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ruershrimo · 1 year ago

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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 3: motion

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chapter synopsis:

'You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine.'

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Fushiguro Tsumiki is amazing and she's changed the trajectory of your life. You decide to hope you can do the same for others.

Fushiguro Megumi is someone you meet again after six years, only for the two of you to have become so very different since then.

Itadori Yuji is, well, a fun guy to hang out with. That's all you know for now.

word count: ~10k (this chapter was hell to edit on tumblr); tws: mild “gore” again? (a fight scene)

30-11-2010

“When’s Megumi’s birthday, actually?” you ask one day after finishing the last of your homework off at their place.

“Oh! December 22nd,” Tsumiki states. Megumi’s scrubbing a plate in the kitchen. “Are you planning to give him anything?”

“I’ll see what I can,” you reply, “But I just wanted to know. What do you usually do for your birthdays, though?”

“Hmm,” Tsumiki pauses, “We usually only have Mr Gojo and some of his friends over— oh, hi, Megumi!”

“Yay, you’re back!”

“We were just talking about your birthday,” you inform him. “…you know, I’ve been meaning to ask something, actually. I never really see you guys’ parents, so, um… are they busy? Are they out of the country for work, or something?”

“Oh— no, our parents left.”

Left? Like, abandoned?

“Oh— oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I thought they just had work or something and could never come back earlier— I never even thought—!”

“—They’re probably having fun or dying in a ditch somewhere, though,” Megumi interrupts, “It’s not a problem to either of us. It’s not like we knew them that well either. I can’t even remember them,” he explains.

“Oh…” you trail off, turning to face the table. If they’d really gone away when the two were so young, Tsumiki, the older sister, must have tried to be the ‘adult’, right? That sounds difficult. And you’ve heard that children are like plants, and plants need to have enough space to grow— you can recall that fact from your science classes. So if they’d grown so close to each other with no one else save that weird benefactor guy, would they have been able to grow properly? It must have felt suffocating for both of them, right? Maybe they didn’t realise it if they’d been so comfortable with and used to what they’d been having their whole lives— only each other?

Or maybe you’re thinking ahead of yourself and in reality they were okay. It’s not like they wouldn’t be either way, but maybe the benefactor spent more time with them growing up, and they had more friends before you than you think— you know that Tsumiki does, even if Megumi doesn’t.

“Megumi, you shouldn’t curse people by talking about them dying like that.”

“So what? It’s the truth.”

“Hey, don’t argue…” you start.

“Hm—? Sorry, [Name]! It’s our own issue— don’t worry about it,” she says, her smile a little forced, the remnants of her frown still left on her face, “Right, Megumi?” Oh, she’s angry. Oh no.

“I’ll never understand why you’re like this,” he says, heading to his room.

“Hey— why’re you leaving?” He walks out anyway.

“Tsumiki, why’s he leaving?” She frowns again.

“I’m sorry, [Name],” she says, “Megumi just thinks that you shouldn’t be nice to people.”

“Huh? Nice in what way?”

“No, it’s just… when people do bad things, I think we should forgive them. We shouldn’t punish them instead. We have to be kind because everyone has a reason for what they do, so we should just be kind to whoever we see.”

“…uh-huh. I guess. But my mummy says that sometimes if you do that too much life gets harder.”

“It gets harder if you think it does. Megumi thinks like that too, calling me a hypocrite when I tell him to forgive people and things like that,” she says, “…you know what I think, [Name]?”

“I think that you’re a kind person. I think that everyone and anyone can be kind in any way. It’s just that we have to think we’re kind and everything comes easy. I think that kind of life is the best. So…” she grins, and it’s light and happy again, but you see the sagacity in her eyes, and maybe how tired yet satisfied she may be on her lower eyelids. “Don’t give up on trying to be a good person, [Name]. Or maybe just being a kind one, because I think you’d be amazing at that.”

“Oh…” you say. If your eyes could, they would have stars in them. Nobody’s told you you could be amazing at something, much less good. You’re quiet and nobody listens to you. Every parent-teacher-meeting always ends with the conclusion that you’re quite an alright student, but even more so a reticent girl. For years your parents have been telling you to speak up or to be more confident and the only people you’ve been able to speak easily to are Tsumiki and Megumi. The two of them are the only ones who have ever said much beyond your timid demeanour.

You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine. It’s strange how she doesn’t know that, how she must think that she and Megumi are close friends and that the impact she’s had on you is far less than that; it’s strange how you can meet other people at any time and if it’s the right person, no matter what, your life will be affected. It’s strange that there is such a thing as fate.

It’s 2010 and you think this year is one you want to keep lasting forever.

27-6-2016

It happens on one summer evening.

Everything seems like it’s empty; from the streets and their dusty white concrete turning grey as they’re drenched with water, to the rain that news outlets report to be more saturated with acid as the years go by, to the houses and trees that around this time are either deafeningly loud with either the quiet, the sound of cicadas or the temporarily never-ending downpour.

But for a while, on that morning, the place where you’re settled in— for now— is the rain’s dominion, and you’re just a feeble, powerless human at the hands of nature’s relentlessness.

So you stay under the convenience store awning, hiding in the shade from the rain after running an errand. The last time you’d got drenched in this type of weather— about two weeks ago— you’d got ill, and it only caused your parents more problems, as your mother chided you. Being sick in the summer wasn’t that bearable for you either— no, it was something hellish. Sometimes you could handle being sick in the winter with a runny nose or getting mild colds in the spring, but being sick during summer time was the worst. You’d be struggling to breathe through mucus-filled lungs and you wouldn’t be able to swallow anything without triggering a terrible ache in your phlegm-filled throat due to post-nasal drip. You’d be feeling like ridding yourself of anything resting in your insides, from toxins to food; you wouldn’t be eating or ingesting anything except water and the constant sensation of feeling faint weighing you down would seem like it were about to kill you prematurely as the sweat from a high fever made you feel immeasurably weak, like a helpless child trapped in the confines of your own body.

“Are you okay?” the cashier by the counter— not the one who’s usually there, though, so you presume that this one’s a replacement— asks as you’re lost in your own thoughts, “I can give you an umbrella. For free.”

You’d insist on paying if you had any cash, but your now empty wallet reminds you of the fact that you’re all out. You have a tiny quibble with the kind lady before she finally gives in, and you’re off on your way back home.

Even upon further inspection as you exit the store, she still seems like a run-off-the-mill cashier. She seems to be in her early 20s, some college student back for the summer part-timing at the local convenience store for extra cash, maybe— with a sort of wistful yet coltish smile and a mole by the side of her right eye.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be so insistent on not doing things if those things’ll do you good,” she tells you, “I mean— I know that sounds kinda mean, and that in asian cultures like ours we naturally say stuff that deprecates ourselves, but I really do think that you should, um… how do I say it?” she ponders aloud, “Aha! —Yes, you should just look out for yourself and let people help you. It does everybody a little better. And, you know, you’ll be able to live life without regrets, because there won’t really be an opportunity cost for letting people help you, and they’ll like helping you too. I mean, who doesn’t like helping others? Wait, you get what I mean, right?”

“...it sounded like you were rambling,” you tell her, then step back, “Um. Sorry.”

“No, no! It’s fine! Like, um, you and I are kinda similar in that regard, I guess? We’re both awkward and we’re strangers but I just thought that the advice would do you some good, you know?”

“Ah— I get it, sorry,” you repeat, “It’s just that… I’m not used to that, maybe? I don’t want to be a burden on others.” Not anymore.

She purses her pink-glossed lips. “It’ll be hard to live like that, you know. If you live like that you won’t know who you are.”

It’s strange to hear that from a literal stranger. What’s even stranger is how deep the conversation is. Wasn’t this the time to make small talk? You didn’t talk to strangers very often, especially those in stores and all. At least not for this long.

“I… uh. I’ll see— I guess…” you mutter. The conversation dies there. You really aren’t suited for things like that. You can only find it easy to communicate and speak in that way when it’s with Tsumiki or your parents. Otherwise, you’d be stuttering and muttering your way through valleys of words that you don’t know if you should use, people demanding you speak up, or people commenting on how awkward you are, even if they mean so endearingly. You don’t know the source of the problem, really— maybe it was puberty and the onslaught of new, different people you had to talk to every time you moved? Maybe it is that. But this is your predicament: you used to be able to talk to people and over the years that just went away.

And it’s especially bad with people your age— the last time you’d been able to talk to someone your age in a normal, non-cloddish manner, was probably when you were eight.

Oh.

When you exit the shop, the sky’s been dipped in the sunset and it looks like a mix of purple and pink hues have been laid onto it like watercolour paint on fresh paper. The cashier waves you goodbye anyway, claiming that she hopes you’ll come back soon— you hope she doesn’t hate you now, else you’d avoid this convenience store like the plague for the next few months. The plastic bag rustles and crinkles as its contents bump against your knees.

The air is still thick with petrichor and the breaths you take feel light and fresh, brushing against the inner walls of your lungs as you breathe in and out. There are water residuals left on the sidewalk in patches.

Suddenly it changes— and you don’t notice this until after it happens. The air grows heavy and everything around you feels volatile, like their constituents will be separated from each other at any moment, turned into a mangled mass of jostling particles; your ears feel as if they’re so intensely covered to the point that you find it difficult to catch a breath; you can’t bring your lungs to continue moving after that hitched breath you made once you felt it. There’s something in the air, something disgusting and thick and suffocating. It fills you with ominousness. It fills you with a feeling of sickness, of suffering, of shame and fear and sadness, and it’s lurking somewhere, somewhere in the dark.

Cursed energy.

You remember your father talking about it, mentioning how it felt in passing.

Oh no.

“Help!” a voice erupts— it’s the same voice from the cashier, except this time it isn’t pleasant, it’s frantic, no— downright terrified.

If there is anything you’d consider yourself it isn’t someone who saved others.

Beyond the geographical sense of the word, you were the embodiment of stasis; something that didn’t touch others at all and made no effort to do so. You’d have no effect on any others’ life and for a long time you’d accepted you’d live a life amounting to nothing. You knew that and walked into life thinking you’d just keep doing nothing until you died for some nondescript reason.

So you didn’t really care about your future, and you abstained from thinking of the morality behind your actions because what was there to judge, anyway? You just had to follow what everyone else did, and none of your actions were so monumental to change anything. Being guilty over doing too little or doing nothing at all wouldn’t change anything; you didn’t have the power to change it and you didn’t see the point of a Sisyphean life like such. Even if humanity would have tugged at your shoulder to do something and be removed from that state of stasis, you were sure everyone felt the same and the amalgamation of this was society’s indifference— after all, what was humanity, kindness, against society’s apathy, its enemy; what was humanity when placed against what it had built itself into?

Thus for all your fourteen years of life you did nothing at all to change the trajectory of anything. It would be no use doing and no use trying. Nothing would come out of it in the end.

As long as you could be useful to your parents, or at least the people around you, you didn’t have to care about being good or bad or kind or evil.

You’d lived like that for a long time. You’re not the type to save people, not the type to help those you know nothing of.

You look down at your clenched fists, at her hair tie and its cherry-red hue.

She did say you’d be good at it.

It’s strange to think of your best friend now, but damn it, you really want to be like her now. You need to.

Else you wouldn’t be able to live; you have the power to help people, right? And you’re probably one of the only people on this island with the ability to do so. At the very least you’ve got some cursed energy, and you’ve always been able to heal from injuries really quickly. You’ve seen enough, from simple shikigami to veils and simple domains cast by your father.

So there may be a chance, a one in a million chance. And you’re willing to take it. If you don’t take it now and find that in the future you could have helped someone who would have gotten injured or worse— it’s now of all times that you think you wouldn’t be able to ever forgive yourself for such a thing.

You can’t change the directions of others’ lives. At least not if you keep thinking like that.

