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the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink · 2 years

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heyo, could i request a mikey x transmasc! reader (he/him) where reader is childhood friends with the ways but moved away when they were little. and then they move back to nj later mostly post-transition and mikey falls like,,, super hard?? sorry if it’s too detailed but i just really like the idea!! no pressure tho :))

New Jersey, Revisited (Mikey Way x transmasc!reader)

Summary: as above, basically :)

Word count: 5133 (yes I really enjoyed this one how can you tell)

Warnings: little bit of talk of dysphoria, one use of a deadname but not in a nasty way! It’s entirely accidental; discussion of surgery + recovery, but not in tons of graphic detail

AN: so I’ve kind of got it in my head that Mikey and (y/n) are about 25/26 (so we’re looking at the year of the ProRev tour era wise) but if you want to interpret this any other way then feel free!

(also why is naming fics so fucking hard)

The idea of coming back to live in New Jersey again was always one that made (y/n)’s heart do a little dance in his chest. Sure, the area he’d grown up was a bit of a shithole - but it was his shithole. He’d always had fond memories of the house he’d grown up in, the school he’d gone to, the friends he’d made. His older cousins that had stayed in the area had been talking about a ten year high school reunion next year, and he quite liked the idea of that. He wasn’t ten years out of high school just yet, but it also wasn’t that far away either. Maybe he’d get away with tagging along with someone else and surprising all those people he hadn’t seen since he was a teenager. Not that they would have any memory of him. For one, he’d moved away when he was thirteen, so they’d probably have forgotten about him by now. And point number two - he wasn’t the same man he was all those years ago.

Well, neither would his old classmates be. Puberty, and all that. But somehow he doubted that anyone else in his year group would have transformed in quite the same way he had.

Sweating after the exertion of moving all his boxes of crap into the right rooms in his new flat, he dug through the nearest suitcase for a clean shirt (cursing his own terrible packing skills as he did so) and tugged the other one over his head, starting a little laundry pile in the corner of the bathroom and stopping for a second to admire himself in the mirror. He really did look good. The pinkish top surgery scars decorating his chest were just over eighteen months old, and those last eighteen months had been some of the best of his life so far. Of course there had been some rough patches; post-surgery recovery sucked ass, and life couldn’t be perfect all the time. But overall, he was so much happier now than he ever had been before.

Life had just got exponentially better with every milestone in his transition, thinking about it. The first time his parents used the name he’d chosen, coming to accept him after initial confusion when he’d come out. His very first short haircut, which hadn’t exactly been stylish but he’d loved it nonetheless. His first binder, first testosterone shot, first straggly facial hair. And then top surgery had blown everything else out of the water. And he had a feeling that the next surgery on the list would have the same effect.

Thinking back on his coming out experience as he reapplied his deodorant made him laugh. His parents hadn’t really understood what he was trying to tell them - they had been wonderfully supportive, just... a little bit unsure. Around nine months after they’d moved to Chicago, he’d written them a letter in the dead of night and left it on the table so they’d wake up to it and read it without him having to be there. Which wouldn’t have been a terrible idea if his parents hadn’t entirely misread the thing. So he’d woken up to his mom sat on the end of his bed, letter in hand, a sympathetic look on her face.

“Honey, you must really miss Mikey and all your other friends back in New Jersey. I get that. But give it some time and you’ll make some nice new friends here, I promise. You’ve just got to get to know people.”

“I- huh?”

She waved the letter slightly. “You said you feel like you get on better with the boys than girls. And that’s okay! Some girls are just more comfortable around boys for a little while. Girls can be pretty bitchy.”

“No, I - I said I wanted to be a boy. Like, I’m not a girl.”

“Oh. I... Oh.” She looked back down at the paper, squinting to reread the words. “Honey your handwriting is terrible! I never would have worked that out from this.”

“Hey it’s not that bad! But... is it okay? You know, that I’m not...”

She leant over and patted his knee. “Honey, you’re you. That’s more than enough for me and your dad. Whatever you need us to change, let us know. I can’t promise we’ll remember all the time, but we’ll try our very best.”

It certainly made for a funny story to tell, anyway. And his parents had always been phenomenally supportive of him - even when he said he was moving back to New Jersey. They’d originally thought that he meant just for the duration of the recovery period after his upcoming surgery, but when they realised that he meant to move back for good they only had one thing to say: it makes sense. Over time he’d fallen in love with Chicago, but New Jersey was still home and it had always been obvious that he felt that way. And when he’d found a surgeon based out of a hospital twenty minutes away from where he’d grown up? Well, it was like fate. Clearly, the universe wanted him back in New Jersey.

As it often did when he was reminiscing about his journey, (y/n)’s mind wandered to Mikey. They’d been best friends since the day they started school, bonding over the fact that their birthdays were only a few weeks apart, and had been inseparable until the day his family moved away. Mikey had actually cried when the car pulled away, clutching the piece of paper with his closest friend’s new address on it almost as tightly as he’d hugged him. They’d been each other’s first ever sleepovers, spent years trailing around after Gerard and getting on his nerves - and once, memorably, each received a tremendous bollocking from both sets of parents after (y/n) had hidden in Mikey’s wardrobe so he didn’t have to go home when his parents came by to collect him and made everyone panic that he’d gone missing on the way back from school. No two kids could possibly have been closer.

The two of them had stayed in contact for almost a year, but as life had got in the way (and he hadn’t quite found the courage to come out, scared of how his best friend might react) the letters had slowly grown further and further apart before stopping altogether. Somewhere within his luggage, there was a shoebox full of those letters. He’d kept every single one. Every little update about what their favourite teachers were up to, every fuzzy polaroid of the rest of the gang doing whatever stupid shit they’d decided to do that day, every drawing and friendship bracelet and bad joke from a chocolate bar wrapper. He’d clung onto those little fragments of his childhood best friend like a lifeline. Part of him imagined that Mikey had done the same, thinking about him from time to time, wondering what he was up to now.

Of course, he knew exactly what Mikey was up to these days. His small town best friend in the whole wide world had gone on to become a big time rock star. How cool was that? They had always had a very similar taste in music, and so a lot of the inspirations behind My Chemical Romance were instantly obvious to him the second he put his headphones in. It felt a bit strange, calling himself a fan of the band when he’d grown up with half of the members, but he supposed that was good enough for now. The chances of the two of them ever meeting up again were incredibly low. He didn’t know if Mikey still lived in the same place, if he even still lived in New Jersey! And it wasn’t like he was going to just bump into him on the street. Coincidences like that belonged in rom-coms.

Looking around at the haphazard stack of cardboard boxes that contained his entire life, (y/n) decided that there was no way in hell he could be bothered to sort them out now. That was just far too much effort after lugging them all up the stairs. He had plenty of time to get it all sorted at a nice slow pace, so there was really no point starting right this minute. He needed a coffee.

~~~~~~~~~~

It really was nice to be home, Mikey thought as he walked through the door of his favourite coffee shop and got in the queue. Even if home meant being sworn at by people if he walked a bit too close and fearing for his life every time he crossed the road. There was a sweet familiarity that came with the grimy streets, and he honestly wouldn’t trade it for the world. It did feel strange being back, finally standing still after what had felt like two months of constant moving. He loved touring, but it really did suck the life out of him sometimes. Two months of crap motels, raging hangovers and constant performance was the perfect combination for exhaustion, and he was really looking forward to the time off. It was the little things that made him smile, too. Like being back in his favourite place, that tiny cafe that in his opinion did the best coffee in the world. He’d spent countless hours in there, listening to the rain against the windows while he read a book or watched Gerard sketch. It was it’s own peaceful little bubble.

He ordered his usual when he got to the counter, fighting back the blush that threatened to paint his cheeks as the cute barista smiled up at him. Thankfully his favourite table was clear, and he kept an eye on it while he was waiting. The little table in the corner with the slightly wonky leg was where Gerard had taken him and his best friend for their first ever coffee when they were ten. They’d both sworn not to tell their parents, but that had gone straight out of the window when they’d taken her home - she’d practically been buzzing. That memory always made him smile, the way she’d bounced on her toes and the look on his big brother’s face that very clearly said, ‘I’m so fucked’.

He thought about his childhood best friend a lot, these days. So much had happened in his life since she’d moved away, stuff that the two of them had daydreamed about as kids, staring up at shapes in the clouds and wondering what they’d be when they grew up. He wondered if she even remembered him. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget her.

Lost a little in thought as he took his drink and started forwards to go to his table, he bumped into someone. It wasn’t exactly a high impact collision - the coffee in his mug barely rippled - but the effect it had on his heart was seismic. Standing at his shoulder, a mixture of pure shock and embarrassment on his face, was the prettiest man Mikey had ever seen. If you had asked a younger, much more Catholic Mikey, what he thought angels looked like, he probably would have described the exact face that was now staring up at him. His tongue tripped over the words as he tried to apologise, barely aware that the man next to him was examining every detail of his face in sheer wonder.

“God, I am so sorry! Are you okay? I- I didn’t see you, I was- I... thinking a little too hard, sorry. I should’ve looked where I was going.”

Feeling like all the air had left his lungs, (y/n) managed a nod. “Yeah, I- I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Didn’t even spill my drink, so...” He trailed off, something nagging at the back of his mind. As he tried to put his finger on what was catching his attention it darted away, like a fish clever enough to avoid a lured hook. He just couldn’t work out what it was; he wanted to put it down to the sheer beauty of the man before him, but a part of his brain was screaming that there was something more than that. “I... I’m sorry, do I know you? You look kinda familiar, but... I’m not great with faces.”

A smile caught at the edges of his mouth; he was going to have a little fun with this. Why wouldn’t he? Hundreds of times over the years he’d dreamt about what it would be like to swan into a room of his old classmates, watching them fawn over the teen heartthrob he’d become without realising who he’d been before, then basking in their reactions when he told them. Now, he was getting to play that out in real life for the very first time.

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure we have met. I’m not great with names though, so... sorry.”

“Oh it’s okay. I’m Mikey.” He didn’t notice the little glimmer of emotion in the shorter man’s eyes. “I... wait. Hold up just a second, I do know you! You, uh, you’re one of (deadname)’s cousins, right? I think we met at someone’s birthday party.”

Somehow, his old name coming out of Mikey’s mouth didn’t make him as uncomfortable as he thought it might. He didn’t hate his dead name, not really; while some of the kids at school had been assholes about it for a while before getting bored with harassing him and moving on to some other poor sucker, his parents had never once used it against him maliciously. So while there was some discomfort there, it wasn’t as bad as the feelings that some of his trans friends had surrounding their deadnames. Perhaps it was the context, though: the fact he’d assumed that he was one of his own cousins was a shot of gender euphoria stronger than any liquor.

“Well, you’re almost there, so, uh, you get points for trying. But... I haven’t used that name in a good few years. I’ve been (y/n) since I was 14.”

Mikey’s jaw dropped, and he put his coffee down with enough force that it slopped a little over the side. His hands moved to (y/n)’s cheeks, squishing them gently the way he’d always done when they’d made fun of each other as kids. He moved to do the same back, the tears finally spilling over. “Hiya Mikes.”

In the space of a second, Mikey was hugging him tightly enough to crush some ribs, sniffling into his shoulder just as he had done on that day so many years ago. He smelled almost exactly the same, that soft note of cotton scented deodorant mixed with laundry powder and minty shower gel, dashed with something that was so unique to his best friend that he’d know it a hundred miles away. (y/n)’s hands splayed across his back in the same way they always had, his forehead pressed against Mikey’s neck. He’d always felt safe like that, listening to the thrum of his heart beneath his skin, feeling his breath on the top of his head. When he was with Mikey, the rest of the world just slid away. He was glad that that had stayed the same after so long, too.

The barista set (y/n)’s coffee down at the end of the counter, smiling softly at the obvious emotional moment going on before shifting the rest of the queue ever so slightly so that they wouldn’t block people’s way.

He pulled back, eyes glittering with disbelief as he tested the new name on his tongue. “(y/n)... (y/n). God, that suits you so well. You... you look amazing.”

“Yeah? You’ve grown up pretty well yourself.” Blushing deeply at his compliment, he allowed himself to stare at Mikey properly. He really had matured, growing into those pretty cheekbones magnificently. All those times he’d imagined what his best friend might look like now, and he’d never quite pictured him like this. But looking at him now, it all made sense. And the raging crush that he’d had when he was twelve years old came back, crashing down on him like a ton of bricks.

Little did he know, the exact same thoughts were going through Mikey’s head. He was astounded by how much he’d changed - and yet, how much he’d stayed the same. The shorter haircut fit his facial features so well, and his style was pretty much the same as it had always been; it just framed him so much better now. He was head over heels, and there was no hope of denying it. If Gerard walked in right now, he’d instantly jump to making the exact same jokes he always made about Mikey having a crush - without even realising that he was joking about the exact same person, over a decade later.

“Dude, please tell me you’ve got time to sit down.”

“For you? Always.”

Finally picking up their coffees the two of them headed over to the corner table, settling opposite each other and grinning wide enough to split their faces in two. They were both taller than they had been the last time they’d sat here; their knees were squished together under the table. The two of them started talking at the same time, giggling as their words overlapped before stopping for a second.

“You go.”

“No, you can start.”

“No, you go first.”

The bickering took them straight back to old times, and soon the conversation was flowing like water. It didn’t seem possible to cover over a decade of separation in as much detail as they both needed, but they certainly tried their best.

“So, yeah. The FBI came round.”

“You were fifteen?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom must have wanted to kill you!”

“Oh she did... I still got to go the gigs though. That Pumpkins tour was insane.”

When they got round to the story of (y/n)’s transition, Mikey had tons of questions to ask. Like everyone else, he found his coming out story hilarious - and knowing his mom personally made it even funnier. When he talked about his voice cracking after getting on testosterone, the only thing Mikey could say was, “Now you know how I felt! I wish I’d been there to give you the same shit you gave me.”

He smiled softly, hands wrapped around his mug. “Yeah, I wish you’d been there too. I’ve missed you a lot, you know.”

“I’ve missed you too. I don’t know if I can describe just how much, but...” Trailing off, Mikey pushed back the sleeve of his hoodie, revealing the tatty band of coloured string around his left wrist. “I’ve worn this since you sent it to me. It hasn’t come off once.”

Mouth hanging open, (y/n) pulled his hand closer to take a better look. Both men tried their hardest not to show just how wonderful it felt to hold the other’s hand, but when (y/n) pushed his own sleeve back to show the matching friendship bracelet, just as ragged and grubby as Mikey’s, the two of them cried almost enough to refill their empty coffee cups.

It took (y/n) a few tries to choke the words out through the tears. “I thought... I thought maybe you would’ve forgotten about me.”

“Never. No way.” Mikey squeezed his hand, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “You’re the one person I could never forget. Not in a million years.”

“I only ever took this off once, you know.”

“A whole once?” He managed a laugh, rolling his eyes. “Wow, I see how it is.”

“Hey, it wasn’t exactly my idea!” (y/n) scoffed, whacking him softly. “I wasn’t allowed to have it on when I went in for top surgery, something about an infection risk. My mom was there when I woke up after, and apparently the first thing I said was, and I quote-” He paused, taking a deep breath for effect. “If anyone touches my damn bracelet, I’ll eat their balls.”

Mikey cackled so hard he almost fell out of his chair, clutching at his ribs as he wheezed. “You’d eat their balls?”

“Shut up, I was doped up on painkillers! I don’t even remember it happening.” When Mikey continued laughing, he grabbed a packet of sugar from the little tub on the table and tossed it at his face. “I bet you say stupid things when you’re drunk too.”

“Well...”

The two of them sat there trading stories about being in My Chemical Romance and working as a photographer at concerts until the cafe closed, apologising profusely to the very amused barista as they watched her switch all the machines off, then the lights.

Mikey offered to walk (y/n) home, both of them delighted to find out that they only lived a five minute walk away from each other. They traded phone numbers at the door to (y/n)’s apartment building and were texting before he’d even got in the elevator, elated to finally be back in each others lives. Neither man had wanted to say goodbye, but the promise of seeing each other again tomorrow kept them going. After so long, the thought of missing out on anything else was too much to bear.

