#and i will excitedly engage and learn from anyone with any experiences ever

[giovanni-bottesini]

There's something I've noticed a lot more recently as I've taken up my late grandmother's genealogist role in my family's Scottish clan (something which still sounds fictional to me) which I see as yet another example of well-meaning white settler leftists approaching important conversations with a very flawed mindset consisting of what some would call "white guilt" and the self-sacrificial or "repentant" approach to decolonization that lets you skip learning about any culture at all! You can just say "I'm a white settler on stolen land. That sucks and I hate it." and buy an orange shirt on the internet while you're supposed to be doing your day job for the government.

This isn't about giving up your own cultural identity as a "sacrifice" to those who have had them stripped away. The goal is always to know more about ourselves, each other, and the unbelievable extent to which our ancestors documented everything they could about themselves. No matter how unimportant you might think your middle-class suburban family might be, there are millions of people dedicating their entire lives and careers to using every bit of data they can find to make leaps in understanding I couldn't piece together if I tried.

Do you resent your rich, white, Catholic upbringing? Don't you want to just forget it all, throw out those dumb old documents, and renounce your European origins in solidarity with the indigenous peoples? Well, first of all, uniteforchange.com is a good place for folks in "Canada" to start out if you're in a position to pay reparations (folks encouraged to rb with international community/mutual aid funds) but please make sure your family documents remain in caring hands! Donate them to a university or research institute, or any sort of passionate genealogist in your family or community so the knowledge doesn't just rot in your poorly-insulated attic.

Or read the documents yourself! Bring them to a local library and scan them, upload them to a database like familysearch.org or geneanet.org and figure out why your family is catholic, what they may have practiced before, and how you ended up as a settler rather than living in Ireland, or Italy, or Hungary, or anywhere else considered "white" enough (nowadays) to get the "good" side of colonialism: having their culture leeched out of them whilst participating in the destruction of others, rather than being destroyed.

Decolonialism isn't ever about hating your identity and trying to bury it out of shame, or appropriating another culture that feels "better" to your conscience. It's about understanding yourself, hard realities and all, looking back at the countless people who were silenced before their voices could be heard, and fighting like hell for the people who still have the chance.

Realizing your history should disturb rather than comfort you, but realizing your privilege should not demoralize you; it should empower you.

[chosonore]

part two | yearning

yearning [noun. a strong feeling of wishing for something, especially something that you cannot have or get easily]

pairing: kamo noritoshi/f!reader

summary: your relationship with noritoshi was like a game of cat and mouse; no matter how hard you tried to escape from him, he would always find his way back to you.

wordcount: 8.2k

content/warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, language, somewhat suggestive, noritoshi is kind of a dick but i promise it gets better so please don’t lose faith in him, we’re somewhat following the timeline of the anime/manga so spoilers ahead!! but what follows afterwards is purely pulled out of my ass lol, lowercase intended [UNEDITED]

a/n: hello, here i am again with a super long chapter ( ˙꒳​˙ ) it is so incredibly messy and i’m so sorry if it gets confusing for you; this just really shows how sporadic my writing process is, i have some guidelines that i follow but sometimes venture off my path when i suddenly get a new idea. nevertheless, i hope you can somewhat enjoy this chapter. feedback or just your thoughts are much appreciated! for those that are waiting for the ~steamy~ content, it is coming next chapter hehe. as always, stay safe everyone (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

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"noritoshi, could you just stay quiet today? i'm really not in the mood," you sighed as you entered the training grounds. the exhaustion from the mission the day before was clinging onto your bones, heavy and admonishingly. the normally exciting sparring lessons seemed dreadful, knowing that all students were to practice today. to practice the balance within the team, utahime had claimed the week prior as she was reprimanding your lack of discipline when it came to noritoshi. stubbornness ran in the family; you refused to back down when someone was hurting your pride. said stubbornness came back to bite you - instead of taking a break to fully recover, you claimed that you would be fine with the help of your reverse curse techniques.

as the days came and went, the yearly tournament slowly approached. after the devastating defeat last year, everyone was on edge and determined to beat tokyo tech. well, that excluded todo, he was just looking for stronger opponents it seemed. noritoshi, on other hand, appeared to be more agitated than usual - if he wasn't barking orders at the other students, he would criticize their fighting styles. you knew he wanted to win the tournament at all costs, to prove himself worthy of the position as the kamo clan head. but he was too rigid about it, rarely accepting help and haughty when questioned. you've been avoiding him as best as you could and of all days, today had to be one where you could not. opponents would be swapped every ten minutes so everyone could practice with another student - facing noritoshi for ten minutes was easy. so you thought. 

"can't promise anything, princess," noritoshi retorted smugly and pat your head like he usually did when he was trying to get a reaction out of you. life always found a way to prove you wrong. for some reason, noritoshi had made it his goal to get under your skin as much as possible on this particular day and it worked. it was childish to engage in this banter but you couldn’t help it. the feeling of not being taken serious by noritoshi had always bothered you. it almost seemed like he wasn’t considering you equal to him, always looking down on you. being stressed wasn’t good, your mother had always reminded you, so it was best to remain calm and collected.

stay calm and collected, calm and collected, you repeated in your head. gritting your teeth, you slapped his hand away and jogged away from him towards todo. at least he'd leave you alone while you were near todo - probably to avoid todo getting mad at him and not wanting to hear about takada-chan again. he was the ultimate and fool-proof shield. the taller male was walking at a leisurely pace in front of you, leading the group as per usual. you caught up to him, slowing down so it didn't look like you just jogged all the way here. away from the menace that was noritoshi. todo glanced at you suspiciously before subtly turning around. a guilty groan left your lips. of course he knew, he always knew. as the unlikely friendship was blossoming between the two of you, you rapidly realized that todo was far more perceptive than he would ever let on. even though he took lighthearted jabs at you, he didn't care enough to intervene; it was a mutual understanding. in a way, you appreciated that he treated you like everyone else, not once had he tried to approach you about your deteriorating relationship with noritoshi.

upon seeing the unlikely pair, miwa speed up as well to join them. even though todo scared her to no end, your presence eased her nerves a little. after all, you weren’t scared to put him back in his place when he was being dramatic. she nudged you gently in greeting, nervously clasping her sword in front of her. "do you think we'll win this year's competition? we've been training a lot, so i hope i can show off some of my skills."

"never say never? even if we lose, it's a good experience to learn from," you replied wryly. while the students of the kyoto tech were strong and coordinated well with each other, noritoshi and you could easily destroy the balance. he didn't know when to stop, persistently pushing your boundaries and you fell for his tricks every time. as long as you could work out a strategy that involved working alone or with a partner that was not him, you'd be fine. your safest bet was to work with miwa since you were both sword users and have practiced together extensively. if noritoshi and you exhibited enough chaos to tear the world apart, miwa and you represented the perfect balance when fighting.

"you're our secret weapon though!" miwa exclaimed excitedly, elbowing you gently. "no one knows you can heal, so we'll use that to our advantage."

"uh…"

"what? don't tell me you-"

"i've asked yuta about advice before," you interrupted her, scratching your head sheepishly. "he's one of the very few people who can use reverse cursed techniques, so i asked him to give me some pointers and how to use it more to my advantage."

when yuta participated in the competition the year before, you were absolutely mesmerized by his level of skills and how he had supposedly mastered them in such a short amount of time. of course you hadn't told anyone that you were talking to him - everyone was still salty about the defeat and would, undoubtedly, have crucified you on sight. truthfully, you didn't understand why everyone was so hellbent about hating the students of your sister school. weren't you all colleagues in a sense? yuta was nice and respectful towards you, always trying his best to explain you how to implement his tips. along the way, you might have developed a tiny, fleeting crush on him but never acted on it. it was only a crush after all and you didn’t feel certain about it not being a mere distraction from your feelings for noritoshi. perhaps it was the way he made you feel, the way he treated you like noritoshi used to before. you couldn't even deny it, you missed your old 'toshi. when you looked at him now, it hurt you, seeing all the traces of gentleness having left him.

"really? you never told me! what is he like? he looked like he was really nice but there were moments where i was really scared of him. well maybe not him but rather… that curse."

"uh, yuta is actually not that scary. he's really helpful and always there for you when you need advice. i think i've improved a lot since we've started talking." you made a mental note to thank yuta again if you got to see each other anytime soon. apparently, gojo had sent him on a mission overseas a few months back and ever since, your exchanged messages grew to be rather sporadic. still, you appreciated that he made an effort to text you every now and then to let you know how he was doing and in turn, also asked about your wellbeing.

"fraternizing with the enemy, i see," noritoshi's voice rang out beside you, dangerously close to your ear. it made you jump in surprise, not having sensed him earlier - your hand automatically shot out to hit him, only for him to catch it in time. you shot him an annoyed glare. beside you, miwa and todo glanced at each other, silently agreeing to ignore the squarreling pair.

"i don't see how that's any of your business."

"it is if it jeopardizes our chance at winning," noritoshi narrowed eyes at you in suspicion. of course he didn't trust you, you were nothing but a mild inconvenience to him. you didn't owe him an explanation, not today and not in the future. any friendship or friendliness between you was long gone. refusing to look into his eyes, you attempted to tug your hand away from him but instead accomplished the exact opposite as noritosh tightened his grip. "what did you tell him?"

"he only helped me with training, that's all! it doesn't concern you anyways so-"

noritoshi was irritated, you could tell. the anger was rolling off him in waves, intimidating even you. why was he so annoyed by the fact that you asked yuta for advice? it wasn't even farfetched - the only other alternatives were gojo and ieiri, both of which you hadn't mustered up the courage to ask yet. wasn't it in everyone's best interest for you to become a great healer? noritoshi would know best - he was the driving force behind your ambition, the sole reason why you worked to the brink of exhaustion just to show him that you didn’t need his help, that you were worthy of a higher rank.

"i don't want you to hang out with the tokyo tech kids, especially not with him."

"wait, what?" you gaped at him in disbelief. "is this just because you have personal beef with some of them? leave me out of this, i just want to improve and you don't get to tell me what to do." with that you shoved the taller male, stomping past the other students towards utahime who was looking at you in disapproval. you missed the upset frown on noritoshi's face as he followed you, wanting to reach out but stopping midway. it wasn't the right time or place to let you know why he didn't want you around them, not yet. seeing you hang out and being relaxed with everyone else but him hurt him, oh how it hurt him. he wanted you close to him, only see him, talk about him excitedly and with stars in your eyes like you did when you talked about yuta. and yet, he couldn't let you know. the only way to keep you orbiting around him was to play these silly games, rile you up and drawing a reaction out of you. it was the only way to make you pay attention to him. and so he did.

calm and collected, my ass, you thought two hours later. of course todo and noritoshi had completely eviscerated the rest of the students with no mercy, leaving everyone in a sour mood. whatever strategy your team would have for the tournament was probably thrown out the window, the two of them would take care of it anyways. not that they would stand a chance against yuta.

“yuta isn’t here?” the disappointment in your voice was palpable. you did look forward to meeting yuta again, thinking that he might have come home from his overseas trip for the tournament. but you supposed getting to know the other students wasn’t too bad, you were interested in the first years and their skills. they certainly looked more approachable than your classmates. miwa told you how todo and mai had met two of them a few weeks prior and promptly started a senseless fight that was then stopped by the second years. it landed them in the water as utahime gave them a lecture - while she didn't tolerate the childish behaviour, everyone else seemed to turn a blind eye to it. noritoshi had scoffed in disapproval upon hearing the news, uttering something about not wanting to associate with dimwits like them. 

"nope, he's still overseas. it doesn't matter anyways, we'll still beat you without him," maki replied with a confident grin, arms crossed as she took in the kyoto tech group of students. regardless, you broke out in a sprint and jumped, engulfing her in a warm hug. while you two didn't talk as much as yuta and you did, you were still friends. she was a source of inspiration to you, a master of all kinds of weapons whom you deeply admired. maki gave you some awkward pats before pulling away to introduce you to the first years - megumi, yuji and nobara. the younger students were wary of you, most likely because of their encounter with todo and mai. you couldn't hold it against them, their intensity and stubbornness was something you had to deal with daily after all. you silently cursed the two brash students before taking a deep breath and extending your hand to the ones in front of you.

“hi, i’m y/n, nice to meet you,” you introduced yourself with a friendly smile, visibly relieved when they shook your hand and introduced themselves. especially nobara seemed to be eager to get to know you, fussing over your uniform and inquiring about your skills. you were glad they welcomed you, not wanting to cause any more trouble than would undoubtedly arise for the duration of the tournament. while megumi seemed to be cautious and more reserved around you, yuuji and nobara already treated you like their friend. subconsciously, you envied them for the wholesome friendship dynamic as it reminded you of what you used to have with noritoshi. the fleeting thoughts left as soon as they made an appearance in your head, disappearing when nobara grasped your hand and pulled you towards the buildings to show you around. unbothered by the reactions of your fellow kyoto tech classmates, you followed her - their energy was stifling and the tournament didn't start until later in the day anyways. it was useless to stay with your group and practice, you'd only overexert yourself.

“y/n.” noritoshi called after you sternly, glaring at you when you turned to look at him - ever since stepping foot into the estate, he was moody and more serious than usual.  it was probably him being tense about the tournament, the spirit to win deeply ingrained in his bones. none of the other students seemed to be bothered by the presence of the tokyo tech students, so why should he? ignoring him, you continued your journey until you felt a force harshly pulling you back by the fabric of your hoodie. intuitively, you could tell it was noritoshi. 

"noritoshi, let me go," you snapped at him irritated, struggling to free yourself from his grasp.

"we have things to discuss, did you forget that?"

"i don't want to," like a petulant child, you gave him an angry look as you stood your ground. tension filled the space between you, tethering on the edge of anger. why was a normal conversation never possible with him? and why did he treat you like a child? you let up when megumi appeared to your side, shooting noritoshi a warning glance as he attempted to remove his hand from yours. even though he didn't know what your relationship was like, he stepped in regardless - you were impressed by him. even if noritoshi remained calm, he was a menace to deal with afterwards.

"she said no, didn't you hear-"

"get your hands off of her." noritoshi growled at megumi, the sudden influx of cursed energy that was surrounding him made all students in close proximity freeze. you couldn't hide you shock either, he had never been this threatening towards someone else. he might push boundaries to the extreme, knowing that he could away with it due to his bloodline and family name but he had never outright threatened anyone that didn't do his bidding. with those words he pulled you towards him, wrapping his arm around your waist protectively. paralyzed, you blankly stared at him. his cursed energy was suffocating you, never had you experienced this amount of pressure. not only that, the unusual closeness set your heart ablaze, burning down the walls that you'd carefully constructed around it.

"you're being ridiculous," megumi challenged the older male, unbothered by the strong pressure. he didn't understand why noritoshi was making a big deal out of this. surely he didn't consider megumi a threat? noritoshi's hold on you strengthened and with panic you realized the blood-red markings appearing on his face, he was being serious, oh god he was going to rip megumi apart-

"hey hey, stop it you two," panda's voice snapped you out of your trance and seemingly noritoshi's as well as he wacked his arm. "you just got here and you're already stirring up trouble, are you not ashamed?"

noritoshi simply scoffed and let you go, his cursed energy dissipating with the movement. the rest of the students were as stunned as you were, no one daring to make another move until the tension evaporated. todo was the only one who looked rather annoyed, smacking the back of noritoshi’s head as he started to tell him off - noritoshi, however, kept walking past him towards the dorms that they were staying at for the week. it was almost like there was steam coming off his head as a result of holding his anger in. nobara gaped at you in surprise, pointing at you accusingly. “i didn’t know that was your boyfriend!”

you spluttered in horror, quickly reaching out to her to try and cover her mouth so she wouldn’t say anything incriminating. “n- no you got it wrong! we’re not together, not at all! i hate noritoshi,” you floundered, hastily trying to set the record straight. nobara didn’t look like she believed you, pushing your hands away while giggling. she wiggled her eyebrows at you, whispering at you about how lucky you were to snag such a handsome guy although she thought that he really didn’t have to overreact like that because megumi was harmless. covering your face in embarrassment, you turned away from her and caught a glimpse of an amused todo winking at you.

“i’m serious, nobara!" whatever whining you did, the two of them didn’t let up, making you wonder what you ever did wrong to deserve this scrutiny. as your last resort you grabbed nobara's hand, dragging her along towards a secluded area in the estate. being the subject of the earlier conflict was already troubling enough, you didn't want the other students to get the wrong idea by her wild speculations. nobara was still giggling when you arrived, pinching your arm playfully.

“c’mon, it’s impossible that there is not something between you! did you see the look on his face? i don’t think he would have cared had it been any other person,” she gushed excitedly, her face lighting up in glee. with no doubt, nobara enjoyed poking her nose in other people's business, seemingly having a knack for sniffing out the hidden. a dejected sigh left your lip. a younger you would have jumped in happiness after finally receiving noritoshi's attention but the present you knew better. there wasn't more to it, you told yourself and yet, a tiny sliver of doubt made its way into your mind. could he really have been so bothered by another male being so close to you? todo didn't count, obviously.

"no, there's nothing to it, i promise. we don't have the best relationship anymore and mostly fight. i mean yeah his reaction was really uncharacteristic but…"

"anymore?"

"noritoshi and me grew up together and were childhood friends. i- i didn't agree with his antics as we grew up and we drifted apart after that and now… hate each other? he’s just unbearable and we don’t get along. everyone at kyoto tech knows that so they’re mostly ignoring our fights. and it’s childish, i know, i know..." 

“are you sure? like super duper sure? because it didn’t look like it to me,” nobara contemplatively rubbed her chin. the wheels were turning in her head, something didn’t quite add up. even at first glance, whatever you said made her feel doubtful.

“trust me, i wish it was different too. i mean i used to like him a lot and it makes me sad and i wish we could at least be civil around each other. but he just makes me so angry,” your ramblings stopped nobara’s thinking - so that’s what it was. normally, nobara really didn’t care about other people’s business but this was too juicy to pass up. how far could she push it to make you realize?

why was the layout of all these buildings so confusing? and why were there so many buildings to begin with? you’ve been wandering around for at least five minutes now and you still couldn’t figure out where the hell yuji’s and megumi’s rooms were supposed to be. they didn’t even have any signs around. at this point, it didn’t matter if it took longer than anticipated - the others could wait. nobara had insisted on having a small get together the night before, to get to know each other and play some card games. you couldn’t refuse, it’s been a while since you just hung out with friends without any quarreling. there was no harm in getting to know you future colleagues, even though your classmates were treating them like criminals. so instead of going herself and much to your dismay, nobara had sent you to fetch the other two students, claiming that you would be fine if you just stuck to the measly sketch she’d made for you. most of the rooms you’ve already knocked at remained empty so you couldn’t be far from their rooms, you concluded.

stopping in front of the last remaining door of the corridor, you took a deep breath. this had to be one of their rooms. slowly, you raised your hand to knock at the door when it was suddenly yanked open, startling you in the process and making you drop the piece of paper you were holding. what you weren’t expecting was coming face to face with noritoshi who looked at you as equally confused. he was the last person you wanted to see today, not wanting to confront him about his actions earlier. you couldn’t wrap your head around it; why had he overreacted in such a way? it wasn’t like you were in danger or in need of protection. for a brief moment, you thought that there was a sliver of strange possessiveness. you couldn’t quite place the emotions in his eyes, it made you shudder.

“oh uh, sorry. i was looking for yuji and megumi and this is very obviously not one of their rooms. sorry again. i’ll take my leave,” you awkwardly stammered, taking a step back. noritoshi’s figure was towering over you and in a rare moment, you felt intimidated by him. perhaps it was the dark look in his eyes that told you that he was not thrilled by what you just told him. before you could react, he swiftly grabbed your arm and pulled you inside his room, trapping you against the door.

“w- wait!” you protested weakly, pushing at his chest until his face slowly came into your vision. you couldn’t help but stare at his lips, watching them move as he was talking to you. your ears were ringing, you couldn’t tell what he was saying. the close proximity was suffocating and yet you craved more, not wanting to let him go.

“y/n? did you hear me?” 

“huh?” snapping out of your trance, you looked at him dumbfounded. noritoshi was frowning at you, slightly concerned about your state as you didn’t answer him. just then you finally got a proper look at him. it was a rare sight; noritoshi wearing casual clothes, a simple oversized shirt and shorts, and his hair down without the bindings. feeling nostalgic, your heart clenched. he looked like his old self, the ‘toshi that you loved dearly.

“i said, i don’t want you around them. i don’t- i don’t like seeing you with them,” noritoshi repeated with a strained voice. he placed his hands beside your head, inching closer to you.

“what- noritoshi, you don’t get to tell me who i can hang out with! last time i checked, we’re not even friends anymore so where do you get the idea that you can do this? what’s the big deal ab-” you didn’t get to finish your sentence when he pressed his lips against yours clumsily. you seized up in shock, not returning the kiss as a whirlwind of thoughts entered your mind. holy shit, he was really kissing you. but you hated each other, so why? why, why, why. when you didn’t respond, noritoshi pulled away in panic, spluttering apologies as he moved away from you. your emotional world was in chaos, all the buried and forgotten feelings for him breaking the dams and flooding your senses until the yearning became too much. you were reminded of the conversation you had with your mother years ago - you still wanted him, missed him. you wanted him by your side. desperately, you reached out, fisting the fabric of his shirt as you leaned up to kiss him. noritoshi caught you in his arms, wrapping them around you as he fervently returned the kiss. he was holding you like he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air, frantically pulling you in. his hands were roaming, discovering the expanse of your body.

his touches left you feeling delirious, high on pleasure. a mewl left your lips, pleading him for something, for more. your hands moved higher, feeling his chest and broad shoulders before you wrapped your arms around his neck. his name left your lips in breathy sighs as he peppered kisses down your jaw, pulling the collar of your shirt to the side to gain more access to the expanse of your neck. suddenly, you were hoisted up and pressed against the door as noritoshi held you by your thighs. you struggled to wrap your legs around his waist, to distracted by his relentless ministrations. by the time he's left multiple hickeys on your neck, you were whimpering mess. noritoshi's breath was taken away at the sight of you in his arms, lips swollen from the kisses, the glossy eyes, dishevelled hair and the hickeys that were slowly becoming more visible. he couldn't understand how carelessly you were letting him proceed when you supposedly harboured a strong dislike for him. nevertheless, he enjoyed it and wanted to savour the moment, ingrain it into his memory so he'd never forget why he was treating you like a nuisance.

a loud knock resounded from the door, followed by someone shouting: "noritoshi? has y/n been here?"

out of sheer shock, you shoved noritoshi away from you and nearly fell as you attempted to detangle yourself from him. he caught you in time, signalling you to stay quiet as the person outside was still shuffling around nervously. you slumped against him limply, letting your head rest against his chest. his heart was beating erratically. it made yours fill with pride as you could tell that you had the same effect on him as he did on you. still, the precarious situation suddenly dawned on you - you'd just made out with your sworn enemy and, yes you used to have a crush on him, enjoyed it very much. and by the looks of it, he would have continued if you hadn't pushed him away. the entire ordeal greatly confused you; was noritoshi just playing around with you? it couldn't be, he had initiated it after all. the cold treatment he usually gave you didn't match with his actions just now. you couldn't get close to him, not when he gave you mixed signals. you wanted someone who cherished you and was always sincere so you wouldn't have to second guess their actions.

"huh, i guess noritoshi's already sleeping. we'll have to check somewhere else, i hope she didn't get lost," the person outside mumbled as you stayed silent. the sound of shuffling was heard, then steps away from the room. you stayed put until you were sure they were gone and gently removed yourself from noritoshi's grip, not looking him in the eyes. he didn’t move, letting you go willingly.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know what came over me,” you apologized with a pained voice. “please forget that it ever happened and uhm, please don’t tell anyone.”

noritoshi’s eyes widened at your pleas, moving to stop you from leaving so he could explain himself to you. “y/n, wait, i can ex-”

hastily, you stumbled to open the door, dashing away from him until the building was out of your sight. you poorly hid behind a tree, sinking to your knees as you buried your face in your hands. what the hell. you just made out with your childhood friend turned enemy. your buried feelings were all over the place and your mind just couldn’t stay still. it messed with your outlook as well as your image of noritoshi, distorting and twisting it until you had to rethink your relationship. maybe all this time, you subconsciously hoped that he would return back to his old self and somehow give you an explanation. never having received closure on the end of your friendship, you would even forgive him for the sake of your relationship. were you this shallow? no, you simply harboured a lot of feelings for him. you weren’t able to tell what his thought process was - was he even interested in you? did he see you like that?

