He didn’t leave a card or anything. But he’d gotten her a very similar looking toy when she was younger, and it had been her favorite thing. Even though she was a teenager now, he hoped she still liked stuffed animals.

Izumi started to stir, and Enji knew it was his time to leave. He’d check on Shoto, and then leave. They wouldn’t know that he had been there, but just knowing that his family was safe, would give him some small comfort.

#my hero academia #their hero academia #fan fic #fan fiction #my writing #mha eri #kota izumi #mha midnight #nemuri kayama #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa #all might #inko midoriya #enji todoroki #mha endeavor

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