~~~~~~~~~~

And so three weeks later, as he set his bag down in the little stand next to the hospital bed, (y/n) shot a quick text to Mikey.

Hey! Won’t be around today - I’m having the ol’ baby-making kit removed up at the hospital this morning. I’m pretty sure I told you about that but if I didn’t... well, I just did! Anyway, I’ll be pretty sleepy post-op, and the doctors have told me I’ll have to take it easy for a while, so I’ll catch up with you in a few days, yeah? Say hi to your mom for me!

The two of them had spent at least fifteen of the last twenty-one days in each other’s company in one way or another, whether it was at someone’s flat or out for coffee or wandering around the comic book store for hours on end. It was a shame that he probably wouldn’t see him for another week or so, given that he had mentioned a couple of interviews that had been scheduled for the band. But the doctors had told him in no uncertain terms that he’d have to take it easy for at least four or five days, to give the incision a chance to start healing before putting it through too much stress. So he’d have to settle for texting, just for a little while.

Careful to put his bracelet in the safest place possible, (y/n) slipped quickly into the hospital gown and stuck his head out from around the curtain.

“Okay! I’m good to go.”

When he woke three hours later, groggy and aware of a slight pulling sensation across his stomach, he certainly hadn’t expected to also feel a hand tucked into one of his. Careful not to sit up just yet, he glanced down - smiling at the sight of his bracelet, back where it belonged. And a very familiar person sitting in the chair next to his bed.

Spotting the little movement, Mikey squeezed his hand, grinning. “Couldn’t have you threatening to eat anyone’s balls this time.”

“Much appreciated.”

“How are you feeling? And you didn’t tell me before, by the way, so I freaked the fuck out reading that earlier.”

He laughed slightly, wincing a little as the pulling sensation got stronger. “Sorry. But hey, no more uterus. That’s pretty fucking cool.”

“Yeah, it sure is.” He stroked across the back of his hand, careful not to knock the cannula where it was taped in place. “Do you want me to get a nurse? Tell someone you’re awake?”

“Nah, they’ll find out eventually.” His eyes slid closed again, heavy with the weight of anaesthesia. “You being here is enough right now.”

Mikey tried to tell himself that it was just the meds talking, but he couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at those words. He was ridiculously, stupendously, immeasurably in love with his best friend, and right now he wanted the whole world to know it. Ideally he’d tell him first, of course, but that required being brave. And he really didn’t know if now was the right time.

Inhibitions steamrollered by the remaining drugs in his system, (y/n) had no such problem, and just kept rambling on. “Y’know, I’m so glad I found you again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Thought I was gonna have to make do with committing all your bass lines to memory. This is so much better.”

“You know, I’d always wondered whether you’d find out about the band or not. Every time I get on stage, I imagine you being in the crowd, having the best time. Maybe I can bring you to a show someday.”

“Oh, I’d love that.” He nodded thoughtfully, still holding Mikey’s hand. “But I would be happy anywhere as long as I was with you.”

“You would?”

“Mhm.” He yawned, stretching his neck gently. “Don’t you ever go anywhere without me ever again, Mikey Way. You’re my everything.”

“I... I am?” That pretty much sounded like a confession to him, and his heart ached against his ribs as he tried to scrape together the courage to say something back.

But as he took his first deep breath, (y/n) had already drifted back to sleep.

When he woke again an hour and a half later, he had zero recollection of the conversation they’d had. Mikey was very quick to realise this, given the way his face lit up at the sight of the little friendship bracelet.

“Aww, did you put that back? Thank you. And thank you for being here.”

“Hey, I’d do anything for you.” Knowing that really, it was now or never, he decided to take the plunge. “So, you were awake earlier. Do you remember anything from that?”

“I was awake?” (y/n) frowned, thinking for a second before shaking his head. “I don’t remember being awake.”

“I didn’t think you would. You, uh... you weren’t making much sense, but there was one thing I did pick out.”

“Mhm?” All of a sudden, anxiety clawed at his veins. What had he said? Had he confessed the way he felt? Was this Mikey’s way of telling him that he wasn’t comfortable being friends any more because of it?

“So I needed to tell you...” He paused for a second, taking (y/n)’s other hand in his free one and bringing it to his lips. “You’re my everything too. I... God, I am so in love with you it doesn’t even feel real. I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven years old, and you going away tore me apart. And now you’re home again, and you’re you, and it’s the most incredible thing. I thought those feelings had gone away, but... they’re so strong. You’ve still got that stupid sense of humour, and amazing taste in music, and you’ve gone from being that crazy tiny kid to the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I love you so much.”

(y/n) was entirely speechless for a few moments, struggling to comprehend exactly what was going on. Was he dreaming this? Was this the anaesthesia playing tricks, lighting up the sleeping parts of his brain and sending his mind on a wild goose chase? But no. The feeling of Mikey’s breath, warm against his cold knuckles, was enough to prove that this had to be real. And he damn well knew what he was going to do about it.

He started to sit up very slowly, not wanting burst stitches to ruin the moment. Mikey tried to stop him, eyes watery as he waited anxiously for a response but still more concerned with his safety. “What- what are you doing?”

“Something I should’ve done a very long time ago.”

And, as gently as he could, (y/n) kissed him.

The sensation made the emotions they both felt upon coming back to New Jersey seem miniscule, insignificant. It couldn’t possibly matter where in the world they were, as long as they had each other. Careful to avoid the new wounds, Mikey settled one hand on (y/n)’s thigh and the other on the back of his neck, keeping him as close as he dared as they drank each other in. This was everything he’d dreamed of. For now, he had no intentions of telling the other man that he’d been the subject of every wet dream, the thought fuelling every hasty wank. No intentions of telling him that he’d pictured them meeting again, falling in love, spending the rest of their lives together. No intentions of telling him that instead of a prom date, he’d taken a Polaroid of the two of them and kept it in his pocket the whole night, never dancing with anybody else.

And of course, (y/n) definitely wasn’t going to tell him that his was the name he whispered in the dead of night, fingers finding all the right places and wondering what it would feel like if they belonged to him. Definitely wouldn’t reveal that he’d slept with the shirt that he’d given him as a goodbye present every day for three whole years after moving away, desperately needing him to be back by his side. Definitely wasn’t going to share that every time he’d seen a couple walking down the street, he’d pictured it as if it was the two of them instead.

Not yet, anyway. All those stories could wait for later - they had forever to spare. For now, the only thing that mattered was the way their lips felt against each other, like they’d been designed solely for the other to appreciate. Like they’d been made for each other right from the very start.

Well, (y/n) thought as they broke apart for air, foreheads pressed together and hands stroking sides. Eleven year old me is definitely punching the air right now.

“I love you too, idiot.”

“R-really?” The hope in Mikey’s eyes was brighter than the stage lights he was still so uneasy performing under, shining as (y/n) cupped his face. He moved to do the same, smiling as he rolled his eyes.

“The kiss wasn’t enough to prove it, huh?”

“I don’t know man. Maybe it’s best that you do it again.”

(y/n) grinned as he leant back in. “Well I guess I’ll have to, won’t I? Because I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight any time soon.”

“Oh, what a shame.”

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actress4him · 3 years

Text

Querencia 7 - Breakfast

I originally thought this would be fluff with a sprinkling of angst, but it’s more like vice versa. It’s me, what do you expect.

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @inky-whump , @lave-whump

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Warnings: lady whumpee (no whumper), referenced homelessness, referenced panic attack, referenced noncon microchipping, mild self harm (hair pulling), referenced starvation, emeto mention, self-deprecating thoughts, brief sensory overload

Liliana wakes from a restless night of sleep on the floor of the unfamiliar bedroom. She’d be startled and confused about where she was if it weren’t for the fact that she’d already gotten that over with, more than once in the middle of the night. Now she only rolls over and looks at the digital clock by the bed, twisting a few kinks out of her neck and back along the way. Six am. She vaguely remembers someone saying they were usually up by seven before they left her here for the night.

She’s not going to be sleeping anymore, though, so she gathers herself up off the floor, picking up the blanket and laying it neatly across the bed so that the superheroes wouldn’t be able to tell what she had done with it. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate being given a bed. It was just...too soft. She’d been sleeping on the ground for a year, and her bed at the facility had been like sleeping on a board. Maybe, eventually, if she stayed long enough, she’d be able to get used to a real bed again. But last night the only bits of sleep that happened were on the floor.

She’s not planning on being here long enough for that, anyway. The whole situation is completely surreal, and there’s no way that it can last. Yesterday wasn’t her first time seeing the team fight, they’re a pretty standard sight around the city, and people are always talking about them. Electric Eagle, Fantasia...the other two can only be Phantom and Xtra. They were always far off, though. Unreal. Celebrities and heroes that she’d never thought she’d end up meeting, much less that she’d find out they’re so...human? and nice? And the fact that they’d actually invited her to join their team is still blowing her mind.

Of course, then she’d had to go and make a terrific first impression by having a panic attack in front of them all. It was just...for a moment, she had been back there, back in that building of white walls and white tile floors and long hallways and cold shoulders and threats to suppress her powers.

The last year of living on the streets has been terrible. But at least she’s been free.

Glancing down at her arm, she rubs her fingers across the tiny white dot of a scar inside her elbow. Relatively free. As free as she can be while being watched, both by those who put the tracker inside of her and by the wary eyes of those she encounters from day to day.

What if they’re the same? What if they tracked me down using the microchip and they work for them and they’ve locked me up again and all the nice things about being on their team and coming and going as I please were lies and they’re going to keep me here and

Liliana folds over herself, grabbing double handfuls of her hair and pulling, hard. Stop it. Cállate. The sharp pain on her scalp halts her racing thoughts, and she pulls in deep breaths to calm herself. When did I become such a paranoid person? She knows the answer to that, but gives another tug on her hair to stop those thoughts in their tracks, too.

The superheroes seem perfectly nice, much nicer than anyone she’s encountered since leaving home. There’s no real reason not to trust them for now, or at least to proceed cautiously, playing along and seeing if she can gain their trust so that they really will let her come and go if she wants. She can do that. She’s good at blending in, at being invisible, at playing whatever role she needs to play in order to not get hurt.

Needing to get her mind off of everything, Liliana unzips her backpack and pulls out one of her worn, falling apart books. She’s read it dozens of times already, but new reading material has been a bit scarce for a while now.

At seven-fifteen, someone knocks softly on her door. “Um...Liliana? It’s Jamil. Hope I’m not waking you. I thought I heard you moving around in there earlier.”

Silence falls, and she suddenly realizes she’s expected to give an answer. “Oh. Um. Yes? You...you didn’t wake me.”

“Good.” He sounds like he’s smiling. She’d almost forgotten what that sounds like. “I just wanted to let you know that I made some breakfast, so you’re welcome to join me if you want.”

Breakfast. Her stomach suddenly feels more hollow than usual at the thought. She hasn’t eaten since...yesterday morning? Maybe? Yeah, she’s pretty sure she had half a bagel yesterday morning. It didn’t last very long.

Standing on trembling legs, Liliana crosses to the door, flips the lock, and eases it open, peering out. The guy from the hall yesterday is standing there, the one who had stayed back next to Electric Eagle - Quinn. He smiles at her, dark brown eyes crinkling behind his glasses.

“Hi. Kitchen’s this way, if you want to follow me.” He gestures with his head. “Or, you know, if you wanna shower or something first, that’s fine. The others aren’t up yet, so you won’t be late or anything. Alex never gets up and eats until like, nine.”

A shower sounds amazing, but not as amazing as food. The words to tell him that don’t seem to be forthcoming, though, so she simply steps out the door and shuts it behind her. Jamil’s eyes flick over her, and she’s suddenly far too aware of the fact that she’s wearing the same clothes as they found her in. She’s so used to living and sleeping in them by now that it hadn’t even occurred to her that it wasn’t normal.

Her cheeks flush and she’s about to open her mouth to try to explain when his smile widens again and he turns to leave. “This way!”

The smell of bacon assaults her nose while they’re still in the hallway. It makes her stomach grumble, and she presses a hand against it in an effort to keep it quiet. She hasn’t had bacon in...years. Since the time that she doesn’t like to think about, the life that she pretends never existed. It’s too painful to remember what she had and lost.