You grind your teeth and turn back, leaving the bags on the sidewalk. You’ll get them later. This is a ridiculous idea and you’re doing it anyway and your mind is screaming at your frozen legs to move and keep running, idiot, keep fucking moving because you’ve got to save someone you may just be able to save. Someone you don’t know, who may just be able to help. She said that you shouldn’t deny things that can help you, after all. And she has to be helped, right? So you’re going to jump in and you won’t deny yourself from saving yourself from a life of guilt. And you’re going to be useful, too. You’re going to help.

You really have to do this and all of a sudden you think you may be crying. But you run forward anyway. You’re going to move away from that state of stasis; you’re going to change and shift and move; finally, it’s liberating and frightening and feels like living as you step into the store.

Your lungs are burning.

The curse looms over, a deformed, monstrous thing with its eyes and hands drowning in the mud-like substance it consists of.

You’re going to make this work. You’ve seen your own cells once or twice before in science classes and all, you remember how your father had the old microscope he used to use for work, and brought it out for you to look at what made you. You’re your father’s daughter so you’ll make this work, your promise yourself— and you think of those cells, you conjure that image of them in your head and focus on them shifting, changing to make something new. You force them to multiply by the millions in a tenth of a minute, then you cut them off from your body. You make a tiny blister and goodness you can’t imagine you can actually do it but you’ve got to digress from that and worry about the college student cashier first, and how she’s trembling at the sight before her.

There’s a bruise on her arm, and so you’ve got to examine the situation: she’s holding it to her chest so you can imagine she’s only been wounded on the skin and hasn’t been scratched or anything. You imagine her cells— they mustn’t look too different from yours— and heal them back up, the blotch of a bruise disappearing as if wiped over by a stain remover. “Calm down!” you shout at her, and you really don’t mean to, but adrenaline and anxiety and the whole situation are getting your heart pounding unlike ever before.

“Wait— don’t touch that thing!” she shouts, “You’ll end up getting bruised by the hands!”

So what next? —Cursed energy alone can kill other curses if there’s enough of it, right? And your mother told you about how some people imbue things with cursed energy.

Then you run to the curse slapping it with as much force as you can muster, and it’s arms outstretch to snatch you and force you all around, hitting you abrasives against the shelves of the buns you bought earlier, scraping your skin against the surface of the counter’s edge or nearly smashing your shoulder against the wall, but you keep your hand on any part of it no matter what. You surge your cursed energy, splitting part of it to heal your wounds and the other part of it to overload it with cursed energy. The more intense you get, the harder it hits. But you can’t give up— you’re going to commit to it and stick to something; you’re going to do something that’ll amount to another thing for once. The sight of the cashier hiding under the counter, hunched and praying is enough for you to keep going. She doesn’t deserve that.

You load it with all the cursed energy you can manage as a rookie— you don’t think this is as much as a rookie has, though, so you probably have a lot and you promise you’re coming out of this thing alive. For once you’re going to swear you’ll keep living this intensely.

Eventually it fizzles out, its energy, and you just keep overloading it with cursed energy. You’ve still got a lot left. That’s good. Extremely so.

It bursts all over the convenience store, the ways it was made of. It’s going to be hassle to clean. You fall on the ground face flat and heal yourself. There’s a nosebleed, you think, from such a large amount of cursed energy. You’re panting heavier than you’ve ever done in your from any race or PE class.

But you’ve discovered that you are the type to help others. You’ve discovered that you can change others’ lives if you want to.

And it’s really frightening, but you’re happy. You don’t have to be a jujutsu sorcerer— you know too little of curses’ organic matter to be able to do this without making it alive yourself— but you’re going to devote your life to helping others.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll be a doctor in that world, a nurse, or something. You won’t have to be too involved in its inner workings; you won’t be on the front lines. Still, you’ll help and you’ll be useful. You’ll help and your life will be a good one to live, hopefully.

Shakily, she moves up. You’re shaking too, gooseflesh and cold sweat and temperatures going wild in and on your body.

“A-are you okay?” she asks.

“Oh— uhm, yeah!” you say, rubbing the blood off your philtrum. You’ll have to have a really long shower once you get back. Maybe you’ll draw a bath or something. “Sorry, I… uh— I should have asked you to go outside or something. Could you not tell anyone about this? If you’re injured anywhere I’ll try my best to patch you up as long as you don’t tell anyone about this.”

“I— okay… god, you’re just a kid,” she goes, “What happened back there, actually?”

“Have you ever seen stuff like that before? Like that monster?”

“…no.”

“Oh, I see. Well, don’t worry about it, because there are people who take care of stuff like that. You seeing it was just a one-time thing. It probably won’t ever happen again!” you say, holding your thumb up. “Promise not to tell anyone, okay?”

“Alright. Just… you okay? Want me to help you with anything? I mean, it’s pretty late now.”

“I’ll be okay. But I think I’ve got to go home now. Could you let me see any injuries you had got just now, first?”

28-6-2016

You only arrive back at midnight. The weather’s fully put a stop to its torrents and your parents are worried sick. You’re so tired you could faint— fighting the curse took more out of your mental energy than you thought it would, and you have a splitting headache as the result of it.

When they see you and sense the cursed energy, you explain whatever happened. Once you’re done your father shudders, and your mother stands up.

“Whatever it is, I’m not letting you be a jujutsu sorcerer,” she states resolutely, “I’m never going to let you be one.”

27-12-2016

The date you and Megumi have agreed on (with the help of Tsumiki as a sort of middleman) is about a week after his fourteenth birthday.

Your parents told you to be careful— it’s a long trip to and from Tokyo, and you’re going all alone.

This is the travel plan: fly from Kagoshima to Tokyo, stay at Megumi and Tsumiki’s for a while, and ultimately find the courage to hand him the letter before you leave. Maybe you’ll see if he still cares for you while you’re at it.

To be honest you don’t completely feel like going there anymore— you’ll always love Tokyo, it’s just that things will be painfully awkward between you and Megumi. So you remind yourself of Tsumiki, and that you’re mostly doing this for her. Any of the three of you can be the glue holding the other two together at any given moment, and now it’s Tsumiki playing that role.

Friends will always be above boys, anyway. So you’re doing this for Tsumiki and not him or yourself.

When you’re finally at the airport, Tsumiki greets you with a hug and Megumi in tow. You’ve her old hair tie on your wrist— it’s come in handy multiple times since then. They both look so different now: Tsumiki’s still tall, but her hair has grown longer, more luscious and she looks so pretty you understand why she had received so many anonymous confession letters on Valentine’s Day this year. Megumi’s taller too, and though it’s slightly embarrassing the first thing you think of when you see him is how handsome he looks, at least as far as boys your age go. The viridian of his eyes is a lush summer day in a capsule, a contrast to his jet black hair spiking in all directions and his eyelashes— and those, too, those eyelashes, goodness— they look like they were woven by silk or taken off a doll: they’re so unbelievably long and curly and pretty. Your face is as hot as an oven that’s about to bake up a whole cake and let it expand and rise. They’re the kind of people you see on television, each so beautiful like the other and you almost feel as if you’re intruding; you can’t imagine how out of place you must look with them from the eyes and viewpoints of other people.

“Tsumiki!” you grin as you’re still kept in her arms, “Long time no see!”

“[Name]! Finally! Oh, you look so pretty now!”

“Haha, really? I was thinking the same about you, though. I’m so happy to see you, seriously!”

“Me too!”

You step back and pull away.

“Hi, Megumi,” you say. You’re nervous, but you can’t deny you’re happy. You smile as you look at him— the two of you are no longer the same height anymore. You tug at the straps of your bag, feeling the weight of you pulling the straps down on your shoulder. “…it’s nice to see you again.”

“…nice to see you again, too.”

Why’d he have to stop talking to you? Why’d he have to avoid you? “How’s… um, how’s everything?”

A glimpse from your peripheral vision shows Tsumiki with sparks in her eyes. She really was so excited— and maybe a little too hopeful, because you don’t think anything will happen at all. The incident from June makes you feel like you should try to hope for something, though. But you probably won’t be completing this trip with a new boyfriend kissing your neck or something.

“It’s been okay,” he answers.

“…it’s the same for me.”

“That’s good to know.”

You take the train back with them, breathing in how crowded Tokyo is once again. When you’d first arrived six years ago you felt like a country bumpkin, the masses of people turned into one giant entity never once fathomed by your eight year old mind. Now you’re fourteen, and the lights with their neon sparks, the dark concrete bathed in streetlights when the sun sets, the moon hanging overhead over a multifaceted maze of buildings— it feels a bit like coming home, even if you only called it home for a little less than twelve months of a life spanning some number roughly around five thousand, one hundred and ten days.

You really love Tokyo. But more than that you love the people you met in it during what feels like a lifetime ago.

The cold air that you breathe in as the three of you walk and take the turn to their house fills your lungs, settling into them like they never left.

“—And you remember that old maths teacher?” Tsumiki laughs, “‘You children have to harness your mental prowess!’” she quotes, holding two fingers on each hand up in the air.

“Oh my god,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes, “I was so sick of him last time— bet he’d feel old as hell now if he saw us all grown up like this.”

“We saw him last week,” Megumi adds, “That old geezer expected college-level intelligence from bunches of feral eight and nine year old kids.”

“I mean, you were a smart kid, Megumi,” you recall, “Tsumiki too. But that guy, seriously…”

“Hey! You were a smart kid too, [Name]! But was there anyone who didn’t hate him last time?”

“Never, probably,” you agree, “He was so infuriating. Ugh— Oh! We’re here! I haven’t been here in so long, oh my goodness…”

Megumi works the key in and opens the door. You inhale the scent of their house, a mosaic of memories and old book pages. Places like these deserve to remain treasured forever.

The three of you step in. Smiley Tsumiki, frowny Megumi and you. This is the home that will never leave you no matter what. This is what you’d call home even if you’re not in Tokyo, or away from them, because it felt like a constant for a year and that was enough to feel like you went to it at least five times a week for less than a full year.

It feels good to be home. It feels better to call it that after years of not feeling as if you really ever had one at all.

28-12-2016

You can’t sleep.

They’ve helped you unpack all your things, you’re clad in pyjamas and have had a thorough shower, and the white blanket on the futon is warm on the inside and cold on the outside— perfect for sleeping comfortably. But you can’t get a wink of sleep.

Since you’d first discovered that you could, in fact, use cell manipulation, your nights had always been like this.

To use it properly with your own organic matter, cell manipulation requires cooperation with your brain and your stomach— the source of cursed energy. Imagining the cells enough and applying cursed energy to them required your brain to overload itself with both cursed energy and information, and adding commands to that, making yourself do even the slightest bit of actions with your cells— felt like leaving your brain in the microwave. The fact that your gut— for your cursed energy— and your brain— for command and control— had to work together added more of a headache on top of that. Headaches and nosebleeds and your brain being unable to shut down became what you were used to.

Did you keep doing it anyway? Yes— you still had the intention of helping people with it, after all. You held on to the hope that you could be a doctor or a nurse for jujutsu sorcerers or something, not an actual sorcerer in that world itself. You assumed your mother would be fine with that at least. You’d be satisfied with something like that as well, even at the cost of your sleep and health. You were still young, and the only two people who could do anything like this were you and your over fifty year old father. And you didn’t want him doing that at all for any longer.

Clang–!

The water bottle on the bedside table falls to the carpeted floor with a bang against the wood under it— you rush to pick it up with as little sound as you can manage.

Stealthily, you step out of bed. If your memory serves you right, the kettle should be on top of the drawer next to the oven.

You’ll drink some hot water or tea and lull yourself to a peaceful night eventually, you decide.

Then there’s a knock on the door. It’s light— so light that it would be inaudible had you stayed on the bed instead of moving nearer to the door, and so soft even the lightest of sleepers wouldn’t hear it. So whoever this is, they must know that you’re awake. You’re sure you wouldn’t have caught it at all and for a second you wonder whether there really was someone knocking the door after all. Tsumiki seems to be fast asleep, though— you can hear her muffled snoring from the other side of the wall. Thank goodness she’s a heavy sleeper. You’re not too sure about how Megumi fares in that sense.