“there you are,” you lifted your head to see gojo walking towards you with his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his pants. you almost didn’t recognize him as he simply wore a pair of sunglasses and let his hair down. “the others are looking for you. what are you doing out here? trouble in paradise?”

“n-no! i just needed some time away from everyone to- to catch my breath,” you exclaimed indignantly and perhaps too hastily you realized when gojo smirked at you knowingly. why did everyone assume that there was anything between noritoshi and you? was it that obvious?

“uh huh. that’s not what your neck says,” gojo pointed out while wiggling his eyebrows and offered you a hand to stand up. “he really doesn’t like any competition.”

“fuck,” you cursed quietly, covering the hickeys with one hand while taking gojo’s with your other and pulling yourself up. it was embarrassing enough to meet one of the teachers like this but it was even more embarrassing to know that your teacher had seen the aftermath of your makeout session. 

“i’m not gonna tell anyone, if that’s what you’re concerned about. although it would certainly be funny to tease little noritoshi,” gojo was giggling and you knew he was greatly amused by the entire situation. it almost reminded you of nobara. you groaned in frustration as you trailed behind him towards the girls’ dorms. you needed to hide your neck so no one would question it or grill you until you confessed; the potential embarrassment was mortifying.

your group strategy was already falling apart when todo suddenly disappeared in the depths of the forest, not caring about your teamwork in the slightest. normally, it would frustrate you a lot more if you weren’t already preoccupied with your own troubles. todo would be fine anyways, the remaining group members could work on a strategy on their own. as mechamaru and mai were discussing, you shot a glance at noritoshi. he looked as deadpan as usual, probably not listening to the discussion as he worked better on his own and it was more or less decided that mechamaru and him would be moving on their own while the others would team up. otherwise, you couldn’t tell whether he was bothered by what had transpired between you the night before. on the contrary, he looked calm and composed, probably more focused on his goal than anything else. and for some reason it bothered you.

when you’d returned to nobara’s room last night, gojo had helped you make up an excuse. while dramatically gesturing around, he’d told them that he intercepted her journey towards the boys’ dorms to recruit you for training, claiming that he wanted to teach you more about reverse cursed techniques. although he saved you from scrutiny and embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel like he might use it as leverage in the future. it was gojo after all, he was unpredictable. absentmindedly, you agreed to whatever plan the others had schemed and grabbed your sword, getting ready to move to your assigned position with miwa. while you had heard of the other students’ skills, you weren’t sure where to place their levels as there was always room for surprises. underestimating opponents was a beginner's mistake. the bell rang out, signaling the start of the tournament; with swift movements, the group members dispersed and slowly moved towards the "enemy".

in the distance, you could already hear loud explosions - it was probably mechamaru happily blasting away his opponents. you gritted your teeth in annoyance, the blasts were too loud for you to make out anyone approaching you. and as you predicted, someone was taking advantage of the noise to stalk up on you. barely being able to block the blow with your sword, you found yourself opposite of maki who was grinning at you. the challenging glint in her eyes told you that she wasn't going to go easy on you but you welcomed it. it was a good opportunity for you to grow and hone your sword wielding skills.

however, it proved to be more difficult to defeat maki than you'd originally anticipated. in mere minutes, maki had already disarmed miwa, leaving her defenseless and you were hanging on a bare thread. your grip on the sword was weakening, laboured breath making your ears ring. it was frustrating, knowing that after all those months of rigorous practice, you still couldn't win a fight. giving up wasn't an option, at the very least you had to give it your all.

"c'mon, you can do better than this!" maki teased you as you ducked away from the swipe of her spear. it missed you by a hair's width and left you scrambling to create more distance between you so you could heal yourself. maki's relentless hits didn't give you any rooms for it - you really had to learn how to constantly apply it to yourself without losing time. from the corner of your eyes, you could see that miwa had picked up the phone. she was probably calling for help, you thought and dished out another hit towards maki which she skillfully dodged. instead, she delivered another blow to your legs, making your knees buckle from the force. you used your sword to support you and took another breath before you tried to lunge at her. in the distance, miwa suddenly collapsed, making you stop mid-move and took another hit from maki that took all the air in your lungs.

"eyes on your opponent, y/n. you know better than to get distracted in a fight, you could've been killed in a real fight," maki reprimanded you as you coughed heavily, gasping for air as you slowly got back up. you were unsteady on your feet, not having enough energy to even heal yourself. conflicted by whether you should face maki again or help miwa, your eyes were flitting between them. maki took advantage of your uncertainty, dealing another blow to you that knocked the sword out of your hand. as your last resort, you kicked at her feet, trying to get her to fall, only to have her pin you to the ground.

"you're going to have to practice a lot more to beat me in the future," she sighed, picking up your sword. panic welled up in your chest - the sword was the only way you could possibly somewhat win this fight but even subconsciously you knew that it was over. reaching out for the sword in desperation, your vision was clouded with tears. it was frustrating, so so frustrating. why couldn't you be as talented as her? or have fast reflexes like noritoshi? why were you ordinary, not being able to make any progress no matter how hard you try?

"i know but i can't give up now!" you defiantly retorted, pushing at her with all might. "i have to win, i just have to show my skills for once and prove myself, i- i-"

even maki softened up at your heart wrenching sobs, easing up on her grip. you both knew it was over. you were probably already eliminated from the tournament, with no other possibility to redeem yourself. she knew that you tried your best and never once underestimated her but something irked her. it was your motivation, your driving force.

"y/n, there's no shame in losing. that's how you grow, make mistakes and learn from them. you tried your best, it's not easy to stand against me for so long."

"i know but there's- i'm still not where i need to be! look at how much progress the others are making in comparison to me! i've been practicing day and night and still, no one is noticing me. i'm just a measly healer and i-"

"y/n." maki cut you off sternly. "is this your motivation? proving yourself to others? you'll not be able to improve if you keep fighting for others. you need to start working on yourself, for yourself. you don't owe anyone anything. but you have to realize that trying to satisfy other people's needs will only make you unhappy and hinder your growth."

"i'm unhappy with my skills! i keep telling myself that it's okay, that i have a rare cursed technique but sometimes i just wish i had a flashy technique or be as strong as you. i don't want to be looked at as if i need protection, i don't want it! i just-" you hiccuped, sniffling again as you wiped your tears with the sleeves of your uniform. "i just want someone to acknowledge me, want him to accept me as an equal…"

"who?" maki's cold look made you freeze in your movements. you didn't mean to let that slip. no one needed to know that the entire time, you were vying for noritoshi's attention. but she was right; there was no point in giving it your all if it wasn't for yourself. it was a silly, childish dream of yours to be equal with him again. he was far out of reach and you couldn't catch up to him.

"n- noritoshi," you admitted in defeat. maki saw right through you, there was no point in lying. she raised her eyebrows at you but didn't question it further. after all, you hadn't told her about the background story. unless nobara had done so, you wouldn't doubt it.

"i'm not gonna ask you why. but this is my advice, do not fight for somebody else. if you relentlessly work on yourself for your own benefit, you'll see progress a lot faster. your technique might not be flashy but it is powerful, remember that. you're a valuable asset to every team," she concluded and pulled you up, awkwardly patting your back as you still sniffled. maki opened her mouth to tell you some comforting words but froze when another extremely loud boom resounded near the entrance of the estate. your eyes widened at the sudden influx of cursed energy - there was no doubt that a high-level curse had just entered the school grounds. you turned to maki to tell her the news but she'd already moved, pointing to miwa.

"take her to a safe place, you can't stay here! in your state, you wouldn't last against such a strong curse," maki yelled at you as she disappeared in the woods. you scrambled frantically, not wanting to be left behind. while you were useless for the tournament, you could at least still be of assistance against a curse. miwa was still laying on the ground, unmoving. you shook her gently, scared that she was seriously hurt. it seemed like she was just sleeping instead; you were relieved. throwing her across your shoulder, you winced in pain but persisted nonetheless. you had to get her away from here, who knows what curses were roaming around. your senses were flooded with the stench of blood and debris, the pressure of cursed energy, the loud rumbles. you couldn't tell where the others were but you hoped they were safe.

a loud thud startled you and you stopped, ready to draw your sword until realization hit you that it was utahime that was inspecting you. determined, you thrusted miwa's limp body towards utahime. 

"miwa will be okay, she's just sleeping! i'm okay too, don't worry, please just take care of her and i'll check on the others!"

"y/n, don't be stupid! you're injured and in no state to help others." utahime attempted to convince you; you shook her off stubbornly, insisting that you were fine.

"what if the others get hurt? i have to help them or at least warn them!" your resolve was firm and unwavering that even utahime couldn't convince you otherwise. slipping out of her grasp, you sprinted towards the source of the cursed energy. from far away you could already see the damage that the curse had caused. multiple buildings were torn apart, trees dislodged and- were those branches rapidly growing out of the ground? you watched in horror as the branches whipped around, following running figures on the rooftop of one of the buildings. upping your speed, you jumped towards the group to aid them. as you neared them, you could make out inumaki, noritoshi, and megumi fighting against the curse, maki trailing close behind. 

they barely stood a chance against the curse, every hit that they dealt, the curse would come out unscathed. "what's the deal with that curse?" you asked, panting as you joined them, coming to a halt behind inumaki. megumi was yelling something but you couldn't hear him as noritoshi turned to you and shoved you out of the way.

"y/n, what are you doing here?" 

"helping you guys? what the fuck does it look like?" you yelled back exasperated. why was he mad at you in such a situation? they needed any helping hand they could get to defeat the curse. while you weren't useful in fights, you could at least provide continuous healing. noritoshi didn't have any time to reply as the curse lashed out again, dodging it by jumping to the side. you stayed close to inumaki, swiftly healing him when he collapsed from the rebound of his cursed speech. you clenched your jaw, not wanting the others to see that you were slowly running out of energy and strength. next thing you know, a body was hurled through the air, landing near you with a thud. your heart filled with dread when your eyes fell onto the figure, recognizing noritoshi.

"y/n, heal them as best as you can and get out of here! take them to the teachers!" maki yelled out and this time you obeyed, too panicked about noritoshi's state. you were thankful that inumaki had enough energy to run after you'd healed him - hauling noritoshi's tall frame around was already difficult enough but even more so when you were exhausted. as you neared the gates, utahime was already running towards you with a concerned look on her face. you were glad that she was nearby, it meant that gojo and the other teachers were close and could defend you.

"what happened?" utahime worried but you couldn't reply. falling to your knees, you gently laid noritoshi on the ground. the injuries looked bad, there was blood everywhere. you had to stop the wound on his head from bleeding but your trembling hands were preventing you from doing so.

"i- i don't know, i just- i think the curse hit him and now he's unconscious and he's losing so much blood and-"

utahime pinched you firmly, snapping you out of your panic. she was already holding a cloth to noritoshi's temple to stop the bleeding. patting your hand, she told you in a gentle voice: "heal him if you still have enough strength but don't overexert yourself. ieiri will be here soon." 

nodding frantically, you placed your trembling hands on his abdomen and let your cursed energy flow. the strength was slowly leaving your body but you had to save him. you had to make sure he was okay, he couldn't die, not like this. regret was bubbling up inside you; what if this was the last time you would ever get to see him?just as you felt his energy responding to yours and saw his hand moving slightly, you couldn't hold yourself upright anymore. the last thing you saw was utahime reaching out to catch you as you collapsed.

you woke up with a startle, gasping for air as you sat up abruptly. sunlight was flooding the room and it felt uncomfortably hot on your skin. you pushed the blanket back but stopped halfway in your movement. your entire body hurt, muscles burning and screaming for more rest. and yet you couldn’t stay still as you remembered the previous events. how long were you out for? was everyone okay? gritting your teeth, you slowly moved out of the room. again, you were faced with the endless maze that was the tokyo tech buildings and stopped in your tracks, not sure which direction to go. you let out a sigh of relief when you spotted yuji in the distance, waving at him to get his attention.

“y/n!” yuji ran towards you, frantically gesturing towards your room. “you’re supposed to be resting! what are you doing here?”

“is everyone okay?” you croaked, now realizing how dry your throat was.

“yeah, ieiri did a good job of healing everyone! some of us are still resting though and so should you.”

“no, i… is noritoshi okay?”

“noritoshi? oh, you mean the guy with the long hair?” yuji nodded, curiously eyeing you as your shoulders dropped, the stress rolling of them. “yeah, he’s still recovering though. ieiri said that his injuries were probably the worst so he’s not allowed to leave the bed.”

“can you take me to him?” you asked with a small voice, doing your best to muster up a puppy face. yuji sighed, scratching his head sheepishly. you could see the conflict in his eyes, that he was thinking about rejecting your request. in the end, he shook his head in defeat and motioned for you to follow him. a small grin found its way onto your lips - yuji was just too nice, he couldn’t say no when people ask him for favours. the walk to noritoshi’s room was silent, neither of you knowing what to say. you knew it was selfish of you not to ask him about his wellbeing more or visit the others but you just had to see for yourself that noritoshi was okay. yuji stopped in front of a door, pointing at it.

“this is his room. he might be sleeping though… my room is down the hall so if you need me to accompany you back to your room, just call me.”

you thanked him quietly and watched as he retreated. taking a deep breath, you knocked at the door and waited for a reply. a few moments passed before noritoshi’s voice rang out, giving you the okay to enter. gingerly, you opened the door and entered the room. noritoshi was sitting on his bed, reading a book as if nothing had happened. you looked at him bewildered. he didn’t look like his injuries fazed him at all. despite the bandages around his head and arms, he remained calm as if nothing hurt. 

“noritoshi,” you breathed out, taking a seat on the chair near the bed. he didn’t spare you a look, keeping his eyes on the book. “i uhm. i’m glad you’re okay! when i saw you in that state, i was so so scared that i could lose you… i did my best to heal you, i know i didn’t do much but-”

“i didn’t need your help,” noritoshi snapped at you, placing the book on his lap. “i would’ve been fine without it.”

you were stunned. why was he so agitated? after you initial shock, you huffed in frustration. “what the hell, you could’ve died! i was trying so hard to keep you alive and you react like this? i know you don’t like me but even this is a low blow for you!”

“it wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t inserted yourself into everything! you’re not helping anyone, just dragging us down; everything could’ve gone well if it wasn’t for you standing in the way,” noritoshi countered as frustrated, this time actually looking at you. you stared back at him in disbelief. you saved his life and he had the nerve to shot you down like this.

“does it really hurt your ego to admit that i was actually helpful? we were friends at some point so why do you insist on being such a dick? and here i was, finally thinking that we were getting somewhere- for fuck’s sake, we kissed and-”

“leave.”

you stopped rambling. the tired tone in his voice, the deadpan look on his face; he was serious. you couldn’t believe him. tears welled up in your eyes as you leaped from the chair and hastily exited the room, slamming the door in anger. 

you never wanted to see him again.

p.s: yes nobara gave you a wrong sketch of the buildings what about it hehe

taglist: @milkteeboba​

[heliads]

Making the Team

Based on this request: “The reader is the daughter of natasha and steve, and she is nervous about for her first mission. Her mom and dad tell her that everything is gonna be great, and the mission is complete, but the reader is badly injured and her parents and Bruce takes care of her.”

masterlist

You’re awake when the first light of dawn tentatively begins to shine through your window. You’ve been awake for a while, actually, too excited to sleep a wink. This is the day of a very important mission. It’s probably going to be the most important mission of your life, in fact. If you do well on this assignment, you’ll be made an Avenger. If you don’t, you’ll have to get sent back to training and know that your entire future might have just slipped between your fingers.

Most teenagers your age would never have gotten this opportunity. If they were lucky, they might be accepted to the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy or embark on an internship with Tony Stark. You, however, happen to have two Avengers as your parents. Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, the classic Avengers couple. After much wheedling and careful manipulation on your end, they’ve allowed you to begin training as a potential Avengers recruit. Now, all you have to do to cement your place on the team is to prove yourself in this mission.

It’s not like you’re getting into this team solely based on nepotism, though. Your father was a super soldier and your mother was trained in the Red Room. Ever since you were old enough to walk, it was evident that you would be destined for the same path as they so famously trod. You ran faster, knew more, threw punches harder than anyone else your age. Even without your parentage, S.H.I.E.L.D. would have tapped you long ago. You just get to bypass the protocols and go straight to a potential slot on the team.

Eventually, you can lie in bed no longer, your adrenaline already pumping through your veins at the mere thought of the upcoming mission. You sling your legs over the side of the bed, jumping down onto the floor and rushing over to don your awaiting clothes. Your real suit is waiting in a quinjet at Avengers Tower, so all you have to do is pull on some casual clothes and rush your parents out the door.

They’re already up, as it turns out. Your mother is nursing a cup of coffee, and your father is standing over the stove, brow furrowed as he considers a pan of scrambled eggs. Natasha smiles when she sees you. “Look at you! Ready for the big day?” You nod excitedly, starting to grab the beginnings of a breakfast. “Couldn’t sleep a wink.” Steve chuckles. “I’m starting to think you’re excited about running headlong into danger.” You stare at him pointedly. “I wonder who I learned that from.” Natasha laughs at Steve’s expression. “She’s got you there.”

By the time you’re pulling up to the Avengers Tower, however, the excitement bubbling into your chest is deepening into nervous worry. What if something goes wrong? You’ve never been allowed on a mission as large as this one before, where civilians and the other Avengers alike are counting on you. What if you mess this up? The stakes are higher than you’ve cared to realize- not just a spot on the Avengers, but the lives of those you care about. You head over to the quinjet, but your fears only grow when the plane takes off.

You force yourself to calm down, heading over to the racks of weapons and gear in the hopes of distracting yourself. There at last is your suit- a flexible, bulletproof black jumpsuit with armored paneling overtop. You glance at your reflection in the mirror, but instead of seeing the usual confident version of yourself, you only see a nervous teenager. Why have you been allowed on this mission in the first place? What if this really isn’t what you were meant to do?

You hear footsteps behind you and turn hurriedly, doing your best to wash away your worries and plaster on an expression of relaxed calm. Your mother, however, has been reading people her entire life, and nothing can get past her. Especially not the worries of her daughter. She frowns at you, pausing at the doorway and heading inside. “Hey, you alright?” You sigh, staring at your palms. “What if you guys were wrong about me? What if I’m not supposed to be an Avenger after all?”

Natasha shakes her head. “We’re not wrong about you. That’s a promise. Y/N, I’ve seen you since you were little. You can do things that most soldiers couldn’t even dream of. If Steve or I thought that you couldn’t do this, we wouldn’t have suggested you take the mission.” You look at her anxiously. “But Steve is a super soldier. You’re a Black Widow. I am none of those.” There’s another voice from the door now, and you turn to see your father leaning against the doorframe.

“You don’t have to have that experience to be special. What about Maria Hill? You’ve seen her before. Even Thor’s afraid to take her on, and she doesn’t have any special abilities.” Steve walks into the room, smiling comfortingly. “No, Y/N, you are more than capable, even without training or a strengthening concoction. Honestly, if I was out in the field and I came toe to toe with you, I’d be worried.” A laugh rises unbidden to your lips. “You just have to say that because you guys are my parents.”

Natasha shakes her head, a small grin crossing her face. “Actually, us being your parents means that we wouldn’t usually say that at all. We made sure that you were given the best training and preparation, and that you had equal treatment with the other recruits. You didn’t make it this far because of us, you made it this far because of you. And, if that isn’t enough to convince you, check out your file. We didn’t write that, your instructors did, and your instructors gave you the highest marks we’ve seen in years.”

You smile grudgingly. “You’re sure I can do this?” Steve nods, reaching out to pull you close in a hug. “I know you can do this. You’re an excellent fighter, Y/N, and after today, you’ll be an Avenger. Just like that.” You laugh, returning the hug. “Just like that.”

This, however, is easier said than done. S.H.I.E.L.D. and Avenger training have done a lot for you- teaching you how to fight, readying you for battle. Nevertheless, no amount of simulations can prepare you for the mission at hand. There are hostages inside a building, dozens of guards and soldiers waiting outside. The hostages aren’t the only things to contend with, though- there are civilians, goons, and the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. plans are hidden in the coat pocket of one of the hostages. At any moment, the guards could find out, and then the mission would be over before it even started. You have to rescue the hostages before the data is uncovered.

Your group fans out, looking for entrances. You spot one quickly, rushing to it. There’s an opening on the roof, and you jump from window to window, quickly scaling the building. There, you’re able to take out a couple of snipers and a few roof guards before heading inside the building through a service entrance at the top. The fighting gives you a rush, and you find yourself smiling as you take down yet another soldier. Maybe you were meant for this after all.

At last, you find the room with the hostages. You draw back, waiting around the corner out of enemy view. You tap on your earpiece, speaking hurriedly. “I’ve found the hostages. Second floor, far east side, about a dozen or so guards.” Steve’s voice crackles across the radio. “We hear you. Do not engage, wait for us.” You nod. “Affirmative. Waiting for you.”

Steve and Natasha, however, take their time getting to you. The soldiers must realize that someone’s found a way in, as they’re doubling up around the entrances. You stare at the room with the hostages, watching with bated breath as the leader of the goons circles the captive men and women. The man frowns, pausing by a woman in blue. She has a gold circle pinned to her chest, designating her as the leader. The man stares at the pin, then at her. You can almost see the pieces clicking into place in his head.

You curse softly as you realize what he’s about to do, and switch your radio back on. “The leader has figured out that someone has the plans. I think I have to go in.” Natasha’s voice is sharp over the comms. “Negative! Y/N, do not engage.” As you watch, the man draws closer, flipping open the woman’s jacket with the tip of his rifle. Even from here, you can see the hidden pocket, and even from here, you can see the man’s eyes light up as he spots the rectangular package tucked away inside.

Your hand rises to your earpiece once more. “Sorry, but I have to do this.” You flick your radio off, drowning out the frantic voices of your parents. You race over to the room, kicking down the door with your boot. The guards turn to you when the door crashes open, but you fire your weapons methodically, taking down the guards one by one as you race around the room to the woman. The leader is standing back up, shouting orders at his troops, but you’re not paying attention.

Then his rifle is raised again, pointing towards the woman with the plans. You feel your feet moving without a second’s hesitation, pounding towards the pair. You manage to shove the woman aside just before the man’s finger tightens on the trigger, and you can feel her slip you the plans even as the bullet impacts on your side. For a second, you don’t feel anything at all, and manage to turn your weapons towards the leader, knocking him to the ground. Then your hand comes up from your side, stained red as blood begins to pour onto the ground, and the pain truly hits.

It’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your life. You’ve seen Thor wield his thunder before, seen him raise his hammer and watched as a boom of thunder cracked the sky. Lightning arced down to the ground before him, burning the ground and decimating his opponents. You’ve wondered what that would feel like, and now you have a fairly good idea. Maybe you’re not being electrocuted, but you feel like you’ve just been hit by the blow of a god.

There is shouting above you, more shouts ringing out. You stand up unsteadily, hand clamped to your side, and realize that Steve and Natasha have finally found you. They take down the guards with an almost frightening certainty, and then they see you. Just like that, their calm and cool exteriors break away and they run to your side. Steve visibly pales when he sees the blood pooling out from your side. “Y/N!” He shouts, and you weakly hold up the plans. “It’s alright, I got them. They’re safe.”

Steve shakes his head, and he’s saying something else but you can’t quite make it out. You think you hear your name, then Natasha’s, but for some reason you can’t focus on his words. Then the room tilts dizzyingly, and then you can feel nothing at all except for the overwhelming pain in your side and a sickening worry that your parents will never be able to forgive themselves if you die on this mission.