The kitchen is open and sunny, a big window over the dining table that looks out onto the river, and a sky light illuminating the main part of the room. Two cobalt blue plates are already on the table, filled with not only bacon, but fried eggs and buttered toast. Liliana’s stomach gives another growl.

Jamil gestures to one chair as he takes a seat in the other. “I guess I could have asked you how you liked your eggs and stuff, but, uh...hope you like over medium. Oh!” He jumps back up and Liliana, just having sat down, jolts. “I meant to get out jam and stuff. For the toast.”

She takes a deep breath as he rushes back to the refrigerator, trying to settle herself. Her fingers itch to pick up the bacon. Soon he’s back with an armload of jars and squeeze bottles, unloading them all onto the center of the table.

“We always have way too much of this stuff. Everybody likes their own kind, and then Nari is always changing what kind she likes before she finishes the first bottle.” Finishing the task, he sits again. “Anyway, feel free to help yourself. And you can eat, you don’t have to wait on me.”

She still waits until he’s picked up his fork before snatching up the first piece of bacon and biting into it. Flavor bursts across her tongue, and she shuts her eyes, almost moaning in delight. It’s so good. Despite her best efforts to savor it, she’s so hungry, and it’s gone before she knows it. Liliana eyes the second piece, but forces herself to pick up her fork, instead.

“So, Quinn told me your name is Liliana, right?”

She looks up with surprise, still not used to this whole ‘conversation’ thing, but nods.

Jamil nods, too, waving his fork as he speaks. “You’re what...twenty? Twenty-one?”

She has to muster up her voice again. It’s not used to being summoned so often. “What’s the date?”

A flicker of confusion crosses Jamil’s face. “Uh...October nineteenth.”

So she was right, it’s been just over a year since the facility had kicked her out. She nods again. “I just turned nineteen, then.”

His expression then is something she can’t read, but whatever it is quickly gets covered over with a smile. She can’t remember the last time she’s seen so many smiles in such a short period of time. “Guess I’m not the baby anymore! I’m twenty-four, and I’m - I was - the youngest. I mean, only by a couple of years, but they never let me forget it.” He waves his fork some more. “Not like, in a bad way, of course. They just like to tease.”

Liliana just nods again. She’s only taken one bite of egg, but her stomach is starting to feel less hungry and more queasy. Jamil is still eating, and there’s still so much food on her plate, and if she wastes it she might get in trouble. But she’s not sure that she can make herself eat anymore right now, no matter how much she may want to. So she focuses on cutting her egg into pieces and swirling the white through the yolk, hoping Jamil doesn’t notice. Maybe in a few minutes she’ll be able to keep eating.

“Everything okay?” Jamil asks, and boy, isn’t that a question. Everything hasn’t been ‘okay’ in a very long time. But Jamil is looking at her and her uneaten food, and her cheeks heat up at being caught.

“Yeah. It’s...it’s really good.” She stabs a piece of egg and quickly stuffs it into her mouth. It settles in her stomach like a rock.

“Liliana, you...you really don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings.”

She shakes her head. “No, no I do. It’s good.” She wants to force another piece down to prove it, but she’s afraid she’ll throw up.

“Good morning!”

Nari’s cheerful voice grabs both their attention, but while Liliana quickly looks back to her plate, she and Jamil seem to have some kind of conversation with only facial expressions. A second later Nari has crossed the room and is dropping into a chair across from Liliana. “Everything okay?”

Liliana wants to laugh aloud, but she presses her lips together and gives a quiet, “Mm-hm.”

“You look like you don’t feel well,” Jamil points out. “If the food -”

“There’s nothing wrong with the food.” Immediately she winces. She’s not supposed to interrupt people, that’s rude and it makes people angry -

Nari breaks into her train of thought with a soft question. “Jagiya...how much food have you been getting lately?”

Oh. She’s so stupid. Of course she can’t just eat whatever she wants after practically starving for a year. She’s not going to tell them that, obviously, but a glance up at their faces tells her that they’ve already started to figure it out.

Jamil shoves his chair back and stands. “Right. Okay. See, I knew I should have asked you what you wanted. Okay, so the toast might still be alright. No, scratch that, I’ll make you a new piece with no butter, and you can put some jam on it instead. And...maybe scrambled eggs? Or do you just want to start with the toast and see how you feel?”

Suddenly it’s all just too much. Too much noise, too much conversation, too much kindness. Liliana pushes her plate back with a hand that shakes and stands quickly, eyes anywhere but on the two pitying faces watching her.

“No, it’s...I’m just not very hungry, I’m sorry. Th-thank you. It was...it was good, I’m just...not hungry. I’m gonna...can I go back to my room now?”

“Of course, Lili.” Nari’s voice is still so soft, and it makes something twist inside her gut. “You don’t need permission for that.”

“Lo siento,” she whispers. “Thanks.” She exits as quickly as she can, back to the safe haven of the unfamiliar bedroom where there’s dark and quiet and a lock on the door.

————————————————

Translations:

Cállate - shut up

Jagiya - sweetie

Lo siento - I’m sorry

#querencia #liliana the healer #jamil the hero #nari the hero #whump #whump writing #lady whumpee #lady whump #homelessness tw #mild self harm tw #starvation tw #emeto mention #self-deprecating thoughts tw #sensory overload tw #fluff and angst #original fiction

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abbacchiosbelt · 4 years

Text

while digging through my writing folders i found a fic i did a long time ago for a pal featuring deadbeat dabi becoming a good dad. if you want some sickeningly sweet parenting, family bonding, and happy!todorokis, then please feel free to read this. written in early 2019, so it’s not updated to reflect any potential changes in the BNHA manga. with that said, here u go

[2019 Fic] | Bright Flame | Single Dad!Dabi & Daughter Reader

When his fling that had disappeared nine months ago showed up on his doorstep holding a baby with bright red hair and eyes that mirrored his own, Dabi felt sick. His first thought was to slam the door (and maybe scare his ex away with some flames, if she hadn’t been holding a baby) and abandon his house. She’d never find him if he left – he’d been running all his life.

But then the god damn baby had to look at him and make the smallest, cutest noise he had ever heard. Dabi didn’t do cute. Dabi didn’t do babies or children, or anyone at all, really. He didn’t make commitments and he had never, ever, planned anything in his life that wasn’t indefinite. He was young, still. He thought he’d be dead by 30, or maybe earlier. If he was honest with himself, he just didn’t care at all.

Again, the baby coos at him, this time squeezing her tiny fists together. She wasn’t scared of his appearance, which surprised him. Most kids cowered in fear when he shot a glance in their direction. This baby, though, was keenly interested. His baby?

Only seconds had passed but it felt like years to him. Why the hell did she even bother coming here with this… this thing that might not be his. (Fuck, he was in denial. The stupid baby looked just like him, down to the lax facial expression all he and his siblings wore.) Finally, his fling spoke up.

“I need your help.” She was blunt, as always. Maybe a little too blunt, because Dabi had been unable to stay away from her, unlike his other flings. One day she just disappeared and never bothered to contact him again, but he didn’t care. He never did. She’d see right through him if he tried to play this off as anything but what it really was, but he couldn’t admit to it.

“With what?” Lax, uninterested. The same persona he always wore as armor.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Have you seen our daughter’s eyes?”

Our daughter. He laughs, the anxiety rising in his chest telling him to run.

“I’m not the only one you were fucking.” He says, and her face turns dark.

“You were. You can’t hide from this, Dabi.” She pulls out his last name with a hiss. Bold enough that again, Dabi wouldn’t mind torching her had she not been holding a baby. Even he still had some morals. And who the fuck was she to be scolding him? She was the one that disappeared without a word. (The sinking feeling in his stomach told him exactly why, but he wouldn’t admit it.)

“Whatever.” He goes to shut the door, but she shoves her foot in the frame to stop him. The baby is closer than ever to him – she was dressed in a onesie that resembled a black cat, a stark contrast to her features. Looking this closely, he couldn’t deny the resemblance. The baby smiles at him.

“Listen. You don’t have to raise her, but you sure as hell better provide for her.” It’s not a question, and Dabi very well knows that his fling could just as easily kill him with her quirk. Before, it had been part of foreplay for them, the thrill of the pain. Now, it was just pissing him off.

“Why?”

She gives him another dark look. The baby, though, is still smiling at him while she waves her fists in the air.

“She’s your kid, asshole.”

Dabi’s sympathy for other people is non-existent. Sure, maybe he’d prevent himself from killing kids, but he didn’t really care about them. But he knew as well as anyone what having a bad childhood meant – what having an abusive and absent father meant. He’d always been the strong one for his siblings, acting out so he’d receive punishment instead of them. He wore it like a badge of honor, crumbling from his chest when he finally ran away. (He always pushed the guilt away.)

He can’t deny the pull in his chest. He’s not sure what it is – familial connection? Fear? It’s a yearning feeling he can’t place, but it’s slowly chipping away at his resolve. The baby won’t stop smiling at him and he can’t look away, look into those same eyes that his father once saw and had no trouble hurting. He wasn’t made for something like this. But maybe, just maybe, keeping her away from him would be the best option. He’d give his fling money, make sure the kid was fed and clothed.

He wouldn’t become his father, at the very least.

He sighs, and finally meets the gaze of his ex. “Fine. But I’m not raising her.”

---

Dabi is annoyed, then, when his ex shows up again a few months later, holding… the baby. The word daughter still felt wrong on his tongue. She has a look on her face that tells him this is absolutely not where she wants to be, and he feels the familiar pit of anxiety he gets around the kid forming.

“You need to watch her. My babysitter flaked on me.” She thrusts forward the large bag she has in her hand to him, and he gives it a look like it’s going to kill him. The baby giggles.

“What?” He tries to hide the panic in his voice. She can’t be fucking serious. He doesn’t know what to do, and he sure as hell doesn’t like or know how to take care of kids, even if this one is annoyingly cute. His ex gives him a withering stare, his daughter now flapping her arms excitedly in his direction. He hadn’t held her yet, he hadn’t been too keen on it and his ex didn’t push it, but he would have to now. Fuck.

“Fine.” He scoffs, lifting his arms towards his daughter. His ex gives the baby a kiss and a goodbye before she gingerly passes her over. He holds her for the first time with a stunned expression, her blue eyes looking back into his with curiosity.

“So,” his ex starts, snapping him out of it. “There’s a list in the bag of her routine and everything you’ll need. My number is in there too.”

She looks at the baby longingly before meeting his eyes. “She’s an easy baby. Please, just give it a chance. And thanks.”

He feels a mild pain on his cheek and glances down to realize the baby is tugging at one of his staples, eyes wide with fascination. Great. His ex stifles a laugh, but he can see the smirk under her hand.

“I’ll be back around 10 P.M.” She leans forward and tousles their daughter’s hair. “Be good for your daddy, sweetheart.”

Dabi’s stomach constricts at the word daddy. He may have used that word other times, but he never thought it’d be in this particular situation. He grunts a goodbye to his ex and turns back to enter his apartment, diaper bag and daughter in tow. He drops the bag unceremoniously on the floor the second the door shuts and heads to the living room, plopping down on the couch with his daughter. Before he held her with one arm, but he experimented by cradling her with both. It felt… nice.

“So.” He says, immediately feeling stupid. How the hell were you supposed to talk to kids? Especially one that was yours? His daughter blinks in response and places her tiny hand on the scarred part of his cheek. Cute. “Daddy’s not scary to you, huh?”

The emotion he feels when his daughter smiles at his voice, his child, is hard for him to accept. He wants to push it away as a fluke – a temporary emotion just this once. But the longer she stares at him, the more she gently pats his face and doesn’t recoil, makes him feel a tug in his heart. Maybe he shouldn’t be involved, maybe he should try to stay away after this. No matter what, though, he was going to protect her.

A tug on two staples this time makes him wince, but he tries not to flinch. His daughter just giggles at him again. He sticks out a tongue at her and she giggles even harder, little eyes crinkling up in joy.

“Think I look funny?” He scrunches his face up and she laughs even harder. He tries not to feel disgusted when he sees the drool running down her chin from laughing. Well. He was funny, so he was proud he could make her laugh. It dawns on him that he has no idea what else to do. He couldn’t make funny faces for hours.

He supposes he should actually look in the diaper bag. He’s torn for a moment – does he put her on the couch? What if she rolls off? If he hands her back with a bump on her head, his ex might kill him on the spot. Was it okay to put babies on the floor? It’ll only be for a second… Nervously, he places her on the floor and waits for a reaction. She just opens her eyes wide and looks around from her new perspective.

Okay. Daddy Dabi, 1 – or so he thinks, until his daughter starts sniffling loudly the moment he’s out of sight. He scrambles to grab the bag and rushes back to the living room, letting out a breath when she stops crying when her eyes wander to him.

(He vaguely remembers Shoto acting similarly as an infant. He wasn’t around for long after he was born, but Shoto liked to have someone near him. He only cried when he was left alone. Fortunately, and not, for Shoto, he was Endeavor’s greatest creation so he wouldn’t have to experience the lonely infancy he and his siblings experienced.)

He places the bag on the couch and zips it open before gently picking her back up, fighting back a smile when she makes a happy cooing noise. While she busies herself with his staples again, he digs through the bag and finds the note. It’s simple enough, though he looks at the chilled lunchbox inside holding her baby bottles with disdain.

He turns his attention back to her when she gurgles and watches with renewed disgust as more drool runs down her chin. (He supposed she wasn’t that gross, compared to his coworkers. Shigaraki was a walking pile of blood and dust.)

“You’re making a mess, kid. Ya just got here.” He tries, feeling content when she smiles. Okay, maybe he didn’t have to do shitty baby talk. She seemed to like it when he talked at all, so he’d say whatever bullshit came to his mind, as per usual. Luckily, his ex had provided several washrags in the diaper bag. Cleaning her off proved to be a challenge as she tried to chomp on the washrag, much to Dabi’s amusement. Children were strange. If this wasn’t his child, he’d hate it.

He watches with interest when she yawns and closes her eyes – people weren’t this vulnerable around him often. Especially when they were this close to him. He stays as still as possible when he realizes she’s fallen asleep, head tucked into his shoulder.