You turn the cold metal knob and open the door.

In the dim light the front of his body’s barely visible, its glow only tracing the outline of his left shoulder from the back.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask, keeping your voice as soft as you can to prevent cracking your voice once you’ve started speaking.

“I heard something,” Megumi answers, “Did you fall?”

“It was just my water bottle. Did I wake you up? Sorry.”

“No, don’t worry about that.”

“Why’re you still awake?”

He places his hand on the door frame, voice lower than earlier that night. “Why are you? It’s way past midnight,” he adds, “...I couldn’t fall asleep either, to be honest…”

“Insomnia, huh?” you go, “This happens to me all the time, too.”

“No, it only happens once in a while,” he remarks, “Usually I sleep pretty well.”

“Oh. You wanna come inside? We can, like, talk, or something. We can catch up.”

“Sure.”

You guide him over to the edge of the bed, and he shuts the door before he sits down beside you. There is no way you can think to describe this other than saying that it’s strange, really: the boy you had a crush on six years ago, who was one of your closest friends, has grown more than thirty centimetres, and the aura surrounding the two of you is more awkward than any conversation you’ve ever had in your life. Neither of you question why the light isn’t turned on, and neither of you head to the bedside table to flip the light switch anyway, so the scene in their guest room is of two fourteen year old— about to be fifteen year olds in a little over three days, though— kids in the dark either reminiscing over memories or trying to catch up despite having changed so much.

“So how’s life?” you start.

“Nothing much happens at all, honestly. Wait, [Name]—” When he says your name it’s like your chest makes one full leap. “—I think I should let you know, six years ago, the dog you saw—”

“I already know about all that,” you tell him, “My parents told me. …hey, wanna see something I can show you with my own cursed technique?”

“...okay.”

You hold your hand out.

“It may be hard to see it in the dark, but…”

He turns the light on for you before you finish and you thank him. It must have been silly to try and show it to him when everything was engulfed in the night despite the fact that you were closer to the switch. You lean back as he outstretches his arm to do it.

“See?” You hold your hand up, palm displayed and facing him, before closing your eyes and imagine your heaps of skin cells and red blood cells. You’re bound to have a headache by tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it. At least there’s something you can show him, something new you can let him know of. This was ‘catching up’, anyway.

“[Name]!” He whispers, but the urgency in his voice is clear. You close the wound up immediately, speeding through a healing process that would have taken days to be completed in the span of a few seconds. Tomorrow you’re going to end up having a nosebleed, too.

“Are you alright?” he goes, “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Is it?” you reply, smiling, “Don’t worry. It’s just that I’m not that used to it yet. I guess if I trained my body even more, it would be able to handle it better.”

His hand strays to yours, most likely out of worry. You pull it back.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Sorry if I made you worry.”

“...I don’t think you should strain yourself,” he begins. It’s like how you and your father speak to each other— how funny. “If your own cursed technique does that to your body, it’s better if you don’t use it at all.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, “I’m not going to use it in fights or anything, either.”

“You won’t become a jujutsu sorcerer?”

“No,” you explain, “I mean, my dad was one and he quit a while ago, but I know it’ll be hard to hold on and do so much with this during fights. I may just be like, backup, or a doctor or nurse, or something. You?”

“I think it’s pointless to save others.”

Wow, cringey much. Reminds you of yourself six months ago.

You don’t press it any further.

“But… about doctors and all, there are people like that. Only one, to be more specific.”

“Oh, well then— what's her name? I’d love to meet her.”

“Ieiri Shoko. Want me to introduce her to you?”

29-12-2016

He does try to take you to visit her the next day. You think the reason why he’s doing this is to avoid catching up, or at least actually talking about something beyond a superficial level. You think that if that’s the truth behind this then you must be at fault too because you let him take you there with no hesitation whatsoever. Like adding opaque white tape over a fully painted canvas.

But he fails because of the man over the phone. It’s probably that Gojo guy, that benefactor. Now that you know how strong he is in terms of sorcery, you guess that since he’s taking care of Megumi, Megumi’s probably a massive deal too.

“No, I’m just asking if she can visit right now— no, get your head out of the gutter, damn it!”

He hangs up. “I’m seriously going to punch him,” he states, frowning. So it’s definitely Gojo, then. You remember him being really insufferable by Megumi’s standards. “She’s busy, by the way. …sorry about that.”

“Calm down, it’ll be alright,” you say, “We didn’t have to. Let’s just go around the city like tourists or something. I think that’s better anyway.”

Tsumiki says she can come along with you, but she’ll have to leave at the stop right before Ueno for something important— a sudden appointment with someone, she says— before heading back and reconvening with you and Megumi. The three of you ride the Yamanote Line, but at the stop right before Ueno—your first chosen destination for this trip— Tsumiki has to leave, as she’d said. She apologises profusely. You know she isn’t slick.

You take your phone, texting her.

[Name]

Tsumiki

You ain’t slick

Why

Seriously omfg

[Tsumiki]

Sorry, I would have joined, just wanted to test the waters hehehehe… (>‿◠)✌

I mean you two seem ok

But let me know if anything bad happens okayyy???

You two seem pretty happy with each other though… also, what happened last night?

If you’re up to any hanky panky, don’t do it under our roof (ㆆ_ㆆ)!!

[Name]

Literally so done with you right now -_-

But thanks I guess, I’ll see if we can catch up

AAAAAAHHHHH it’s gonna end up being so awkward I swear

[Tsumiki]

Good luck!! Love you bestieeee

Ttyl okay?? Gimme all the details

“Who’re you texting?” he whispers.

“Just a friend,” you say, as they announce that the train is in Ueno.

The day in Ueno Park goes quite smoothly, really— but there’s still little progress made and the letter seems to be having its screams more drowned out the more you tug on your bag.

“It’s pretty cold,” you comment as the two of you walk around, witnessing everyone else walking around with their huddled-up bundles of clothes and coats on, “Next time, if it’s not too crowded, we should, um… we should visit during autumn or spring. Together.”

“Tsumiki and I can come here anytime. It just depends on you,” he says, a little rougher than you think he intends, “Wait— no, I mean, your timing—”

You giggle slightly. So you’re not the only one who’s gotten more awkward since last time. Now he doesn’t seem the type to be, though— he seems more like those ‘cool’ guys in shoujo mangas; those bad boys who the girls end up changing, or something. Kinda cringey. But the fact that he’s avoiding eye contact and turning his head away evasively so that you don’t see him because of such a little slip-up in his phrasing is really, really cute. At least that’s what you think. It’s not like any other people would think the same, probably because of that frown or the fact that his voice doesn’t seem any flustered at all. But you think that’s okay. That makes it so that there’s more for you to appreciate, maybe. “It’s fine,” you reassure him.

“...I brought a camera, by the way,” he says, digging for it in his pocket. The camera itself seems like one from the 2000s— it’s the small type with the wrist strap, and the buttons on the side and all. “It’s… old, though.”

“Oh! That looks nice!” you comment. It really does. Your bag’s strap— the damn thing— slips off your shoulder again and you’ve got to put it back securely in place. Your shoulder hurts and you regret bringing so much with you.

“Want me to hold your bag for you…?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you say, “It’s just that it goes off my shoulder sometimes and it can be pretty heavy. I packed too much stuff in it, heh.”

“Then I’ll carry it. Give it here.”

You end up handing him the bag. At least he doesn’t mind how heavy it is, nor does he complain about what you must be packing, or anything. It’s better than being forced to give your parents your things only for them to tell you to pack lighter ones.

“It’s good that we avoided the crowd, but now there aren’t any leaves or flowers…” you start. You hope it doesn’t sound like complaining— that would be awfully rude. “Normally, people would be having picnics here, right?”

“We can still take pictures, though. Wait, can you— can you stand in front of me, here?” he asks, his steps coming to a halt next to a small garden.

“Okay.”

He brings the camera to his eye. “Smile,” he says.

You’ve quite an awkward-looking smile, you think. It’s always bothered you slightly whenever your parents wanted to take pictures of you, but you smile anyway in the picture— you give him your brightest grin. It’s not like either of you will keep it anyway, and you are happy: gratingly awkward or not, you’re still with an old friend.

“Ah, delete that,” you tell him when he shows the picture to you. The backdrop is pretty, though. “You should take a picture of the background. I look so bad in it.”

“It’s a nice picture,” he argues, “You look… nice.”

You shift your line of sight to look at him, unsure if it’s out of incredulousness, or the fact that the whole situation seems to be a little silly, or the fact that he’s looking down at the picture with a gaze that warms your heart a bit. Those eyelids and lashes and green green pupils will be the death of you, you’re sure. You feel you could drown in them at any second. “…thanks.”

He looks back at you.

“I think you look nice too, Megumi.”

It’s really, really cold, but you feel your face heating up. For once in your life it doesn’t feel like something you should be shy of.

30-12-2016

“Could you show me the dog again?” you ask him. He’s on the bed again. Different day, same situation. “Why did it suddenly pop out all those years ago anyway?”

“It was an accident,” he explains, “You know how my Ten Shadows technique comes from the shadows, right? Wait, I should rephrase that—”

“Oh… I mean, don’t worry, you don’t sound rude or anything. I just wanted to see the dog. I mean, I like dogs! I still read books or articles about them every now and then.”

“There are actually two.”

“Two?” you go, wide-eyed and excited.

He summons them out of the ground, one dark with the same red markings, and the other the exact same dog as the one you saw six years ago. He does it effortlessly— there’s no pain involved, no trade-off for getting to show someone his abilities. It’s not like you and your father’s, with your headaches and nosebleeds and vertigo every time you use it even if it’s for something simple like opening up a wound and closing it, or creating tiny blisters. How terribly inconvenient it was for you, and how easy it was for Megumi to use it so quickly and painlessly. You were slightly jealous of him for it.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” you say, petting the white one. It cuddles up to you. The one with dark, fluffy fur does the same and you’ve got each palm on each dog’s head.

You turn your head back to face him. “Thank you, Megumi.”

“...it’s nothing.”

What a classic Megumi-like thing to say.

15-4-2017

Freshly fifteen years old, you know one thing. The friends you meet at this age are probably the best you’ll ever have.

You’re still training your cursed technique from time to time if only for leisure or any emergencies since your mother’s absolutely determined to keep you from being one. But you’re in a new place again— your parents have chosen to move back to Sendai— where they lived and got married before you came along, and everything considered things aren’t as bad as when you had to leave to and from Tokyo.

It all started with the class’s seating arrangement. You sat down after one of the classes, preparing yourself for a year where you had to search through the whole school for friends or spend it alone as you watched everyone else fall into their groups from the previous year like dozens of tiny puzzle pieces clicking into place again.

The clique in front of you is all looking at this one guy with unkempt hair as pink as cherry blossoms, or MyMelody’s pink ribbon. He’s got a boyish grin on his face that honestly makes him out to be a pretty nice guy.

“Hey!” a guy greets, his hand up as he’s smiling at you, “My name’s Itadori Yuuji. What’s yours?”

He’s kind of tall, is a really smiley guy, and seems like he’d be pretty popular. He reminds you of a friendly puppy. Or one of those really, really cute seals people make videos of in aquariums.

You tell him your name. “You… uh, you seem pretty popular, Itadori.”

He pauses and turns his head up like he’s thinking. “Well… now that you mention it, I guess so,” he states, hand scratching the back of his neck, “They’re pretty cool, though. Don’t worry!”

“Oh…”

“Anyway, where ya from?”

“I–uh. I mean, my parents move a lot,” you say, “So I guess you could say I don’t know where I’m from, myself? Sendai’s my parents’ hometown, though. And they wanted to be back for a while. So I transferred here.”