When your eyes open at last, you’re in a bleached white room. A smiling face swims before you; after a second you recognize it as Dr. Banner. His smile widens when he sees you sit up. “Hey, easy there. You took a pretty big hit.” You groan, feeling pain starting to blossom again from your side. It’s not as bad as it was in the room with the hostages, but it isn’t a picnic either. You rub your face with your hand, still disoriented. “What happened?”

Bruce chuckles. “You took a bullet for Ruth Hanaway.” At your confused expression, he clarifies. “The woman with the plans. You know, with the rest of the hostages. She’s fairly important, too. Apparently a higher-up among the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and she’s very impressed with what you did. She said you didn’t hesitate at all, just dove to save her. Now, that’s Avenger material.” You frown up at him, remembering the stakes of the mission. “So that means-”

You’re cut off by Natasha, who’s just burst through the doors. “Yes, you’re on the team.” She rushes to embrace you, and you smile at the show of affection. “But I got shot- I disobeyed orders-” Steve, who’d been closely following Natasha, shakes his head. “You saved the mission. If you hadn’t acted, the plans would have been lost. As much as I hate to say it, you did what you had to do.”

He fixes you with a sudden glare, although you can see right through it. “That being said, that was incredibly dangerous. You could have died or suffered serious injury. Even as it is, you’ll be spending at least a week in the hospital wing. We thought you were going to die, Y/N. No amount of missions will make up for your life.” You smile up at him, undaunted. “I’m not planning on repeating this anytime soon. I’ve had my life-and-death risk quota used up for the time being.”

Natasha chuckles, mussing up your hair. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Barely awake five minutes, and you’re already cracking jokes. I didn’t expect anything less.” You fix her with a triumphant grin. “Hey, I’m an Avenger now. I’m supposed to be used to this whole lifesaving thing.” Bruce chuckles, standing up to check a few readouts on the surrounding monitors. “I have no doubt about that. You might have to contend with Parker for the title of youngest Avenger, but I think that will be the least of your worries. Welcome to the Avengers, Y/N. We’re happy to have you.”

requested by @maximeevansblog​

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise​

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 5

****** 

The presence of the weekend always raises the question of “what to do.”

You specifically don’t make appointments on the weekend or on Monday’s. The team deserves a break just like everybody else and nobody wants to do anything on Monday’s and you didn’t want to deal with the team while both you and them are grumpy.

So here you are, on a Saturday with nothing to do. 

You’d already been to the gym, you really just used the treadmill, despite all the state of the art equipment in there. Admittedly you aren’t the athletic type but you do enjoy the occasional cardio workout. 

Then you showered and made breakfast for the team which they have already demolished.

Just as you’re choosing between going for a walk and watching the next show on your Netflix list, there’s a knock at your door.

“Hey Y/N.” 

You look up and immediately smile when you see Bucky leaning into your room.

“Hey Bucky, what’s up?”

“Well Steve got tickets to a baseball game and I remembered the talks we had about the game and figured maybe you’d be interested in coming with us. If not that’s fine just, there’s three tickets and-”

“I’d love to go.” You cut him off before he can start to nervously ramble.

He nods and tells you that you’re leaving in a hour before disappearing. 

Already having showered, you pull on an an outfit you deem suitable for the event, and leave out, stopping at your office for something and then going down to the common room. 

Steve and Bucky are already waiting in the common room when you get there and you figure they gave you the hour just as a curtesy.

As the three of you head over to the garage and climb into the black SUV, you mentally admit to yourself that you’re nervous to be hanging out with them.

Despite living with them, you haven’t hung out with anyone from the team. Which is equally you’re fault and theirs. You aren’t the most outgoing person and the team is pretty intimidating. Also none of them have really reached out in that way.

You figure you’ll have to step out of your comfort zone and reach out to them.

Before you know it Bucky is pulling into a parking spot in the structure across from the stadium.

You all climb out and walk over to the venue. 

“Not gonna lie, I’ve never been to a baseball game before.” 

Both men freeze in their steps, looking over at you as if you said you just committed murder. 

“You’re lying.” Steve says, eyes still wide.

You shake your head.

The man turns to look at his friend. You hear Bucky mumble ‘I don’t know what we’re gonna do’ and you’re tempted to laugh. But you know they’re serious about this.

Quietly you watch them, waiting for them to say something else.

Except they don’t.

You quickly learn that the two are ‘Show Not Tell’ kind of guys. 

They drag you into the stadium and deck you out in Yankees merch: a shirt, a hat, a foam finger, and a cup that they promise to keep filled during the game, then buy you “classic” game day snacks. 

By the time you find your seats your arms are full.

“Guys, was this really necessary?” 

“Yes.” Bucky says instantly.“ It’s all apart of the experience.” 

“He’s right.” Steve nods.

Chuckling, you ease into your seat and start situating your snacks and drink in your lap. 

Just before the game starts you thank them both and they smile at you and say ‘you’re welcome’. 

Watching the game here in the stadium, the guys all excited beside you along with the crowd, and the surprisingly good concession snacks, makes this so much fun. 

As you’re finishing the last of your popcorn you remember what you grabbed before you all left. Digging down into your bag, you pull the four boxes out. Pulling them apart in pairs, you nudge Steve and shake them.

“Buck.” Steve taps his best friends arm excitedly, grabbing his attention from the game.

For the first time since you’ve met him, a bright smile takes over the man’s face. You can’t lie and say it’s not adorable.

He looks up at you with a question in his eyes and you immediately nod.

Both he and Steve grab the snack from you and you have the privilege of watching them open it with childlike excitement. 

It seems as though that makes the entire thing better for them. Not once do they stop smiling and laughing. 

The highlight of the whole thing comes when the Yankees hit a home run in your direction and Bucky jumps up and snatches the ball out of the air. Before offering it to you with a grin on his face. 

By the time you all get back to the compound the air that surrounds you makes you feel as though you’d known them for years. The hat they bought you sits crookedly on Bucky’s head and Steve is waving the foam finger around as you toss the homerun ball in the air repeatedly.

It’s obviously unexpected since when you all step into the common room, everyone raises their eyebrows at you. Sam is sporting a very amused grin, Vision and Wanda smiling just cause you all are, and Natasha is watching you all with narrowed eyes.

“What’s got you three smiling all hard?” Sam asks.

Steve is the first to answer,“ me and Buck just took Y/N to her first baseball game.” 

“It was so much fun! Like way better than watching it on tv.” You tell them. 

They chuckle, amused by your excitement. 

“Who won?” Sam asks.

Steve starts walking over to talk about the game and you turn to head to your room.

Bucky frowns at that,“ you’re not stickin around?” He asks.

“I am, I’m just going to put all this away.” You smile softly in reassurance.

He nods, taking the cap off his head and playfully slapping it on to yours. 

Laughing, you turn and leave. You put your souvenirs on your desk, happy to have reminders of today.

With the way Steve and Bucky kept to themselves, even more so than anyone else on the team, you hadn’t expected them to be the first people you connected with. Today had proven you wrong.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love getting to know them outside of your office. It wasn’t about all the traumas they had experienced and were dealing with. It was about their friendship, all the fun they had, and how much fun they were having with you.

And it was about you too. The men were eager to ask you questions about yourself and your preferences. You didn’t know it for sure, but the men found themselves enjoying your company more than they had anyone else in years. 

When you get back to the common room you’re expecting the conversation to still be about the game, instead you find everyone’s focus on a new presence.

The blonde woman stands in front of the group in a blue and red, possibly leather, suit. Her hands move as she speaks and her short hair sits disheveled on her head.

You’re drawn closer when a bright smile lights up her face and her voice gets louder in excitement.

Her brown eyes land on you as you come to stand behind the couch and her words falter on her lips, effectively causing everyone, who didn’t already know you were in there, to turn to look at you.

Her smile reappears,“ hi, I’m Carol.” She waves.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you Carol.” You reply with a friendly smile in return.

It goes quiet for a moment, everyone looking between the two of you.

Sam is the one who breaks the silence,“ Danvers was just telling us about her mission. You know, if you want to finish that.” He started talking to you but turned back to the blonde.

It’s almost as if she waits to see if you want to hear it to continue, only doing son after you give a small nod. She gives you a quick review of what she’d already said. 

You find yourself completely immersed in her story. The woman travels the universe for crying out loud.

The most you’ve ever seen is y/ht and New York, if that. So when she finishes and everyone breaks off to a different topic you excitedly ask the woman more about her space travel. 

All the while as she smiles charmingly and talks to you, who wears an amused smile, Natasha watches. 

She can’t dismiss how out of character it is for you to just approach someone that you’d just met. She remembers noticing how you didn’t make any efforts to engage the team until days after you’d arrived. 

In fact she knows, apart from today with Steve and Bucky which she’s still trying to understand, that you have yet to actively build a relationship with anyone. 

Natasha would never say that you were rude to anyone because you aren’t and haven’t been. You simply keep to yourself and it just so happens that you are surrounded by people who tended to do the same.

Apart from Tony, who you had a previous relationship with, and Sam and Peter, who are as genuinely outgoing as a person could get. 

That being said, she wonders why you’d chosen Carol to suddenly be invested in. 

Was it the woman’s knowledge of space?

Her inviting smile?

The confidence that seems to pour off her broad shoulders?

Or maybe her charm? No one, Natasha included, could deny that the woman was charming.

And then Natasha stops herself. She shouldn’t care. Why does she care that you and Carol are talking more now than you and she had in the months you’ve been here? Why does she care that you seem to be laughing so freely at whatever the woman is saying?

With a frown pulling her brows together Natasha tells herself that she doesn’t care. And then she’s up and out of the room before anyone can even acknowledge that she didn’t want to be there anymore.

******

taglist: @username23345 @muffliat-o  @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers  @nat-km-mh

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 3: The Wish

Previous Chapter   |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 3,726

Chapter Summary:  Dinner with the royal family is... about what Teki expected.

Thanks for reading! :)

TW: mentions of child abuse, cursing

Tags: @lucywrites02​ @gaitwae

Read it on Ao3!

Her first night as part of the royal family found Teki with trembling palms and a gurgling stomach, fighting to maintain the appearance of composure. Her family didn’t seem to notice her anxiety—in fact, her mother seemed to be having the time of her life before they even left for dinner.

“See?” she beamed at Osvald as she spun Teki around in her new red dress. “It’s finally happening! She’s finally getting the recognition she deserves!”

Osvald studied her with a glittering gaze. Teki was careful to keep her own eyes glued to the floorboards. At some point in the last week, although he hadn’t said when, her stepfather had finally caved to the pain and visited the healers. Her mother had sighed in relief at this news, but Teki had to clasp her hands behind her back to stop them from shaking.

“How wonderful,” he said, smiling. He reached out to stroke a bit of loose hair that her mother hadn’t braided into her bun. His hands were cold on her cheek. “Then I’m certain everyone will be on their best behavior tonight, won’t we?”

Teki nodded. “Yes, sir.”

She was still trembling as she made her way to the royal tables in the feast hall. Stepping on to the raised platform didn’t help. Sure, the feast hall wasn’t nearly as large as the Great Hall, which was used only for festivals and celebrations, but everything seems bigger when you’re standing above it. Hundreds of pairs of eyes held her in their scrutiny. Teki thought she would be sick.

Her seat was at Thor’s right. Unsurprising—he was her fiancé after all, and he always sat at King Odin’s right. But this arrangement also put her at the end of the table, so that her only possible partner for conversation was the Crown Prince. Was that intentional as well?

If it was a ploy to get Thor and her to talk more, it didn’t work. The prince spent most of the dinner in raucous discussion with his father, as if completely ignorant of Teki’s presence at his elbow. They were very loud. Thor’s shouts rumbled the table and pierced Teki’s skull in a way that made the nausea even worse. She spent dinner trying to choke down a slice of bread.

It was weird, thinking about how she was going to marry Thor someday. She knew he was her elder only by a few years but… he seemed so much older. He was so tall, so muscular, with a voice that carried across the hall even when he wasn’t yelling. Just sitting next to him made Teki feel unbearably small. Only a few years between them, but he was already a man, and she still felt like a little girl.

At first, when people started getting up to dance, she feared that Thor would ask her as his partner. There was no way Teki would be able to turn down an offer from the prince, but she was barely holding herself together as it was. However, it seemed her worries were unwarranted. Thor got up without so much as a word to her and nearly flew to Lady Sif’s table amongst the nobles. Had she been feeling a bit better, Teki would have been concerned that Osvald had seen it, but all she felt in the moment was relief.

I’m going to be such a horrible Queen.

It seemed that the night had gone on forever. Everyone was shouting, laughing, dancing, having the absolute time of their life, while Teki only sank lower into her chair. When she sat with her mother, they could leave any time they wanted to. Nobody paid her any mind—she could slip out easily and no one noticed the difference. But here, she was on display for everyone. Here, everyone saw everything she did. It wasn’t fair. Her eyes burned. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of this.

Teki jumped when someone plopped themselves down in Thor’s seat, but it wasn’t her fiancé. Loki grinned at her with his sparkling emerald eyes.

“So, Lady Teki, how do you like looking down upon the masses,” he smirked.

Teki forced a smile. “I-I think it’s something I’ll have to get used to, my prince.” Her voice was pathetically small, and she cursed herself.

But Loki was kind enough not comment on her pitifulness. “Oh, I understand,” he agreed. “I imagine this setup is quite jarring.” Leaning in, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, but I still get dizzy up here sometimes.”

Teki exhaled a quiet giggle. She was fairly certain he was only trying to cheer her up, but the thought that the prince got as sick to his stomach as she felt somehow made her feel like less of a failure. “Your secret is safe with me, my prince.”

“I knew I could trust you.” He laughed softly, motioning towards the tables below them. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your brother has been trying to get your attention all night long.”

She frowned. “What?” Following his finger, her gaze landed on Brant, who was sitting the wrong way in his chair, frantically waving. When he saw her looking, he jumped and waved even harder. Teki laughed as she returned the wave.

“Has he really been doing that all night?” she asked. She couldn’t imagine that Osvald and her mother would be pleased with him making such a scene, but it seemed her mother was busy conversing with the ladies around her and Osvald was nowhere to be seen.

“I noticed him shortly after the meal began,” Loki chuckled. “He hasn’t stopped since then.”

“Oh Brant.” Teki wondered who cut his meat for him. She couldn’t imagine Osvald doing it. She couldn’t really imagine her mother doing it, either.

The two of them sat on the platform for a while, talking about nothing in particular. Loki carried most of the conversation, telling her the most hilarious stories about his classes—spells that ricocheted off the golden doorframe, potions that overflowed and contaminated the whole room, pranks that he played on the teachers to show off his talent. Some of them were so ridiculous that Teki found herself wondering if he was making them up to make her laugh, but she didn’t question him.

“There’s one woman, Lady Alda,” he was saying, gesturing animatedly as he told the story. “Horrible old hag—she’s the type who gets upset if you read ahead. She believes if she hasn’t taught it yet, then you’re not allowed to know it. I didn’t like that very much, so I read ahead to the transformation section. She had acted as if transformation is the most difficult skill you’ll ever learn, but it’s actually quite easy. So, I taught myself how to do it, and in the middle of class I turned her desk into a dead rat.”

“Loki!” Teki laughed incredulously.

“That’s not the best part! She turns to me and starts demanding that I undo it, shouting so loudly the walls shook The vein was popping out of her forehead, her hair was wild—I swear, she looked like a troll. And I looked her right in the eye and said ‘But Lady Alda, you haven’t taught us transformation yet!’”

Teki was somewhere between enthralled and horrified. “What did she do?”

Loki shrugged. “She told my father. That’s all they ever do. They’re afraid to try anything else.”

She pictured Odin, with his untamed beard and deafening shout. “What did your father do?”

“Oh, he got mad,” Loki said nonchalantly, flicking a crumb off his sleeve. “Yelled at me for my ‘unprincely conduct.’ Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious,” Teki echoed softly. She wondered what Osvald would do if one of her teachers told him she had been acting out in class. The thought terrified her.

Loki had gone very quiet. Gently, he reached out to touch her wrist. “I—I meant to ask,” he cleared his throat. “Everything’s all right, right? I mean, with your family. Everything’s all right?”

Teki burned. “Yes, yes, of course,” she said quickly, her voice jumping an octave higher. “Everything’s fine. Nothing wrong at all.”

“That’s good.” His gaze had grown far more concerned, but there was relief mixed in with the green of his eyes. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. I just—I wanted to make sure—”

She nodded furiously. “I understand.”

Loki looked as if he was going to say something else, but Thor was rushing up the steps of the platform, shouting his name.

“Loki!” He grabbed at his brother’s shoulders, still seemingly oblivious to Teki’s presence. “Come! Volstagg and I are trying an experiment, we need your help—”

The younger prince squirmed out of Thor’s grasp. “Now?”

“Yes, now!” He tried pulling Loki to his feet. “We need an illusionist!”

“I—” he was able to shoot one apologetic glance to Teki before Thor had completely pulled him out of his seat. “Let go of me already! I’m coming.”

Teki studied her fingernails in her lap as the two princes clattered back down the steps. She suddenly felt very lonely.

…

“Can you read that one to me now?”

Brant cocked his head, brow furrowed at the line of writing. He and Teki were on her bedroom floor, pages spread around them covered in Teki’s careful lettering. They had been there all morning—Teki patiently helping him through longer words and sentences. Maybe it was just her, but she thought her little brother was making some definite improvement.

“Tah—Tah—”

Teki shook her head. “Remember what we said about the t and the h?” she asked, pointing at the paper. “What sound do they make when they’re together?”

Brant’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Thhh!” he hissed excitedly, spittle flying all over the page. Teki snickered.

“So what does it say?”

“Thhh—the. The!” he grinned. “The wi—the wis—”

The slamming of the door cut him off abruptly. Voices echoed from downstairs, ricocheting off the walls. They both tensed.

“You sit there and give me nothing and then you expect me to listen to you when you’re going on about your—”

“Oh, I don’t expect you to listen to me, Áslaug. You never fucking listen to me—”

“Stop yelling! You’re always fucking yelling!”

“You think this is yelling? I’ll show you yelling—”

Brant whimpered as the sound of something shattering against the wall rattled the air. Teki inhaled.

“Come, get your shoes on,” she whispered, slowly pulling him to his feet. If they were quiet enough, Osvald and her mother might not even realize they were home. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Teki had learned long ago to appreciate the ivy outside her bedroom window. Her mother would beat her herself if she knew how often her daughter climbed down the side of the apartment, dress fluttering above her ankles, but it was a risk worth taking. The vines were strong, and they led directly into the royal gardens—the perfect escape.

She went first, guiding Brant down behind her. He wasn’t nearly as agile as she was, but he knew where the right footholds were, and he knew better than to cry out if he slipped. They reached the ground in silence, the cacophony of battle still reverberating behind them.

It was a warm day. Teki pulled Brant through the grass and on to the garden paths. There were only a few hours until dinner—hopefully things would have calmed down by then. Her parents’ arguments usually flamed out fairly quickly. Osvald’s temper had a tendency to linger, however, and Teki knew better than to risk crossing his path while he was angry.

Maybe sitting with the royal family isn’t so bad after all.

Ahead of them, the courtyard was alive with shouts. There was a crowd gathered, chanting and cheering and jumping up and down.

“What’s going on over there?” Brant whispered.

Teki would have preferred to avoid the commotion, but she let her brother pull her towards the pack. They were watching a fight, it seemed—two figures were going at it in the middle of a hastily drawn ring, rushing at each other with giant sticks.

Oh. Teki winced. They must have been practicing for the Games. It was the only time she ever saw those kinds of weighted staffs in use. The Games were an end-of-summer tradition, where all the worthy men of the court would show off their prowess as a warrior and might as a man by jumping into an arena and defeating their opponent in a series of different duels. It wasn’t as much an exercise in strength as it was a display of brutality—usually, the loser was carried out of the arena a bloody mess. Teki spent those days with her head buried in her hands, only occasionally peeking through her fingers when it seemed safe to look.

It was a moment before she recognized Thor, shirtless as he wielded his staff, sparring with another blond she didn’t know. His partner was panting like a dog, but Thor looked as if he hadn’t broken a sweat. Blow by blow, he beat his opponent back in the ring, pushing, pummeling, dominating… until the boy fell backwards, holding his hands up in surrender.

Thor laughed, slamming his staff on the ground. “Is that truly your best effort, Fandral?” he asked as he extended a hand. “I’ve seen some of my mother’s ladies put up a better fight than that!” The crowd snickered with him.

Thor and Osvald would get along well.

She wasn’t sure where the thought came from, but it sunk in like a stone in her stomach. Teki swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Come on, Brant,” she mumbled, pulling at his arm. “Let’s—”

“Hah!”

Teki shrieked at the sudden presence behind her. She flipped around just in time to smack into Prince Loki’s leather chest. He laughed as he reached out to steady her.

For a moment, all she could hear was her pulse pounding in her eardrums. “My prince,” she said shakily, forgetting to curtsey. “You scared me!”

“Many apologies my lady,” Loki grinned, looking anything but apologetic. “I suppose you were too engrossed in your betrothed’s performance to notice me approaching.”

“No, I—” she stuttered. Why did that statement make her feel guilty? “I was just taking my brother out for a stroll, my prince.” She pulled at Brant’s shoulder, who upon Loki’s appearance had taken shelter behind her legs. For some reason, it was critically important that Loki know she hadn’t come here just to watch Thor.

“Ahh.” The prince kneeled to smile at her brother. “And how do you do today, Lord Brant?”

Brant shrank further back behind her legs. “Good,” he mumbled.

Teki flushed with embarrassment, but Loki only laughed. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. Behind them, Thor was challenging someone else to another sparring session.

“Don’t be a coward! What kind of warrior runs from a fight?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Would you like to walk down to the lake?” he asked. “It’s much more peaceful there. Unless you’d prefer to stay for this madness.”

A crash shook the ground beneath their feet as Thor body slammed his next victim into the dirt. Teki cringed. “The lake sounds lovely, my prince.”

It was funny how easy it was to fall into conversation with Loki. They drifted from topic to topic almost lazily as they made their way across the grounds—how nice the weather had been, how strange it was that Teki was sitting with the royal family now, how overdramatic Thor could be about his training. When they reached their destination, Loki was telling her about his family’s upcoming trip to Alfheim.

“I’m really excited,” he said animatedly. “I’ve only gone once, and I was too young to properly remember much. Father usually takes only Thor when he travels.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Teki smiled. She smoothed out her skirt as they reclined on the grassy banks. There was the slightest breeze rippling through the water, sending tiny ripples to lap against the dirt. The effect was almost hypnotic. “Alfheim’s a beautiful planet.”

“Oh,” Loki looked up eagerly. “Have you been?”

“Oh, no—I—” Teki faltered. Not supposed to talk about this. “My father lived there for a while,” she finally said. “He used to tell me about it.”

She could almost hear him reminiscing in her head. Alfheim is where music lives, he used to say. It sleeps in the trees and dances through the air like a bird. Someday I’ll show you, Teki. Her eyes prickled with tears, but she blinked them away.

“That’s fascinating.” Loki leaned in closer, continuing hesitantly. “Was he—was your father Elvish?”

“Oh no, he was Asgardian. He just traveled around a lot.” She frowned, trying to retrieve the memory. “I think he lived in Vanaheim for a little bit too.”

Loki sighed. He dug his fingers into the grass, tearing at the delicate stalks. “I wish I lived in Vanaheim. That’s where all the most talented magicians study. My mother studied there, for a time.”

“Then why can’t you go?” she asked. She didn’t understand why he looked so forlorn—she couldn’t imagine any magic teacher would turn him down, considering how effortlessly he healed her rib during the Summer Festival.

“Father won’t let me!” he groaned, chucking his handful of grass into lake. “It’s beyond frustrating—I’m more than qualified, but he won’t have it. He says my place is on Asgard and that I shouldn’t be running across the Nine Realms just to chase a hobby.” With a huff, he leaned back against the embankment.

Teki didn’t know how to respond to that. “Well, maybe he’s just waiting until you’re older,” she supplied unhelpfully.

“Maybe.” But she could tell that he wasn’t convinced.

Brant, who had been silent up to this point, tugged on her sleeve.