The rest of the night passes with ease – she sleeps for two hours. Dabi was able to fish his phone out of his pocket while she slept, watching quiet videos to pass the time. (Maybe taking a picture. Maybe taking a few pictures.)

He’s also disappointed when he gets a text from his ex saying she’ll be off way earlier than expected. He doesn’t have the words to reply back that he’d be fine watching their daughter for longer and just sends a ‘k’ back in defeat. His daughter continues to sleep soundly until the soft knock at the door rouses her out of sleep, her tiny arms stretching in his.

“Your mom is here, kiddo.” She babbles in reply and reaches to grab his nose. She lets out a tiny noise of surprise when she touches the cold metal of his piercings, repeating the tugging action she had tried on his staples earlier.

“Don’t think you’re old enough for those yet,” Dabi says, rewarded with another tiny giggle. He reluctantly gets up to answer the door. His ex smiles at him (no, the baby) and he watches as his daughter lights up upon seeing her mom. He feels jealous, if only for a moment. He hands her to her mom and crosses his arms.

“How was she?” His ex replies, bouncing their daughter in her arms.

“Easy, like you said.”

“Aww, Daddy’s fun, huh?” He hopes she can’t see the tint on his cheeks, her words making his stomach twist. He didn’t know anything, really. He didn’t know how the future would turn out. For now, he only knew that he couldn’t pretend to not be a dad any longer.

“Thanks again, Dabi.” His ex gives him a small smile, easily slinging the diaper bag over her shoulder when he hands it over.

“Yup. I don’t mind.” He glances down at his feet. Why was he being so fucking weird about this? Just tell her, Dabi. “I would do it again, I guess.”

She raises an eyebrow at the ‘I guess’, but doesn’t call him out on it. His daughter is back to staring at him with her eyes open wide.

“Say bye to Daddy, honey.” She puts a hand under the baby’s arm and gently makes her wave. Dabi waves back and pauses before taking a step forward. He presses a chaste kiss to the top of her head, surprised by the light floral smell.

He had to do one more thing – he never knew when it would be his last day. He wasn’t ready for this, maybe, but he wanted to say it at least once. He cleared his throat before leaning down near his daughter’s ear.

“I love you.” It’s quiet, and she pulls his hair, but it was enough for now. His ex is smiling when he stands back up.

“I’ll contact you soon, okay? She’ll miss you.”

With that, she turns around, leaving Dabi to consider what the hell his life was about to become.

---

The next few years fly by with his daughter. He’s busy with League work, but he sets aside time to send with her. His ex willingly let Dabi watch her on Sundays, his daughter telling animated stories when Mom picked her up as she grew older.

She looked so similar to Dabi that it frightened him – reminded him of who he used to be. Still, he loved her and took caution to protect her from his past. He wanted to tell his siblings, but their reconciliation was strained enough. He also didn’t want Endeavor to find out. If his dad, no, that man, ever laid hands on his child he’d be dead in a moment.

A few months after his daughter turns five, his ex turns up on his doorstep looking downright awful. His daughter is next to her, a large suitcase sitting behind her. Shit.

His ex breaks down, telling Dabi that she can’t do it anymore, that he can’t take care of their daughter. He’s downright fuming that she’s saying this in front of their daughter, oblivious to how she feels. She says she’ll be back, but he doesn’t believe her. He ushers his daughter inside before his ex scars her even further and tells her to get the fuck out of his doorway.

Back inside, he and his daughter are silent. She stares at the floor and nervously shuffles her feet before looking up at him with sad eyes.

“Does Mommy hate me?” Her voice cracks and she lets out a sniffle.

Goddammit. He never wanted his child to feel like this.

He kneels next to her and takes both of her hands in his. “No, sweetie. She’s just… sick right now, and has to get better. Okay? Daddy will take care of you.”

She sniffles again before putting her arms out for a hug, starting to cry when Dabi wraps his arms around her. He holds her until she stops, promising that they can have a special treat once her room is set up.

He’s scared as hell. He couldn’t do this either, but unlike his ex, he wasn’t going to run away. Not again.

When she finally goes to sleep, Dabi makes a phone call that he’s about five years late on.

“Shoto, I need your help.”

---

Despite their fractured relationships, the Todoroki siblings become quickly enamored with his daughter, even if it meant dealing with Dabi. He can’t blame them, of course. He’s a piece of shit, but his daughter is cute as hell. Smart, too. He tries to hide their relation to her at first, claiming they were just good friends.

The lie is quickly revealed, though, when his daughter points out how similar they all look. His siblings give him a look like he was the biggest idiot in the world for even trying to hide it. His daughter loves all of them, but she clearly plays favorites with Uncle Sho. Dabi wonders why – Shoto is quiet, still not as outgoing as Fuyumi and Natsuo.

Uncle Sho, though, is his daughter’s idol, much to Dabi’s annoyance. He can’t be too angry though – Shoto’s status as a Pro Hero afforded his daughter the chance to attend a nice private school. It grated on him, though, that he couldn’t act as a father figure in public life. He was still a villain, and villains didn’t just walk around the daytime with their children.

His daughter didn’t mind, though. Despite her love for Uncle Sho, she was still a daddy’s girl and hung on to every word he said. It wasn’t a surprise when she picked up his colorful vocabulary, much to his amusement. Paired with Shoto’s sarcasm rubbing off on her and his blunt nature, she had become quite the little firecracker.

He was worried, then, when she became distant after her 10th birthday. He was a pretty lax dad, all things considered. He let her figure things out on her own while keeping a careful eye on her, and much preferred the fun part of parenting rather than discipline, which his siblings sometimes delved out.

He wondered if it was because she was quirkless, although his questions were met with a blank stare. Maybe this is just what 10-year-old girls acted like? (Especially ones raised by an unfiltered parent with a sarcastic aunt and uncles.)

---

The doll her Uncle Sho had bought her for her 10th birthday was so intricate that she didn’t even want to play with it. Her Dad might lovingly tease her about it (“What’s the point of a gift if you don’t use it?”), but she wanted to cherish it. She didn’t own many toys – she preferred playing outside, or doodling. She didn’t even like dolls most of the time, but the intricate black dress and the interesting face the doll had enamored her.

Maybe she could play with the hair, just a bit. Then she’d set it up on her bookshelf and nestle it next to her favorite books.

She gently pulled the doll into her lap and admired the dress. Maybe Uncle Sho would buy her a dress to match! The daydream of a pretty dress was interrupted by a strange feeling in her hands. They felt itchy, and there was an unusual heat building under her fingertips. She knew about quirks – it was impossible not to. Her dad and Uncle Sho had let her down gently that she was quirkless, though the look on their faces had alerted her that there was something they left out of the conversation.

She was jealous, though. Her dad had beautiful and vibrant blue flames, while her Uncle Sho had bright red flames and the ability to create sparkling ice. Over the years she would try to imitate them, throwing her hands out and hoping that something would come out. And yet, the only thing she ever found was disappointment.

The smell of something burning snapped her out of her daydream. In a panic, she looked down to find the beautiful doll alight with bright, light blue flames. Shit. She ruined her birthday present. Wait. Flames? She didn’t have time to figure out what exactly was happening as she realized those same flames were licking painfully up her skin. She threw the doll to the ground and stomped on it until the flames were extinguished, letting out a hiss at the stinging pain on her hands.

Worse, she heard the familiar thump of her dad’s boots coming down the hallway. There hadn’t been much smoke, but the smell of burning plastic and fabric was strong.

“You okay, kiddo? What the hell is that smell?”

“N-nothing, Dad!” She shoves the charred doll under her bed and scrambles to get under the covers to hide her red skin before her Dad comes into her room. The door opens with a creak and her dad poked his head in, raising an eyebrow at her.

“You havin’ a bonfire in your room?” He asks. She glances at him with a panicked expression, realizing some of the ashes from the doll are still on the floor.

“I-I didn’t mean to! I, um, just wanted to…” She trails off, trying to think of a good excuse. She thought back to the way her Dad almost looked relieved that she didn’t have his quirk. Was it bad? Well, maybe it wasn’t bad to keep her newfound ability a secret for now.

“I was playing with the matches.” She gives him her best puppy dog eyes, and he shakes his head before coming to sit on the side of her bed.

“Didn’t I tell you if you wanted to burn some shit to just ask your old man?” He gives her a lazy smile before playfully letting out a spark of his blue flame from his hand.

“Uncle Sho says you shouldn’t do that!”

“Uncle Sho wouldn’t know fun if it bit him in the ass.” She opens her mouth in shock before laughing at her Dad’s expression. From what she learned about her other classmate’s parents; her Dad was… unique. She loved him, though, more than anything. She felt a little guilty for keeping a secret from him.

“Gonna take a nap, princess?” He motions to her bundled up form, and she nods from beneath the comforter. (Strangely, she felt burning hot already.) She doesn’t really want to nap… but maybe a break from thinking would be nice. Her Dad leans and places a kiss on her forehead, making her nose wrinkle up when he blows a raspberry instead.

“Daddy!” His face lightens at the word – she noticed he always crinkles his eyes up when she calls him that.

“That’s what you get for not letting me burn stuff with you.” He ruffles her bright red hair – thick and unruly now – before standing up and re-tucking her into the sheets. “Your aunt and uncles want to take their cute little niece for another birthday dinner, so we’re gonna go out when you wake up.”

Her face lights up – another birthday dinner? More ice cream for her. The thought of her new quirk is buried away for the moment, falling away when she closes her eyes and drifts off into a nap, barely registering her Dad saying he loves her.

---

Dabi is more offended than he lets on the first time his daughter groans and says he’s embarrassing her. She’s 13 now and acting exactly as he did at that age – a moody brat. Unfortunately for him, her sarcasm had grown even sharper. She’s still his baby girl, though.

She had always been clingy – and with what his bitch of an ex had done, he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t know shit about kids, so becoming her best friend rather than a parent was his choice. Maybe he spoiled her too much, or maybe he was too casual with her. His annoying siblings constantly reminded him of that, but they didn’t have kids, and they always shut up when his daughter behaved despite her attitude.

He is annoyed when her socks keep mysteriously disappearing – and why the house always smells burnt. He hopes it’s not him, and begrudgingly started to clean more vigilantly. Despite her bratty nature, his daughter still helped around the house, at least acknowledging the fact she still respected him. He supposed it was about time for her to explore some independence. She’s a hell of a lot smarter than he was at that age.

He’s not surprised then, after the hell that was a 13-year old daughter, that a 14-year old daughter was an even bigger challenge. She doesn’t necessarily act out – but sometimes she treats him with a coldness that makes him hurt. At least she still told him he loved her, something he hadn’t said for a very long time until his daughter appeared on his doorstep.

When she walks in the door with a piercing in her nose, he just laughs. Of course, his daughter would do something like this. The look of surprise on her face amuses him when he just shrugs and says it looks nice. He does offer to take her to his preferred parlor next time. If she was going to rebel (just like he did), she should at least be safe.

His siblings are annoyed at his reaction, but he knows that his daughter exactly like him in every way possible. He wouldn’t let her walk the path that he took, a path he took out of desperation and hatred, but he would let her make her own choices. He’d just always be there to catch her.

15 and 16 bring a mellowing out towards him but a renewed sense of rebellion against the world at large. He’s always having to patch up cuts and bruises she gets from fighting at school. She’s popular, according to Shoto, who kept a close eye on her there. But for some reason, she was determined to show proof of her strength. He thought it might have to do with the fact she was quirkless.

He also thought it might have to do with the fact that his daughter had sat him down (he was amused at first – she was more mature than him) and told him she knew what he did for a living. That was the first time he had been shocked as a parent, and mildly ashamed. He was fucked up, sure, but he wanted to keep it away from her. He almost set the couch on fire when she told him she had known since she was a little girl, but that she didn’t mind.

His daughter had spent the weekend at Aunt Fuyumi’s house while Dabi took out his aggression. (On the earth, rather than people, at least.)

They came to an understanding with a very uncomfortable discussion about his past. When she hugged him afterwards, not letting go for a long time, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Whatever the world may bring, he finally had something worth living for.

He had been moved beyond words (a new feeling for him) when she came home with jet black hair similar to his. She hadn’t said why, but the smile on her face when she asked him to take a picture together told him well enough. They looked more alike than ever.

17, though, was a whole new ballgame.

---

“You wound me, brat.” Her Dad teases, feigning shock.

“That’s life, old man.” She quips back, lifting her chopsticks and flicking rice at him.

“You two are old enough to behave.” Her Uncle Shoto says with a roll of his eyes, winking at her behind his red hair. She was still his favorite and could practically get away with anything.

“Whatever you say, little brother.” Her Dad shoves a piece of sushi in his mouth and gives her Uncle Sho the same look he always does. Her uncle just scoffs and works on eating his plate.

The three of them always met up for dinner after school on Wednesdays. It wasn’t easy, with her Dad’s status, but her uncle had done an incredible amount of work securing safe places for them to visit. She wasn’t sure of the logistics, but she sure as hell was happy about it.

She frowns at her plate, chewing on the side of her lip, cold metal biting back into her. Her Dad had stopped her ideas of teenage rebellion by encouraging her, happily taking her to get new piercings. (Well, except for a few… unsavory ones she had obtained. But he didn’t have to know about those.) He was, in her eyes, the best Dad in the world. Even if he did act like an old man sometimes and gripe about her coming home too late.

Still, something was biting at her. Her secret remained safe within her, not even a whisper spoken to friends or family. She practiced with it – that’s why she was coming home so late – but she feared it. She knew the destruction her father was capable of. Uncle Sho was more practiced and deliberate, but his abilities were still frightening. She promised herself she was going to tell her Dad soon, but she just didn’t know how.

She looks up when the bell of the restaurant rings and immediately goes on guard. The people that enter are glaring at their table, their eyes trained on her father. She may not be a hero in training, but she knew how to take care of herself and didn’t hesitate to take care of the people around her. Her Uncle Shoto tenses too before shooting her Dad a look. He turns to look at them, scoffing at their appearance.