“Cool! So you’ve got to see a lot of stuff?”

“Uh. Kind of?”

He drags a seat from behind him before facing you. The way he sits is comfortable; it’s almost funny— you’re so awkward, so rigid like a frozen statue, and he’s actively trying to melt it, but the ice is still cold and barely broken. Poor Itadori, you think, He’s talking to someone who doesn’t know who to talk properly. He’s going to get bored any minute but he’s still going to talk.

“Like, um…” you think, “Oh! I went to the Tanegashima space centre a while back.”

“Woah!” he goes, with excitement in his eyes like fireworks sparkles, “Wish I could go to space one day. Maybe it’ll be like something in Passengers.”

It’s only the space centre, though? Not space itself, you think. But you guess that’s okay— something, something, men are perfect when they’re a little dumb. You don’t know that much about idols. “I haven’t seen it yet, but uh, sounds nice, I guess? And you don’t look like the type to watch sci-fi movies… but maybe I’ll watch it one of these days. I don’t watch a lot of movies, though.”

“I mean, it’s got Jennifer Lawrence in it,” he says, “She’s my favourite actress!”

That makes a lot of sense. “…really? I’ve only seen her in clips from the Hunger Games a few times. I mean, I heard she’s had other pretty good movies, though, like… what was it called… Silver Linings something? I don’t know, uhm.”

“Oh, Silver Linings Playbook?” he says, excitement dazzling in his eyes again, “Man, you haven’t lived if you haven’t seen them. I’ll drag you along with me sometime to watch it!”

“Ah,” you go, unsure of what to say, “Um… nice! Thanks!”

Over the course of the next few months you learn a few things about Itadori Yuuji. He loves horror movies and Jennifer Lawrence with a passion, is a sterling athlete and freakishly good at sports, and has a smile that makes people turn to face him like sunflowers to bright summer sunlight. And he knows you too— knows that you mildly loathe all genres of nonfiction save for books about animals (especially dogs), that you prefer when things are busy even if you may enjoy the quiet, and that the two of you are people who really, really ought to just take a train to Tokyo and have kaiten sushi together one day.

Also, you can admit that you have some degree of a crush on him— him and that damned smile. Seriously, how could anyone not? You watch him sometimes during PE, eyeing the way he moves, and that guy can move, alright: he swerves so naturally it makes you swoon, jumps up and down with might and energy, can carry people around like they’re boxes of tissues. He’s swift but his movements aren’t frenetic; they’re controlled and he demonstrates such mastery over his body that no one who sees him wouldn’t be amazed. And he’s a nice guy— your parents have met him at least twice by chance, and they love him. Your father talks about how he’s a nice, handsome boy, and your mother mentions how he’d be an ideal son-in-law.

Poor Itadori, you think to yourself whenever they say it, giggling, Maybe they’ll let up soon enough, and they’ll realise that you’re just a really good friend.

You’re still not going to act on your feelings, though. You never will; you’re never going to act on anything. So you’ll fade away like a spectator, only trying to talk to him because guess what? You like it, you like talking to him and spending time with him even if you know he doesn’t like you back and sees you as just a friend. He’s still a fun guy and he always will be.

In a way it feels almost liberating, like a breath of fresh air from what happened a year ago: lighthearted crushes like these are a quintessential element of the teenage girl experience, and even if you’d always fit the bill for an ordinary teenage girl, another part of that would probably be not feeling like a normal teenage girl at all. So having this and not being hurt, having this and having fun— is great. Maybe if you get over him and start crushing on someone else, you’ll get to try having a boyfriend by the end of your last year in junior high. Sounds pretty neat if you do say so yourself. Having a partner sounds interesting.

“Itadori. Um… they’re going to release a new Jennifer Lawrence movie,” you say, standing behind him as the other friends around him stare at you. You aren’t too close to them, but hey— he was right. Some of them were pretty okay, cool people.

“Ah, yeah! I’m watching that too!”

“Oh, great! I mean, it’s right up your alley, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, “Wanna watch it together?” You blush and he continues, “I can bring the other guys too.” He gestures to the boys behind him with his thumb. You don’t know them very well— hell, they probably don’t know your name much less like you— but that’s okay. Itadori is a great guy to spend time with and whether it’s scream-singing karaoke in a language you can’t speak at his house, joking and horsing around while his grandfather frowns on the dining table, or learning how to cook meatballs he says are easy to make— you’re guaranteed to have fun with him no matter what.

“Sure.”

So: now you have a new guy you’re crushing on, because the last one took so long for you to get over, and you’re not sure if you’re completely over the last one, but you know you’re not going to talk to him that much anymore. And this new guy’s sweet, a hundred times better, and even if this all-in-one perfect guy doesn’t like you back, you’ll say it again: you think Itadori is awfully fun and nothing can change that.

Life is going pretty okay, you think. Life is becoming something you’re getting the hang of. Maybe, just maybe.

2-1-2017

“Guess I’m going back, now…” you sigh, zipping your luggage bag up. It’s a cold day outside— each time you press your fingers against a window, or even touch a door knob or any cold metal, it freezes you up. It’s just inconvenient, for now— if you could, you could even use cell manipulation to keep yourself warm, but that would just be too much effort wasted on too little of a cold winter day in early January.

New Year’s had just been a trip to the local shrine with them— this time Tsumiki had to come too, so she didn’t sabotage you and leave the two of you alone— and the days have gone by relatively peacefully. When your parents call you up they’re always relieved to just see you sitting on the bed or seated on their dining table eating meals with the two of them.

“You’ve still a few hours left here, don’t worry,” Tsumiki says, “Let’s make the most of it!”

Despite how awkward things were, you’d say you enjoyed being with Megumi and Tsumiki the past few days— mainly Megumi, though, because Tsumiki’s been conveniently leaving anytime you and Megumi are about to go anywhere together.

“Has anything interesting happened lately? Any action?” she asks.

“Pft— no, not really. Haven’t even given him the letter…”

“Aw…” she starts, “It’s alright if you don’t want to force yourself or anything, but I really think it would do him good to read it and that it’d do you even better if you passed it to him. He cares about you more than you think.”

“Uh-huh, that’s good to know,” you say, “At the very least, we’re friends, still. I’ll get over him eventually— I mean, I think I already have, since I’m not praying for him to be my boyfriend or something.”

“Oh…” she goes, “Well, whatever it is, I’m supporting you!” she smiles, patting you lightly on the head.

“Thanks.”

She leaves for something quick before Megumi arrives back, which you think does him good because he comes back with enough bruises and patches on his face to completely drive Tsumiki up the wall.

“Woah— you okay?” You rush to him. “What happened?”

He groans. He reminds you of a stray dog sometimes, really. Even more so now than before.

“S-sit down,” you say. He follows your instructions. “I’ll try to heal you, don’t worry.”

Since you discovered you had your cursed technique, you’ve only used it to heal others besides yourself once when you helped rid the cashier from the store of her bruises. It’s been half a year since then, and you’re still getting used to using it on yourself. Still, you let him sit on the sofa anyway.

“You probably shouldn’t. I can handle this on my own. If you do this to yourself then you’ll be over-exerting your body.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” you chuckle, “Let me take care of you. And if I get a nosebleed or a headache, you can take care of me too. Heheh. That’s how things like this work, right? We take care of each other. So I can heal your wounds for you and you can take care of me if I get any of my cursed technique’s side-effects.”

You place your hand on his face for your cursed energy to get to him— you’d be able to do it without touching him, but the more the better— and you feel how his breath hitches when you do so. His skin is cold, and so very smooth, like the soft cotton blankets they have in their house. Slowly, you visualise his cells changing, shifting, until his skin looks pristine and good as new.

“…and…there.”

Then your nose bleeds. “Ah— hate it when this happens, honestly.”

“See? I told you not to strain yourself.” He gets up and places a tissue to your nose. “Lean your head back. Please.”

You follow his instructions as he did yours. “So what happened?” you ask, only able to view either his face or the ceiling. “How’d you get injured?”

“Nothing, just… I… got into a fight.”

“Wh— a fight? That’s dangerous!” you frown, “What happened in the first place? Someone picked on you?”

“No, they were just picking on someone else. People like that shouldn’t be able to trample on others.”

“So what are you, the police?” you argue, “You shouldn’t hurt people, nor should you let them hurt you. It’s bad for you, you know?”

“The basis of all kinds of human interaction isn’t being kind,” he claims, “It’s avoiding violating someone’s dignity, and I despise the people who ignore this rule just to make themselves feel powerful.”

And that pisses you off a little. Because for all his sister’s kindness and forgiving spirit, her brother cares less for being able to forgive others than for reading books until one AM in the morning or something along those lines.

The weather becomes that little bit colder and you go against him.

“Well, yeah— I hate bullies too. It’s just… ugh, why’d you have to get yourself hurt over this? It really isn’t good to have injuries. Who’s to say anything life-threatening won’t happen? It’s not like you’re invincible.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, seriously,” you retort, “Do you fight often or something? You know, no matter how many times you come out unscathed, it’s not like you’ll even be alive the next. What if these bullies aren’t the worst and there are some gangsters or something who kill you one day?”

“In my school?” he goes.

“Uh-huh— and you seriously sound kinda self-righteous, too. I mean, who gives you the right to judge? Just don’t be an asshole and you’ll be fine, and it’s not like being an asshole to the assholes is gonna do anything.”

“No, I just can’t handle people who step all over others.”

“Me neither, but why can’t you just be nice?” you go, “I don’t know, what do boys do? Talk to each other, make friends or something. Forgive each other. Just be nice. That’s what I think the basis of human interaction is. It’s helping people when you can, and stuff. That’s what the basis of life is, even.”

“You sound like Tsumiki.”

“Oh, well. I’d rather take that as a compliment even if it wasn’t intended to be by her own brother. I seriously used to think you were better than that, honestly. That sounds so emo— ‘Oh, the world isn’t inherently kind and so we should be tolerable to each other at best and horrible to the ones who aren’t tolerable at worst.’ What a joke.”

“Seriously?” he frowns, not raising his voice, but definitely angered, “You’re worse, really. You and Tsumiki and that hypocritical sense of forgiveness. It’s probably because you read too many fiction books last time.”

“I can’t believe I’m taking that from an antisocial guy who reads boring-ass non-fiction all the time and beats middle school bullies up to act high and mighty over them. You’re giving me secondhand embarrassment. You should be out with people our age buying sodas from vending machines or something— jeez, you’re just a fucking kid. Just be nice and save people if you have the power to— especially if you can do it without having to do things at your own expense. That’s the easiest way to do things in life. And who says you aren’t a hypocrite too? You think you’re some kind of judge in court or something—?”

“—You have cell manipulation, right? So use your brain! I’ve already told you that it’s pointless to save people. Good people who are too merciful to bad people are just as disgusting as bad people too prideful over themselves.”

“Ew— good and bad? What happened to just living life? Just live it, seriously, it’s not like everything can be split into two categories like that. You just sound so— ugh— stop being so immature—!”

“Megumi!” Tsumiki says when she opens the door. “[Name]! What happened? Did the two of you fight? Why were you fighting? What—!”

“No, no! Just bickering over something small,” you tell her, “I had a nose bleed all of a sudden.”

“Tch. Something small?” Megumi scoffs.

“Stop fighting, the two of you,” Tsumiki orders, her voice firm yet still soft and sweet.

The next few hours move painfully quietly.

3-1-2017

“I’m really sorry it had to be at midnight like this,” you say.

“No, no, it’s fine!” Tsumiki grins, “We wanted to come, anyway. We still have to give you a proper send-off.”

You breathe in. “…okay. I’ll visit again, I promise. Maybe next year, but at a better time, okay?”

“Alright, alright. Well— you’ve got to go now,” Tsumiki says, hugging you. You hear her sniffling even though you can’t see her face.