“He can do magic?” he whispered in her ear. She giggled, squirming from his hot breath. Under any other circumstances, she’d be embarrassed by her brother’s lack of propriety, but for some reason, it didn’t feel out of line in this instance.

“Why don’t you ask him?” she whispered back.

Brant looked up at her with wide eyes, shrinking back behind her again. Teki nudged him gently towards Loki. He glanced back at her again before gulping in a deep breath.

“Can—can you do magic?” he asked, stumbling as he avoided eye contact with the prince.

Loki smiled. “I can, as a matter of fact. Would you like to see?”

Brant nodded shyly. Loki motioned him over, cupping her brother’s tiny hands together. “I want you to hold your hands like this very carefully,” he said, very seriously. “I’m going to give you the magic, but you can’t let go. Alright?” Brant nodded again, brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at his palms. Teki scooted over so she could have a better view of what was happening.

“Now, close your eyes and count to three,” he continued. Brant closed his eyes. “One, two, three!”

Teki gasped. Suddenly, her brother was holding what could only be described as liquid light. It gleamed in his palms, illuminating his face in a yellow glow and glistening in the reflection of his cornflower eyes. His face broke into a wide grin.

“Magic!” he breathed in awe.

Loki chuckled at their astonishment. “Blow on it,” he told Brant. “Go ahead.” Brant blew softly into his hands. The light rippled like water, lapping against his fingertips. He giggled.

“It tickles, Teki!” he whispered.

Teki was mesmerized. “What is that?”

“It’s just a light source. They use it a lot with younger students, because it’s not as difficult to control as fire.” Loki circled his hand once around Brant’s, a quick flick of the wrist. Slowly, the light drained into nothingness. “It was one of the first tricks my mother taught me.”

Brant was turning his hands over and over, as if he was surprised to find them unchanged. “Can you grant wishes?” he asked excitedly.

Both Loki and Teki snorted. “You mean like a Midgardian genie?” he laughed. “I suppose it depends. What wish would you like granted?”

“I wish I had wings!” he cried, leaning forward with a wide grin. “Can you give me wings?” Loki glanced at Teki quizzically. She frowned. Where was this coming from?

“What do you need wings for?” the prince asked.

“Because then I could fly, and sit really high up in the trees, and when I want to go somewhere I could just fly, and then when everything’s bad I can take Teki and fly away so we can live in the clouds until everything gets better again.” He inhaled. “So can you give me wings?”

Teki swallowed. She could feel Loki’s eyes on her, feel the pity in his gaze, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet it. “That wouldn’t work, Brant,” she said thickly. “Clouds are just mist. You can’t live on a cloud. You’d fall right through.”

“Oh.” Brant deflated, sitting back on his knees.

“I’ll look for a spell to give you wings, Brant,” Loki promised, voice soft. “And maybe I’ll find a cloud you can live on, too. There’s all sorts of strange things in the universe.”

Teki stood up. She couldn’t bear this anymore. “We should be getting back,” she said. “We need—we need to get ready for dinner.” Hopefully they’re not still throwing things. Brant stood up obediently, taking her hand.

Loki scrambled to his feet as well. “I can walk you back, if you like?”

“Oh, no—that’s—” Her heart ached at the way his face fell, but her blood ran cold at the idea of Osvald catching her running around with the wrong prince. “Thank you, my prince, but I don’t think that would be necessary.”

“Of course, of course.” Loki bowed slightly, his hands awkwardly fumbling with his sleeves. “Then… I’ll see you at dinner, I suppose?”

Teki forced a smile. “See you at dinner, my prince.”

They walked away, Brant still clutching her palm. Her brother had the right idea, she realized. She too wished they would grow wings and fly away to the clouds.

[older-brother-kit]

TSMC ch. 2

Hi everyone, chapter two of The Sibling Matchmakers Club is up!

 If you need a reminder of what it’s about:  James, Lucie, and Mina meet at a summer camp and discover they're siblings. They each live in a different place with a different parent, but they don't want to stay separated any longer and become determined to get their parents back together. Soon enough Kit, Mina's adopted brother, gets in on it, but there's a major complication: Zara Dearborn with an engagement ring. (A Parent Trap AU for Herongraystairs!)

You can read it here on AO3 :)  You can also read chapter 1 here on tumblr or here on AO3. Thank you for reading, please leave a comment or reblog and let me know what you think!

Chapter 2: A Declaration of War

Camp Clover was a bit too rowdy for James’s liking.

The cabins were all painted with bright colors, the grass greener than James had ever seen, and the sky much clearer than the sky in New York City. None of that was particularly bad, but the noise? As James set foot onto Camp Clover for the first time, he desperately wished that he had somehow missed his flight to Kansas. There were so many activities that were going on at once, and all of them were so loud and distracting that James already felt a headache coming on. He longed to read a book in silence, but his mom had only allowed him to pack three and he planned to make them last.

His peppy cabin leader was leading him towards his new cabin, and James knew he should feel excited, but he was already exhausted just from the drive there. His mom had arranged a family friend to pick him up from the airport and drive him to the camp, and Magnus Bane had been a bit too social. Magnus had only been visiting the area with his family himself, and was the sole reason Tessa had allowed James to go to a summer camp that was out-of-state. Normally James would appreciate the effort, especially since he’d met Magnus before and knew he was a kind man, but he had been feeling too much dread to really talk much. James hoped that he hadn’t come across as rude. 

There was also something unusual in the way Magnus Bane had talked with him --like there was something about to happen, and he was excited for it. He had talked about driving two other kids to the camp too, so apparently he was family friends with more than just Tessa. Magnus had also been strangely confident that James would meet new, interesting people. James wouldn’t object to making new friends, especially in a place like this where he didn’t know anybody, but it wasn’t as easy as both his mom and Magnus seemed to believe. 

“Here we are,” his over-enthusiastic camp counselor said, walking James over to a cabin painted bright orange. “This is where you’ll be staying!” 

The cabin had been split in half into two rooms with connecting doors, both rooms having two sets of bunk beds. His counselor led him onto the left side, where two boys were already unpacking their things.

The boy with neat brown hair looked up, and he smiled shyly at James. James hesitantly smiled back. The boy next to him, with his wild, curly brown hair, was on top of the bottom bunk on the right and trying to put the sheets on his bed.

“Meet your roommates!” the counselor said, and James wondered if he was always this cheerful. “James, this is Thomas and Christopher Lightwood. Boys, this is James Gray.”

Thomas, the boy that had smiled at him, held up a hand in a sort of half-wave. Christopher, the boy who had been trying to put his sheets on, looked up in surprise. 

“Roommates?” Christopher asked, and the sheets slipped out of his hands. They scrunched up, undoing themselves, and immediately started to fall onto the floor.

Thomas looked at the sheets and sighed. “That was his third try.”

“Yes, roommates.” Their counselor was still smiling. “Normally there would be four people to a room, but your fourth roommate cancelled last minute so it looks like it’s just the three of you.” He stopped and checked his wristwatch. “Well, I have other campers to show around, so I’ll be off. Make sure to be at the dining hall by 12 for lunch!” With that he walked out, and James was alone with Thomas and Christopher. 

Christopher was still looking at James, and James noticed that Christopher’s glasses were a little too big for his face. They kept slipping down, but the boy didn’t even seem to notice. “Roommates?” Christopher asked again, before looking at Thomas. “We have roommates?”

Thomas pointed to the empty bunk bed on the left side of the room, and James took that chance to walk over there and set his things down on the bottom bunk. “What did you think the other bunk bed was for? There’s too many people at this camp for it to be just us here.”

Christopher looked at the other bunk bed like it had appeared out of thin air. “Oh, there’s another bed. How long has that been there?”

Thomas looked pained, and James decided changing the conversation would probably be best. “Are you two brothers?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Thomas laughed, smiling a little. “No, we’re cousins. But our parents were close, so we were kind of raised like brothers.” 

“That sounds nice,” James said, his mind wandering to his own family. “I don’t have any siblings, or any cousins. I don’t have any family at all, besides my mom.” He paused. It sounded depressing, now that he was saying it out loud, and he didn’t want that as their first impression of him. “Though my mom is the best.” 

That got them into a conversation about their family and what they were like, and James was actually enjoying himself. He learned about how Thomas had two older sisters, but Christopher’s cool older sister Anna was almost like a sister to him too. How Christopher loved science and experiments, but could get lost in his own head sometimes and Anna had always looked after him. James found himself sharing things too. He talked about his mom, and how she raised him by herself but never complained. 

By the time noon rolled around and they had to leave, James was feeling a bit optimistic. He had thought that camp would be horrible and that no one would like him, but Thomas and Christopher were both nice and they all got along well. It was possible that James had overreacted, and that Camp Clover wasn’t going to be a place that would make James miserable.

Though of course, it was only noon. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucie had been admittedly a little nervous about meeting her new roommates, but it had gone well. The two girls on the bunk bed on the right weren’t really that friendly, and didn’t seem like they wanted to talk. Grace hadn’t even introduced herself, she had just given them a judging look and went back to putting her things away. Paige had outright glared at Lucie’s energetic introduction, and Lucie had immediately resolved to avoid her. But Mina? Mina had been a delight. 

Mina had introduced herself as Mina Carstairs, then brought up her hand to offer a handshake. There was something about it that made Lucie like her immediately, and she had shaken Mina’s hand with vigor. She didn’t know if shaking hands was a normal thing that kids did where Mina was from, but Lucie had been intrigued by the strange gesture. Mina and Lucie had hit it off instantly, even if Mina was a year younger than her. 

“What do you think will be for lunch?” Mina asked as they walked to the dining hall, side by side. Her black hair was in two pigtails, and they swayed a little as Mina walked. Lucie had her hair up in a bun.

“I have no idea,” Lucie admitted as the main door came into view, and she wondered how many people would be in there. “As long as it’s not as bad as the cafeteria food at my school, I’ll be happy.”

Mina laughed, and she and Lucie walked into the building. It was full of other campers, most already sitting down and eating. Mina and Lucie had gotten distracted as well as lost, so there were no empty tables left by the time they got inside and got their food. Luckily, it was pizza. 

“Over there,” Mina said, pointing to a table where three boys who looked their age sat. “We could sit there.”

Lucie shrugged and nodded, walking over to the table. The other tables with free seats were tables that older kids or younger kids were sitting at, and Lucie wanted to make friends with people her own age. 

“Hi,” Lucie said as she approached, and all three of the boys’ heads turned to face her. “Do you mind if we sit here?”

“Sure,” the one with black hair said after a moment, and Lucie and Mina sat down across from them. They introduced themselves to each other, and Lucie did a double take. 

Was it just her or did James look familiar? The first thing she noticed was that his eyes were a steely gray-brown, but in the light they looked almost golden. Lucie had never met anyone with that color eyes before, so she thought it was pretty cool. His hair, though, Lucie thought, is just like Papa’s hair. That must be it, why he seemed so familiar --he and her father had the same hair type. Though oddly enough, there had been something about Mina that made Lucie feel like she had met her before, too...

“Have I met you before?” James suddenly asked, and Lucie’s eyes widened. James had said it quietly, as if thinking to himself, but Lucie had heard it as clear as day.

“You too?” Lucie breathed, leaning excitedly into the table. “I could have sworn I’ve met you before!” 

Mina’s gaze went from James to Lucie, then back to James again. “Maybe you met each other once, a long time ago?” she suggested.

James nodded slowly. “That must be it.”

Lucie looked to Thomas and Christopher, who had been watching the exchange in confusion. She didn’t want to make them feel excluded. “What about you two? You kind of look like brothers.”

“We’re cousins,” Christopher explained earnestly, dumping an obscene amount of garlic on his pizza. 

“People make that mistake a lot,” Thomas said, taking the garlic from Christopher and setting it down on the table.

“I feel like you two could pass for twins, if you really wanted to.” Mina said, though Lucie had noticed that Thomas and Christopher had two very obviously different colored eyes.

Lucie sighed wistfully. “I want a twin. Imagine how cool that would be? We could totally swap places in school and prank everyone.”

“You could have a boy twin instead,” James pointed out. “Then you wouldn’t be able to do that because you wouldn’t look the same.”

Lucie thought it over. “I guess so, but I still think having a twin would be cool. You would never be lonely.” 

“James and Christopher are lucky,” James said, looking over to the two boys. “You guys both have siblings. I’m an only child.”

“Me too,” Lucie said, and couldn’t help but agree that James and Christopher were fortunate. She turned to Mina, who had been eating and watching them quietly. “What about you, do you have any siblings?”

Mina’s face lit up. “Yes! I have an older brother, Kit. He’s sixteen, and he’s fun to have around most of the time.” She paused. “Though we don’t look anything alike. He was adopted, and he has blond hair and blue eyes.” 

They continued conversing about siblings and family, then eventually moved onto pets and which ones they preferred. James liked dogs better, Mina liked cats better, and Lucie liked them both. The Lightwoods had said they liked both, though Thomas seemed like he would be more of a dog person. 

Then the topic moved to Lucie’s British accent, and why she had decided to go to Camp Clover in America. A family friend of Lucie’s was currently residing in the area, and if it wasn’t for him Lucie’s papa would never have let her travel so far away. Oddly enough, Mina had a family friend drive her to camp as well. 

Everything had been going well, until Lucie ruined it. 

“You know,” she had started, finally finished with her pizza. “I’m so happy they had pizza for lunch. I was imagining something really bad, like school food.”

“I know,” Thomas agreed. “Even if it is plain. My parents usually get it with pepperoni.” 

“I like it best with pineapple,” Lucie said. “That’s usually what my papa and I get.”

Everyone else at the table stopped in their tracks. “Pineapple...?” Christopher said slowly, looking up from where he was fiddling with the parmesan cheese. “Why?”

Thomas and James shared baffled glances. “Pineapple?” James asked, his voice tinged with disgust. 

Lucie raised her eyebrows. “Yes, pineapple. Haven’t you ever had it before?”

“We’re not criminals,” Thomas said, then quickly shut his mouth as if he’d regretted saying it immediately. 

“Hey,” Mina jumped in. “I like pineapple pizza too, though my dad doesn’t. It’s really not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” James looked at both Lucie and Mina as if he’d never seen them before. “Not that bad?”

“Listen, it tastes good-”

“Pineapple does not belong on pizza!”

“Have you ever even tried it?”

“I don’t need to try it to know that a fruit doesn’t belong on pizza.”

“Well a tomato is a fruit, and-”

Lucie couldn’t understand where she had gone wrong. Didn’t everybody like pineapple on pizza? Lucie had thought it was a safe thing to talk about, but she and James were on the verge of getting into an actual fight at this point.

“Ok,” James finally said, standing up. Lunchtime was ending, and a lot of campers had already left the dining hall. “I’m going to leave, and then maybe while we’re gone you two will get a better sense of taste.”

“Hey!” Mina looked as offended as Lucie felt. “I have good taste.”

James gave her a look. “We’ll see.” he said, and with that he and the Lightwoods gathered up their things and left.

Lucie sat there in shock for a full minute, then turned to Mina. “We’re not the crazy ones, right?”

“Pineapple on pizza is good,” Mina said simply. “They just think that they’re right, even though they’re wrong.”

Lucie sighed. She still had Mina, but so much for making a lot of friends.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mina wasn’t really the type to be mean, but Lucie had looked sad the entire walk back to their cabin, and Mina wasn’t going to let it slide. Mina had been overjoyed when she met Lucie --there was just something about her energy that Mina had connected with, and for some reason she had seemed familiar. Lucie had been down since the pineapple pizza debate, and it was making Mina worried. Mina had thought they were all just joking and not actually fighting, but maybe Lucie was really passionate about pizza?

Either way, Mina had an idea on how to cheer Lucie up. 

“Do you think we should get back at them?” Mina asked, once they were both alone in their cabin room. Grace and Paige were out playing a game with some of the others, so they didn’t have to worry about being overheard. 

“What do you mean?” Lucie sat down on the bottom bunk next to Mina. When they had first met, Lucie had really wanted the top bunk. Mina had been perfectly fine with it, especially since Lucie was really happy when Mina had agreed.

“My brother will sometimes prank people for fun,” Mina told her. “We could prank the boys, to get back at them. Kit’s been telling me about some simple ones.”

Lucie’s eyes widened. “Pranks?” she asked excitedly. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to prank someone!”

Mina nodded enthusiastically. “Right?! It’ll be fun, and we’ll make sure it won’t actually hurt them.”

Lucie was very into the idea, and Mina couldn’t be happier. She had explained her idea, and once it got dark out they had snuck out of the cabin.

Mina approached an orange cabin. “This is theirs, right? The orange one on the left side?” she whispered to Lucie. There had been counselors walking around to make sure none of the campers were up and about, but Mina and Lucie were able to avoid them easily. 

“I think so,” Lucie whispered back. “The room on the left.”

The two girls slowly crept up to the cabin, and carefully opened the door. Mina breathed a sigh of relief that the door didn’t creak. They made their way to the left side, and were happy to see that the boys all seemed to be asleep. 

Mina turned to Lucie. “Ready?” she mouthed. Lucie nodded.

Together they took their cans of shaving cream and each went to a bunk bed. Lucie had called dibs on James, while Mina had taken the Lightwoods. Mina sprayed shaving cream all over Thomas’s chest and hands, making sure to put some on his legs and feet for good measure. She climbed up a bit to reach Christopher and nearly slipped, but luckily neither of them woke up.

She chanced a glance to Lucie, and was glad to see that James wasn’t waking up either. She and Lucie took their time, grinning to each other as they finished the job. The two of them crept out of the cabin as carefully as they had crept in, and the second they were outside the girls made a run for it. 

Mina got back to their cabin first, feeling high on adrenaline. She had officially done her first prank! She couldn’t wait to tell Kit when she talked to him next. 

“We did it!” Lucie whisper-yelled as they got settled in bed, trying to be quiet so they wouldn’t wake up Grace and Paige. “I can’t believe we actually did it!”

Mina couldn’t stop smiling, happy that they hadn’t gotten caught. “I bet they’ll be impressed.” she voiced. She was thankful that she was able to cheer Lucie up, which had been the main goal, but she was also kind of proud of herself for coming up with the plan in the first place.

“Do you think they’ll be mad?” Lucie asked from the top bunk.

“No, I don’t think so. I bet they’ll think it’s funny.” Mina said.

Lucie laughed quietly. “I hope so,” she said, and her voice softened. “I was hoping that we could all be friends.”

Mina paused before answering. “I don’t think they were mad, Lucie. I think James was just joking around. They won’t be mad.”

“They might prank us back,” Lucie pointed out.

Mina snorted. “No way! They don’t have the guts.”

The next day, Mina noticed James and Thomas at the arts and crafts area. The two boys seemed to be watching Christopher put something together, but she decided to get Lucie first before going over to say hi to them.

“Lucie,” Mina yelled, running to the kickball area where Lucie was waiting in line to play. “I found James, Thomas, and Christopher. Do you want to go talk to them?”

Lucie grinned, bouncing on the tips of her feet. “Of course I do!” she said, leaving her place in line to follow Mina back to the arts and crafts area.

James saw them come in this time. “Hi,” he said as he approached them. There was something about it that seemed odd, but Mina couldn’t put a name to it. Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or the awkward way he was standing? “We wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

Mina blinked, and glanced at Lucie who was doing the same. “Apologize?” Lucie asked hesitantly.

James smiled, and motioned Thomas and Christopher forward. Thomas was making an effort to not look either of them in eye, while Christopher held a basket then handed it to James.

James offered the basket over to them. “For you,” he said, still smiling. Out of everything, Mina found the constant smiling the most suspicious. The basket clearly had something in it, but it was hard to tell what it was with the cloth that was draped over the top. 

Lucie reached over to grab it, seemingly delighted with the gift. “Oh, thank you!” she said happily.

James and the Lightwoods took a step back. Mina’s eyes widened in realization. “Hey Lucie, wait-”

Lucie took the cloth off, and it all exploded in a ball of white. Flour stuck all over Mina’s clothes, as well as covered her hair. Lucie didn’t look any better. Her face was covered with as much flour as her clothes, her expression horrified. The boys had stepped far enough to be just out of range, and James looked like he was holding in a laugh. 

“You,” Mina said, pointing a finger directly at him. “You all did this on purpose-”

“Oh, like how you two visited our cabin last night?” James asked innocently. 

Lucie was frozen in shock, her hand still gripping the basket that had held the flour bomb.

“We’ll get you for this!” Mina fumed, patting some of the flour off of her hair.

“Do it.” James challenged confidently. Mina couldn’t believe that she had thought James was shy. “I dare you.”

Mina gasped. They couldn’t back down from a dare.

“Fine,” Lucie’s voice rang out, and Mina turned to look at her in surprise. Lucie threw the basket to the ground next to Thomas and glared at James. “If it’s war you want, it’s war you’ll get. Come on, Mina!” 

Lucie turned on her heel and stormed out, Mina following closely behind her and ignoring the strange looks at their flour-covered appearance. “I guess they did have the guts.” Lucie said bitterly, and Mina was regretting ever bringing up the prank idea. When Kit did them it was mostly good fun, but now Lucie was angry. “We’ll get them good.”

“Right,” Mina agreed, because even if they seemed to be actually fighting the boys now, she was never one to back down from a prank. 

She couldn’t help but have the feeling that she had no idea what she was getting into.

--------

Thank for reading, and please let me know if you enjoyed and would like to be added to the tag list!

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[mistymark]

the one with the baby. [1]

nakamoto yuta x reader // 1.3k words // college!au // established relationship!au // requested

summary; in which you’re supposed to be minding Yuta’s cousin and it doesn’t go so well.

warnings: swearing, stress

“Y/n? Call me immediately. It’s urgent. I know you’re there. I swear to God, if you don’t pick up this damn-” The voicemail message is interrupted by ringing, your best friend calling you once again. Rolling your eyes, you march over to the phone in your apartment, and pick up the phone.

“Ten, what the fuck,” you swear, tugging a jumper on one-handed as you walk back to your room to finish getting ready. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh,” you can hear the sweet smile in his voice, “Nothing much. What about you?”

You stop, “You said it was urgent. What’s going-”

“Oh! That,” he laughs melodiously. “Yeah, I just wanted to know what your plans for this weekend were. Do you wanna do something?”

“This is why you harassed my answering machine?” You apply lipstick to your lips poorly, the colour bleeding into your foundation. “I thought you were going to die or something.”

“Nah, just hate waiting for you to call me back. Why have an answering machine if you never call anyone back, anyway?” 

You ignore his question, “Yuta’s in town this weekend. We’re meeting his family in the city and then spending Sunday with his cousin. She’s apparently really sweet.”

“What’s the deal with the cousin?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

Dabbing at your lips, you try and fix the lipstick you’d just applied moments before, “First of all, she’s, like, four. You’re disgusting. Second of all, I have work, like, ten minutes ago, so I need to go. Text me later, okay?”

“So, meeting the family, huh?” Ten bumps his shoulder against your own, falling into step with you as you walk to your last class of the week; the two hour lecture your last obstacle to finally seeing your boyfriend again. It was a warm sunny day, promising for the weekend ahead. You were planning a picnic for Yuta’s cousin at the park. “That’s a big step.”

You roll your eyes, “I’ve met them before. So have you. Remember? When Yuta’s sister got engaged?”

He thinks for a moment, before shrugging, “Nope. But, still, it’s a big deal.”

Grinning, you nod your head, “Now, please shut up so Mr Kim doesn’t go overtime today. Yuta’s meeting me after class.”

“No fun question time?” He pouts at you, gripping the strap of his laptop bag as he follows you inside, finding a seat near the back of the room. This lecture was never filled, only 30 people were supposed to attend, and only half ever showed up. It made for a really interactive learning experience, but Ten liked to misuse this advantage for a laugh. And he got laughs, but today you didn’t want to learn. You wanted to get in, get out, meet your boyfriend and spend the weekend with him.

“Every minute in this room is ‘fun question time’ for you,” you scoff, pulling out your laptop. “Please?”

He sighs dramatically, “Fine.”

The lecture goes by quickly and, as Ten promises, he doesn’t ask any questions he already knows the answer to, just to prolong the lecture. Instead, he sits almost silently beside you, typing notes. He asks questions he genuinely has, but you can tell the fact that he’s fairly silent is confusing the professor, who keeps pausing every time Ten makes any movement to stretch, remove his hoodie or lean over to grab something from his bag.