“I’m having dinner, assholes. Can’t you pick a better time?” He stands, chair scraping loudly across the floor. She swallows – were these people former associates? Heroes with a grudge? Either way, anyone that wanted to hurt her Dad would have to come through her. Her uncle stands too, and anxiety builds in her stomach when she doesn’t see the group back down.

“I’d advise you to leave.” Her uncle states in his monotone voice, chilling bite behind his words.

“Acting the hero now, Dabi? Gonna let a big bad hero defend you?” The tallest member of the group says, followed with a deep chuckle. (News of Pro Hero Shoto’s relation to the villain Dabi had spread through private but had been kept from the public.)

“Who’s that hot little thing behind you?”

A large blue flame sizzles across her father’s hand, a warning symbol to the group. Her uncle puts a hand on her Dad’s shoulder and squeezes hard, and the flame flickers but doesn’t retreat. (If Uncle Sho hadn’t been here, she knows he would have taken care of them without a second thought.)

Something sparks in her when she sees a member in the back raise a weapon at the distraction, and without a second thought, she leaps from her seat and blazes a huge wall of light blue flames in their direction. It’s exhilarating, having this power, despite the fear behind it. Sure, it might have been overkill because she might have overestimated her control, but the shock and subsequent panic on their faces have her smirking.

“What the fuck?” Her stomach plummets at her Dad’s voice. Oh. Shit.

Her Uncle Sho reacts quickly to the growing fire and douses the flames with his ice, the group having already scattered out of the restaurant. She looks up to find both of them staring at her, mouths agape.

She can’t think rationally, so she does the first thing that comes to her mind – she runs. She silently thanks the restaurant for having two entrances, trying to ignore the shouts of her Dad and uncle behind her. Her escape is fruitless, though, her Uncle Sho quickly gaining ground and catching her with a painful tackle. Her Dad catches up soon after. She notes, with confusion, that her Dad looks scared.

“Holy hell, brat. Don’t run off from me like that.” He extends a hand to help both her and his brother up.

The sudden pain in her hands makes her cry out, eyes looking down to find harsh red marks across her palms and wrists. Her Dad takes a step forward in alarm, darting out to grab her arms.

“Fuck.” He turns to her uncle, who has yet to say anything, and groans. “She needs medical attention.”

Her uncle nods, giving a sympathetic glance to her. She’s known him long enough to know this meant there was going to be a talk later. Ugh. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Sit down while we wait.” Her Dad says, tugging her down before she can protest. He takes a seat next to her, not seeming to care they’re in the middle of the sidewalk. His eyes are practically boring holes into her. “Got something you wanna tell me?”

“I’m… sorry?” It’s all she can think to say, looking back down at her burnt hands. Her Dad sighs and wraps an arm around her.

“Look. I’m not mad. But fucking hell, kid. You scared me.” It sounds like he’s struggling with his words – vulnerability was never her Dad’s strong suit. He usually tried to play things off.

“How long?”

Fuck, she was dreading this question. She takes a deep breath before replying. “Since I was ten.”

He cards his free hand through his hair, muttering expletives. She knew that meant he wanted a cigarette, a habit he had dropped a few years ago at her insistence.

“I’m really sorry, Dad.” Her voice is small, and she fights back a sniffle. She doesn’t know why she’s about to cry. She never wanted to disappoint him.

---

Her voice reminds him of how she’d apologize when she got in trouble as a little girl. It tugs at his heart, and while he’s pissed as hell, he knows that’s not going to do any good right now. Fuck. His daughter had a quirk, and it might even be stronger than his. He doesn’t care about the strength – no, he’s worried for her safety. Flames were a powerful but extremely dangerous quirk. He knew that more than anyone.

He looks down at her, and just like he used to do when she was younger, he ruffles her hair. He feels better when her lips quirk up into a small smile.

“You’re not gonna be alone like I was. I’ll help. Your uncle will help.” He hated to admit it, but Shoto was going to be the more effective teacher. He always knew that if the day came his daughter developed a quirk, he’d have to reign the hands over to Shoto. It was a blow to his pride, but one he had deemed as necessary.

For now, he held her, reminded that his little girl wasn’t so little anymore.

“Love you, brat.”

“Love you too, old man.”

---

“Fuck him up!” Her Dad shouts, raising a sign he had (embarrassingly) made to cheer her on. Why did he make a sign just to watch a sparring match between her and Uncle Sho?

She doesn’t have long to think before her uncle is on her again, ice dangerously close to capturing her ankle. It wasn’t a fight – her Uncle Sho was too strong. But it was a way for her to experience different situations, a way to catch up on her lack of formal knowledge with her flame quirk.

Through many painful sessions, she had learned there was some sort of regenerative power that must have come from her womb donor. Well, at least she had given her one good thing in life. She dodged as her uncle tried to catch her off guard from the back, and heard her father shout more profanities. She almost gets the upper hand before the timer buzzes, alerting them that it was time to give her quirk a rest.

She’d grumbled when her uncle and Dad insisted on it, but it ended up being the smartest way to work on strategy and to keep her safe. She supposed that exhausting her quirk and hurting herself wouldn’t be conducive to protecting the people around her. The fact that her flames burned so hot made it difficult to use for long periods, and the regenerative ability had its limits.

Still, she wanted to become strong. She didn’t know if a career as a hero would be in the future. As the child of a villain, there were a lot of things she wasn’t sure about. She did know that she wasn’t going to let her quirk go to waste any longer.

“My badass kid, 1. Shoto, 0.” Her Dad says, tossing her a bottle of water. Her uncle just smiles, indicating she really did do a good job. “Doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m not made of fucking glass.” She replies, and he just rolls his eyes.

“I can’t believe how you managed to spawn an exact clone of you, Dabi.” Her uncle says, shaking his head. “I like the upgraded version better, though.”

“Yeah, Uncle Sho said my flames are superior to yours.” She does a little twirl, and her Dad laughs. Damn, he was not easy to rile up.

“That just means my daughter can fuck up any little shit that tries to mess with her. A Dad couldn’t ask for a better gift.”

He ruffles her hair and she scoffs, though her heart swells up a little bit.

Being her dad’s pride and joy might be the best thing about her life.

---

He grumbles when something pulls against his earrings, hard. He doesn’t open his eyes, though, and tries to roll over before he feels tugging again.

“Dad.”

A pause.

“DAD.”

He sits up with an annoyed huff, met by his daughter’s mischievous face.

“I have something for you.” She doesn’t seem to care that she just woke him up.

“What time is it?”

“It’s midnight.”

“Kid, please. I’m old as shit. Let me sleep.” He tries to roll over, but she tugs at him and starts saying ‘Dad’ over and over until he finally gets up, grumpy and unamused.

She makes a happy hum that peels away the tiniest bit of grumpiness.

“Close your eyes!”

“Please don’t tell me that you finally burned the living room down on accident.”

“Don’t be a dick, Dad.” She doesn’t wait for a reply and grabs his hand, staring at him until he closes his eyes. Fine. He’d indulge her – she had been working hard at training her quirk. If she wanted to spend the energy to surprise him, he’d let her.

He trails behind her, not stopping until the two of them reach the kitchen. It smells good – he was grateful that was daughter was a decent cook, and a good baker, no matter how messy she was.

“Okay, open up!”

He was met with a bright blue cake decorated with two stick figures – one tall with the words ’OLD MAN’ written over it and one short with the word ‘BRAT’ written above, holding hands. Their free hands were giving the middle finger. Underneath the stick figure the words “HAPPY DAD-I-VERSARY” were written out in white icing, little hearts surrounding them.

“Before you ask what the fuck Dad-i-versary means, it’s the anniversary of me coming to live with you. Thought we should celebrate, considering I gifted you with my presence.” His daughter smirks at him.

Damn, he really did have the perfect kid. Don’t cry, Dabi. Don’t fucking cry.

Shit, a tear is rolling down his face, and suddenly his daughter’s arms are wrapped around him.

“Don’t go soft on me.” She says, but he can hear her muffled tears in his shoulder. “I love you, dad. Thanks for being my asshole old man.”

He barks out a laugh and squeezes her back. “And I love you, shitty brat. But I’m gonna smash a piece of cake in your face for waking me up.”

They both laugh this time.

Dabi can’t imagine life any other way.

#my writing #old work #bnha.txt #dabi #family relationships #family bonding #daughter!reader #uncle shoto #boku no hero academia #happy todorokis #mild angst

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immoral-tales · 4 years

Text

Fyodor Dostoyevsky X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 810

Warnings: none

Prompt(s): ❝Your hands are scarred from murder, and yet I trust them completely.❞ + ❝What was the nature of your relationship with him?❞

A grey smoke permeated the air, hitting against the dull-colored ceiling and disappearing into thin air. Surrounded by the grey walls was not a new experience; the metal table and chair were quite familiar with this person. A half-burnt cigarette dangled between her full lips as her cold and calculating eyes inspected the younger interrogation officer sitting across her. He was young and inexperienced, yet someone in the upper echelons deemed him worthy to interrogate her. What a foolish decision! Positioning her cigarette between her index and middle fingers, a low chuckle escaped her lips. Her attention was not directed towards the young man as she stared at how the tobacco of her cigarette was turning into ashes. Stubbing it in the ashtray, she leaned against the uncomfortable chair and crossed her toned leg over the other. A mischievous smirk danced across her beautiful facial features as her eyes were locked with the man standing behind the two-way mirror, completely ignoring her interrogator. Opening her lips, she started speaking. “Anderson, I’ve never thought you, of all people, would be this terrified to interrogate me.” Her voice was enthralling and those undertones of mockery did wonders.

“What was the nature of your relationship with him?”

“Your hands are scarred from murder, and yet I trust them completely.”

Quirking a brow, her attention returned back to the young man. He was sweating bullets as his dark-colored eyes were locked with hers. As if sweating was not enough, he was on the verge of quivering. How could a mere woman have such an effect on him? He was well aware of her notorious reputation, yet he still agreed to interrogate her. His muscles tensed even more upon witnessing her unreadable expression. Propping her elbow on the surface of the metal table, she rested her chin in her palm. Her entire figure relaxed in comparison to her companion. “It would have been my pleasure to answer all of your standard questions, but unfortunately, this information is confidential.” Winking at him, she released her chin from her hand’s grasp as she reached out for the pack of cigarettes and the lighter. Opening the pack, she slid out one of the many and offered it to the younger man. With the shake of his head, he signaled her that he did not smoke. The woman retracted her hand as she placed the pack on the table, placing the cigarette between her plump lips and lighting it up with her lighter, then returning it back to its rightful place. Inhaling the smoke, she savored it, and then, puffed it out. A sigh followed. “According to the protocol, I can’t disclose the information on my assignments. Hell, even my real identity has been erased from the databases. Leading me to one final conclusion,” glancing at the two-way mirror, she furrowed her brows. “Anderson, you son of a bitch. I had my suspicions and you confirmed all of them.” Tapping her cigarette, she stood up from the chair and stretched her arms. The cigarette was still in her dominant hand. “My work here is done. This is an official interrogation, indicating the camera is recording, therefore,” there was a small pause. “David Anderson from the clandestine and covert operations has decided to get in my way and put the assignment at risk of being exposed. The code name of the operation is classified, but you can find it under the numbers of six, one, nine, two, zero, two, zero. You are very welcome!”

“I wonder, what is the reason behind it?”

The young interrogation officer blinked once, twice, thrice. He required several seconds to comprehend what had occurred in front of him. Freezing in one place, his breath was caught in his throat as his eyes followed how the woman exited the dimly lit interrogation room. The clacking of her high heels resonated in the large corridors, reaching the room where he was situated, as well. Previously, he had only heard the rumors of her tales and whispers among the people working in the shadows. He had so many unanswered questions, begging him to be answered, but he was not given a chance to ask them. To his chagrin, he would never have such a perfect opportunity. Encountering her was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. A shaky sigh left his chapped lips as he allowed his tense body to relax as he slumped against the metal chair. Closing his eyes for a moment, his mind wandered back to her and her life that was shrouded in mystery. Who was the lucky man that had the privilege to hold her in his arms without a weapon being pointed to his temple? The young man muttered under his breath, “he is one lucky bastard.” His words were barely audible, but no one was there to hear them.

“Because I’m no better than you.”

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs scenarios #bungo stray dogs scenarios #fyodor dostoyevsky #bsd fyodor dostoyevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader

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settersprouts · 3 years

Text

꒦ ikanaide : chapter four ! ꒦

半神

. . : oikawa is the son of athena, while iwaizumi is the son of ares. both godly parents are known to be rivals, but what does that mean for their children ?

or, hq + percy jackson au, where oikawa is not the son of aphrodite for once, but people still think he is because he's pretty, and he's flattered and confused.

. . : okay hear me out, oikawa is known to be strategic and analytical, which is perfect for a descendant of athena. that is my reasoning for this alr dont attack me pls also, vv sorry this was late, i was feeling like shit all week and couldn't finish m sorry :((( hopefully you guys didn't wait too long :((

iwaizumi's about had enough of his bullshit.

his fists were shaking as he stood in front of his divine cabin, the front door ajar and an absolutely horrid smell wafting out from the cabin. he stepped closer to the cabin, stiffening even more as he pushed the door open the rest of the way. the whole place was absolutely trashed- both his and his other roommates' clothes mixed together in many piles on the floor. he could tell just from the strategically placed items all around the room that the place was definitely rigged with mediocre traps. nothing would kill him, but it would most likely maim him.

the demigod growled, stepping over the tripwires on the floor and grabbing his khopesh. it was charged with electricity, thanks to yū nishinoya from cabin one. in exchange for the many weapons the son of ares' crafted, the son of zeus would help charge a select few and give them back to him.

the added energy would definitely be helpful for when he beat the absolute shit of a certain demigod.

he was seething with bloodlust as he stepped out of his cabin, walking towards the beach, where he knew the person he was looking for would be.

and there he was. sitting in one of the little tide pools, talking with one of the sea nymphs. she was way too close to him, but oikawa didn't look like he minded in the slightest. or he didn't notice, one of the two.

she bent down to whisper in his ear, his pupils growing smaller in his brown eyes, and he let out a laugh. it was really melodic, which was common for a son of aphrodite. their beauty was immaculate, and they were practically irresistible to everyone, unless you had a decent sense of self control. iwaizumi knew that oikawa had the whole camp under his fingertips. except for him.

iwaizumi let out a groan, clenching his fists. fuck morales. he knew that his father and oikawa's mother were on really good terms, but he couldn't help but feel attracted to the absolute need to punch the brunette in the face. with a concrete slab. or choke him with aphrodite's famous scarf. one of the two.

he let out an animalistic growl, drawing the attention of oikawa and the unnamed sea nymph. oikawa blinked at him, unimpressed, while the nymph shrieked and dove back into the ocean with a splash. oikawa glanced at the bubbles where the nymph had disappeared, and let out an unamused sigh.