“Okay. Bye, Megumi. Bye, Tsumiki.”

“Bye, [Name]! Take care of your health, okay? We should stick together no matter what, the three of us.”

You’re still a little angry at Megumi. You haven’t passed him the letter.

You’ll live. You hope you can, at least. You’re better off not ending up with or confessing to a guy who thinks like he does.

It’s for Tsumiki, you tell yourself. And it grounds you.

“…I will.”

“…bye,” Megumi says, avoiding eye contact.

And as you get on the train and they’re waving you off, you should have taken a picture, or a video, or something. Something to keep that moment in place. There’s Tsumiki— smiley Tsumiki— with her signature warm grin and the faintest of tears in her eyes, with her hand raised up to wave at you. Then Megumi— frowny Megumi— older and taller and angry at you.

You really should have kept things there, or apologised to her again for anything and everything, apologised to both of them for any trouble you’ve caused them, or thanked them a trillion times over, but you didn’t.

And you regret this forever. Because this is the last time you see Fushiguro Tsumiki, the girl who changed the trajectory of your life.

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doctorofmagic · 3 years ago

Text

Strange #5 Review

I’m basically one month late to the party so my apologies in advance. I’m really struggling with low energy and technical issues (as in, my computer is dying, some keys don’t work [h, g, esc, backspace etc, so you see how it’s discouraging to type]. Also I can’t afford a new one a). But here I am!

Before we begin, it was MANDATORY for me to reread all the previous issues, which also demanded some time. My last two posts made a brief analysis regarding hints that Harvestman was Stephen all along, as well as some parallels. With that being said, I’ll skip to the part where Stephen/Harvestman is explaining what are the Revenants.

We know for sure that the Blasphemy Cartel is summoning these lost souls into deceased heroes/villains due to the symbol/identity they represent. But for what purpose? We still have some mysteries to solve, such as the computers found by Clea, the item that evokes a lost memory to Wong (probably this one will be answered next issue), in addition to who’s Director None. Plus, of course, their goal. They seem new, although quite organized and full of resources.

Next, Clea sees an opportunity to work with Harvestman, unbeknownst to her that he is, in fact, Stephen. I really need to point out that, even without a soul, this dumbass still has little to no regard to himself, which is sad but also entirely in character, as I've been writing for ages about his self-loathing triggered by his guilt. I’m pretty sure that lying to Clea is taking a heavy toll on him. (please, I cannot stand this man anymore. Someone bonk him and put some sense into his empty head!!)

I knooooow Clea will learn the truth soon enough (thank you Marcelo for the treat) but I can’t help but point out that he’s repeating the same three unhealthy coping mechanisms of when he lost Clea by the first time: 1) self-loathing due to guilt, 2) pushing her away and 3) self-isolation. STEPHEN PLEASE!!!

Anyway, moving on. I think that this dialogue is important.

Because yes, Clea is not from this world, and she’s already struggling to play by Stephen’s rules the moment she kills the gangsters. And Wong is also worried about it but they never have a proper chance to talk about this matter. This is what leads me to wonder if Clea needs Stephen as much as Stephen needs her. Because Clea is Stephen’s anchor, she’s the happiness and love he so desperately seeks, and she reassures him in a way that all his negative thoughts are kept in check. They have healthy conversations about their relationship and they tend to grow together. But the opposite is also true, because Clea is not from this world. Stephen is her moral compass, he’s the kindness she never had in the Dark Dimension, he’s passionate about life and magic, he’s love manifest. I’ve never thought about it before but it’s true, isn’t it? They need each other in order to bring the best part of their selves.

Now *slams table* allow me to talk about Moon Knight. For those who don’t know, he’s part of my top 5, so imagine my happiness when Jed put their two babies to team-up. Yup. I’m very very very happy, but I’ll get there.

Also, for those who don’t read Moon Knight (you should!!), the Midnight Mission is now located at the House of Shadows, the same sentient house from Strange Tales #120. The house doesn’t like Stephen and Rintrah because they banished it twice. More on that here. It’s just really cool to see that the house perceives Stephen’s magic in Clea.

Also I really love how Clea and Mr. Knight get along. She does mention Randall, which is quite honest of her. Marc could have refused but he didn’t. They do have a terrible and very complicated relationship, after all. Also he owes Wong a favor. Loving how Stephen’s partners are creating some kind of bond with Marc because yep, I’m all down for it.

Also this woiefwoiiwowiooefj

Taskmaster is scared of Moon Knight. Taskmaster. You get the idea (I love him, can you tell?)

Then Marc explains that gods have some liberties with Death. I always wondered that, to be honest. Because there are many entities who do and undo many things and get a free pass.

ALSO THEY MAKE SUCH A GREAT DUO!! I’m all down for Clea and Marc terrorizing gangsters together at night. Quality time.

(she went full Penance Stare here. Ghost Rider would be proud)

And Clea is indeed very scary but also full of compassion. This is just so sweet of her, and that proves that she makes a wonderful hero.

Worth mentioning that Stephen would just do the same here. He’d probably banish such a terrible man instead of killing him. Not that Clea is against killing, of course. It’s just that she’d rather make him suffer first, which is very Umar of her haha. But I suppose it also makes her own character in this sense.

Lastly, I’m just SO glad Moon Knight was the first hero to actually offer proper advice and help!! I feel like most don’t care, which was kinda true during the events of DODS. I know they didn’t have time to mourn, but what about now? Stephen has always been on his own precisely because magic is just so unique. This is why I praise the magic community so much, even though I miss their presence in v3 as well.

Besides, it warms my heart that Marc speaks of him in such high regard. I need them to meet again asap!! Hopefully it won’t take that long, assuming we’re about to get the great ~reveal~. I miss Stephen very much, especially in other comic books.

And speaking of great reveals, here’s our little meow meow defending Clea and being all sappy and in love with her, even without a soul!!

And here we have it. I’m kinda repeating myself at this point but Stephen is a being of love, and every time canon confirms it for me, it makes me very happy and accomplished. It’s always good to see that my analyses are not biased just because I love the character. An actual writer also interprets him this way and I couldn’t trust Jed more with him. I still fear the future but all I can offer for now is nice compliments.

I can’t wait for the next issue, all the angst and such with Wong and Bats, let’s gooooo!!

#doctor strange #stephen strange #harvestman #clea strange #moon knight #marc spector #review #marvel comics

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

Myth or Movie

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/N and Spencer's children have worked up a plan to get them to meet... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, someone is misgendered (nothing too bad, it’s very brief, and it’s sincerely apologized for by the person who misgenders) Word Count: 4.2k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is my 2nd entry for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) Enemies To Lover’s Writing Challenge! This one was one of the prompts she provided: You and (Character)'s kids don't get along, so you have to have a talk. Turns out you... really really get along... and I couldn’t wait to tackle it! I believe my exact words were: “I’m gonna Parent Trap these bitches”... So do with that what you will lol

———

"I'm so sorry I'm late!"

Two heads turn to stare at me as I burst through the doors. I'm out of breath from running through the building, something the staff really didn't seem to appreciate, though their shouts and annoyed glances were the last thing on my mind.

As I try to catch my breath, the two heads stand, and suddenly I feel a lot smaller.

One of them I recognize— Principal Anteros. I'd met with her before over some of Sky's academic achievements, all positive things, which is why today's circumstances make being in this office rather uncomfortable.

It's also why I seem to shrink with embarrassment at my tardiness— and appearance. Waitressing has its benefits, but today's whirlwind of phone calls and a mention at meeting another parent are not any of them.

Speaking of, the other person in the room is one I've never seen before. He's taller than both Anteros and I, extremely well dressed, and probably the most intimidatingly beautiful human being I'd ever met. I can barely meet his eyes, and so I try not to think about what he's doing here—to think about having to talk to him.

I shrink even further.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Principal Anteros greets. Thankfully she doesn't sound too upset given the circumstances. "Please, have a seat."

I do, brushing off my uniform as if that will somehow help my appearance. The soft leather of the chairs, however comfortable they might be, fail to bring me any comfort at all.

"As I'm sure you've guessed already, this is Doctor Reid, Vivian's father."

Great, he's a fucking doctor? This already bodes well for me...

Regardless of my reservations, I turn to him and give a faint smile. He waves in turn, and for the time being I'm extremely glad he doesn't insist on shaking my hand.

"It's nice to meet you," he says, surely nothing but a formality.

"You, too," I say quickly, then turn back to Principal Anteros. "Your phone call sounded urgent... Is everything alright?"

As soon as I say it, I feel kind of dumb. Because of course everything isn't alright. My child's principal called a meeting with another parent, and that can never mean anything good, not to mention the fucking intimidation and awkwardness in the room right now. I almost apologize, trying to explain that that wasn't exactly what I meant to get across, but then I would have just been talking for way too long, embarrassing myself further.

Once again, I'm thankful for Anteros's ability to move the conversation along. "I'm not sure, but it doesn't seem so. I only bring this to attention because Sky and Vivian are both stellar students. They've never had any disciplinary issues or difficulties with other students..."

"No one's hurt, right?" Mr. Reid asks. I know he's just concerned for his child, but for some reason it feels like an attack on me, like he assumes my kid had something to do with it.

"No, no one's hurt. Thankfully there weren't any physical altercations. But it seems your girls are quite... loud."

The doctor looks like he wants to say something, but I'm quick to jump in before he can. "Sorry... Sky is non-binary. They use they/them pronouns."

I half expect one or either of them to make a big deal or just roll their eyes at me, as most people seem to do when I correct them on the matter, but Anteros gives a sincere apology and Reid probably couldn't have cared any less.

I still can't tell if I like him or not...

But that doesn't matter right now.

"What do you mean by loud?" I continue.

Anteros sighs. "Well, while there hasn't been any physical violence, your kids seem to have very heated arguments, usually during lunch or in the hallway in passing... We thought maybe we could resolve it here since, like I said, they're both excellent students, but then it started escalating to classroom arguments... It's a lot of screaming..."

I have never known Sky to raise their voice at anyone, not even in a situation where I probably would have. Lord knows I'm thankful they don't have my impatience and tendency to get pissed off easily...

So what happened that was so bad, it made them snap?

"You... You're sure you mean Vivian is acting out like this?" Reid asks slowly, and I can't stop myself from laughing out loud.

"Come on, she's a professional. This has been going on for weeks, in her school, I'm sure she would know if it was your kid having a screaming match with someone else..."

This time Doctor Reid actually looks over at me, an eyebrow raised, and though I very much believe what I've just told him, the way he's looking at me right now drops my heart straight down to my stomach, like he's the principal and I'm the student acting out—No, it's worse than that... I feel like he's a disappointed parent, but not with Vivian, with me.

I avoid his intimidating stare and look down at the ground. "Sorry... I'm just... This isn't like Sky, either, I don't know what to do..."

"Well, usually when we have these sort of disputes, we like to have the students talk it out amongst themselves with a moderator present. But we've tried that, and it seems that they still haven't made any progress. Now, I know your children are good at heart, and it seems like you both are excellent parents— You know your children better than anyone here ever could. So, I'm proposing the two of you take a meeting some time and try to figure out how to settle this."

Seriously? If it hasn't been made clear already, this man is a doctor of some kind, planets away from my league in any capacity, and I can just picture the two of us in a screaming match close to what I imagine our children's looked like...

Maybe we can just e-mail.

"Okay," he agrees evenly, and I'm surprised he seems this calm considering I've just practically yelled at him... "I have free time this afternoon if you want to talk it over."

"I have to get back to work, but I get done at five," I sigh, wanting to get this over with. "Are you free then?"

"Mhm."

"Good," Anteros chirps, standing and leaving Doctor Reid and I to follow suit. "Perhaps over the weekend we can get this settled."

I sure as hell hope so.

———

"Ms. Y/L/N, wait!"