Though you’re normally against it, you can’t help checking your phone repeatedly throughout the session, texting Yuta and checking for his replies excitedly.

“Calm down, stalker,” Ten mumbles when you check your phone for the umpteenth time. 

“I’m just excited,” you’re practically bouncing in your seat as the clock tells you you only have fifteen minutes left.

“You could just leave know, you know,” Ten replies, leaning on the armrest that separates you two, his chin in his hand.

“And miss this lecture? No.”

“You’re not even paying attention,” he tries to contain his laughter.

“Neither are you,” you elbow his arm, forcing his arm to fall ungracefully into his lap. “Focus.”

As soon as the lecture ends, you grab your phone, texting your boyfriend to meet you in two minutes. He sends a smiley face back, and you grin down at your phone. Dork.

When you see him standing against a pillar outside the building, you practically run to him, throwing your arms around him, “Hi.”

“Hey,” he laughs, kissing the top of your head briefly, sliding your bag from your shoulder to carry it for you. “How was the lecture?”

“Like she knows,” Ten rolls his eyes. “She was texting you the whole time.”

“False. I took some good notes,” you laugh, lightly punching his arm.

“Oh, sure,” Ten pokes his tongue out at you in retaliation. “Well, I better get going. Enjoy your weekend, Y/n. Nice to see you again, dude.” 

“You, too,” Yuta juts his chin upwards, the left side of his mouth raising in a polite smile. His arm is now rested around your shoulders, and he laughs when Ten flips you off for punching him, rubbing his shoulder as he walks away. Yuta lowers his head to rest right beside your ear, “Ready?”

Laughing you swat his face away, “Yes, I’m ready. But it’s just us tonight, right?”

He laughs, using the arm around your shoulders to pull you closer so he can kiss the top of your ear, “Yeah, just us tonight. I needed to have you to myself at least once this weekend.”

Friday night and Saturday blur together in a flurry of smiles, sunshine, family meals and stupid games you find yourself enjoying. It’s Saturday night that you get your first piece of bad news; Yuta needs to go to work on Sunday. ‘For at least three hours’ to complete a massive project before a presentation on Monday.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “Chae is gorgeous, I can handle her. Just go, I’ll be fine, I promise. I already have the day planned.”

“Are you sure?” Yuta holds your hands in his as he stands at the train station; the commute isn’t short, and it’s long enough for him to warrant living across the city to be closer to his job. “You can call my sister if you need.”

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat the phrase you’ve been saying all morning. “I’ll pick her up in an hour just like we planned. We’ll go to the zoo and the park and then I’ll drop her off in the afternoon.”

You had been looking forward to this day, yes, but you knew Yuta would be with you if he could. Instead, you had his little cousin, and you were just as excited to spend time with her. You’d been to a few family gatherings and events when you’d first started dated Yuta, but Chae had been the first of the Nakamoto family to love and accept you wholeheartedly. You owed it to her to show her a good time even if her favourite cousin - your boyfriend - couldn't be with you.

As if right on time, the train slowly pulls to a stop beside you, and Yuta gives you a swift kiss on the cheek, getting on the train and sitting in a seat by the window nearest to you, pulling funny and ugly faces at you until the doors close, and he points at his phone.

[07:23] From Utah: are you sure you’re going to be okay? [07:23] From Utah: I feel awful abandoning you

You smile, the train pulling away. You look up to find him already searching your face, nod and blow him a kiss. He scrunches up his face in mock disgust, looking down at his phone.

[07:24] From Utah: I love you

You manage to look up again just as he disappears from sight, and you grin, typing back.

[07:24] From You: I love you too [07:24] From You: dumbass

[zhydoesart]

the only reward for love (JeffMads)

ships: QPR JeffMads

warnings: brief mentions of abuse, bullying, internalized a(ro)phobia, mild burn

word count: 3.5k words

AO3 Summary: "The only reward for love is the experience of loving." - John LeCarre. | Thomas is in love with his best friend James, who doesn't, CAN'T, want him back. And yet, James still feels a prickle of jealousy whenever Thomas flirts with someone else in front of him. 

Whenever James sees Thomas flirting with other people, he grits his teeth and keeps himself from saying anything. After all, it’s not like they’re dating.

It’s not like James is even in love with him.

Still, he can’t stop the jealousy from clouding his head whenever he sees couples engaging in PDA. He wants that, he really does, but as hard as he tries, he can’t make himself feel the right way.

But if James is incapable of love, what is it exactly that he feels toward Thomas?

He’s wondered that before. Often, actually, if he’s being honest. For whatever reason, no matter how hard he tries, it just can’t be that simple for him.

James thought he was normal until third grade. Sometimes, in kindergarten, kids would have “romances” on the playground where they’d kiss each other’s cheek and hold hands while they played, and he’d thought nothing of it. In third grade, a friend had started pestering him, asking him who he liked. They’d gone around the group, asking everyone else, and everyone else had an answer ready to go.

And James had realized—he’d never felt like that.

What does it mean? To “like” someone? To “love”? He’s asked himself those questions many times, but he never has an answer. He doesn’t know.

James is in high school now. Shouldn’t he have experienced a crush by now? Would he even know it if he did?

He sees his friends grow up around him, mature, even start to fall in love. They start prioritizing their relationships over their friendships, and he becomes an afterthought, a name tacked on at the end of a statement when they look over and realize they’d left him out.

The only friend he’s spoken to in years is Thomas.

Thomas. It’s a name not unlike a happy sigh, it rolls off the tongue with ease.

James met Thomas in seventh grade.

He’d always been sickly, especially as a child, and sometimes other kids bullied him because he wasn’t strong enough to fight back.

He remembered the day they met. Another boy had pinned James against the wall and was threatening to hit him if James didn’t hand over his lunch money.

James looked around desperately for one of the lunch ladies or a teacher, but there weren’t any adults nearby. He had sighed, internally preparing to go another long afternoon without food.

It had been at that very moment that someone had stepped in.

“Leave him alone,” purred a voice. It hadn’t been loud or demanding, but still, it made the bully stop and look.

James squinted at his savior. The other boy was backlit by the sun, and all James could make out was the fluffy mass of curls on his head and his posture, confident with his hands on his hips.

“Why should I?” sneered the bully.

The boy who’d come to rescue James took a few steps forward into the shade, and then James could see his face.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll make your life a living hell.” James didn’t know how anyone could say something like that so sweetly, but the bully’s face whitened.

“Okay, jeez, man, I’ll leave him alone.” The bully backed away slowly, looking slightly nervous. Both James and his rescuer watched him go.

“You okay?” James registered the boy’s voice, closer to him than before, and he looked up to see the boy right in front of him. His voice was soft, and it instantly put James at ease.

James dusted off his knees—a habit, something he always did once the bully left, whether or not he’d been knocked to the ground. “Yeah.” He was somewhat subdued, and he stared at the ground.

“You sure?” The boy sounded genuinely concerned for James. That’s never happened before. No one asked if James was alright, not when he got his lunch money stolen and was threatened with violence. Not when his dad started yelling and his mom protected him. Not when his dad yelled behind closed doors, and his mom left the room with bruises on her face and a sad smile on her lips.

James thought about the question. “I don’t know.”

The boy paused. “Can I touch you?” James liked the boy’s jacket. It wasn’t something that he himself would wear—too brightly colored for him—but it looked nice on the boy. He nodded.

The boy put an arm around James’ shoulders. “Hm. I’m Thomas. You look lonely. Wanna be friends?”

James smiled. “Yes.”

“Hey, cutie, you did well in Debate yesterday. Keep it up, and you’re gonna go places.” Thomas winks, and the girl—he thinks her name is Katherine—blushes.

“Thanks,” she mutters, staring at her hands, and runs off to gossip with her group of female friends, all of which were huddled around their lunch table watching the exchange. He watches as she starts excitedly talking, and he shakes his head.

Thomas strides back to his table on his long legs, settling down on the bench across from his friend. His spoon is still sitting on his napkin where he’d left it earlier, and he picks it up, glancing at James.

James… looks almost sad. In fact, if Thomas didn’t know better, he’d think James was jealous.

As it is, he does know better. He’s not sure James has ever liked anyone, let alone him. Unless he’d just been very good at hiding it. And while James is generally a quiet person, there’s an exception when he’s with Thomas. James tells Thomas everything, and vice versa. Well, he can’t tell James about this. So… not everything, he supposes. Not anymore.

The reason why he flirts with other people isn’t because he isn’t interested. In fact, it’s the opposite. He flirts with other people as a distraction. A distraction from the fact that the person he really wants to flirt with is right there, a literal arm’s length away, and he can’t.

(Thomas isn’t actually interested in girls, so perhaps it isn’t right for him to get their hopes up—although it is common knowledge that he’s gay, and the girls still giggle and blush when he flirts, so it isn’t entirely on him.)

James has this wistful look on his face, and he’s gazing at Thomas. When Thomas makes eye contact, he blushes and looks away.

Thomas is too trapped in his head these days to know what to make of it. Maybe it’s finally time for him to talk to someone else.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Angelica stares at Thomas in a way that makes him slightly uncomfortable, like she’s trying to read his thoughts.

He clears his throat. “I came here to talk, remember?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Thomas, I remember.” Angelica shifts in her chair, uncrossing her legs. “So what’s the problem?” she whispers, grinning.

Thomas is starting to regret this decision already.

Then again, who else would he talk to? Burr? Hamilton? Despite how popular he is, he doesn’t have many people he can confide in. Other than Angelica and James, there isn’t anyone else he’s on good terms with and talks to often.

“Okay,” he begins, stopping to gather his thoughts. Thomas is an eloquent person, and English is his first language, but whenever it comes to feelings, or James, he forgets how to speak. “Okay. It’s entirely possible I may have developed. Feelings. For someone.”

Angelica’s eyes narrow, and she leans forward. “You? Feelings? I thought you didn’t have those.”

“Hah.” Thomas rolls his eyes. “Very funny. May I continue?”

“Yes, you may.”

He glares at her, but there isn’t any malice. “As I was saying. I may have feelings. For.” He swallows. “James.”

Angelica’s eyes widen. “Oh.” Suddenly she seems awkward and possibly even guilty for teasing him. She lowers her voice. “Really?”

Thomas looks down, playing with his hands in his lap. “Yeah.”

Neither of them speak for a minute or two.

“Wait, why is this a problem again?” Angelica finally asks. “Isn’t he your best friend?”

“Yes, that’s part of the reason why it’s a problem.”

“Part?”

“I don’t think he’s ever liked anyone,” Thomas confesses. “I’ve known James for four years. He’s never once mentioned a crush.”

“Maybe he just didn’t tell you?” suggests Angelica.

“No, we tell each other everything. And I mean everything,” Thomas almost leaps to his feet, but instead takes a deep breath and remains in his chair. “He would have told me.”

Angelica shrugs. “Well, then, you might be right.” She pauses, examining Thomas’ body language. “What kind of response do you want from me?”

“I’m… not sure.”

Angelica straightens up. “You know that I know a lot about the queer community and its various labels.”

“Yes?” Where is this going?

“From what little I know about your, uh, ‘situation,’ I think James might be aromantic.”

“What’s that?” He thinks he knows, but he wants to hear it from the mouth of the expert.

“Aromantic means you don’t fall in love. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t feel any kind of love, however; platonic love is still very much there.” Angelica is watching him carefully—gauging his reaction?

“I see.” Does James know he’s aromantic? Is James aromantic? Is Thomas just jumping to conclusions? When he gets home, he should do some research. Knowing more never does any harm, unlike not knowing enough.

“Does that help?” Angelica asks.

“I think so.” Thomas pushes his chair back, getting to his feet. “Thank you.”

The whole walk home, Thomas is lost in thought. He’d honestly be doing research on his phone if there wasn’t a serious danger of walking into things and people—he’d learned his lesson in the past.

The minute he gets up to his room, he drops his backpack on the floor, leaps into his spinny chair, and uses the momentum to roll up to his desk.

Thomas does a few Google searches for aromantic, then a few more for aroace. He’s reading an article on aromantic-related vocabulary when he comes across the word queerplatonic.

What it says is “queerplatonic: a form of love that isn’t inherently romantic or platonic. It’s different for each person who experiences it.” And a little farther down the page: “QPR: a queerplatonic relationship.”

Could…

Is that something he could have with James?

He reads a few more articles, then a few more, and a few more, until it’s dark outside. He retires to bed, but he doesn’t fall asleep for half an hour. He lies in the dark, thinking.

Unfortunately, Thomas and James don’t share any classes this year. Junior year means they have to start thinking about college, and thinking about college means having to take different classes depending on what you intend to major in. James isn’t going to major in the same thing as Thomas, so they’re taking different classes, which means the first and only time they can see each other during the school day is during lunch.

“Hey,” Thomas says as James sits down. James doesn’t give a verbal response, merely nods. “I said hello.”

“Hello?” James says uncertainly, and Thomas chuckles.

“Hello!”

“Hello.”

“Hello—”

“Okay, that’s enough, we’re not doing this again!” exclaims James, and Thomas cackles. “Are you done?” Thomas shakes his head.

“I can’t breathe,” he wheezes, slapping the table, and James catches his water bottle as it falls. Thomas gasps for breath, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Okay. So how was your day?” he asks, trying to recover.

“I will never understand you,” James deadpans. “My day was fine. Uneventful. How was your day?”

“Boooring.” Thomas unscrews the lid on his thermos, and James eyes it suspiciously. Thomas has had his fair share of spills, and it’s never a good thing when he brings in soup. “Oh, relax.” Thomas covers one of James’ hands with his own, and James attempts to regulate his breathing, since it had suddenly become more difficult. “Look, I  haven’t spilled anything in two weeks!” Right as he says this, he nudges his thermos with his elbow. “Oh, shit—”

James lunges for the thermos. He catches it before it tips over completely, but can’t stop the soup from splashing onto his hand. He sets down the thermos and stares at his hand. It takes a moment for the liquid to start hurting.

“Jesus Christ.” Thomas grabs James by the wrist, using the napkin from his lunchbox to dry James’ hand. “We should get some cold water on that, I’m so sorry—”

That’s another thing. Thomas rarely apologizes, even when he goes too far during Debate club. (James is always there to watch, but never participate.) And yet, he doesn’t even think twice when he apologizes to James.

“Come on.” Thomas pulls James along behind him.

The bathrooms in their school are generally awful, both in hygiene and in upkeep, but the ones by the cafeteria are the cleanest due to food-related health regulations. That being said, the moment Thomas and James walk into the bathroom, one of the three lights blows.

Thomas mutters a curse, and James jumps. “Damn janitors. Maybe they should be paid more, maybe then they’d do their jobs.” He pulls James the over to the sink, holding James’ arm under the water. “Sorry again,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay.”

“No, maybe you have a point. I never spill at home, but maybe I get too excited when I’m talking to you.” Ha. Is this another instance of Thomas’ infamous flirting? James is just his friend, after all.

“You should come over today.” Thomas isn’t looking at James, instead paying attention to the water and the slightly irritated patch of skin on his arm.

“I have homework today,” James says noncommittally.

“Come over! Do it at my place.” Oh no. He’s about to bring out his pout. “Please?” James can’t say no to him, especially not when he pouts.

“Okay, I suppose I can. I don’t know how much we’ll be able to hang out, though. I have an essay to write.”

“That’s fine.” Thomas beams at him.

“My arm is very wet,” James says, and Thomas startles.

“Oh, right, sorry.” He turns off the water, moving to grab a wad of paper towels. James never liked the cheap brown paper towels they have in schools. They’re scratchy and poor quality. He lets Thomas pat his arm dry, vaguely registering how odd it is that his friend is proceeding to do all of this for him and yet ignoring the fact that it’s at all out of the ordinary.

The rest of lunch happens uneventfully. James listens to Thomas rant about Hamilton (like he does every day), picking at his salad. Thomas almost knocks over his thermos again, nearly giving James a heart attack, but at the last second Thomas realizes what he’s about to do and carefully moves his thermos far enough away that it isn’t a threat anymore.

Thomas is waiting for James outside his classroom after the last period of the day. Thomas doesn’t have a sixth period, and James idly wonders if he’s been standing there all period.

“Hey,” Thomas greets him.

“Hello.” James can’t help but smile.

“Ready to go?” Thomas asks, and James nods.

They walk home together, for the most part in silence. Occasionally, something will occur to Thomas, and he’ll chatter on for a minute or two, but then James won’t be able to think of anything to contribute, and the conversation fizzles out again.

“Look out!” Thomas says suddenly, pulling James in close to him, and James flinches as someone on a bike nearly clips him. “Watch out, dumbass!” Thomas yells after the biker. “Are you okay?” His voice softens as he speaks to James.

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” James says, keenly aware of how close he is to Thomas.

“That’s good,” says Thomas.

James pulls back a bit, and they continue walking. But Thomas, who’d grabbed his hand to pull him out of harm’s way, doesn’t let go, and James looks away to hide his smile.

Thomas pulls his hand away once they get to his house, and they both proceed to act like nothing happened, but James is secretly pleased, and he’s positive he sees Thomas hide a smile behind his hand.

Thomas settles on his desk chair, and James takes a seat on the bed, pulling out paper and a pencil. He begins to draft his essay, but in his peripheral, he can tell Thomas is watching him.

“Did you need something?” he says finally, head snapping up to look at Thomas.

“I have to tell you something,” Thomas says.

“Okay?”

“I… I love you.”

James’ blood runs cold.

“I don’t feel the same way.” There’s a lump in his throat.

“I know.” He doesn’t understand the way Thomas is gazing at him.

“You… know?”

“I talked to Angelica. I’m not just assuming that you haven’t been in love before, right?”

“No, you’re correct,” James says cautiously, furrowing his brows. Does Thomas know something he doesn't?

"Like I said, I talked to Angelica. She thinks you could be aromantic," Thomas says carefully.

"There's a name for it?" James asks, aware both his voice and body are shaking but unable to do anything about it. "I'm not… broken?"

Thomas' arms wrap around him, and he takes the opportunity to take a few deep, shuddering breaths. "No, you're not broken." He can hear the sad smile in Thomas' voice.

"If I'm aromantic…" The word sits just right on his tongue in a way nothing else has. "Then what do I feel for you? If it isn't romantic?"

Thomas pulls back, taking James' hand in both of his own. "I did research, you know. Something I came across was the term 'queerplatonic.' Do you know what it means?" James shakes his head. "It's a kind of love that isn't platonic or romantic. That's the best definition anyone could give me, apparently it's quite subjective."

James sniffles. "Oh."

Thomas smiles again, a little sadly. "There's something else, too. There's a thing called a QPR, which stands for queerplatonic relationship." James is suddenly very much interested in what Thomas is saying. "That's also subjective, and what you do in a QPR varies from couple to couple. It's all down to boundaries."

James laughs, a little breathy and a little disbelieving. "Really? Do you… do you think we could have that?"

"Actually, that's what I was hoping for when I asked you to come over today." Thomas looks down at his hands.

"You wanted to ask me to be your partner?"

Thomas instantly turns red. "Yes, well, um, maybe even boyfriend, if you'll have me?"

James nods fervently. This is happening, somehow. This is real. Thomas wants to be with him, even though James isn't in love with him. There's a way for them to be together. "What kinds of things do, uh… queerplatonic?" Is that right? Thomas nods.  "Queerplatonic partners do together?"

"Oh, literally anything a couple could do." Thomas starts listing activities and quickly runs out of fingers. "Some go on dates. Some hold hands. Some kiss or cuddle. Some have sex." He sees the look on James' face and laughs. "Ok, so a no to that, you might be asexual then too. Some get married and even have kids together. Some are exclusive, and sometimes one or both partners date other people. It'd be entirely up to us."

"Well, then… could I kiss you?"

Thomas notices how close James is to his own face and turns red. "Um. Yes," he gulps.

And they kiss, and it's everything they both hoped it would be. It's James' first kiss, and even unrealistic expectations from the media don't set him up for disappointment because Thomas is wonderful (and also apparently really great at kissing).

"So are you my boyfriend now?" James teases, and to his credit, Thomas manages to keep a straight face.

"I suppose so," he answers, equally as smoothly.

Something clicks in James’ brain. "Wait, if you love me, then why did you flirt with all those other people?"

Thomas grimaces. "It was a distraction. I knew you didn't like me back."

"Oh." To think he was so jealous for so long, and now he gets to have Thomas all to himself. "I think I want this to be exclusive, if that's alright."

"That's perfectly fine." Thomas brings one of James’ hands up to his mouth and gently presses his lips against the skin. “I love you, after all.”

James pulls himself into Thomas' lap, and the taller man has the audacity to look surprised as James presses their lips together, winding his fingers in Thomas' curly hair. "You're mine now," James murmurs, and a thrill runs through him as he realizes it's true.

Tomorrow, they'd discuss the idea of announcing their relationship, and their boundaries, and what they'd even call it. Tomorrow, they'd tell Angelica, who'd ruffle their hair with a laugh, even though Thomas is taller than her, and he’d pretend to be annoyed. Tomorrow, Hamilton would bitch about the fact that Jefferson got a partner before he did, and Laurens, beside him, would look away.

But for now, they're free to do whatever they want, and right now, that's kissing.

Well… tomorrow, James has an essay due, and the usually quiet boy swears atypically as he remembers.

But they'll still have tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and every day going forward. It doesn't look like they'll break up any time in the near or far future, and who knows, maybe they'll stay together forever. Get that dog Thomas always wanted. Move in together. Wake up next to each other every morning.

But for now, James has an essay to write, and Thomas has a beautiful boyfriend to stare at/encourage/tease.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Can’t Eat Love pt 10

Here it is guys! Here’s part 10, we’re at 23k words! I made the master post with links to the story and will just link that at the top from here on out! 

Link to master post here. 

Enjoy! 

__________________________________

Ten months passed, faster than I could have imagined.

The store “Prosperity” took off. True to her word, Milane had improved upon my own designs, and after showcasing the dresses at a few parties, (I had reluctantly resumed my social responsibilities, reminding myself it was for the business), and the orders came in, faster than we could fill them. Expanding production, Milane hired a few more seamstresses, and even then we were stretched thin. We continued making and selling new designs, however, with plans to open up another store before the next season.

The Duchy thrived alongside my business. The officials I “retired” left without further complaint, and their replacements worked hard to gain experience and independence. Until they were completely trained however, the bulk of the work was left to Nile, Terrence and Me. We met weekly, going over accounts and day to day issues in great detail. Fortunately we worked well together and rather than resenting the hands-on approach I took, they seemed relieved.

“The Duke just always told us to do what we thought best in difficult matters.” Nile confided one day. “But with no idea of the overall financial state of the Duchy, it’s hard to make these sorts of decisions. With you in charge, things are running much smoother.” 

Seeming to realize the improperness of what he had said, he panicked, waving his hands.  “Not saying that the Duke is incompetent! He’s a very kind man! And as a leader… of course he…” he paused as if trying to think of something else good to say about my father.

I chuckled, trying to relieve the poor man’s misery. “It’s fine. Father’s gifts lie… in other directions. “ I had no idea as to what direction that was, but as long as he stayed out of my way, I was content.

No longer hemorrhaging money, I was able to work on improving the infrastructure of the area, improving the safety and stability of the roads, increasing the schools and preparing some previously unused land for farming. 

Marile, looking ahead to our second store, convinced me to use some of our profits to open up a vocational school for seamstresses, taught by people she trusted. We charged a minimal fee, funding those who couldn’t afford it, and waited excitedly as they gained skill. I planned to hire some of the top students upon graduation, and as the number of skilled workers increased, the duchy of Armeny began gaining a reputation as the place to buy well-made clothes.

The success spread, and I was already being approached by other trades to expand the school to cover their professions as well.

__________________________________

I continued my lessons with Jim and Nate, although the assigned reading was decreased as more and more of my time was taken up with the business and the duchy. Instead, Jim had me bring practical issues and questions to the class regarding economics or governmental structure, and we worked though it together. I was often able to implement some of the answers we came up with, continuing to benefit my home.