`oh, well, she was kind of boring anyways,` he said nonchalant, stepping out of the pool, buck-naked, without a care in the world. iwaizumi's eyes widened as he turned away almost immediately, his face flushing completely.

`what the hell do you think you're doing?` he seethed, his usual bark lacking no bite, since oikawa really couldn't see his facial expression.

the latter let out a chuckle. `calm down, you can turn around, now. i'm decent.`

forest-green eyes slowly darted back to the brunette's figure, pupils growing bigger in relief, as he realized that he really was decent. he was dressed in the atrociously bright orange camp half-blood shirt, and bleached denim jeans, rolled up to just above his ankles. his bead necklace was still wrapped around his neck snugly. it was extremely tighter than iwaizumi's, which hung down just over the scar on his left pec. he must've tightened it like a choker. it was kind of smart- usually, monsters with half a brain used those necklaces to pull demigods towards them if they couldn't grab their limbs. this tactic limited the amount of things they could grab on him.

iwaizumi would've never thought of that.

`so,` oikawa mused, folding his now damp towel. he must have used it to dry himself off while iwaizumi was looking away from him. `what do you need from me?`

the other demigod blinked, mouth forming an 'o' once he realized his reason for being there. he totally didn't forget that he wanted to sock oikawa in the face just because he saw him naked. `right. i have a bone to pick with you, oikawa.`

`oh? is that so?` the brunette smiled sweetly at him, his eyebrows furrowed in an act of confusion and innocence. disgusting.

iwaizumi stepped forward, whipping out the khopesh he had stuffed in his pocket. with a simple flick of his wrist, it extended. the contraption was thanks to someone in cabin number six, with the help of cabin nine- apparently, iwaizumi had saved someone dear to them, and he was given the khopesh as a thank you. however, the person never did reveal themself to iwaizumi. it was an athena cabin secret.

oikawa's brown eyes widened at the sight of the weapon, but that expression was quickly replaced with an amused sneer. `oh, what's this? you want to fight?`

`no, you're going to let me maim you in silence, i refuse to fight someone as weak as you.` iwaizumi retorted, fists clenching. the brunette gawked, his mouth agape in a silent shout.

`weak? excuse me? i'm far from weak. just because you come from cabin five, doesn't mean you're higher than everyone else.` he replied, sticking his nose high up in the air. `i'll have you know, i've won many tournaments against your cabin.`

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. `yeah, because you always cheat and sneak over to athena's group.`

`i don't cheat! and i don't have to sneak over to athena's group, i have a place there you know!` oikawa shrieked, whipping out a dagger and pointing it at iwaizumi threateningly. however, the latter remained unphased, which pissed the brunette off even more.

`yeah. sure, and what's that?` iwaizumi said, letting one of his eyebrows raise. if rules served him correctly, there was no teaming allowed in any game at camp half-blood, unless stated otherwise. however, he always saw oikawa with athena's group, but he let it slide, thinking the ares' cabin would win anyways. he was, unfortunately, very wrong.

oikawa blinked. `are you stupid? athena's my mother.`

`huh?` the son of ares' stepped back a bit, glaring at the other. `you- athena's son? but- you're-`

`pretty? yeah, i get that a lot.` oikawa sheathed his dagger, stretching out his muscles. `people mistake me for the son of aphrodite way too much. it's kind of annoying, actually. there's a lot more to me than my face,` he mused, glaring at iwaizumi. `looks like you're no different from the rest of them. shame. i actually took a liking to you.`

the other stood there, unmoving, confusion lining every forehead wrinkle. `what are you saying? there's no way-`

oikawa sighed. `i should've known you were going to be hard to convince. look, i'm the son of athena, and the current ruler of the cabin. if you don't believe me, ask my cabin mates. they'll tell you.`

`then who the hell's trashing my cabin?` iwaizumi seethed, still not convinced by oikawa's truths.

the latter let out a melodic laugh. `i thought that was obvious. i saw some of hermes' cabin sneak out to yours during lunch. makes sense, they're always trying to pull pranks on everyone and see their reactions. yours was most likely the best one of them all.` oikawa smiled, his eyes twinkling as he walked away. `well, while it was fun talking to you, i have to go. it's getting dark, and i'd rather not get caught being out past curfew.`

iwaizumi looked up to the sky to find out that he was, in fact, right. the sky was slowly darkening, the sun almost disappearing at the horizon. the green-eyed demigod let out a sigh, turning to glare at oikawa, to find out he was long gone.

`..damn it!`

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`can you believe he's even athena's cabin ruler?` takahiro hanamaki muttered lowly to his fellow cabin mate, issei matsukawa, who also stood in front of a very emotional toorū oikawa. he had been ranting about how he was sick of everyone mistaking him for a son of aphrodite, and when his cabin mate shigeru yahaba said it could've been a compliment, the hysterics had gotten even worse.

fortunately, the 18-year-old had tired himself out, and was now resorting to laying on his bed and blinking the tears out of his eyes.

matsukawa sighed. `no. i can't. not when he's like this.`

`i can hear you, 'ya know.` oikawa muttered, tear-filled chocolate brown eyes turning to them accusingly. `you can't even act like you're tired of me, you just got here.`

`true,` hanamaki replied, kneeling down next to his dear friend. `but according to yahaba, you've been complaining about this for the past forty-five minutes. don't you think that's a tad bit excessive?`

oikawa sat up abruptly. `no! well- maybe. but it's so stupid!` he exclaimed, fists furrowing in his fluffy brown locks. `i don't act like aphrodite at all! i don't even look like her, but i'm pretty and that's the only reason people need to lump me in with that cabin. i actually liked iwa. of course, he's just like the rest.`

`oh.` matsukawa snapped his fingers, pointing at oikawa. `he's the guy who rescued kiyo and takeru, right?`

the brunette shuddered. `right. that memory just gives me chills.` he thought back to that day, where a gorgon had came across oikawa while he was taking his sister and nephew shopping. the gorgon smelled him, and realized he was a son of athena, and attacked the group, leaving oikawa bruised and bloodied while he took kiyo and takeru as prisoners. however, a group of demigods from camp half-blood on a quest sensed the violence occurring, and rushed to the scene as quick as possible. iwaizumi was amongst the group, but he had taken off after the gorgon, and didn't get a good look at oikawa's face.

when the group returned to camp, oikawa had made the khopesh iwaizumi had sported, and left it on his bed while he was out training with his cabin mates. he also left a thank-you note, but didn't sign it, hoping to leave his identity anonymous.

`yeah, why don't you just tell him that you're a relative to kiyo and takeru? the whole camp knows about that quest, so if iwaizumi knows your identity, everyone else will too. people won't mistake you for a descendant of aphrodite anymore,` hanamaki supplied, reaching into the tupperware of ambrosia oikawa was given (he had started a fight with kyōtani from ares' cabin to relieve his stress- both parties sporting the same amount of cuts and bruises) and popping a bit into his mouth.

oikawa shrugged, snatching back the tupperware before hanamaki could steal any more. if a demigod ate too much of the sweet, healing treat, they could get extremely sick. `yeah, maybe. but,` oikawa grinned, turning to his two friends that stood by his bedside, `beating him at capture-the-flag tomorrow sounds way more fun.`

the two boys sighed, smiling at the sight of their best friend with a much happier mood. capture-the-flag with demigods was always a very violent and extreme sport, but all cabins ended up having a lot of fun playing the game. and, no matter what side the athena cabin was on, they always ended up winning. no one could remember a time where they lost.

beating the ares' cabin was going to be a piece of cake for oikawa.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`you seem on edge, iwaizumi.` ushijima had muttered to the demigod, taking a seat beside the other. they were currently stationed in the middle of the forest, with the job of guarding the red flag. `do you want to talk about it?`

iwaizumi glanced at his companion. under the absolutely atrocious battle helmet was a look of concern and worry for his friend. the dark-haired demigod let out a sigh, nodding slightly. `yeah. i'm just.. shaken up, i guess.`

`how so?`

`well..` iwaizumi pondered, trying to figure out the best words and phrases to lay his point across. `i pissed off one of the sons' of aphrodite here, because apparently, he's the son of athena, and not aphrodite. like, what the fuck? the dude even acts like the deviled spawn of her, so i don't understand why he's so pressed.`

ushijima nodded, listening intently. `you mean toorū oikawa, right?`

iwaizumi gaped. `how the hell did you know that?`

`i made the same mistake you did, thinking he was a descendant of aphrodite.` ushijima mused, looking up to the sky. the clouds reflected in his olive-coloured eyes, but were less noticeable than the clouds reflecting in oikawa's eyes. `when he had first came to camp half-blood, he was called weak by one of our cabin-mates. he challenged him to a duel and won. i then told him he should have been a descendant of ares, not one of aphrodite. he would have a rightful place here, with us.`

`oh? what'd he say, then?`

the olive-haired demigod shuddered. `he slapped me. very hard. and then yelled at me, saying he was a son of athena, not aphrodite. he apparently doesn't like being addressed as a child of aphrodite.`

a sharp wolf-whistle came from the trees. ushijima and iwaizumi stood up, quickly switching to a fighting stance. iwaizumi clenched his khopesh as the figure who was listening to their whole conversation emerged from the trees.

and of course, it was fucking oikawa.

`y-you?` iwaizumi shouted, almost dropping his weapon. `how long were you there?`

the brunette stretched, calm despite the fact that a sword and a khopesh were both aiming at his chest. `i heard the whole conversation. i've been watching you two for quite some time, now.`

ushijima stepped forward as to greet oikawa, but faltered. his eyes widened, and he turned around. leaning on the flag they were supposed to protect was a silver-haired male holding a celestial-bronze axe. his honey-brown eyes met ushijima's olive-green ones, and a corrupt smile split his face. `finally. you noticed me. i was wondering how to get your attention.`

iwaizumi turned around to see the second attacker, letting out an almost animalistic growl. `it's a fucking ambush.`

`correct~` oikawa mused, taking out his dagger and smiling at the other. `however, suga-chan isn't allowed to touch you. i wanted to do all the dirty work myself.`

the silver-haired demigod nodded. `my only purpose here is to take the flag once oikawa defeats you. he requested to fight you both at the same time.`

oikawa nodded, flicking a little switch on his dagger iwaizumi hadn't noticed before. as soon as he did so, he dropped the dagger, and it extended into a much longer weapon. the other demigod scanned it, recognizing the weapon to be a scythe. 'suga-chan' smiled at the sight, meeting iwaizumi's questioning eyes. `you guys better be prepared. he hasn't lost a duel since he came here.`

the brunette nodded, pointing at ushijima with a smile before lunging at the demigod. before the latter could even react, oikawa had connected his foot with ushijima's abdomen, sending the demigod flying. he landed on his back with a gasp, having the air knocked out of him. iwaizumi's eyes widened- he hadn't even been able to react either. that was how fast oikawa was.

ushijima sat up quickly, blocking oikawa's attack with his sword. the other demigod smiled sweetly, twisting the scythe and yanking ushijima's sword out of his hand. it landed in the dirt a couple yards away.

iwaizumi growled, running at oikawa with his khopesh up high. the brunette turned around, unamused, sidestepping iwaizumi's attack and tapping at the end of his weapon. the khopesh hissed and groaned, a net pooling out from the back end, trapping iwaizumi in the knots. the demigod gasped, writhing around in the trap. `wh-what the hell?`

`you seem to be confused. could it be,` oikawa laughed, `that you didn't even know that was there?`

`s-shut up! how the hell did you know anyways?`

oikawa deadpanned. `i made the stupid thing. i think i would know every little thing there is to know about it.`

the dark-haired son of ares stared at his attacker, watching as he stalked over to suga and ripped the flag out of the ground. the brunette turned and smiled sweetly at his victims, waving. `well, see you.`

the two demigods sprinted off, laughing at the shouts coming from behind them.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`i can't believe him!` iwaizumi kicked the boulder, ignoring the pain from doing so. `he's so fucking insufferable! but i can't even do anything about it, because apparently he made this stupid weapon-` he waved the khopesh in the air, `-and i have to be grateful, but he's making it so goddamn hard!`

kyōtani glanced at the demigod, popping another piece of ambrosia in his mouth. he was still recovering from his fight with oikawa earlier. `you didn't know he made that for you? i thought it was obvious.`

the other glared at his cabin mate, confusion in his eyes. `what do you mean?`

`well,` kyōtani chewed the left over ambrosia in his mouth and swallowed, before continuing. `i'm pretty sure he has a crush on you, or something. he's been watching your duels ever since he came back with your group.`

`what group?`

`the quest you had a while ago.` kyōtani muttered under his breath, probably ridiculing iwaizumi. `you saved his sister and nephew from a gorgon. remember that?`

iwaizumi deadpanned, the memories all but flooding back to him now. `that was him?`

`that was him.`

`so he really is a son of athena?`

kyōtani nodded.

`..fuck, i'm an idiot.`

`i know.`

─── demigods.

#oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #kyotani kentaro #yahaba shigeru #sugawara kōshi #sugawara koushi #ushijima wakatoshi #takeru oikawa #oikawa's sister #percy jackson au #demigods #gorgon

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

Boston Boys [Part One]

Summary: Dr. Aurelie Juneau treats someone in the emergency room she shouldn’t, and get a visit from her brother a few days later. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1700 Chapter Warnings: Hospital setting and treatment, mentions of guns, implied crime. Square Filled: The entire series (bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

A busy emergency room wasn’t an unusual thing, especially in Boston, but tonight the chaos was weighing down on Aurelie. She pulled the magnet piece of her cochlear implant away from her head in an effort to drown out the sound for a few peaceful seconds. She stretched her neck from side to side, then rested her head in her hands. The near-silence was a welcome reprieve from the things weighing on her mind.