I have no idea what he could possibly want from me now that we've set a time and place to talk tonight, but I'm just praying desperately that he doesn't want to take this time alone in the parking lot to get back at me for accosting him in Anteros's office...

Thankfully, his face when he approaches seems rather kind.

"You can call me Y/N..."

"Right," he says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and nodding. "I'm Spencer."

"Spencer... So, um... Did you need something?"

"O—Oh, I just... I know you have to get back to work so I'll make this short, but I wanted to see if you wanted to do, uh... dinner tonight?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I just figured since we probably didn't expect for our weekend to go this way... We should make it worth it?"

"Are you really trying to turn this into a date?"

"W— No, not really, I just... You know, I thought it might be nice to... make this less like a chore, you know? A—And don't feel like you have to say yes, it was just a thought, I'm sorry if I made this weirder..."

The fact that I still can't figure this man out bothers me, but right now he's blushing, and he looks like he's trying to save himself from embarrassment, and it's so fucking adorable that I don't really care that I was just annoyed.

So I tell him, "Sure. Why not?"

"Really?"

"Yeah... Besides, Lord knows I haven't gone out for dinner in a long time."

The doctor is relieved, a smile creeping up on his lips that suddenly tugs at my insides and makes me wish for a second that it really is a date he's offering... "Okay, good. Do you want to meet at Waterstone, seven o'clock?"

The excitement starts to drain from me as he says it, followed by an incoming wave of embarrassment. "Oh, man, that... That place is kind of expensive, I don't—"

"Oh, it's okay, I'll pay for everything. I'll even wait outside for you so we can go in together if you'd like..."

Why he's being so nice to me I have no idea, but it's making my annoyance melt and my heart start to beat faster, and I really don't know how to feel about that. In fact I'm pretty sure it's weird as fuck given the circumstances.

But all I have to do is make it through this weekend, hopefully all will be back to normal, and I won't ever have to think about it ever again.

"Alright... It's a date."

———

Out of all the scenarios I'd pictured for the end of the night, this definitely had not been one of them.

I finished my shift at the diner, imagining on my drive home the look on his face when I inevitably showed up with something on my face or stained on my dress; Instead I showed up to Waterstone and was greeted with wandering eyes and showered with bashful compliments.

I expected to get into some type of argument about how each of our kids were better than the other or something, but we ended up talking through their traits with compassion, interest, and pride, all while agreeing that we just have to sit with them this weekend and explain that there are easier, better ways to sort out disagreements than screaming at each other in public.

I expected not to have much fun at all, but by the time we gathered the check and headed out the door, Spencer and I were laughing, just a little tipsy on Cabernet, our hands gently brushing and sparks shooting up my arm at the feeling.

I expected to go our separate ways and walk to my car and drive home, but instead he ended up telling me he was taking the Subway home, and I offered to give him a ride to the opposite side of town where I lived (Waterstone was right in the middle).

I expected to walk through the door, stumble straight up to bed, and sleep until Sky inevitably woke me up with them saying I've slept in too late and needed to get ready for work, but instead I ended up following Spencer up to his door to say goodnight.

And now we're at a fork in the road, and I can take one of two paths.

I can say goodnight, watch him walk in, and then go home and forget about this whole thing.

Or I can keep letting him stare at me until I find myself leaning in to kiss him. Whether or not he'll actually reciprocate is another story, but the little bit of wine tingling in the surface of my body and the dark, intense look in his eye gives me more courage than I've had since I met him.

Before I can make a move, Spencer talks, his voice small and inviting. "Do you want to come inside?" The beating of my heart quickens immensely as he takes another step forward and brings his fingers out to graze my chin. "Vivian's with her mom tonight."

Yes. Vivian's mom, who divorced Spencer pretty soon in the marriage after she just decided his job was too much to handle. He'd quit and took a teaching job, but even still, she declined his pleading to stay married and eventually admitted that she just wasn't in love with him anymore. At least she had the decency to let him have joint custody once his schedule cleared up, and it seemed like they were decent co-parents. Maybe even friends.

I think about Sky, how much they wish their dad had stayed, and how much I wish he had too. I was devastated when he left without anything more than a note. For years it took a huge toll on us, and I barely had the headspace to even think about dating anyone since then.

But here I am now, standing with this man who has also lost a spouse, who's somewhat of a single parent, and who seems kind and genuine enough that I don't think I'd have to worry about bringing him into the life of my child.

Though, I don't even know it'll go that far. I'm getting too far ahead of myself, and so to slow down I look at what's right in front of me. Right now.

Spencer looks at me like he wants to devour me. My whole body is tingling from head to toe. I want to kiss him, and I'm pretty damn sure he wants to kiss me back. He just invited me inside, which means that if I accept, we'll most likely end up sleeping with each other.

Again... Definitely not one of the scenarios I'd had in mind when I left the school today. But it's a damn good one, and he's so hot I want to cry.

My flirty switch turns on so fast, it nearly gives me whiplash. "And what are you gonna do if I say yes?"

"Depends... How badly do you want to walk tomorrow?"

My first instinct is to jokingly tell him to put me in a wheelchair, but I settle for kissing him instead, hoping that gives the same sentiment.

The way he melts into my body tells me I've succeeded. My arms fly up to his neck and pull him closer, and he holds me tightly to him, waiting for my lips to part so he can expertly slip his tongue past them.

I whine out and take a step towards the door. Spencer comes with me and fumbles with the keys in his pocket before reluctantly pulling away to get us inside.

Once we take our jackets and shoes off, he clings to me like static, drawn to me like a magnet, and I let him near without a second thought. Our lips find each other perfectly, like they've always meant to fit together. And as pieces of clothing come off on our way through the house and up to his bedroom, our limbs fit together just as well. Nothing is out of place.

Hell, I don't even remember how inferior to him I felt earlier in the day. Our jobs and lifestyles might seem like polar opposites, but for right now, the two of us are on very equal footing, coming together like it's always been meant to be.

I nearly fall apart when his fingers gather wetness from my cunt, just enough to tease me before pulling away and bringing them to his lips. I watch with a whine waiting on the back of my tongue as he slips his fingers past his mouth and sighs.

"More," is all he manages, and I want so badly to tease him—tell him how I know he can be more eloquent than that—but words are all lost on me too, when he drops to his knees and spreads me apart with ease. I have no choice but to reach behind and grip the foot-end of the bed as he works his tongue expertly against me.

Each of my sighs and whines are met with more avidity from him, taking the form of sharp flicks of the tongue over my clit, and once he adds his fingers to the mix, pumping them expertly inside me, I'm a fucking goner.

I come with a silent shout, clenching my thighs around his face and gripping the foot of the bed so tightly it feels like my hands might go numb.

Once my body loosens, Spencer gets up and kisses me, nearly knocking me over. I'm breathless and dizzy as the tang of my arousal coats my tastebuds. His hands are gentle despite the hunger in his lips, and the medley of sensations of all of these things has me weak in the knees.

"Getting harder to stand already, sweetheart?" he laughs, catching me as I fall into him. His hands clutch at my thighs and he carries me to the edge of the bed, crawling over top of me and kissing down my neck. "That's okay... I'll take good care of you."

I still can't manage to speak as he gently pushes in, the slow burn of him splitting me in two rendering me utterly incapable of even thought. I gladly welcome the pressure, especially once he's inside me all the way and lowering his body to mine. Our chests press firmly together as he pulls back and starts a steady pace with his hips. He traps me with his arms, bringing them to either side of my face. And when his fingers brush the hair from my eyes, he stares into them with intensity as he fucks me.

It's slow and hard. It's heart-pounding. It's earth-shattering. It's everything that makes sex worth having. In that moment we're two equals, so wrapped up in the mere feeling of each other that everything else is just background noise. He breathes me in and I do the same, and with each cant forward of his hips, he brings me deeper into this world we've both ultimately created together.

I want more than anything to wrap my legs around him and keep him close to me, but he's fucking me so good that I don't have the willpower. Instead, they lay spread out, lazy and open as his hips move between them. I'm warm all over, tingling everywhere our skin connects. When he kisses me, swallowing my pathetic attempts at whimpering his name, I'm positive that this is what Heaven must feel like.

Whether it's hours or only minutes later, eventually my body tenses, unable to hold back any further, and two particularly deep thrusts from Spencer send me barreling over the edge.

"There it is, sweetheart..." he praises, caressing my face with long, gentle fingers and leaving little kisses wherever they trail. His voice only seems to help me along, each warm syllable soothing the muscles that pulled taut at his mercy. "That's a good girl..."

I feel tired, calmed, and relaxed, when he pulls out only to jerk off over my lower stomach. Through tired eyes, I watch as he lets go and covers me with his release. Hearing him grunt out my name as he does it nearly wakes me up again, and it even finally brings some words out of me.

"God, you're so fucking hot..."

Well... Not exactly elegant, but the feeling gets across.

Spencer laughs and rolls over so that he isn't nearly crushing me anymore. He kisses down my neck, my arm, and he ever-so-slightly swipes the tip of his tongue over the mess he made before kissing my thigh and getting up to leave— presumably to get me something to clean up with.

Sure enough, he returns shortly with a wet washcloth and tenderly cleans me up. I manage to sit, leaning back on my elbows once he's done and smile at him. He's practically kneeling in front of me again, smiling back as his lips press featherlight kisses to the inside of my leg.

"How're you feeling?" he drawls, letting me pull him up to lay down with me.

"Really good. I haven't done that in so long..."

"Me either... I um... I hadn't really thought much about seeing other people once Lena and I got divorced... I guess I just wanted to put all my focus into being the best father I could, you know?"

"Mhm," I answer, turning to face him and interlocking our fingers. "I know exactly what you mean."

We lay like that for a few moments in comfortable silence, hands and limbs tangled while we breathe the same air and revel in the afterglow we've just created.

Suddenly Spencer laughs, and I squeeze his hand. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking... We probably wouldn't have met if not for Anteros calling us in, right?"

"Yeah..." I piece it together. "Guess I never thought of it that way."

"I just think it's funny, because in Greek mythology, Anteros was an Erote, known as an avenger of unrequited love, and he punished those who scoffed at romantic advances made by others... You and I never even thought about dating after our separations, and yet... Here we are now, because of Anteros."

Hearing him educate me on Greek mythology only serves to remind me how different we are. Still, the little story brings a comforting smile to my lips. "Well... Remind me to send her a basket of muffins or something to thank her."

"And tell her what? That you're grateful she got you laid?"

"Yeah. And what about it?"

The two of us dissolve into laughter that eventually fizzles and leaves us silent again. Our fingers are still tangled, and somehow we've snuggled in even closer.

"In any case, I'm glad I got to meet you, Doctor Reid."

"And I, you, Ms. Y/L/N..."

———

In the past two weeks since that first meeting, I hadn't received any more phone calls from Principal Anteros, which bode as a good sign.

Spencer and I decided to see each other as secretly as we could, which meant only giving vague details to our kids as to what we were doing in our spare time— It seemed weird to spring it on them if they didn't get along, so we figured it was best to wait until the situation was handled.

I tried to talk to Sky about their progress with Vivian, but they only insisted that everything was fine and they wouldn't have to worry anymore. And after relaying this information to Spencer, he informed me that Viv had said the same thing to him.

It wasn't until we both realized that they'd said the same things verbatim each time we asked, that something odd was going on.

And that's how we end up right here, Sky and I sitting on a park bench bathed in the golden October sun while I patiently wait for Spencer to 'coincidentally' show up with Vivian.

Thankfully I don't have to wait too long, because almost five minutes after we sit, I hear the familiar sound of my name falling from his lips, and it's hard to contain the cocky, playful smile that appears upon my own.

"Spencer, hey!" I call back, standing up and going to give him a hug. He pulls me in and he's nice and warm. He smells like burnt wood for some reason, and I want to breathe him in forever. Instead, I settle for a sweet kiss on the lips, both because I simply want to and also because it should baffle the fuck out of our kids.