 Nate and I settled into a comfortable pace. He was the calm one in class, frequently mediating between Jim and me when we began to get too loud about a certain subject. He listened well, and when he did speak up it was with purpose, often coming up with ideas that caught me by surprise.

“You should build a place that provides food for people who are starving.” After class one day, he was escorting me back to the carriage in thoughtful silence before suddenly bursting out with that suggestion.

I stopped in my tracks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s something that you obviously care deeply about, and since you’ll manage to free up some extra funds with the changes we came up with today, I thought it might work! ” He continued as he stopped as well, gesturing excitedly with his hands. “Think about it, a place where people who are starving can come by and have a meal. You can ask for donations and volunteers to offset some of the costs, it should be doable…”

He trailed off, staring at me with an uncertain expression. “Sorry, I got excited on my own, maybe it isn’t the best idea.”

__________________________________

“Do you have any food?” A young boy pulled on my leg, the bones too prominent on his already small for his size face.

I looked down at him, already feeling lightheaded and weak. I hadn’t been able to find work. I hadn’t had a full meal since Rig’s gang had been split up most of them lost, dead or imprisoned. I had begged on the street, only managing to earn enough for some bread, hardly enough to fill my stomach. I wanted to cry, but held my tears, they wouldn’t solve anything.

The boy saw my distress and slumped, sitting down beside me, as I hung my head, feeling hopeless.

“It’s okay.” He mumbled, using a dirty hand to gently pat my head, trying to comfort me. “I’ll help you.” A small hard object was pressed into my hand. I looked down at it, surprised. It was a regular stone, a little shiny but otherwise there was nothing special about it.

“It’s my lucky stone.” He tried to smile, tried to appear brave for me. “You can have it. It will protect you.”

I thought about the bread in my pocket, it wasn’t enough to fill me, but for a child…

“Here.”

I handed him the bread, leaning back with my head against a wall, closing my eyes to keep tears from falling. I wasn’t going to last much longer. I had long given up hope for myself. But that boy... maybe he would survive.

And that was something.

__________________________________

“Lenora?” Nate called out, concerned. I shook my head, I had been silent too long, thinking of a different life, a different fate.

One I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

I smiled at him; ignoring his visible shock at I did so. “Tell me more about this idea of yours.”

__________________________________

Between running the Duchy and the business, as well as continuing lessons and socializing with the nobility to advertise our new dresses, I was busier than I had ever been before in either of my lives. But despite the long hours and the hard work, I was surprised to find I was happy.

There was still just one thing keeping me from being fully content: 

The royal etiquette classes continued, despite the mastery I had displayed. Mrs. Rendler had greatly increased the speed at which we moved through topics as well as the difficulty in each lesson. The advantage I had gained over the extra three years of training in my previous life dwindled, and I reluctantly began scheduling in time to study those topics as well. 

I grew more and more frustrated each week. With all the other demands on my time, why was I bothering to waste any on learning something I would never use? If I were planning on trying to continue my engagement to the prince this would be worth it, but not even the chance to tackle management on a national scale could tempt me to stand by that worthless prince’s side.

I hid it, as best I could. Mrs. Rendler tried to keep the lessons fun and varied, likely sensing my lack of enthusiasm. We learned new dances, tried exotic foods and studied different cultures. It was interesting and I appreciated the effort the older woman placed on keeping me focused, but there was still one, unavoidable problem with the lessons:

Queen Amerande.

She was present every single week, as she had been in my previous life. Smiling, cheering me on, saying silly jokes to try to make me laugh, and picking arguments with Mrs. Rendler to distract her whenever the lessons were getting too difficult for me … she was every inch the mother I wish I had.

But it was a lie, and every minute I spent next to her was pure torture. 

It all came to a head around ten months after I woke up in this second life. The etiquette lesson had completed early. I was packing up my books, planning to take a walk in the gardens to waste the time before my lesson with Jim and Nate in the treasury. Before I could leave, however, Queen Amerande held out her hand, gently stopping me.

“Can we talk, Lenora?”

I nodded stiffly, disliking the thought of spending any time alone with her.

Her smile slightly sad, she gestured for me to sit down, and after I was settled continued.

“Has your mother returned home yet?” The discomfort on her face made it clear she knew this was not going to be my favorite topic.

I sighed, leaning back and shaking my head. “No, she’s still with her family staying in the southern province.”

Or so she tells us. I thought of the contents of the file Rig had brought me, the second assignment I had given him after the blackmail for the duchy officials. It had only confirmed what I already knew from my previous life, but it had hurt more than I wanted to admit to see it in writing.

“She’s been gone almost a year!” Queen Amerande muttered, looking furious for a few moments before poorly hiding her anger behind a smile, trying not to upset me. After being surrounded by expert liars like Angela and Edith, it was almost amusing to see someone who couldn’t lie well.

That’s not true though is it? She lies all the time when she says she cares about me. My brain whispered to me, but I shrugged it off, not wanting to be distracted by the topic at hand. She was already asking another question.

“Will she be back soon?”

I wish she wouldn’t. In my last life, her trip had only lasted a few months, but that had been due to limited funds and our large amount of debt. Once I had most of our debts cleared, I had sent her some money, and thankfully she had continued to extend her trip as much as possible. The servants seemed grateful for the break from her critical presence and my father… he was happier than he’d been in years. But as relieving as this time away was, it couldn’t last forever.

“She’ll be back in a few weeks, before my sixteenth birthday.” I answered, watching her eyes light up at the topic.

“So yes, about that…” Queen Amerande hesitated, “I knew your mother hadn’t been… around, and your father…”

“Forgot.”

“I’m sure he… remembers… deep down.” She looked angry again, but not at me. “But the point is, I didn’t want you to have to plan your own party, so I’ve been making some arrangements.”

“...” 

“Nothing that can’t be canceled if you don’t feel up to it, but I’d really like for you to have a chance to really have fun and celebrate with friends. You’ve been working so incredibly hard lately.” She smiled. “I know I don’t say this enough but… I’m so proud of you. I heard about the work with the duchy and the vocational school and even that charity to help feed those in need, it’s so amazing. YOU are amazing.”

She turned to the side to get something from her bag. I sat there, trembling, filled with anger, barely able to contain it. My fists were clenched, so tightly that the fingernails dug into my palms, starting to tear through the skin.

“I know it’s a little early, but I want you to have this:” She pulled out a necklace. It was beautiful, thin golden chains delicately interwoven, with a small sapphire amulet hanging from the longest strand. She placed it into my hand. “My mother gave this to me when I was a girl, and although I’m not your biological mother, I think of you as my own.”

My ears were ringing, the jewelry in my hand was cold, but felt like it was burning my skin

“I love you dear, and I always will.”

I could barely breathe, it felt like knives were stabbing me in the heart, I sat there frozen, staring at the gift I had once thought meant everything, but meant nothing.

“No matter what.”

__________________________________

“I love you, and I always will.” Queen Amerande hugged me, patting my back comfortingly with one hand.

I returned the hug, unable to hold back my tears of frustration and embarrassment. After being publicly humiliated at my own birthday party, I had come into the backroom to hide, She had been planning to give me her present, but instead found me a sobbing in a corner, and immediately dropped on the floor, ignoring the creases and dust that gathered on her expensive formal gown, comforting me. Once I had calmed down, she handed me a beautiful necklace, one I had always admired as a child, and reached out, wiping a tear from my face.

“No matter what.”

__________________________________

Thud.

The necklace slipped from my hands, falling to the floor between us.

“Liar.” My voice was quiet, but in the otherwise silent room she could clearly hear me. Her face paled and she tried to reach out for my hand, only to have me pull back, avoiding it.

“Lenora, what…?

“Stop lying. Please.” I forced the words out through gritted teeth, tears gathering in my eyes. “You won’t love me like your own child, and you won’t love me NO MATTER WHAT so please. Don’t lie to me. Don’t fool me into trusting you when you don’t mean it.” 

I stood up, planning to leave, but she ran after me, standing in the doorway, blocking my only exit.

“Let me out.” I ordered, throwing etiquette and caution to the wind.

She shook her head furiously, her carefully styled hair coming slightly undone with the force of the motion. “No! Not until you tell me what this is about!” She was shaking, but her hands gripped the doorframe tightly, refusing to move. “I’m not lying when I say I love you like my own daughter. I’m not!”

“Easy words to say.” I was sneering, hating that my voice broke with tears instead of sounding stronger. “But when your precious son drops me in a few years, and I’m disgraced, then you’ll forget all about this ‘daughter’ you love so much!”

“…” She stared at me, horrified. “You think he… that I… “ She was stuttering, trying to work through what I had said. “Ronan wouldn’t cast you aside. And even if he did I…”

“I’m not an idiot, Your Majesty. So don’t treat me like one.” I interrupted her, laughing, but it was an unpleasant sound. “I’m not so foolish as to believe that a boy who has absolutely no interest in me will keep this engagement the moment he finds someone he likes better.”

“…” Queen Amerande was silent for a few moments. I noticed she looked upset, saddened at my words, but she didn’t look shocked, not at all. She had seen her son’s lack of interest in me as well. She knew exactly what kind of person Ronan was, and that he was capable of doing exactly what I said. I continued onwards, not wanting to hear any excuses or explanations.

“And WHEN he casts me aside. You’ll move forward just like everyone else will, without a thought spared for me.” I clenched my fists, wanting to run. “You’ll forget all about me. So please, keep that necklace. Give it to the woman your son actually WILL marry. Or a grandchild whenever they have one. Someone you truly care about. Not a placeholder. Not me.”

Having said what I wanted to say, I pushed past the Queen, running out of the palace. I skipped my lesson with Jim, getting into the carriage. And it wasn’t until I was there, protected by the window covers and safe from prying gazes, that I finally relaxed, put my head into my hands, and cried.

[web-of-fics]

Recovery

Requested by: anon (If youre comfortable writing that stuff, could you do a platonic tony x reader one where she is close friend of avengers and has a restrictive eating disorder and tony starts picking up signs about that and confronts her about it and comforts her and reassures he's gonna help her in her recovery? Thank you lots :)

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Starring: Tony Stark x she/her reader; fellow Avengers

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Fandom: MCU 

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Chronology: after The Avengers (2012) and Spider-Man Homecoming (2017)

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Warnings: reader displays symptoms indicative of restrictive food intake/food avoidance--please read at your personal discretion or stop reading if at any point you find that this narrative does not serve your mental wellbeing

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Summary: Reader pays her old friend Tony Stark a visit. He senses something is amiss and reaches out to her about it. 

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Writer’s note: Anon, I want to take a moment to thank you for submitting this request. You possess great courage for reaching out about something that can be a vulnerable topic and I hope I did it justice. :) 

    If there are elements of this prompt that resonate with you or anyone else reading this, please be kind to yourself during your personal recovery journey. Some are long and some are short, and some almost seem futile when they just keep going in circles, but no path ever goes in a straight line, and every step is progress.

    I also want to mention that I happen to be in a counseling program now, so I will do my best to write an accurate portrayal for this character. However, it is based on my knowledge rather than experience and I am still learning. I do not claim to be an expert on anything and welcome this as an opportunity for constructive criticism as well. 

    If anyone reading this is in need of professional help, I encourage you to seek it out. You deserve it. Although I cannot provide therapeutic help for anyone on here, I am willing to branch into writing mental health-related fics for those who are interested. <3

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Words: 1552

✎_____________________________________________________________________

“Y/n,” Tony said your name more like an announcement than a greeting as you entered the room. Moments before, he’d been addressing the rest of the Avengers about something or other related to impending doom. What else was new? You just hoped it it wasn’t more deep sea fish-looking alien spaceships causing mass destruction. Ever since that whole battle of New York you haven’t quite been the same.

You waved once in acknowledgment of everyone surrounding the expensive-looking lab equipment radiating a neon projection into thin air and made for the kitchen.

“Who is that?” said an unfamiliar voice belonging to an unfamiliar face as you passed by.

“Y/n,” Tony repeated before continuing his science talk.

“Is she an Avenger?”

“No,” Tony said mid-sentence.

“Then,” the person leaned forward from his seat on the couch, “what is she doing here?”

You opened the fridge and poured yourself a glass of the nearest open bottle, not bothering to see what it was. You swirled it mindlessly, watching the exchange like it was something mildly interesting on TV and you were too lazy to search for something more exciting.

Tony turned his full attention on the man.

“She’s a friend. She’s allowed in at her leisure. Open invitation.”

Tony’s mouth turned up in your direction as if laughing at a private joke between the two of you. He made eye contact briefly.

You brought the glass to your lips.

The new guy laughed in bemusement.

Tony took a step toward him. “What’s funny?”

“It took me years to be called an Avenger after we became friends but she can just... strut around our super secret complex whenever she likes?”

Soundlessly, you put the glass on the counter and draw your thick sweater tighter around yourself.

“Ah,” now Tony was smiling, but more in the sense of baring his teeth than enjoying himself. “I see your confusion.” He addressed the man directly. “We’re not friends. We,” he gestured between them, “are coworkers.”

He turned to a screen and waved his palm over it. “And I am giving a presentation. And you are listening to me with your mouth shut,” he enunciated every syllable by the end of his sentence, then shook off the interruption and continued lecturing about his discovery.

You turned away to hide a grin and strolled elsewhere in the complex to leave Tony to his business. You weren’t a fan of stopping in unexpectedly but it had been a particularly tough week. Tuesday had been your father’s birthday. Thursday had been your mother’s. 

Outside, you ran into Pepper, exchanged congratulations about their recent engagement, and offered to help prepare for the ceremony if she needed it. She shared that she was on her way to pick up lunch and offered to pick up yours as well. You declined, telling her just ate but you’d take her up on the offer another time, and is she sure she doesn’t need help ordering flower arrangements?

“I’ll let you know,” she said, smiling and waving as she summoned one of the many Stark cars and peeled away.

You shivered in the breeze despite the shining sun helping to warm the earth. Lately it seemed like you were always cold. 

You made for the library and decided to pass the time learning what you could from the first book you picked up. Unfortunately for any small talk you ever attempted to make with the Avengers, you were a professor of anthropology and not biochemistry or engineering. You flipped open the book in your hands and read the title page. Maybe learning the gist of quantum physics would help with that. 

You were on page 150 when the door opened.

“Knock knock,” Tony said.

You marked your page and stood.

“Tony!”

“Thanks for stopping in,” he said warmly.

“Anytime,” you replied. You grinned. “Open invitation.”

“Always. And,” he added, “you’re invited to stay for dinner.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Am I? Are you sure I’m not intruding on an Avengers-only occasion?”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Tony said, catching your meaning immediately. “He’s new, you’ll have to excuse him. But if he even looks at you during dinner I promise I will kick him out. This is a purely social gathering. No shop talk allowed. You’ll fit right in.”

He walked over, placed his fingers on the book and shifted it slightly in his direction. He nodded once.

“You should sit next to Romanoff. Come on,” he nodded in the direction of the door, “you can help me cook.”

“I don’t remember saying I was available,” you said, following him anyway.

“I know,” he said, “but I also know that you are, in fact, available. I had Pepper check your schedule.”

You cross from one building to another in silence. He holds the door open for you as you reenter the kitchen together and adds, “she also told me you ate lunch when I know for a fact you strolled in here, poured that,” he pointed to the glass of orange juice, still filled and gathering condensation where you left it on the countertop, “and went to read up on a topic you know nothing about for several hours.”

You laughed and picked up the glass. “I knew I forgot something! I sat down with that book and couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was. And hey,” you pointed at him accusingly, “I knew nothing about quantum physics until several hours ago. Now I do know something about it.”

He raised his palms. “I wasn’t questioning your intellect.” He looked pointedly at the glass in your hand. “Your new eating habits, however, are what struck me as odd.” 

You looked at him. “I didn’t realize making a sandwich and taking it to the library was considered odd around here.”

“Uh huh,” Tony said and opened the fridge. Every ingredient remained untouched.

You didn’t say anything. His look of concern now felt like the world’s most intense spotlight. You sipped the juice, deciding a few ounces wouldn’t do you any harm and the Vitamin C ultimately made the calories worthwhile. 

“So what’s on the menu for tonight anyway? I’m famished and so incredibly curious to learn what someone like Thor considers an acceptable meal.”

Tony shut the fridge and gazed steadily at you.

“Are you? Famished?”

“I—yeah, sure,” you said, uncertain what answer he wanted and growing less sure your eating habits could still slip under his radar. Not that anything ever avoids his notice. 

He started gathering ingredients and various pans from the cabinets.

“And not that I don’t appreciate the chance visit, but why drop in today? We haven’t talked in...”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Where were you when... that... all happened?” he asked.

You knew he was talking about the bizarre invasion that destroyed the city beyond anything you’d ever seen. Like many others, you lost your family that day. You still weren’t used to spending their birthdays mourning instead of celebrating. 

You shared your experience of that day with Tony as he cooked up a Mediterranean dish and disclosed his own trauma of that day to you. You were shocked to learn he was still recovering from the effects, and his concerns were only mounting. 

“New York will never be safe again, will it?” you said quietly.

“Hey,” Tony stopped stirring and held your face gently. “New York is protected as long as we’re around.”

He returned to stirring the sauce. “We can’t save everyone all the time, but helping even one person is always worthwhile.” He pointed the wooden spoon at you. 

“Today that person is you.”

You sniffed--pretending you were interested in smelling food instead of fighting back tears--and stuck your tongue out to lick the spoon. It was warm and savory. For once, your mouth didn’t feel like cotton and recoil at the taste of sustenance. Maybe you could stomach this tonight. And maybe another meal after that. 

Tony also tasted the spoon, nodded, and set it on the counter. 

“I think it’s time we assembled for dinner,” he said. 

- - - - - -

As dinner was served, you and Natasha excitedly caught up on recent developments in your lives--hers far more action-packed than yours--but she was just as genuinely interested in listening to you ramble about faculty drama and unruly students. 

The new guy introduced himself to you and attempted to crack jokes as often as possible throughout the evening. He grew on you.

Thor ate three platefuls of whatever Tony had concocted--you still weren’t positive what the vegetable-heavy dish was called, but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t really matter.

And you were able to eat several forkfuls of food without resistance. You shrugged your sweater off and hung it on the back of your chair, accepting a cocktail from Tony as he brought a tray of them back to the table, stealing glances at you all the while and smiling to himself. 

Although dining with the Avengers was only the first step back to engaging in your regular diet, you felt better knowing you didn’t have to walk that path alone as long as you had Tony Stark by your side. And you never knew him to be a man who abandons a friend in need. 

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Just one more before bed? Click here for a masterlist of my fics!

[todobaku-shoukat]

The Heir that was Switched at Birth (12/?)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906280/chapters/46104646

Bakugou is irritated. It is a two-hour flight, but Bakugou feels like it may as well have been twenty hours. Because fucking Shiori has been talking nonstop. However, it appears as if Bakugou is the only one irritated. Todoroki is definitely annoyed as well, but his face always remained stoic, making his annoyance unapparent. For Sugaru, since it is not yet time to break off pretences, he also has to hide his irritation. As for the other crew members, they are practically enamoured by Shiroi’s façade. To everyone else who did not know him, Shiroi is a social butterfly, cute, easy to talk to, humorous, humble, sweet, a breath of fresh air in this polluted environment. Basically, they can use anything positive to describe Shiroi. Because to them, Shiroi is like a breath of fresh air in this polluted environment. They know from experience that those in the entertainment industry, those born to extremely wealthy families, and those wealthy businessmen, not many are clean and pure as you have to learn to be some level of malicious and cruel to survive. Hence, they do not think that Shiroi is merely acting.

 For Bakugou, Todoroki and Sugaru who did know Shiroi, they only felt disgusted. Bakugou’s not known for his tolerance towards people he didn’t like. However, because they are in public, Bakugou cannot do anything about Shiroi, like punch that disgustingly fake smile off the face that bared such uncanny resemblance to his own. While there shouldn’t be any cameras currently rolling, one can never be so sure. Furthermore, any random person may happen to see this and spread it through word-of-mouth. It would be extremely messy, given his complicated relationship with Shiroi and his past scandals related to this. Hence, Bakugou has no other choice but to grind his teeth down into a grim smile.

 Todoroki, who is seating beside Bakugou, notices his discomfort. Unabashed, Todoroki grabs Bakugou’s hand, using his thumb to rub soothing circles into the latter’s skin. This always seemed to calm Bakugou down, the blonde returning Todoroki’s grip.

 “Ah! Is Mr Bakugou and Mr Todoroki…” Sakura says excitedly, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Bakugou and Todoroki’s open actions.

 “Yes,” Todoroki says proudly, a smile finally appearing on his face. “We’re engaged. But it’s still a secret so I hope you all do not share this information.”

 Still haven’t agreed, Bakugou thinks in his head but does not deny. After all, they have both previously agreed that it is best to admit to the crew that they are in a relationship so that other people, cough Shiroi cough, would know not to try approaching Todoroki. This is especially since there are going to be pairing arrangements for later activities. For the sake of the protagonists, the story was set in a world where gay marriage was never illegal. Hence, Todoroki’s announcement is met with heartfelt congratulations and vehement promises to not spread the information. Of course, nobody but Sugaru sees Shiroi clenching his fist at that, the former laughing to himself over the latter’s shameless sense of superiority. How did Shiroi ever think that he can defeat Bakugou, Sugaru did not know. He can only guess that the youth is delusional.

 “Sigh… All the good men are all taken by other good men.” Yumi jokes, sighing dramatically. “Tell me, Shiroi and Sugaru. Y’all are still single, right?”

 “Hey! What about me and Hiro?” Jun protests with mock anger.

 “Hahaha! Hiro’s too young. Besides, I do not want to be killed by his fans!” Yumi laughs. “As for you, Jun, you’re my best bro!”

 “Gasp! Have I been bro-zoned?” Jun replies fist clenched over his heart with mock disappointment.

 “There there, Jun. There are other fishes in the ocean. Now let’s not digress from the question at hand. Shiroi! Sugaru! What’s your answer?”

 “I’m still single,” Shiroi replies, face flushed.

 “Aww… Are you shy?” Yumi jokes, thinking that Shiroi is a young and pure boy who has never been in a relationship.

 According to the original story, after story Bakugou dies, Sugaru and Shiroi were meant to publicise their relationship. However, thanks to the butterfly effects of Bakugou surviving, they ended up keeping their relationship in the dark. To the public, they are still one of the most attractive bachelors in the country. Hence, they do not deny being single. After all, Shiroi still had plans of seducing Todoroki while Sugaru is planning to break this relationship sometime soon.

 --

 After the conversation about their relationship status, there is a clear change in the other celebrities’ attitude, particularly Yumi and Hiro. Although they already treated Sugaru and Shiroi nicely, it is clear that they are trying their best to please the two, probably hoping to get either one of them to be their sugar daddy or something. In the entertainment industry, such relationships were unspoken rules. If you didn’t have a strong family background, get recruited into a strong and good entertainment company or have an “investor” (read: sugar daddy) behind you, it is extremely difficult to succeed in the industry. Everyone was a competitor, fighting for the same roles or jobs. If you offended anyone or if you blocked someone else’s path to success because of your similar public image, you may easily be suppressed. Rumours of things you did not do can spread like wildfire and the next thing you know, the public only remembers your scandals, sending hate comments and shouting for you to leave the entertainment industry. Bakugou understood this. After all, he is both a celebrity and the owner of an entertainment company. Hence, he is not surprised that the other celebrities (Yumi and Hiro, specifically) on this reality show would try to get Sugaru and Shiroi to be their sugar daddy. At least they were tactful enough to know not to try to get between him and Todoroki. As for Jun and Sakura, they have worked in the industry long enough to have enough popularity and social standing.

 Nonetheless, Bakugou still thinks that they are all stupid. If he had known how dumb these dipshits were, he wouldn’t have chosen to have them participate in the show just because of their popularity and public image. It isn’t about their enthusiasm towards Shiroi and Sugaru, but rather the way they are secretly against him. Bakugou knows it is because they are jealous, thinking that he got his popularity due to his family background before, and now because of his relationship with Todoroki. They think that he has it easy, not having to betray himself to survive in the jungle that is the entertainment industry. Bakugou isn’t new to this because he and Todoroki had to face these type of people in the real world.