A tap on her shoulder prompted her to replace the magnet against her head and turn to see who was beckoning her. A nurse handed Aurelie a chart.

“The guy in room five is refusing to let anyone examine him or anything until he sees you. Says he’s got a lac, I see blood on his shirt.”

Aurelie frowned. “He seem legit?”

The nurse shrugged. “Seems like any run of the mill guy, middle class, whatever. We called security down, they’re waiting by the room.”

“All right.” She flipped through a few pages of the chart. “I don’t recognize the name, but I’ll check him out.”

She stood from the desk where she had been charting and skimmed over the rest of the chart as she walked. The curtain to room five was pulled closed for privacy, but the sliding doors were still open. Normally such a room would have been reserved for a psych patient or a near-trauma. Aurelie suspected that the nature of this patient’s refusal to speak to anyone but her had something to do with his room placement.

The request for her services was another common occurrence in the emergency room. Though no one, including most of her patients, particularly knew why she did it, Aurelie treated any injury or sickness that came into the ER, and she did so with a discretion that, at times, was outside of the law. Her casual manner about the treatments often went unnoticed by her co-workers, or didn’t bother any of them enough for them to speak up. If you lived in Boston and got tangled up in some mess that got you hurt but you didn’t want the authorities involved, you went to MassGen and asked for Dr. Juneau. That’s just the way it was.

Pulling the curtain to the side, she kept her facial expression neutral, as she would with any patient. She surveyed the man laying on the bed; at least six-two, maybe a buck-eighty in weight. Brown hair, face pale -- from his injury, Aurelie figured. She set the chart on the metal tray and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m Dr. Juneau. You asked for me?”

The man nodded. “I’ve heard that you’ll take care of someone and not put anything sketchy on the books.”

Aurelie licked her lips, pulling her bottom lip between her front teeth. She flipped on all of the lights in the room and surveyed the man again; his face was only vaguely familiar. Regardless, she wasn’t going to put herself on radar by causing a scene. So, she stepped out through the curtain again and told security they could go.

“He’s an old family friend, scared of hospitals. I’ll talk to him about it.”

The two guards who had come down from their bubble shrugged and left. Aurelie asked the nurse to give her a few minutes before she came back into the room. She donned a pair of gloves and disappeared back behind the curtain. After hooking him up to a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff, she checked his temperature and respirations. With all of vitals noted, she took a seat on the rolling stool and asked where his laceration was located.

The man pulled his shirt up to reveal a cut above his left hip bone, pulling around to his abdomen. Aurelie positioned herself on the side of the bed and took a closer look at the cut.

“How’d you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Fair enough.” She rolled to the door and asked the nurse to bring a laceration kit. While she waited, Aurelie got a clean washcloth and doused it with sterilized water. She cleaned the dried blood from the area, then sat and waited in silence. When the nurse came with the lac kit, Aurelie sent the chart with her, and got ready to stitch the man up.

“This is gonna sting, but it’s better than taking the stitches raw,” Aurelie assured, injecting lidocaine to several places in and around the cut. She waited a little longer, then poked him with the needle again. When he didn’t even flinch, she knew she could start the stitches. “Do you need a tetanus shot?”

“Don’t think so.”

Other than that, she went to work in silence, quickly and neatly stitching up the cut, making sure the scar would be straight and minimal. The cut was halfway stitched when he spoke again.

“What’s that above your ear?”

Aurelie pursed her lips, completing two more stitches before answering him. “It’s called a cochlear implant. It helps me hear, to a certain degree.”

“You’re deaf?”

“I wasn’t always. Slowly started to lose my hearing as I got older, sometime in high school, it dropped out completely from the left side. Right side is there, but not nearly a hundred percent. They still don’t know why.” She bit her bottom lip as she struggled to knot the stitch she had just completed on. “My turn?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You asked me two questions. Now I get to ask you two questions, right?”

“I guess.”

Aurelie nodded. “Are you from Boston?”

He laughed. “The accent didn’t give it away?”

She smiled. “You needed to lighten up. It was worth wasting a question. What’s your real name?”

“My real name?”

“I know it’s not Boris Schmidt, even if that’s what’s on your chart.”

The man said nothing, and Aurelie knew better than to push the issue. They fell into silence again while Aurelie finished the stitches and bandaged the area. She left for a few minutes to fill out his dismissal papers, then returned to educate him on the aftercare.

“What are you going to put in my chart?”

Aurelie shrugged. “That you came in with a lac to your lower left flank and quadrant, there was no sign of infection or organ disturbance, that I stitched you up and sent you on your way. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Aurelie snapped her gloves into the trash can and turned back to him. “You’re welcome. Good luck.”

At the curtain, Aurelie thought she caught him say something, but had to turn back around to ask him to repeat.

“John,” he smiled. “My name is John. Krasinski.”

Aurelie’s smile faded. “Krasinski?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “it’s a weird one, I know.”

Aurelie nodded. “Do me a favor, John. Don’t tell anyone that I treated you.”

With that, she pulled the curtain closed behind her and went back to her desk to chart and catch up with her other patients.

GIF found via Pinterest search.

Three days later, another hospital shift. Fortunately, this night was not nearly as busy as her last shift. When Aurelie’s pager went off and she saw the code 613, she finished the current orders she was working on, then made way for the parking lot just outside of the emergency room lobby.

Her brother, Chris, was leaned against his car, a classic American muscle number, smoking a cigarette.

“You know this is a hospital, they’ll fine you for smoking outside of the designated area, dumbass.”

Chris turned with a chuckle, tossing the cigarette to the ground and put it out with the toe of his boot. “Better? Here. Your ma packed lunch for you.”

“That was nice of her,” Aurelie replied, taking the brown bag from him. “What’d she pack for you?”

“A nine mil and a wish that I wasn’t so much like my father. The usual.” He opened the driver’s side door of the car and reached in for another bag. “This is from him, by the way.”

Aurelie checked that no one was watching them and shoved the bag back at Chris. “I don’t want that shit, and you know it. I didn’t earn it, neither did you, neither did he. I don’t need it.”

“Aur, listen, all right? Hey, don’t make that damn face. Yeah, we’ve been over this a million times, we’re gonna fuckin’ go over it again. You’re his kid, whether you ever wanted to be or not. Maybe he’s not the dad you were born to, but he’s the one you ended up with. He’s just trying to take care of you.”

“He’s not over what happened. He still thinks my deafness is his fault, and if he pays me off long enough, I’ll come back to the family. Can’t you see that?”

Chris pursed his lips. “Why can’t you stop putting me in the middle of this?”

Aurelie groaned and tucked the extra bag into her white coat. “Fine.”

“All right.” He pulled another cigarette from the pack and held it between his lips but didn’t light it. “You been holdin’ up all right?”

“Yeah, of course. I can hold my own. You made sure of that.” She decided to take a chance and mention her patient from the other night. “Hey, you remember that guy who went to the high school, he was a year ahead of you -- John Krasinski?”

“Fuck that guy,” was Chris’s immediate response. “He and his family could jump into the river and not come back up and I’d keep walking.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Aurelie snorted. “So that thing with your family and his, that’s still a thing?”

Chris nodded, tossing his cigarette lighter up and down in the palm of his hand. “Hell yeah, it’s still a thing. They’ll learn one day that we run shit, though. What made you think of him?”

“I don’t know. Random thought, I guess.”

The expression on her brother’s face told Aurelie he was going to be watching her carefully over the coming weeks. She thanked him for the food and went back into the hospital, careful to put the bag of money into her backpack before anyone else suspected something was amiss.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @anxiouskore @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl

Boston Boys: @atc74 @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @becs-bunker @shield-agent78 @patzammit @crazyandanonymous4u

#chris evans #john krasinski #crossover #fanfiction #criminal!au #queue and i remember budapest very differently

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darklydeliciousdesires · 4 years

Text

A Fate Unimagined - Chapter Twenty Five.

Sorry this is a day late, guys! I needed another rest from the Internet day and only logged on very brieftly last night before continuing with my evening. Here, enjoy!

Tag list - @breakmeaswitchson @madbaddic7ed @ruelf-emedam@brexfrix @ xxphoenixflyerxx @geekyweed@holyhumorliteraturelight @jinaaaannnnn @alliyjane @notso-fetch @zoe-rachel-crisp @glowien @tranquility-or-chaos @bucky-did-nothing-wrong @shileen91 @boiled-onionrings @cheritzie @hm-fck @mary-ann84 @skylarmorgan1899 @alwayshave-faith @alliyjane @shyen18@shadesofarrogance @justjulie1105 @soulmatelove96@agniavateira @stormnightsong @xmother-mortemx @gamingaquarius @pansexualpancakeslife @jesseswartzwelder @ayamenimthiriel @winchwm @romanoffs-heart @queengeorgiaaa

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

“You and Geralt, you certainly enjoy going at it whenever you get a chance, don’t you?” Tayliss commented as Rin entered her tower room, turning from where she’d been blending herbs while brushing the residue from her fingers.

“I could lie and blame the pregnancy, but I shan’t. We’re quite insatiable, so I apologise for the fact that doesn’t exactly make us the politest of house guests,” she offered, taking a seat after Tayliss pulled out a velvet covered stool at her side.

“Oh, you misunderstand, Rin. It wasn’t a criticism; sex is a decadent pastime everyone should enjoy freely, so you go right ahead. Besides, you were done in under an hour, just now. That’s quick for you two, I couldn’t help but notice,” she told her, laughing a little. She and Geralt... they weren’t quiet. “So, what brings you to my tower?”

“In the interests of not being rude, I thought I’d come and take an interest in everything Riley says makes you an efficient and formidable sorceress,” she commented, Tayliss smiling, liking how the ember who had been quite quiet around her so far was now beginning to open up. Geralt had warned her that while she wasn’t rude, Rin was a little reserved with new people.

“Well, you’re just about to witness how my new experiment is going. I’m attempting to devise concealment charms for both you and Geralt. I don’t know if there are any side effects to administering a potion to a woman in your condition, and you and Geralt need to travel under concealment for your safety, of course. So, let’s see. I shall be the test subject.” Tayliss replied, picking up a long piece of leather with a charm attached.

It was various little pieces all woven together on a thin piece of metal, encircling some kind of crystal. Just from being near it, Rin could feel its palpable energy as Tayliss put it around her neck and waited for a few moments, picking up an ornate hand mirror to check her appearance.

“Oh my... that’s incredible,” Rin exclaimed, watching Tayliss change before her eyes, very impressed by her skills.

“Hmmmm, no. It isn’t good enough, sadly. I still look like me, but with a beard and a few facial scars. I need to improve, but I’m getting there, at least,” she replied, taking off the necklace again.

“So, how do all these little components work together in order to perform the illusion?” Rin asked, gesturing to the pendant. Tayliss gave her the kind of explanation she would understand (being non-magical, some finer details would be lost on her totally) on how the components and magic bound together to create the spell, Rin utterly fascinated as she listened.

“My magic seems simple by comparison,” she stated, beginning to put a plait in the side of her hair to bind it away from her face.

“Rin, you can evoke fire from within yourself. That is utterly amazing to me! I cannot do such. I only wish I could,” Tayliss responded with encouragingly, not wanting the ember to feel less so compared to her talents. Fire magic was an incredible thing, something that embers were of course famed for.

“Still though, all of this is incredible. How long do you think until you’ll achieve a favourable result?” she asked, holding her finger over a nearby candle and making it suddenly glitter prettily, the flame crackling and bursting into little sparks, Tayliss applauding softly.

“It’s very difficult to say, but until I do please know that you are most welcome here in my home. I get lonely at times, not having many friends nearby. It’s nice to have people here, to spend time with Riley again. I haven’t seen him in a long time,” she told her, Rin finishing her plait and using a little piece of thin thread she found on the table to tie it with before beginning one on the other side.

“You both still seem quite close, despite your past,” she noted, the mage sighing.

“I still love that man dearly, you know. I’ll never not be angry about how it all ended though, but not with him. With myself. I knew the kind of man he was before I married him, but I always thought our love would be enough. Ultimately, it wasn’t. He did well, he remained faithful to me for six years until that wandering cock of his began to wander into other women,” she explained, Rin nodding.

“He is an absolute tart, isn’t he?” Rin replied, Tayliss nodding as she laughed softly.

“That he is, Rin. You’re very lucky with Geralt. That man is so devoted to you. I’ve never seen him like this over a woman, but then again I’ve never really seen him entertain the affections of a woman for longer than a few weeks.” She informed her, taking a small brush and sweeping herb remanence from her alter into her hand.

Rin wasn’t sure if it was pregnancy hormones or something different, but after that brief mention of Geralt never really being interested in women long term, she couldn’t help but wonder what the draw was with her.

She knew she was attractive, this she never doubted. Rin also knew she had a loyal heart as well, but was it just the baby who had drawn him closer to her? Would this even be happening with him had she not been carrying his child? She doubted not. After all, initially they couldn’t stand the sight of one another.

“You look troubled,” the man in question put to her later, finding her sitting on the small wall in the middle of Tayliss’ rose garden, dipping her feet in the fish pond. Honesty, she decided, was the best policy.

“Geralt, would you still desire me as you do if not for the baby?” she asked as he came to sit beside her, laughing through his nose as he frowned a little, not sure she was serious.

“Of course I would. I’ve grown to have a very genuine affection for you, regardless of the fact you’re the mother of my child. Although I will admit that plays a big part of it, she isn’t exclusively the reason why I desire you as much as I do,” he told her, Rin shielding her eyes from the late afternoon sun as she looked out across the garden.

“Why though?” she questioned.

“You need for me to list the reasons?” He asked, thinking likely this was all being stirred by her pregnancy hormones. She’d accidentally trodden on a spider that morning and cried for ten minutes about it, apologising over and over to the tiny corpse. She nodded at his request, Geralt trying not to show his amusement. Rin was rarely adorable, but in this moment, she was exactly that.