Sure enough we pull away and look to them, and they look panicked. They have no idea what to do, what to say...

"Oh! Sorry... Viv, this is Y/N, Sky's mom."

The pure amusement in Spencer's voice makes me feel even warmer than being in his embrace. I look to his daughter and give her a wave. "Hi."

"H—Hi..."

It almost seems cruel to laugh at their predicament, but as I turn to Sky and introduce them to Spencer, they have clear annoyance written all over their face.

"Okay, Mom, I think we get it... How did you guys figure it out?"

"What, that you two pretended to hate each other so your principal would have to call us both in to meet?"

The pre-teens look at each other and sigh, truly defeated once and for all. "Yeah," they mutter simultaneously.

"Well, it surely didn't make any sense when you got in trouble for yelling at each other in the first place," Spencer points out. "And then when we asked you how things were working out, you both said the same exact thing..."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out, but we appreciate the effort," I add, reaching out to ruffle Sky's hair. They jerk away playfully, and I can't help but notice their smile as they peek over at Vivian.

"Our plan worked, though, so I call it a win," Vivian says with a shrug.

"As long as you two don't plan on causing any more disruptions at school..." Spencer looks between the both of them, and then at me, his eyes softening as he takes my hand and squeezes it. "Then yes. I'd call it a win, too."

I lean into him and laugh. "Turns out it wasn't Greek mythology that brought us together. It was The Parent Trap."

He raises an eyebrow, like he doesn't get what I mean, and before I can ask or explain, Vivian does it for me. "He's never seen it."

Spencer looks between the three of us like a lost and confused puppy, and we all laugh.

"Well, then, maybe we'll have to have a movie night sometime soon," I offer, reaching out for Sky.

Hand in hand, the four of us continue down the pathway, walking away from the setting sun while dried leaves rustle under our feet.

———

PERMANENT TAGLIST (tags not working are struck out):

@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @mcureid @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @goldensonlyangel @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17 @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc @xoxospencerreid @thatsonezesty13 @big-galaxy-chaos @mggskneescrew @youabitchhhh @spencersjello @moonlight-2-6 @starrylang @foreveryoungxx3 @spencerreidscoffeecup @morganwilliams @emilyprsntiss @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @gubswh0re @mrsobrien888 @loveeee2134 @umbreonwolfy @ayla-1605 @reidsbabe @not-that-kind-of-dr-spencer-reid

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #enemies to lovers

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waywardstation · 3 years ago

Note

“...I should really stop stalling,” she said. “We need to figure out the memory situation.”

Irida grimaced, but did not argue. They really did have to. If there was nothing else to be relieved of in this situation, at lease they had time to pause and plan this go around.

Turning to the front window, Akari frowned. “I don’t know if Mr. Ingo ever mentioned this to you—maybe you already know part of it. When we were going through Wayward Cave the first time, he talked a bit about what little remembered. When I brought out Firecracker to help see because the lights were out, he said he once knew a Pokémon with mastery over flames…”

“You believe that means his memory of that Pokémon is in this car, then?” It made a certain sort of sense to Irida.

“I do.” Akari’s frown deepened. Her gaze flickered to the blueish torches. “I brought Firecracker out in the Cave, to help light the torches again, and when he saw Firecracker Mr. Ingo said that he had the closest flame color to the Pokémon he remembered that he’d ever seen, and even then it wasn’t the exact same purple.

“Plus,“ she added, “we’ve only seen one memory screen, so maybe it’s nothing, but the fact that this one is cracked makes me think something’s going on with the memory inside.”

“I see.” Irida frowned. It seemed that there would be no avoiding it. “Then we simply must see what memory lies in this car, no matter our reservations.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

“However, our reservations are well-reasoned: how should we manage the Conductor?”

Akari sighed and uncrossed her arms, send her hands on her hips. “That’s a difficult question. Irida, do you remember what the Conductor’s pokemon looked like? Can you describe it to me?”

Irida opened her mouth to begin, but closed it again with a furrowed brow. There was its large, gaping mouth, its thin body—but that was it. That was all Irida could recall. The color, the shape, the form its attack was taking, all of it was unidentifiable.

“Exactly.” Akari looked at each of the Pokémon in the car. “You three are our best hope for dealing with his Pokémon, but we don’t even know what it is or what typing it has. It’s gonna be strong, too. Mr. Ingo is super good at battling, so the Conductor probably has access to that knowledge.”

She clapped her hands together. “That doesn’t mean we know nothing, though. I remember feeling my hair raise up when the attack started, so it’s got an electric attack. It could be an electric type, or it could just have that move, but it’s something.”

The Dewott at her legs huffed.

“Yeah, that means you can’t fight it. I had other plans for you anyway, so that’s not too bad.”

Irida bit her lip, frustrated. She wished she could argue against trying to fight the Conductor, but there seemed no other option. They needed to examine what might be a distorted memory in order to understand their next actions, and doing so required holding the Conductor off from throwing them out. But, to send a Noble to fight against the strange Pokemon, even with other Pokemon aiding her…it sat wrong, to ask for such assistance yet have no actions to return for it. To be a Noble was to be a protector, but Irida could not help but feel uneasy nonetheless.

A thought struck her. It was ridiculous, and reckless, but— it could work. In most circumstances, she would never act so brashly, but in this realm, distanced from reality and full of new possibilities and consequences, perhaps a more daring method was needed.

“Battling Pokemon rely on the person’s commands during a fight, yes?” she said, slowly. “What if the Conductor was too… indisposed to issue orders?”

“Indisposed, huh? What, are you thinking of putting him in a chokehold or something?” Akari said, quirking a brow.

Irida said nothing.

“Oh sweet Spirits, you’re gonna put him in a chokehold.”

“I don’t want to choke him,” she defended; the man really did remind her of Ingo too much for her to do that. “I’d be clapping a hand over his mouth at most. It’s just that keeping him quiet might make this more manageable.”

“Oh, it definitely would. Feel free to try it, I won’t stop you.” Akari said, giggling. She looked at the window again. “So, that’s our plan, then? I see what’s going on with the memory while you guys hold the Conductor back?”

“It’s not much of a plan, said like that…” Irida muttered.

All Akari could give to that was a shrug. “We barely have any information. That’s all the planning we can do until we have more.”

With no counterargument to present, Irida instead swept her gaze through the car. Where had the Conductor begun to approach from? Almost the middle of the thin room, far in the back; standing in a corner would have to do for a hiding spot. She would need the element of surprise and the hope that keeping the Conductor between her and his Pokémon would leave it hesitating.

“I’ll stand to the back and wait for an opportune moment, while you three,” Irida indicated Akari, Firecracker, and Lady Sneasler, “initiate the memory and thus the battle?”

“Sounds good to me,” Akari affirmed with a shrug. “Well— I want to plan out the moves Firecracker’s going to use first.”

Firecracker sat up attentively at that, looking to Akari with keen eyes. Almost immediately, Akari drew the Dewott and Typhlosion to her and began instructing them both. Irida, has no real advice to give; Palkia surrounding knew Akari was leaps and bounds past her in battling together with Pokémon. Instead, she pressed closer to Lady Sneasler for a moment.

“I know you cannot be truly hurt, not in a way that matters here, but please do exercise cation, my lady,” she muttered. “Neither us nor Warden Ingo would enjoy putting you in a position of sacrifice.”

Lady Sneasler regarded her with sharp eyes, and after a moment of consideration, snorted. Still, she nodded in some form of acceptance of Irida’s plea, and Irida knew to take what she could get.

With that matter settled for the time, Irida turned to the back corners of the car. They were dark and craggy, which was unnerving in the dim light but certainly useful when she wanted to hide within one of them. Most days, Irida found herself wishing she was taller—she sometimes suspected her assertions of will and leadership would fair better if she could just tower properly instead of scowling upwards like a child— but her slight frame worked in this situation.

She turned around so that she faced the rest of the car and crouched. With her eyes fixed approximately where she remembered the Conductor being—yes, this should do well. Attacking with the enemy distracted would ensure her ease of restraining him, and if he possessed the same strength as Warden Ingo when he first arrived, the Conductor would be no trouble to hold down at all.

She stood up as Akari finished her instructions. No time like the present, Irida supposed.

A few more words exchanged between the two humans in the car, and positions to enact the plan were taken up. Irida crouched once more, watching as Akari, backed by Firecracker and Lady Sneasler, approached the memory-window.

The window flickered with purple light. Irida jolted slightly as the form of the Conductor strode forward towards the cluster, simply appearing in the car as though he had always been there, coat flaring.

“You know the rules,” was his only clipped warning.

Then, his monstrous Pokémon flashed into being and the fight was on. The lithe Pokémon rose up just as before, the Conductor raising a pointing arm in tandem—

Irida struck. Springing up, she hurled herself forward and collided with the man, leaving him sputtering around his command. Before either him or his Pokémon could react, she slammed a hand over his mouth and an arm around his chest, twisting her body so they both hit the ground, with the Conductor taking the brunt of the impact.

Above them, the Pokémon shrieked with rage, and then with alarm as Akari’s shouted command of “Flame Wheel!” had a blast of fire connecting with its back as Lady Sneasler followed the move with a poisoned strike to the tender skin. While the Pokémon jerked between paying attention to its trainer and the foes attacking it, Firecracker struck again with another Flame Wheel.

The Conductor thrashed in her hold, attempting to bite her hand, but Irida held firm with little effort. He was as weak as she suspected, much to her advantage. All she needed to keep hold of him was Akari driving the Conductor’s Pokémon away from freeing him, which Akari was managing quite handily.

Irida immediately regretted that confidence—just as she thought it, the purple-blue lighting of the room roared to a blinding crescendo, heat swiftly following after—she couldn’t help the gasp that left her at the shock of such burning air. She wrenched her head up to see Akari reeling her body back from the other end of the car, and watched with horror as a spindly, many-limbed something burst out of the memory-window. It was oil-black and twitching, flinging itself forward into the middle of the car as the Conductor struggled in her arms with renewed vigor.

Her shock was almost tremendous enough to let him succeed. Gritting her teeth, Irida redoubled her efforts to still him and prayed to Sinnoh, to Arceus, to whatever it desired to be called to give Akari knowledge and speed enough to deal with the unwanted complication.

Already she could hear Akari’s voice shouting above everything, delivering whipcrack-fast commands. More flames spewed from Firecracker’s mouth towards the snake-like Pokémon as Akari’s Dewott lept into the fray to spit a vicious funnel of water at the black monster, while it produced bluish flames of its own to add to the rising temperatures.

Everything was pandemonium.

Irida could barely pay attention to anything, her head growing more fevered and dizzied by the second. All she could do was narrow her perception to the man in her grasp, retaliating to his attempt to strike her head with a knee driven into his back. Fire and water and lightning raged around them, joined by Akari’s shrill, furious voice and the howls and snarling of the Pokémon. The car rocked and swayed from side to side, but still clung to the rails. The Conductor was yelling, scrabbling at her hand, but it was too muffled to discern.

A flash of surveyor blue rushed past her limited view, and Irida desperately tracked it, horror filling her as Akari flung herself bodily at the monstrous form, catching on the bulbous middle of it. The monster let out a haunting cry, burning red eyes flashing as its flames grew, but nothing deterred Akari as she tore at its inky skin—

But it wasn’t skin, Irida realized as Akari’s hands came away with globs of black something clinging to them. It was a substance, a coating, swallowing whatever laid beneath nearly whole.

One of the monster’s thrashing limbs finally struck true, and it wrenched Akari off itself and threw her to the ground, lurching down to follow her and strike once more. As Akari gasped at the impact and heaved, her Dewott rushed in, dousing as many burning limbs as he could to distract it, Firecracker and Lady Sneasler still tangling with the Conductor’s Pokémon.