 In their real world, many pro-heroes were secretly against Todoroki, thinking that he shot up the pro-hero rankings due to him being the son of Endeavour. At first, many pro-heroes tried sucking up to Todoroki, flattering him and trying to befriend Todoroki. However, Todoroki wasn’t good at this whole “friends” thing. Or well, he wasn’t good at relationships in general. Due to his strict and harsh upbringing, Todoroki never had friends until Midoriya and then the rest of Class A. He always has a poker face on and could be rather oblivious at times, so it took time to understand and befriend him. However, since these pro-heroes were only interested in his family connections and not Todoroki himself, they did not have much patience for Todoroki, automatically taking his stoic and serious face as being stuck-up and arrogant. After that, many pro-heroes began to ostracise Todoroki. Largely in private, of course. But in public, they would phrase words in ways that degraded Todoroki all whilst not showing their intention to do so. Because Bakugou (and the rest of Class A and some other genuinely nice pro-heroes) managed to befriend Todoroki and stick beside him, many of these jealous pro-heroes also started to being against Bakugou too. They all thought that Bakugou was like them, befriending Todoroki only for his family connections. And since Bakugou succeeded while they didn’t, they were jealous and began hating both Bakugou and Todoroki. Hence, Bakugou could tell that these celebrities they are on this trip with also saw him as a “gold-digger” who is only with Todoroki for his money. And it is precisely because people might think of him this way that Bakugou and Todoroki’s relationship is kept a secret. After all, being labelled a “gold-digger” will only hinder his efforts to completely change his public image.

 And the reason why Bakugou thinks that the other celebrities here are idiots is because they should know better. Even though he is no longer the heir of the Bakugou corporation and they do not know that he is actually their boss who employed them for this reality show, they should know not to insult the fiancé of the most powerful man in the country. (Bakugou completely does not care that he has yet to agree). Perhaps, Bakugou thinks, they don’t believe that he and Todoroki will last long. But whatever the reason, Bakugou regrets his life.

 After finally getting off the plane, the cameras started rolling again and Yumi asks Bakugou to help her with her luggage. Bakugou is bewildered by this. And the only reason Yumi can give is that her luggage is too heavy for her and that she cannot ask the rich and powerful CEOs to help her. She also couldn’t ask Hiro to help, or his fans would kill her. As for Jun, since he is the host, he needed his hands free. Hence, Bakugou has no other choice but to agree. Of course, Todoroki volunteers to help him, but Bakugou only waves his hand in rejection. Now that Yumi said that she cannot ask “rich and powerful CEOs” to help her, Bakugou cannot either or haters will grab onto this point and go wild.

 Then, when they went to have lunch at a pitstop, the other stars quickly seated and grabbed the menu. And somehow, they managed to do so such that Bakugou is squeezed off in a corner out of the camera’s view and without a menu. While Todoroki is seated beside him, the menu he has is already shared with someone else, making it impossible for Todoroki to pass the menu to Bakugou. However, this is not a problem because Todoroki knows Bakugou well enough to order for him. Over the past few months, Todoroki slowly began eating outside food during their dates, story Todoroki’s fear of being poisoned slowly fading from this Todoroki. Hence, Todoroki knows what Bakugou prefers when eating outside, resolving whatever problem the other celebrities are trying to create for Bakugou.

 As the host, Jun keeps the conversation going as they waited for their meals. However, he never addresses Bakugou. As celebrities, Sakura, Yumi and Hiro had plenty of experience fighting for screentime, contributing the most to the conversation. They will also encourage Shiroi, Sugaru and Todoroki to talk, smoothly passing on the conversation to the CEOs present so it does not appear as if they were purposefully forgetting Bakugou. After all, as a celebrity himself, everyone expects Bakugou to be able to snatch his own screentime. Bakugou knows that this is their way of suppressing him, thinking that by depriving him of screentime, they were winning somehow. However, Bakugou honestly does not care. The food is surprisingly good for a restaurant at a pitstop, and Bakugou is only thinking if he could replicate the flavour.

[less-than-hash]

Holes in the Firmament

Every dev I know has at least one dream game - stuff that they'd love to be able to make some day. The more ambitious these get - the more complex or long - the less likely they are to get made. And in a collaborative medium like games, the more people (and the more money!) involved in a project, the less control any given individual has over it.

This isn't intrinsically bad. (It can also be wildly valuable to a project and rewarding personally.)

But we devs still dream of those games we'd make if we had, say, the resources of a two hundred person studio, the backing of a major publisher, and absolute freedom.

Three of mine are behind the cut.

As a note, none of these reflect upcoming Obsidian projects. Nor are they projects Obsidian would likely ever make. They don't fit the studio's brand. Which is why I'm dreaming about them here, and not pitching them internally. 

So, first up!

A Squad-Based 1st-Person Firefighting Game with a Robust Relationship System and a Branching Narrative

I don't understand why there aren't more games about firefighting - though if I had to guess it's largely because making fire look good in-game is extraordinarily difficult. As is making an environment decay over time (though I suspect there are probably some pretty good, easy solutions for this using dev sleight-of-hand).

There are actually a Iot of interactive sim games about firefighting for training purposes. Much like war and flight, firefighting is something best trained without risking real life and limb.

Firefighting appeals to me as a gameplay space because it's actively protective - it's about limiting destruction and saving lives. But it can very easily be modeled with similar gameplay loops to shooters - ultimately both are about emptying rooms of danger - here it's just with water instead of bullets.

I could be water!

In short, firefighters engage in almost unequivocal good. They're heroic. They’re human. They’re flawed. And they brave dangers every day. But our industry basically ignores them.

Firefighting would give us the opportunity to set games in the modern world with people who, during their off hours, experience much more relatable struggles than your average freedom fighter, super spy, or elite soldier - relationship difficulties, debt, children, and the like.

So what would this game actually look and play like? It would likely be mission-based (calls come in of their own accord, after all), make use of movement and environmental hazards (not unlike a cover-based shooter), and have simple companion-direction mechanics similar to the Mass Effect trilogy or Spec Ops: The Line.

(Alternatively, the action could be dialed down a bit to focus on positioning a la Valkyria Chronicles.)

The gameplay would be focused on keeping your squad alive while saving as many people as possible.

Between missions you hang out at the station, or the bar, or at home - or try to balance all three, a la Catherine. You build relationships, helping your squad perform better together. You never recruit anyone, but your companions, your fellow firefighters, can die in missions, altering the narrative in both tone and content.

tl;dr: Mass Effect 2 meets Rescue Me with some dashes of Catherine

Next!

Narrative-Focused Urban Fantasy RPG/Immersive Sim

How does this not exist yet? Where's our Dresden Files or Hellblazer inspired RPGs? Or even The Magicians or Harry Potter, for that matter?

Where my Chilling Adventures of Sabrina RPG?

There's Vampire: The Masquerade: Bloodlines, which, while fantastic, is 13 years old.

While I'm looking forward to Necrobarista, that seems like a pretty tight, focused experience.

We've plenty of games with magicians in fantasy realms or in space - AKA BioWare's entire oeuvre - but few in the AAA space set in the modern world.

Unless you count superhero magicians.

Wait. Did Dr. Strange even get a game? Google suggests no. What’s going on here, videogame industry? Why won’t you suffer a witch to live?!

Honestly, I get to an extent why this is. There's a reason there've been Vampire: The Masquerade and Werewolf: The Apocalypse games, but no Mage games, either for Ascension or Awakening. Magic is broad, and often (especially in games) wildly destructive, which can be at odds with a modern setting (or rather what makes a modern setting interesting).

Art by Jason Chan, from Reign of the Exarchs by White Wolf.

But it doesn't have to be.

The flexibility of magic actually allows for a lot of different gameplay styles. You can do straight up first-person action like The Darkness or stealth survival like Last of Us. If I were to adapt Phonogram, a comic I love deeply, you can bet your ass there'd be beatmatch spellcasting.

A lot of gameplay mechanics we take for granted are actually damned-near magical. 

Maps that point you where to go and tell you where your enemies are? 

Dropping from a second story window without difficulty? 

Regenerating health? 

Items that make you smarter, stronger, or more likable? 

Bullet time? 

Rewinding to an earlier point in time to avoid death or a bad decision? 

So that's another question a developer has to answer: if magic comes in so many shades, what color is yours? What are you hoping to accomplish?

For me, the presence of magic in the modern world demands a layer of secrecy that implies other layers of secrets. A modern world in which magic functions immediately deepens. What else lurks out there? Where are the other magicians? How are they using their abilities?

Additionally, magic is surreal. Bend and twist reality, and you're forced to look at it from new angles. If you can tweak people's emotional responses to you, how do you know the relationships around you are real? 

And that's before you realize your dreams literally might come true - especially the nightmares. Is the face in the mirror a reflection, or something sinister and jealous? Is the ghost haunting you your literal past reaching out to reclaim you?

My dream modern magician game is an open-world immersive sim in an urban setting. Drop Prey, Dishonored, or BioShock style gameplay into a sprawling city filled with physics objects ripe for transmutation and NPCs waiting to be enchanted. Add an otherworld accessed by stepping through mirrors (the entire map within is reversed).

It's about what power can accomplish, what justifies its use, and what its limits are.

Populate the world with a few powerful magician NPCs with their own agendas; dozens of NPCs to chat up, learn more about, seduce, and manipulate; and a threat that could consume reality's very soul if someone doesn't step up to deal with it. Shake. Serve.

tl;dr: Dishonored meets Vampyr by way of Hellblazer and Hellboy

And finally!

Friendship Simulator 2019

My favorite parts of the Persona games and Catherine are the things outside of the core gameplay loops. The bits where you're hanging out with your friends, chatting with them, finding out more about them, and guiding and supporting them (or tearing them down).

Or hiding in the toilet to text your significant other.

One of the things I love about Persona 5: Dancing Star Night in Starlight is that the narrative is almost solely in this mode. It's entirely about learning more about your fellow Phantom Thieves.

Lest you think I uncritically and unabashedly love it, P5D has some major narrative problems - it entirely fails to pay off its initial premise, for example, and there's no persistence to the player choices or (player-driven) reactivity within the narrative.

Nor does the way the player "progresses" the narrative make a tremendous amount of sense within the fiction of the world.

Sorry I got distracted.

Point is, from a narrative perspective it's a game about getting to know people better - literally exploring their lives - and then supporting (or undermining, if you're terrible) them.

Similarly, nothing the player says in Persona (or, for the most part, Catherine) has any impact on the game. The player might progress a Social Link more slowly by being an ass to the protagonists' friends, but they'll still increase that Link over time, provided they put time into it.

And I don't want to be dismissive here. Time management is one of the major ways in which the player engages with the Persona games. Outside of combat and maybe monster-training, it's probably the most important mechanic at play. Taking longer to max out a Social Link means you're missing other content and missing opportunities to increase your stats. Or maybe the Social Link doesn't get completed at all. (Sorry, Haru.) Or maybe you’re not powerful enough to overcome the next Shadow in time and your game ends. Those are non-trivial consequences.

But the story of the Social Link, or the story of the game, will never change based on (the vast majority of) the player's interactions with their buddies.

Despite that, the games give the player a lot of freedom as to when (or whether!) they approach those relationships.

On the other end of the spectrum, Life is Strange (and Before the Storm) does a fantastic job of letting the player get to know the characters around Max (and Chloe) and responding logically to the player's choices.

The kid who has a crush on Max (Warren, I think?) remembers what the player promises him and then responds to whether or not the player follows through on it.

If Chloe plays A Game That Absolutely Involves Neither Dungeons Nor Dragons with her friends, they'll refer to it excitedly later and ask her to join in another round.

The TellTale games are also pretty good at this, especially Wolf Among Us, but that'll take me a bit far afield.

What Life is Strange does not provide the player is any control at all over the flow of the narrative. When the player completes a narrative beat within a scene, they're rushed along to the next scene, which is never one of their choosing. There's plenty of flexibility within the relationships (and within many of the smaller subplots), but little within the game's larger structure.

Ultimately, Persona provides little variability, while Life is Strange provides little narrative control.

I want to make a game that grabs the strong aspects of both of these while jettisoning their weaknesses.

(Far, far easier written than done!)

Basically, I want to make a game focused on the exploration of relationships. Where the personalities are the mysteries to unravel, and the interpersonal relationships between characters the dungeons to be navigated. Where the inner demons are the beasts in need of slaying - not through mystically entering the subconscious and doing battle with the Shadow, but through conversation.

I want a game about building a community, a family, and helping it come to support itself.

I think that one essential change that would make this significantly more doable is discarding the larger threats to the characters, especially those supernatural in nature. The relationships among the cast of Persona 4 are propping for the story of the Midnight Channel Murders. Arcadia Bay's pending apocalypse distracts from the relationships that seem to be the actual core story of Life is Strange.

(I find Before the Storm a stronger narrative than the original Life is Strange in large part because it's not being torn in multiple directions.)

Which isn't to say that there can't be threats, obstacles, and dangers. The world presents all manner of difficulties. Most of them requiring far more challenging and interesting solutions than "stick a sword in it."

That's a lot of abstraction, so what would this game actually look and play like?

Well, as I mentioned above, I think the Persona games, esp. Persona 4 Golden and Persona 5 already do a fantastic job of providing the player the framework for exploring a space and approaching relationships at their own pace.

Add into this characters that the player can engage with in order to learn more about them (not unlike Vampyr), help with their problems, and build (or break!) relationships with them or others, and you have something of an open-world interpersonal relationship game. 

The narrative of these relationships would change based on the player's actions (both in regard to how they interact with the character and how they deal with (or fail to deal with) the character's problems). So would the player's reputation, which impacts their interactions with other characters.

(The reputation system is actually one of my favorite ideas in Pillars, but I think we sometimes fail to use it to its full potential. I certainly know I do.)

Side note: in this dream game, the relationships I'm describing are not expressed in a systemic way. They're not ranked like Social Links, and they don't have reputation bars like in Dragon Age or Tyranny. It's much more akin to Life is Strange here, with each character containing their own narrative(s) to be navigated.

Over time, you bring some of these characters closer to your protagonist, recruiting a tight-knit circle that helps you face the game's primary conflict. These relationships bounce off of one another. You can never make everyone happy, after all, and some people will never get along. Late game play requires that the player balance these relationships and help forge friendships or avoid catastrophic fallings out.

Yeah, but what is that primary conflict? 

Potentially anything the world could throw at a person. A lot of television shows have provided us a framework we can borrow from. Veronica Mars comes immediately to mind. (Or one of my favorite films, Brick.) Then there's Lost, which is overtly about building communities and relationships in order to survive. The Wire is another possibility. (Imagine playing as a Stringer Bell type trying to build a crew while maintaining relationships with rival crews.)

My point being that we already know what these kinds of stories look like. We just have to be brave enough to make a game that's focused around understanding other people rather than shooting them.

tl;dr: Life is Strange meets Persona, minus the strange and the personas

And that’s three glimpses into my brain. Into my dreams.

You may have noticed a few through lines. I'm pretty clearly interested in making games:

Set in the modern day

That tackle modern, realistic (and I use that term extremely loosely) concerns

That are largely non-violent

With non-linear narratives

That involve exploring the lives and feelings of non-player characters

And give those interpersonal relationships systemic narrative bite

Obviously, the projects I've been involved in recently don't check off every one of those boxes on my wishlist. That's generally how it is, if you're making games with other people.

But if you're very, very lucky, you get the opportunity to work on projects that scratch at least one or two of those itches.

I've been very, very lucky.

Cheers, <3 <3 <#

[killian-whump]

Just a little Hooked Queen tale, based on the looks exchanged during the coronation and the fact that anything could’ve happened in the “Some Time Later...” interim and none of you can tell me this didn’t happen... ;)

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Purple,” Regina answered. This certainly wasn’t the kind of pillow talk she generally expected from her version of Hook. “You should know that.”

“Aye, I do, but what sort of purple? Light purple? Dark purple...?”

“You’re sure full of questions tonight. What gives?”

“Can’t a man be interested in the woman he fancies?”

There was the flirtatious pirate she was used to seeing after sex. “Ah, so you ‘fancy’ me now, is that it?”

“Always have,” he said simply, and the confession gave her butterflies in her stomach. “And you do realize I’m far too old - in experience, mind you, no longer in appearance - to bother with pithy flings, don’t you?”

“I’d suspected as much,” Regina said honestly. “But it’s nice to hear it, anyway.”

Hook’s lower jaw jutted out a little, and his eyebrows took on that playful lilt she’d come to learn was his way of deflecting his insecurity with humor. “And, ah... what about yourself, your majesty?”

She grinned. “I’m not a queen anymore, Killian. You don’t have to call me that.” She said this to him at least three times a week, but it never stopped him from calling her that.

“Ahh. Right. Well...” Perhaps the other Hook would’ve been scratching behind his ear at this point, revealing his discomfort, but little more. Her Hook, however, wore his heart on his sleeve - and she could clearly see his disappointment at what he took as a purposeful evasion of his question.

“Hey,” she said. “This isn’t a fling for me, either.”

And like the sun coming out after a summer rain storm, his face lit up right before her very eyes, his smile infectiously bringing a matching one to Regina’s own face.

“You know,” she commented. “I used to like dark purple. It was intense, deep... mysterious. But I find I’ve started liking brighter things now. Lighter things. They’re more transparent, more honest. Pure.”

“So... Light purple, then?”

“Yeah. Light purple.”

“I cannot believe the sheer size of the engagement ring Alice has picked out. It’s a wonder she’s able to lift her hand at all, I tell you.”

“Some women like big stones,” Regina said with a shrug. “Some don’t.”

“Do you prefer large stones?” Hook asked. “Or smaller ones?”

“I like a nice mix of the two,” she answered. “Big and small, so long as they’re tasteful. Why the sudden interest? You’ve seen my jewelry collection.”

“Aye, but don’t the larger stones get heavy sometimes? The tiaras some royals wear are insane. I’d think they’d give you a headache.”

“Surprisingly, they’re not that heavy - and for ceremonial crowns, the weight doesn’t really matter, since they’re only worn at formal events. And believe me, for those, you want to go all out on the bling.” She smirked. “And you should know all about that, Captain.”

“I’m certain I don’t know what you mean, your majesty.”

“Oh, only that you’ve probably got hoards of treasure all over the realms.”

Hook feigned offense. “You make me sound like a dragon, love.”

Regina lifted an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you’re not one?”

“Quite sure, though my prowess between the sheets has certainly confused quite a few lovely lasses, I must say...”

“It better not be confusing anyone besides me these days,” Regina threatened.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love. You’re all the woman I could handle.”

She smacked him playfully. “You’re supposed to tell me I’m all the woman you could want.”

“That goes without saying, but there’s only so many fireballs a man can dodge at once, so the other point seems to be the more pertinent one to make.”

“You should move in,” Regina stated. It wasn’t at all how she’d planned to ask him. She’d planned on something more eloquent, more dignified. But words had a funny way of spilling out when they were all that was on one’s mind.

“I should what?”

“Move in. Here. With me. It’s a big enough place - a little too big, really, with Henry not here. You could have your own room, if you wanted. And then you wouldn’t have to be living on the other you’s boat... and let’s be honest, you’re here almost every night as it is.”

“It’s a ship, love.”

“I don’t care if it’s the Jolly friggin’ Roger, it’s still a boat and it doesn’t stay still for one second.” Really, she didn’t like going on it one bit, especially in heels - and she owned hardly anything else.

“It is the Jolly friggin’ Roger,” Hook reminded her.

“Whatever. You should still have a home on land, pirate.”

“With you?”

“Yes. With me.”

“Sold.”

“And just where are you off to so early this morning?”

Hook froze in the middle of pulling his pants on, giving her a comical view of him standing on one leg with his ass pointed at her and his boxer briefs on full display. “Ahh... Nowhere in particular. Breakfast with Alice. And Robin. No one else.” Finally, he stepped into the pants he was holding.

For a sneaky pirate with centuries of experience, he wasn’t very good at sneaking. Still, Regina trusted him. If whatever he was hiding was important, he wouldn’t be hiding it. “No one else, huh?” she asked, unable to resist teasing him a little.

“Well, I’m certain there will be other patrons at Granny’s...”

“Maybe I should join you.”

“Ah, no. You’ve only just awoken, and I’m already running late. I’d hate to keep them waiting...”

Yeah, he was definitely up to something. Usually, he never minded making people wait if it meant her joining him somewhere. “You’re right,” she said, deciding to let him off the hook for now. “Besides, it’s godawfully early. Must be something in her pirate blood for Alice to even agree to meet you this early.” She stretched and rolled over in the bed. “Have fun, and try to come back before your side of the bed gets too cold.”

“Aye, your majesty,” he said fondly.

“I keep telling you, I’m not a queen any more...”

He surprised her by appearing on her side of the bed and leaning over to kiss her forehead. “Aye, my love... but you’ll always be a queen to me.”

“Did you get it, lad?” Hook asked excitedly as Henry rode up on his horse.

Alice and Robin looked up from their breakfast platters, not quite as invested in Henry’s mission as Hook was, but still curious.

“Yeah. Diamonds and pale amethysts, large and small stones, lots of glitz and glamour, but light on weight, just like you specified.” He pulled the crown out of the box he held and showed it to the trio. “Pretty nice, if I do say so myself.”

“It’s beautiful!” Alice exclaimed, her eyes as wide as saucers. Her taste in engagement rings had left no question about the fact that she enjoyed a nice big glittery stone or two. Or three. Or more.

“Settle down there, Tower Girl,” Robin said with a laugh. “There’s no way I could afford one of those in a million years.”

“Think she’ll like it?” Henry asked Hook.

Hook nodded. “I think she’ll love it.”

“What’s the suit for?”

Hook looked up from the book he was reading in their bed and tried to put an innocent look on his face. “What suit?”

“The new suit hanging in the closet.”

“There’s a new suit in the closet?”

Regina had to laugh. “Alright, Wise Guy. I know you’re up to something, you know. It’s only a matter of time before I figure out what it is.”

“Aye, but I dearly wish you wouldn’t, love.”

“You know, a lot of people have been ordering custom dresses and suits lately...”

Now he looked at her in surprise. “How the bloody hell do you know that?”

Regina shrugged. “City commerce is important to me. I pay attention to consumer trends and business outlooks.”

Hook grinned in amusement. “Of course you do, love.”

Regina sighed and climbed into the bed they shared. “Is it something I should be worried about?”

“Of course not,” he said seriously. “I would never keep it from you if it were.”

“I know that,” Regina admitted. “I just... I’m not used to not knowing what’s going on in my town. I mean, not that it’s still my town, but it was once, and...”

“I understand,” Hook assured her. “And you’ll know soon enough. I promise. Although in the meantime, you might want to make sure you have a nice dress on hand. Maybe something silver and spectacular? Maybe the slightest blush of lilac?”

“Did you know Snow begged me to go to a custom dress fitting tomorrow?”

“I had no idea, love. Pirate’s honor. Sounds like a fun girls’ day out.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Obviously, you’ve never been to a custom fitting before. It’s a lot of standing around, getting prodded by a stranger, and occasionally being poked with pins.”

“Sounds like the suit fitting I went to for that suit in the closet.”

She stared at him for a moment, then walloped him with her pillow.

She knew, of course, the whole time Zelena had bullied her into the dress Snow had cajoled her into buying and then Henry arrived to drag her all the way to the castle’s ballroom, that this was it. Whatever it was, this was what Hook had been keeping from her for the past few weeks.

As frustrating as it was not knowing what was going on, she knew he’d told her it was nothing to worry about. And she trusted him. She trusted her sons, as well, and her sister. She trusted her step-daughter and her husband. She trusted her family, all of it... and her town.

So she knew, walking into the ballroom and seeing all those people gathered there for whatever-this-was, that it would be okay. Good, even. And when she saw Hook in the crowd, looking handsome in his new suit and wearing a proud smile, she knew he’d told her the truth. He would’ve never hidden it if it had been worrisome. It would never be happening if it wasn’t something good.