“Well, I very much enjoy how formidable you are, first and foremost. If there was ever a woman who would turn my head and keep my interest for longer than most, she’d have to be the strong type, which is exactly what you are.

“Beneath that though is a truly beautiful soul, someone who has one of the purest loves for animals I’ve ever seen. Calming Roach in the way you did after the basilisk spooked her, saving the butterfly from drowning, mourning the spider this morning, it shows what a good heart you have.

“Then there’s the fact that nothing about you is contrived, including your ability to make me laugh. I often take life much too seriously, something which I feel you can be guilty of too sometimes.

“I like that we can amuse one another out of the stoic demeanours we sometimes hang onto a little too tightly. There, is that sufficient? Oh, Rin.” He finished, shaking his head and wrapping his arm around her when he saw tears streaming down her face, sniffing heavily as she waved her hands and attempted in vain to cease her sniffling.

“You’re so lovely, please go back to being an arsehole to me for a while, redress the balance. I can’t cope, these stupid bloody hormones!” she squeaked, drying her eyes.

“Okay, fuck off, then,” he snorted, uncoiling his arm and giving her a shove in the shoulder. It worked, she burst out laughing immediately, shuffling closer to him and kissing his chest as he held her again, kissing her hair. “You’re fucking wonderful, baby or not. I think the world of you.” He told her, holding her close as they enjoyed the last of the sun, returning indoors once it had set.

It was a further three days before Tayliss yielded any results from her charms, finally getting the alchemy behind them just right, the concealment absolutely perfect. They disguised Geralt as an older man with long, black hair and a beard and Rin as a woman in her forties, with dark blonde hair not dissimilar to how her own looked, prior to the fires of Mount Rholk burning it away.

“So, these will allow you to move, but I propose that when you leave here, you do so via a portal. I’ll open one up to take you north, I shan’t know exactly where, but it’ll move you a few hundred miles from the last location both the Order of the Embers and the Sanctuary of the Blessed last saw you in.

“They know something is amiss. They continue to circle the area, I think their mages can feel my magic in the air, but they’re not as powerful as me, they cannot detect the spell that hides the fortress,” she spoke, Riley suddenly interjecting.

“I’m going to need one too. I want to travel with them, they’ll need help, especially when the baby arrives. Both parties hunting them down know my appearance too, so I shall need concealment,” he spoke, Geralt surprised at his words. He hadn’t expected such from him.

“Thank you. That means a lot,” he told him, gripping his shoulder, Riley smiling.

“You are like a brother to me, of course I want to assist where I can.” Now she knew how, Tayliss created another charm for him in a few hours, letting it settle for a day before it was ready, the magic woven in and ready to use.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality. I honestly appreciate what you’ve done for us more than you could know,” Rin told the mage as they stood in her courtyard, all prepared for their journey through the portal.

“You are most welcome, Rin. Please, when all of this is over, do come and visit me. I look forward to meeting this special little one,” she replied, stroking her bump and kissing her cheek before saying her goodbyes to Geralt and Riley.

“Being new parents will surely be exhausting work when they baby comes. Look after them.” she told her former husband, hugging him warmly.

“On that you can be certain.” He turned to mount Ed, Tayliss opening the portal. She recited a spell, asking the portal magic to take them to the place they would be safest and waving as Geralt rode Roach through first, Rin and Blanche next and Riley behind.

They all landed safely with a thud on the other side, the horses spooking a little at the sudden change in scenery, the atmosphere cold compared to where they’d come from.

“Where the fuck are we?” Rin asked, Geralt and Riley looking ahead to a very familiar structure.

“Kaer Morhen.” Her lover replied, looking on at his former home, the School of the Wolf in the middle distance.

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odanurr87 · 4 years

Text

Flash Review: What’s Wrong With Secretary Kim?

Park Seo-Joon as Lee Young-Joon, and Park Min-Young as Kim Mi-So.

Release date: June 6 - July 26, 2018

Episodes: 16

Available on: Viki

Summary: Lee Young-Joon is the Vice Chairman of the YumYung Group, a large corporation and the family business. He’s smart, successful, and supremely confident to the point of narcissism. Kim Mi-So has been his secretary for the past nine years, proving herself to be extremely efficient in the execution of her duties and the only person who can keep up with his ego and intellect, anticipating her boss’ will and seeing it carried out. One day, out of the blue, Kim Mi-So announces she has decided to quit her job and start a new chapter in her life, what takes Young-Joon entirely by surprise. This event forces the two to review their relationship, as Young-Joon realises he doesn’t want to let her go, and Mi-So starts seeing other sides of her boss’ personality as she realises he might have feelings for her. As this is a kdrama, the return of Young-Joon’s hated older brother, Lee Seong-Yeon, complicates matters when he suddenly enters Mi-So’s life, turning himself into a rival romantic interest. Meanwhile, Mi-So starts looking into an old kidnapping case connected to the two brothers.

What I liked:

The pacing and execution of the romantic relationship. One of my main complaints when I reviewed The Secret Life of my Secretary (TSLS for short) was that I felt that show took too long to develop the relationship between the boss and his secretary, dragging the deception more than it should have, and even when the leads eventually admit they have feelings for each other, 24 episodes in, it didn’t quite feel believable and the wrap up felt a bit rushed. The Vice Chairman and Secretary Kim manage to get there by Episode 8, selling it every step of the way, giving us another eight episodes to see how their relationship progresses and concludes. Romantic misunderstandings, that staple of most romcoms, are thankfully kept to a minimum, something I was extremely grateful for. For instance, when the beginning of one such misunderstanding rears its ugly head at the end of Episode 8, Secretary Kim doesn’t waste a second to clear the air with the Vice Chairman and declare her feelings for him, marking the beginning of their romantic relationship. They still have their disagreements (Secretary Kim is definitely not a pushover) and face their share of obstacles and objections to their relationship; we see how their relationship plays out in the workplace, sometimes with hilarious results (Mi-So can be very protective of her boyfriend!); we’re treated to the expected bouts of jealousy from the two leads, the apparently required drunk scenes, etc. In short, it’s what you’d expect from a good Hollywood romcom but longer.

The absence of the “family member X trying to usurp power from the lead brother” trope. So refreshing to do away with this trope every once in a while. You will find no evil conspiracy here directed at any of the leads, a staple of kdramas where a chaebol’s involved, giving us more time to explore the relationship between the Vice Chairman and Secretary Kim, which is frankly what this show is all about. We still have that jerk relative that shows up to cause trouble, but he’s mostly harmless. I will address this plot in the next section.

The humor. The humor in this show is comprised of four elements, which I’ll proceed to highlight in bold. If you’ve watched the show, perhaps the first thing that comes to mind is Kang Ki-Young, who plays Young-Joon’s best friend, councilor, and president of the Yumyung Group, Park Yoo-Sik, as he does a fantastic job providing comic relief, taking advantage of the fact that he’s the only person who can make fun of Young-Joon and get away with it. I particularly liked his interactions with his clumsy and forgetful secretary, a pairing many viewers shipped. While I was taken aback by how much I liked him in Bring it on, Ghost, I was definitely less surprised to see what a great job he did here. Easily the best supporting character in the show. However, I feel Park Min-Young’s Kim Mi-So gives him a run for his money, not for being a prankster but because of how she reacts in any number of situations (as does Yoo-Sik), from trying to hide her boyfriend from her sisters, through punching a stuffed cow to make room for her virtual boyfriend, to trying to suppress her feelings of jealousy when faced with the prospect of having a rival for Young-Joon’s affection. You could call it situational humor perhaps, but seeing Mi-So’s facial expressions and her demeanor in these situations is priceless. These two are not the only actors/characters who partake in the show’s humor, but I believe they’re the standouts. Next on the list are the show’s well-placed sound effects, from weather effects to animal sounds, which really bring out the humor in certain situations. The sound effects in this show are 100% on point. Last but not least is the inclusion of a certain animated devil who pops up from time to time when Young-Joon or Mi-So are having lewd thoughts. As Young-Joon says at one point, “Fighting!”

Secretary Kim’s many facial expressions. Pity the sound effect wasn’t timed right in this scene.

What I didn’t like:

The older brother and the execution of his storyline. Perhaps I am less inclined to like his character because I initially watched the episodes out of order. During the first few episodes, Young-Joon’s brother, Seong-Yeon, clearly appears as the more likable of the two, returning home after years abroad, ready to make amends, only to find a brother who has nothing but contempt for him and a family who still favours Young-Joon. One should sympathize with him under the circumstances. However, for my part, Seong-Yeon showed his true colors even before he regained his memories. As I mentioned earlier, his return also results in the two brothers holding an undeclared contest for Mi-So’s affections, with Seong-Yeon believing he has the upper hand because of a past connection with her. When Seong-Yeon boasts how he’s going to exploit this connection to get her that was the moment I went, “This dude’s an asshole. He’s really going to exploit a painful memory simply to one up his brother.” Young-Joon, on the other hand, was actually doing his best to protect Mi-So from it, even at the risk of losing her. However, beyond Seong-Yeon’s likeability as a character, from a narrative standpoint, I just can’t believe the two brothers haven’t settled their score after two decades. Further, his transformation from jerk to good brother after he regains his memories seemed a little rushed, a little forced, with some scenes seemingly set up to cast him in a more favourable light. I have my strong doubts that someone who’s experienced that kind of mental trauma would make such a recovery in such a short amount of time (days? weeks?). Ultimately, he came across more as a plot device than a character.

How the parents handled the kidnapping. Letting your kids believe a lie for decades is not the way you handle a traumatic experience! It strikes me as unbelievable, irresponsible, and utterly reproachable, that the parents would rather scar their children for life than send them to therapy, especially when time proved that the lie had not improved the brothers’ relationship and possibly made it worse. There’s also some inconsistency with the character of the mother, who at one point looks to Mi-So to take care of Young-Joon, hinting she knows of their relationship, only for her to later ask Young-Joon not to date Mi-So because that would make Seong-Yeon unhappy. The gall of this woman. Fortunately, Seong-Yeon intervenes (this is the favourable light scene I mentioned earlier), as the mother was about to make yet another parenting mistake. I’m also slightly skeptical she didn’t figure out the truth behind the kidnapping earlier, specifically, the moment Mi-So’s involvement is revealed, a secretary Young-Joon personally selected over more qualified candidates. It’s a relatively minor detail though.

OTP: Damn, these two can kiss! If that’s not chemistry, I don’t know what is. Every moment these two are together is just perfect. I’ll admit I disliked Young-Joon’s unhealthy possessiveness, but I understand this was a conscious choice to show how much his character changes as a result of his love for Mi-So, eventually willing to let her go and choose a new path. I know some people disapproved of Mi-So’s decision to stay as Young-Joon’s secretary, seeing it as a regression and arguing she should try something new, but I disagree. At the end of the day, what’s important is that Mi-So is no longer pressured by circumstance to follow a path but is now finally able to decide for herself knowing she has someone in her life who will support her regardless. I’d question the timing of her decision but not the decision itself. She can always quit later. I also appreciated this show wasn’t afraid of showing the two characters actually tie the knot. Makes for a good change of pace.

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Verdict: Initially, I dropped this show like a bomb in the middle of the first episode, as the thought of having a hardcore narcissistic boss as one of the leads did not appeal to me one bit, and having just finished watching the disappointing The Secret Life of my Secretary I really didn’t want to waste much more of my time on a show that promised to be similar. I was utterly wrong, as it turned out. What’s Wrong With Secretary Kim? is a great office romcom, with Park Seo-Joon and Park Min-Young easily delivering on the romance and the comedy, aided by Kang Ki-Young and a solid supporting cast. This is an easy recommendation and definitely worth watching multiple times.

Rewatch meter: High

#kdrama #kdramas #what's wrong with secretary kim #park seo joon #park min young #kang ki young #review

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lullabieswrappedinlies · 4 years

Text

Boston Boys [Part One]

Summary: Dr. Aurelie Juneau treats someone in the emergency room she shouldn’t, and get a visit from her brother a few days later. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1700 Chapter Warnings: Hospital setting and treatment, mentions of guns, implied crime. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

A tap on her shoulder prompted her to replace the magnet against her head and turn to see who was beckoning her. A nurse handed Aurelie a chart.

“The guy in room five is refusing to let anyone examine him or anything until he sees you. Says he’s got a lac, I see blood on his shirt.”

Aurelie frowned. “He seem legit?”

The nurse shrugged. “Seems like any run of the mill guy, middle class, whatever. We called security down, they’re waiting by the room.”

“All right.” She flipped through a few pages of the chart. “I don’t recognize the name, but I’ll check him out.”

“I’m Dr. Juneau. You asked for me?”

The man nodded. “I’ve heard that you’ll take care of someone and not put anything sketchy on the books.”

“He’s an old family friend, scared of hospitals. I’ll talk to him about it.”

The man pulled his shirt up to reveal a cut above his left hip bone, pulling around to his abdomen. Aurelie positioned herself on the side of the bed and took a closer look at the cut.

“How’d you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Don’t think so.”

Other than that, she went to work in silence, quickly and neatly stitching up the cut, making sure the scar would be straight and minimal. The cut was halfway stitched when he spoke again.

“What’s that above your ear?”

Aurelie pursed her lips, completing two more stitches before answering him. “It’s called a cochlear implant. It helps me hear, to a certain degree.”

“You’re deaf?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You asked me two questions. Now I get to ask you two questions, right?”

“I guess.”

Aurelie nodded. “Are you from Boston?”

He laughed. “The accent didn’t give it away?”

She smiled. “You needed to lighten up. It was worth wasting a question. What’s your real name?”

“My real name?”

“I know it’s not Boris Schmidt, even if that’s what’s on your chart.”

“What are you going to put in my chart?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Aurelie snapped her gloves into the trash can and turned back to him. “You’re welcome. Good luck.”

At the curtain, Aurelie thought she caught him say something, but had to turn back around to ask him to repeat.

“John,” he smiled. “My name is John. Krasinski.”

Aurelie’s smile faded. “Krasinski?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “it’s a weird one, I know.”

Aurelie nodded. “Do me a favor, John. Don’t tell anyone that I treated you.”

With that, she pulled the curtain closed behind her and went back to her desk to chart and catch up with her other patients.