And when David opened the box and she saw the beautiful crown nestled inside of it, she immediately knew. The pale purple stones, the tasteful arrangement combining gems of different sizes, all the drama and glamour one could ever want in a ceremonial crown such as this, but still tasteful. She knew the decision to make her queen had been a joint one, but that crown...

She knew who had designed the crown.

Regina turned and looked at him, still a little unsure of this whole thing, of taking on this responsibility, of setting herself up for the judgement and potential vilification this could all lead to. What if it all went wrong, as it had done before? What if-

But he just smiled that knowing smile of his and nodded slightly. She could do it. He knew she could do it. He believed in her, just as all the others did, and she would always be a queen in his eyes.

She knew he was right, of course. She could do it.

And so... she did.

[serpentsangel]

Talk Me Down: Part Six

A/N: So sorry this is delayed, I’m currently away and had an extremely long day today (4:00am to 3:00pm) oof. And I also just haven’t been feeling well in terms of motivation and whatnot so writing was hard-hence why this is a shorter chapter than usual. I hope that once I get back home I can get my muse back. So apologies if this is crap

Plot: With Veronica and Betty taking (Y/N) into their group, a new threat arises and Reggie wonders if he can protect her from it until he can 

Words: 2,277

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five

Part Six

(Y/N) yawns as she slowly gathers books and supplies from her locker and places them in her bag and when she goes to close her locker, she’s almost taken aback by the sudden appearance of Veronica and Betty. “You two scared the living hell out of me.” (Y/N) places a hand over her heart and feels the sudden speed of her beat but she laughs it off and adjusts the falling strap of her bag on her shoulder. “What can I help you with?”

“I wanted to say, I accept your apology.” Betty nudges Veronica. “And I’m sorry for not being the least bit understanding towards your attitude. You clearly have been through enough already and the least I can do is to set aside everything and help you through it.”

(Y/N) smiles softly. “You’re not at fault at all. You were already trying to get me accustomed here but it was I who pushed you away and therefore, I’m sorry but I am glad you are accepting my apology and just hope that from this day on, we can hopefully be friends to a degree. Right now the only person I really know is Reggie and hey, there’s just some things only girls can gossip to each other.” The three of them laugh as (Y/N) reaches her hand out and shakes it with Veronica and Betty.

“We saw Cheryl give you a River Vixens uniform and we would love to have you there.” Betty chirps up. “Your moves are killer and I know you have some of your own views about cheerleading, and we don’t mind that, but it’d be nice to…”

“One try won’t hurt.” (Y/N) pops in, opening her locker again, grabbing the uniform and placing it inside her bag.

“That’s great! We’ll see you at practice.” Betty and Veronica wave at (Y/N) as the two of them walk pass her.

(Y/N) turns back to wave them goodbye too before looking forward just to be scared again, this time by Cheryl. “What is it with people here and sneaking up on others? I feel like I’m going to die of a heart attack before I even graduate.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you and your silly sayings. How’s your mother? Haven’t seen her since the Rosewoods Charity Gala.” Cheryl folds her arms elegantly as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Anyways, I’ve come here to see if you’ve thought about my offer. Especially because my girls and I have been training hard to maybe make it to Nationals, and with your talent by my side, I’m sure you and I can lead them there.”

“My mother is…..fine.” (Y/N) mumbles, not really wanting to bring any of her life from the outside into school, as if it isn’t bad enough already to have to go through, why would she want to bring any of that to the one place she can actually feel safe from her mothers wrath? “And I’m coming for one try, I don’t know if this even a thing I want to stick with.”

Cheryl rolls her eyes playfully. “Being a Vixen will change your life, trust me, it changed mine. And please, I’ve been a vixen for as long as I can remember, I’ve been a dancer for longer and I have to say, your talent is unlike anything I have ever seen. Like I said, we could really use someone like you. Stay if you’d like. It’s like poison, sweetheart, try it once and you can’t turn back.” Cheryl swirls and walks down the hallway before being rejoined by her two minions, leaving (Y/N) to stand there in her own thoughts. Maybe she shouldn’t be so afraid to do an extra activity, if she’s going to eventually reach to the hopes of being a normal student then maybe she needs a constant in her school life, and if studying regularly with Reggie is the constant, then maybe coming here isn’t worth it. The constant of studying and learning with one individual only inflicts too much memories of her homeschooled life under the watchful gaze of her mother. Looking down at the uniform in her bag, (Y/N) shoves it to the lowest point, pushing it aside as she heads down to maths.

The class is already starting to fill up and (Y/N) grumbles as she finds some random seat next to a boy she has yet to learn the name of. As she sits down, the boy pauses conversations with his friends and turns his attention to (Y/N). “Hey, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet. I’m Chuck.” Chuck extends out a hand to which (Y/N) shakes carefully, going to her books and taking out all the required items for the class. “I don’t want you to think I’m one of those students that looks at you like a circus animal, I just want to welcome you into our school. Not everyone in this school is as mean as they make themselves out to be.”

“That’s somewhat comforting but so far, I’ve only met three decently nice people.” (Y/N) states, not looking at Chuck as she opens her text book and turns to the pages that were required for the class. “And I’m sure there are nice people out there but they aren’t anywhere near me.”

“Consider me the fourth decently nice person.” Chuck smiles, turning his body to face the front of the class. “Students can be tough, especially when you’re as notorious as you are but I look past that. I’m pretty sure you can be as normal as everyone else because we’re all human, right?”

(Y/N) shrugs her shoulders. “I guess so but normality is subjective. Everyone experiences it differently and everyone considers it differently. So, however low or high your standards of normality may be, regardless of the fact that we are all ‘human’, I  could be considered insane and not anywhere near to being normal. You take the pick.” Through class, the two made small talk here and there, mainly just (y/N) feeling not to bothered for that much social interaction so early in the morning. It was towards the end that they realized they also shared a class afterwards and while (y/N) took time to make sure she gathered everything, Chuck waited patiently before the two of them headed out to their next class.

“So, I’m not sure what your interests are but I’m holding a party this week with a few friends and I want to invite you over. Introduce you to some of my pals, show them that you’re just a regular high school student. It’s nothing too serious, not too big, not too crazy, just a couple of friends getting together away from the stress of school.” The two of them walk side by side, trying to avoid bumping into any of the other rushing students.

(Y/N) thinks for a moment to herself. The sound of a party peaking her interest but also the sound of it is horrendous. In her mind, all parties included the same thing, booze, mindless drink games and a hook up, not something she really wants to engage in when people still believe her to be a cannibal and or a spy but then again, if she’s going to try and change peoples minds about her then maybe this isn’t as bad as she is making it out to be. “I’ll think about it. I’ve got a study session with Reggie this Saturday but if it’s Sunday or Friday, I can probably make it but don’t hold me to my words, yet.”

“I won’t.”

**** A new day. New opportunities. New chances. As happy as (Y/N) is that Veronica and Betty accepted her apology, and that she’s met at least one more guy that isn’t Reggie, the horror of lunch time still haunts her as she wonders if she’s high enough in anyones social blade to warrant her the pass to sit with them. It hurts more when you know them and have spoken but you still are enough of a stranger to not be on their table and for the first time in her life, (Y/N) felt the pain of lack of friendship. Just as she is getting ready to sit alone at her usual table, she hears Veronica call her out. (Y/N) looks up and sees her waving her over. (Y/N)’s brain suddenly goes into overdrive as she’s given the window of opportunity but hesitates on acting on it.

Eventually she takes her tray and walks towards the table, not able to shake off the feeling of the entire room staring at her as she sits down next to Betty. “Welcome, (Y/N). I’d like to introduce you to everyone. This is Kevin. You know Veronica, next to her is Archie and I’d introduce you to Jughead but he’s moved schools and is only around here sometimes.” Betty excitedly welcomes (Y/N), who says hello to all the new faces she hasn’t had the chance to meet yet. “So, how are you finding Riverdale High so far?”

“It’s not what I expected to be honest.” (Y/N) pauses to take a bite out of her sandwich as she wipes the corners of her lips of sauce. “I mean, it’s better than being homeschooled because then I can at least do things that any other old teen would do. It’s nice to get out and whatnot. Also, to have activities that aren’t just tending the garden or feeding my mothers pets.” (Y/N) laughs.

“We’re here to make sure that you are given the best high school experience, ever. Betty and I can take you to Vixen’s practice each time, that is if you choose to stay.” Veronica offers. “Kevin is profound in the arts and is aiming to direct a school play one day and Archiekins here is musically talented. There’s also Josie, who is the Mayors daughter, and has a band of her own but they’re a little bit exclusive to their own. This school is a gold mine for you, just make sure you have a sharp eye.” She sighs. “As much as I adore this school for what it is, not every place is perfect and you get bad apples here and there.”

“Especially Cheryl Blossom.” Kevin chimes in. “She’s a walking Black Widow ready to strike. Don’t be fooled by her cherry red smile, she’ll play you like a friend, then when you least expect it, she’ll find a way to tear you down. Especially you.”

(Y/N) raises an eyebrow as she pushes her tray a little forward. “What about me?”

“Cheryl runs on social power. It’s how she manages to keep roaming the halls like she owns the place.” Betty explains. “If someone poses as a threat to that order, then she’ll see them as a target. A threat. People have been curious about you since you arrived and all the attention is towards you and not to mention the fact that you completely dominated the dance floor that one day at Vixens practice, which I must say, was pretty sick.”

“I just don’t get it.” (Y/N) groans. “Why am I so fascinating? What is so great about a girl who was practically locked up in her home most of her life? Its a lot more depressing than fascinating.”

“It’s because your family is known in Riverdale’s Elite and when you have that social rank but is never seen, it’s going to get people curious and talking and the rumours start.” Kevin states. “And trust me people do talk, half of which is ridiculous if you have any ounce of a sensible brain.”

“Whatever it is, there’s nothing Cheryl can do that can tear me down. I’ve built enough of an exterior, itd be tough to break it down enough for me to be a social mess. And besides, how bad can she get?”

**** At the end of school, Veronica and Betty waited for (Y/N) as she tried on the Vixens uniform, once she manages to get it on, she walks out and both girls look at her happily. “You look like a natural, my friend. Now, are you ready to rock it out there?” (Y/N) nods as she follows the girls to the outside field, right by where the football team were practicing. Cheryl is still busy setting up as (y/N) joins one of the other Vixens in stretching.

In the distance, Reggie approaches the field with his helmet, seeing Chuck wave over at someone with a big smile on his face. Curious, Reggie follows the direction and sees him waving at (Y/N) and he couldn’t tell what shocked him more, the fact that (Y/N) is in a Vixen’s uniform even after she said she wasn’t going to, or the fact that he just spotted Chuck creepily waving at her and (Y/N) acknowledging him back. “Whatever it is that you’re planning to do, you better get the idea out of your head, Chuck or I will ruin you.”

Chuck scoffs. “Please, not all of us are sleaze’s Reg. She’s coming to my party.” He smirks. “Try to stop me then.” He places his helmet on as he runs off to join his mates, Reggie clutching his helmet tightly as he looks back at (Y/N) staring at her momentarily before sighing, the least he can do is protect her from the other dirt that threatens the wound, at least until he’s the one to open it.

TAGLIST: @serpent-squad @daddyxpea @notanotherfangirl @superhalsteads @abbigail-583 @static-heart-break @thesouthside-princess @idontknowhatiwant168393 @djdre92 @maryosprinkle @jimmys-afterlife-love @sarasmismyonlydefence@ccshbh @sweetpeaprompts @fantasiasvt @flannels-and-fire @xeniarocks​

Want to be added to the taglist? Just message me and I’ll add you into the next chapter!

[headfilledwithsmoke]

Expectations vs. Reality

I am currently sat watching the sun set at the end of a beer garden looking over a beautiful landscape of a river, fields and trees. It’s actually rather indescribable how calming this environment is, with only the gentle babble of a brook, the faint giggles of children past their bedtime and the quiet hum of birds signalling it’s probably close to being time for their companion’s bedtimes.

For some reason, maybe the events of the past few days, weeks, months or years I thought about writing about the unexplainable phenomenon of expectations and reality.

Now, some of you may be wondering what I’m talking about, thinking ‘My reality is fantastic, it lives up to all of my expectations and exceeds them!’. To you, I say you’re in the fortunate few. Others may say ‘My reality is exactly is exactly what I expected!’. To you, I’d say you’re lucky. A fair amount of people will probably say ‘well, reality doesn’t quite match my expectations, but that’s fine because my reality is a-okay!’. I wish I was you.

Unfortunately I am in the final of these (self identified) categories whereby I am constantly faced with reality never reaching my lofty expectations. To those of you who share this sentiment - I feel you.

I don’t think I ever considered this as a concept until I watched (arguably my favourite movie) (500) Days of Summer. For those who haven’t seen it, I will summarise in only one of the narrated opening lines of the film ‘now I must warn you up front, this is NOT a love story’. Foolishly, being the emotional sod that I am, I watched it. I will admit Ioved it, embraced it, sang along (eventually - great soundtrack!) with it. My mum even bought me a t-shirt of it with 499 hearts on and the 500th broken. With said description of the t-shirt, as you may expect, this ‘NOT a love story’ didn’t leave me feeling my best, as worst of all, I empathised with it. 

Now, people who know me may already have identified me as an emotionally charged, heart on my sleeve, go all in on it all kind of guy. I am also an over-thinker. This leads me to feeling every emotion that goes through the character Tom Hansen’s mind as Summer Finn gives him (possibly unknowingly) false hope. It all starts when, months after breaking up, Tom and Summer end up going to the same wedding and meet on the train to the venue. They awkwardly start to talk before enjoying one of the most relaxed experiences of the on-screen relationship so far. As they part ways post wedding, Summer invites Tom to a party, and this is where things start to fall apart.

What follows is one of my favourite and heart-wrenching movie scenes of all time. 

The scene starts with Tom excitedly walking the stairs to Summer’s apartment, with the narrator describing Tom’s inner monologue. Tom is excited at the prospect of what the evening could hold, filled with expectations following his experience at the wedding. However as Tom reaches the top floor the screen splits, and the labels ‘expectation’ and ‘reality’ adorn the bottom of each half. As the left hand scene unfolds, we see how the evening would have gone in Tom’s mind, from the thoughtful gift received with love, to her introducing him to all of her friends as a potential architect to their admiration. Sadly, what we see in the right hand of the screen is what actually happens. The lovingly chosen gift received with a friendly tap on the shoulder, him being mocked for his lack of a real career and then even him drinking a cocktail alone, watching from afar as Summer shows friends her engagement ring. As this happens, the left side disappears, as all expectations are thrown out and what’s left is the reality of what has happened.

I love this scene. I think it perfectly encapsulates what happens in life when you are an over-thinker, a sensationalist, a dreamer. I have had this happen to me many times in my life whereby the exceptions of what could be pale and are even in cases the polar opposite to what is the reality. I must admit this occurrence has mostly happened in (unsuccessful) romantic situations. However, as life has gone on and I have ended up in relationships, I have experienced this phenomenon time and time again, and it isn’t to my benefit. I find myself forever expecting something and getting something different. I even wrote a song with the lyrics:

‘And I find each day I wonder what comes next, desperately wanting something, but always getting nothing’

I know this may seem a tad dramatic, but it is how I feel at times. 

And I have realised that ’Tom Hansen’ and I not alone. Dan Mace, one of the most profound YouTube creators I have seen in some time, recently posted a video online where he describes this exact phenomenon. However, I truly believe that Dan finished the concept. In his video he presents that it is not just a competition between the two, it is in fact an equation, where:

I love this concept as it is fundamentally true. My happiness (more often than not) is directly related to my expectation of how something will go against the reality. That is to say, the more I (or anyone) expects of something, the lower the happiness value will be. Vice-versa, the lower the expectations of anything in life, the reality of it is ‘diluted’ less and therefore the happiness experienced is greater. I am endeavouring to take this concept and push it in to my day to day life. Simply put, don’t worry about the things that are coming, don’t put any expectation on them, as this will only serve to lessen the reality and the happiness attained.

The video Dan made is beautiful, as are his others and I thoroughly recommend checking them out. (Link here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-4IdvwVdN8&frags=pl%2Cwn)

Remember, live in the moment, learn from, but don’t dwell on the past, and let the future come as it will.

All will be okay.

[triedmybestyouknow]

This is my official “done with it” sendoff letter.

This is the last thing I ever want to write to you, whether or not you ever see/hear about it.

Mary,

I am sitting here, looking into my phone. Typically, I know exactly what to type here, am totally sure of exactly what I need to get off of my chest so that I can feel like I’ve said my peace. Usually, I have all four rhetorical cylinders engaged. I’m full throttle. Usually I’m all in.

These days, though, as I become more open about my private feelings and become more publicly transparent. I feel a kind of reactive internal backlash against speaking fully my mind and my heart. I have become painfully aware that the emotion of a day or a week or a month (or a minute) may not be ultimately representative of me or how I’m really feeling. My recently espoused confessionalist-style public persona has been an experiment in social bravery and a concerted effort to weed out the people in my life who aren’t doing due diligence as my purported friends. This has been working very well, but that’s not necessarily a happy development. I recognize that sometimes this can even give me the appearance of— well— not being self-aware, and maybe the idea of such social self-immolation seems excessive and necessarily the product of poor judgment to those at the periphery of my life. One way or another, I have to face the fact that I wake up every single day with myself and only myself. I have to accept that these are my thoughts, my feelings and that often, verblizing them can feel very much like stripping down naked in front of a crowd. Holding steadfast in my resolve to demonstratively love the emotional form within myself by making no endeavor to mask it has been a means of tempering my high self-monitoring in the interest of developing relationships in which I feel as though I have real emotional breathing room, where I can be what I see to be my authentic self, so that maybe (just maybe) I can learn to accept and love even the parts of me I think of as impurities.

Wow, that was a long explanation for that.

I am sitting here, still staring at my phone. I am trying to think of how I would want to address you if I knew it was the last time, how I would want to talk to you if I was sure I never would again.

I think I would want to be gentle, despite all my justified anger at you.

No amount of talking will ever properly outline our relationship, its impact upon me, or the damage it ultimately did to me (and why). No amount of talking can create an adequate facsimile of my feelings inside anyone else, and I’m not even 100% sure what they really are.

The ugly thing out of the way first, though. I do not like who you currently are at all. But I think explaining that would be redundant. You have a working memory and a conscience, should you feel motivated to use them. It serves little purpose to wave the things about yourself that you hide from in your face so that you can better resent and deride me. I’ll refrain. But the point must be made: the fact that there is no longer any home here in my life or heart for the current you needs to be communicated, gotten out of the way, before I can keep writing. I want nothing to do with you anymore. Nothing at all.

Okay.

Did that now.

And again I’m sitting here, looking at my phone. Eight years of memories are passing through me. What could I say that could even approach sufficient? I don’t know. I feel like there’s absolutely no way to fit such a seminal, foundational, substantial chunk of my life and emotional development into one letter. I am diminished in the face of such a monumental task. So often it feels like the right thing to say is hanging in the air just above my head. But I can’t seem to catch it.

Rather than swinging with open palms at the air, then, let me instead tell you about me seven months ago editing and cutting hours and hours of footage on my computer. I had decided to make a movie. You know what happens when I get something in my head. It was intended to be an inquiry on love, on why we do it even though it essentially guarantees our eventual misery when we are severed from the object of our love.

I ran around the city, filming location after significant location: my basement, RPL, the stairwell at edgebrook where we first kissed. I endlessly drank coffee and kickstarts. My eyes were chronically red. I slept poor. I ate in huge caloric bursts followed by long fasts. I wrote down ideas for my narration and execution of shots with an intense, passionate fervor. I was creating something dynamic, something compelling. I was creating the largest love letter I’ve ever seen or heard of. I captured old footage of my family from a vhs player, did many interviews. I thought only of making something to externalize my love, to further align myself with the role I had played since before I met you: the hopeless romantic, the soldier of passion, the last bastion of beauty in a barren landscape of what I saw as cynicism touting itself as pragmatism. I was nearly halfway done with a full feature-length film created solely with my cracked up iPhone seven with the dubious battery and a tiny Samsung microphone for narrative purposes only. I resuscitated my very first flip phone and pulled up old footage and messages from you. I wanted to be the miracle worker I had always been, the ace, the impossibly deniable force, the magic boy who could always and had always won you over with his unbelievable dedication to whatever it was he believed in, my legs shaking as I insisted on getting up off the canvas floor of the boxing ring one more time to prove to the world, through sheer grit, that love wins, that one voice can drown out a fucking hurricane if it tries hard enough.

You know what I’ve been thinking about a lot? That phrase “when does a collection of sticks turn into a pile?”

I don’t know when. And I don’t know when this romantic interplay of you telling me no and me just believing a little harder to endear you to me a little further turned into you exploiting my love and using me for momentary sexual satisfaction or comfort at an emotional expense to me so deep that I was never able to talk about it... But I said this letter wouldn’t be about that...

I’m so used to knowing: knowing what to say, knowing things other people don’t, knowing what’s right, knowing how to make something right. I think I always knew that I would eventually be at capacity, but looking back my capacity was so large. I forgave you so many times over in my heart. And that’s because, wow, did we ever have a story. All those years are a blur to me these days, with so many special and unique highlights. You were the first piece of what I can only accurately describe as “bliss” I encountered in my life. The limerence and the explosions of discovery of oneself within another, those moments were potent and poignant. I still have such a clear memory of me laughing at myself in the mirror feeling young and attractive and loved as I waited excitedly for you to come over for the very first time. That was my very first significant life victory and it stood to me as proof that my modality of living was the right one. Loving hard and working hard and believing hard and manifesting my reality every single day was going to be the mechanism by which I would enrich my whole life. In so many ways, our love made me, Mary. It helped me form my identity. You kept refueling the tank, kept showing me that love was about dedication and you kept filling my life with things to be happy about. I really believed that the feelings I felt about you were you. For whatever reason, it took a few romantic encounters for me to fall in love and my heart landed so hard on you. Everything about you was just another reason to be in love, even the way you moved could stir within me such an outpouring of attraction and appreciation. This revelatory feeling sustained me for years. Doing drugs had made me reimagine my view of the world, but romantic congress with you made me reimagine myself, my capacity to feel something, suddenly there was music inside me everywhere, fireworks exploding within me. I externalized all this energy and that was my art. Even pieces that had nothing to do with you were fueled by what you had given me, be it motivation to get you or the joie de vivre having you created for me.

Again, I could go into a lengthy anamesis of all the different significant moments between us, but you know them. I am only talking about you, the force, you, the space in my life and mind. You were oxygen, you were gasoline, Mary. It is so strange to me, then, that the coda of our relationship was marked by behaviors that some might go so far as to color emotionally abusive.

I am sitting here, looking into my phone.

I am sitting here, staring into your face.

And in it I see myself.

I see myself discovering that the world could be meaningful and exciting beyond the expectations that had been propped up for me by my parents and teachers. I see myself figuring out that sometimes emotions are physical feelings. I see my preserverance. I see my idealism. I see my capacity to experience joy. I see myself here on this couch wondering if I could have done a better job, wondering if it’s okay to allow my fatigue with writing this letter to take over now, if it’s okay to close this chapter on these words knowing full well nothing would really feel sufficient, and just like when I had the realization I had while working on my film, deciding to no longer push myself because sometimes a person is no longer worthy of your effort. I see me in you. I see myself growing into you, through you, and, now, out of you.

In the letter to me that you wrote at Kairos, your eighteen-year-old fingers actually scrawled out the words: “the best days of my life are the days I believe you love me as much as I love you.” But, Mary, that’s never been true. The truth is, I loved you so much more than you could ever love anyone, at least as you are. For everything you gave me: the meaning, the drive, the focus, the laughter, the happiness, the depth of feeling, and of course the love, whether it was illusory or not, whether a contrivance or not, I thank you sincerely and wholeheartedly. Thank you for the support and the insight throughout those years, too. Thank you for everything you chose to share with me. Thank you for entwining your life with mine for such a long time.

Go be a better person. I’m gonna try, too. I don’t know why we love, for the record. I just know I couldn’t avoid it.

I knew I’d feel like this wasn’t enough,

but it’s not worth it to me anymore.

Goodbye, Mary.