Enraged on Akari’s behalf, however, the duo grew even more unrelenting in their attacks, hurling fire and poison at the Pokémon for every lonely attack it managed, until it was struggling under their punishing attentions. The Lady cut, Firecracker lunged to bite; it was a perfect barrage of a dance, as though they had run it a thousand times.

Finally, Lady Sneasler struck it across its gaping face, and it slammed to the ground with finality.

The pair whirled to face Akari and the monster, surging forward as the monster continued to bear down on the girl. It swung one of its doused limbs to hit Akari; Akari, pinned, could seemingly do nothing but fling her arms over her head—

—”FIRECRACKER, NOW,” Akari roared, hurling the monster off of her. “BURN IT OUT!”

Firecracker let out an earsplitting cry, flames whirling and reaching the ceiling as he reared up. Before the monster could scramble away, a holy reckoning of fire poured out of the Typhlosion’s mouth, coating it in violet flame. A horrific scream filled the whole car. Irida’s head felt like it was cracking open at the volume as the Conductor convulsed in her hold, shouting something—

And then, with a final shriek, the monster was silenced. There was only quiet. Light filled the car properly once more. The Conductor tore himself from Irida’s stunned hold, gasping, “Chandelure?”

Floating where the mass of oily limbs once hunched was a Pokémon with brilliant blue flames and a glassy exterior.

—-

In a small tent, Warden Ingo suddenly doubled over, clutching at his head with a pained groan. Knowledge-bearing Uxie clung on to him, their unseen eyes darting frantically underneath ever-shut eyelids. Shuddering, Ingo clenched his jaw and tried to sit up again as his head pounded like it had been cracked in half by a hammer. Lady Snealser leapt up, but was not the first to reach him.

Rei rushed to his side. “Sir! Sir, are you alright?”

“I remember,” he rasped. “I remember. Its name is Chandelure!”

---------

Huzzah! The second half! With a round of Pokémon battle in this Pokémon fanfic, who could have ever imagined? I had a lot of fun describing the fight as complete chaos through Irida's eyes--I decided to discard the turn-based combat for a free-for-all and having the one person not in the fight just dealing with it happening, haha.

I hope I sold the action well enough--combat scenes aren't really my forte! If I didn't, it's just because Irida didn't have a good view, naturally.

And, of course, a little bit of Ingo in this fic about Ingo. Wild.

--cw

(Part of a collection of writings CW had been making about the Train of Thought AU. First part of this segment can be read here, and all the previous segments can be read here on AO3!)

CW WOW!! This was just as fun to read as the first part!!! So many good parts!!

Irida wanting to put the Conductor in a chokehold, The description of Eelektross, Pre-restored Chandelure’s appearance, Ingo regaining his memory of Chandelure…it’s all SO GOOD! You did great with the action scenes, don’t worry! Absolutely loved reading this!!

Again I am very sorry for how late I got to this, but I really enjoyed reading this and had so much fun visualizing everything in my head; bravo!!!

Lovely writing as always, I hope other people enjoy reading this as much as I have! Your writing skills really are fantastic and I very much enjoy this narrative you’ve made!!

#train of thought au #train of thought au writing #SUCH A GOOD STORY #GREAT JOB CW!!

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myherowritings · 4 years ago

Text

PART 3. ACCIDENTAL SUGAR DADDY?

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. happy new year y’all! :3 i hope you have a good 2021 and here is some flirty ceo!shouto for u to enjoy as we enter the new year hehe ;) thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

“I heard you dropped by this weekend,” you said as a greeting, a playful smile on your lips. “Looking for me?”

If the tips of his ears didn’t tinge pink, you would have guessed Shouto was completely unaffected by your words.

“Mn.” He drew his attention away from your gaze and pointedly adjusted his cufflinks. “Good morning to you too.”

You laughed, accepting you wouldn’t get anything out of your attempt at teasing. “Morning, Shouto. How was your weekend?”

The cafe was quite busy this hour, but Miyazaki took over the other register to alleviate the stress (though, what she really said was so you and pretty boy—who happened to be rich rich—could talk). Whatever the reason, you were glad for a small break whenever you could get it.

“You could say it was busy,” he replied, sounding a bit tired. For the first time since you met him, you actually noticed how exhausted he looked. You wanted to put cucumbers on his eyes and lay his head down on your lap to coax him to sleep. Nonetheless, he smiled softly at you. “And yours? I hope you were able to have time to rest and relax.”

You nodded. “I just slept a lot and caught up on the shows I missed throughout the week.”

“The real way a weekend should be spent.”

His voice was teasing but he didn’t sound mocking. Just...somewhat playful. There was something about his tone that made you want to hear it again.

“Something tells me you need a weekend away where you could just relax and do nothing,” you commented, tapping the back of your pen to your chin. “Do you not have any days off at work?”

He considered this. “Depends what you mean by day off.”

“If you have to ask that, that probably means you don’t have a day off, huh?” you said with a frown, holding your hand over your chest as you sighed dramatically. “You poor thing. Overworked and tired. Maybe I should steal you away one weekend and get you to just relax.”

You were only half-serious.

“Maybe you should,” agreed Shouto, sounding full-serious.

“Maybe I will,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. Maybe you could if you actually had his number… Then, feeling shameful you said, “But, ah, anyway, what can I get for you today? We actually have cheese danishes again!”

His face brightened. “You do? I’ll take five dozen.”

With a laugh you took down his order. You really weren’t sure where all these pastries were going when he bought it, but judging from his expression, you figured it must be somewhere good.

“And for your drink?”

“This time I’ll have a large green tea with almond milk, please.”

You nodded but tilted your head to the side in question. “No coffee with extra shots of espresso today?”

“I add too much sugar and creamer to my coffee,” he admitted sheepishly. “And with all the baked goods I’ve been eating I realized I may have had an excess amount of sweets lately.”

With an understanding laugh you patted his hand that was resting on the counter woefully. “I can definitely relate to that. If too many sweets are bad for you they shouldn’t have made it taste so good.”

Shouto glanced down at where your hands touched, an expression you couldn’t quite discern on his face. Averting your gaze, you quickly pulled your hand back. Was that inappropriate of you? Did he find it too pushy?

“Oh— Sorry about that,” you said, rubbing your elbow with your opposite hand. “Got a bit ahead of myself there.”

“No, it’s fine.” He blinked once. “I didn’t mind.”

Unsure if he meant anything by that and unsure if you were reading too much into things, you simply brushed the topic off and moved on to getting his order in telling him the price.

“Paying by card again, I’m assuming?” you asked before hitting the appropriate button on the screen.

“Correct.”

By now the sight of the sleek and pretty credit card was one you grew rather fond of as he scanned over the payment terminal and signed his name. Was it weird you wanted to examine his signature more closely? Shouto seemed like the type of person who would have a fancy signature that somehow looked like art.

As per routine, you told him his order would be ready for pick up at his right and, before he left the register, he thanked you and gave you another $100.

Did it feel any less strange than the first time he tipped you? Not really, no. But you still weren’t going to complain about a generous tip from a willing customer.

Before he left with his cheese danishes and cup of tea in hand, he stopped by next to you with a small smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You grinned back. “Can’t wait, Shouto!”

— ✩ —

This went on for a whole other week. By this point, he had given you over $1,000 in tip and you were starting to feel like you should give him something in return despite him assuring you he didn’t expect anything.

When you told your friends about the nice guy you met while you were working and they asked for the details, the first thing they said in response to your situation was, “Sugar daddy?”

Before they planted that thought into your head, you just took it as a rich businessman who hated the rich and believed in redistribution of wealth—you couldn’t complain about that. That made him even more appealing, if you must say. But once Kaminari and Ashido whispered those two words, you couldn’t help but see the comparisons.

You had no issues with sugar daddies or sugar babies; as long as they were two consenting adults, what did it matter to you? It just wasn’t something you were looking for at the time and you didn’t want Shouto to get the wrong impression or involve yourself in something you weren’t ready to.

As you commuted to work for your next morning shift, you told yourself today was the day you’d thank him one final time for the tips, but tell him you couldn’t accept anymore. You were sure he’d be understanding but you also hoped it wouldn’t deter him from coming to see you. That was the last thing you’d want.

“Mrs. Miyazaki,” you said between customers. “When Shouto comes in, do you think I can step away from the register to talk to him for a little? I promise it’ll be brief!”

She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s not a problem. Are you finally going to ask him out or something?”

You scratched the back of your neck. “Or something, yeah.”

Thankfully, by the time Shouto arrived today, it was later than he normally came, meaning rush hour was almost dying down.

“Good morning! Someone’s a little late today,” you teased. “Overslept?”

“I wish,” he sighed wistfully. “I had a meeting early this morning and it just ended. Didn’t have a chance to pick up some coffee or pastries beforehand.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope whoever was hosting the meeting at least provided you guys drinks and snacks!”

He paused. “He did, but… I just thought yours were better.”

Smiling at the compliment, you preened. “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised. And I’m glad you were able to drop by still. Would’ve missed you too much otherwise.”

Again, you were only half-serious.

“Hm. I would’ve missed you too.”

And again, he seemed full-serious. Not that you minded.

After taking his order and watching him pay, you pulled him to the side, looking over at your boss so she knew what was going on. She gave you a brief nod as you turned your attention to Shouto.

A lapse of silence went by and he spoke up, “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, actually.” You wrung your fingers nervously, hoping you wouldn’t say anything to offend him since you knew his actions were coming from a kind place. “I just wanted to say… I’m not really looking for a sugar daddy right now.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “Pardon?”

You stared at him, unsure what to say.

“I— Sorry. I wasn’t… It’s not my intention to be a...sugar daddy either.” Shouto’s face flushed a bright pink that made your own cheeks warm up in response.

“But the—the money? I just… I guess I thought…” You winced.

So he wasn’t trying to pick up a sugar baby… Well, this was awkward. But regardless, you think you’ve gotten close enough to him to the point where it would feel weird accepting money from him.

“I’m sorry if I was unclear. It really is just a tip to show appreciation for your service here.”

You shook your head. “No! Sorry, that makes sense! My friends just said… And then I…” you trailed off, feeling a million times more flustered than when you started. “Sorry about that. The sugar daddy mishap aside, I still wanted to say that I really appreciate the tips you gave, but I don’t think I can accept them anymore.”

Slowly, he nodded, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt. “I understand. Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened!” you were quick to assure. “I really am thankful, but… I think we’ve gotten too close for me to be comfortable accepting that much money, you know?”

Shouto tilted his head to the side, listening intently.

“Like,” you tried to explain, fiddling with your apron, “over the past few weeks I just think we’ve gotten to know each other more and I think of you as a friend of sorts now.” You peered at him through your lashes, hoping your words were making sense. “I think as a relationship develops—for me, at least—adding money into the mix can cause weird power imbalances if not communicated properly. And I just don’t want that for us.”

He thought through your words for a while before agreeing. “I get what you mean. I wouldn’t want to unintentionally make you feel like you owe me anything, so if you’re not comfortable with it, I can stop.”

“Thanks, Shouto,” you said with a beam, glad he was so receptive. Really though, what else did you expect? From your interactions with him you took him to be kindhearted and open. Of course he wouldn’t be upset over this. “But just to be clear, this doesn’t mean you should stop coming! Right? I don’t want to stop being your friend or anything!”

With a small laugh, he nodded. “Sure. I wouldn’t want to part with my favorite cafe. And I’d like to keep being friends as well.”

Those words warmed your heart. You really were nervous about this confrontation earlier; you didn’t want voicing your opinion to mean ending your friendship. (Although, if you sharing what you were comfortable with was enough to end a relationship, then you supposed it was bound to be a toxic and stifling one in the long run and it was good to know in the beginning to end it before it could grow.) Turns out, however, that you didn’t even need to worry about that. He was understanding and sweet and you were glad to have gotten this out of the way.

“Well, as new friends,” you said, gently nudging his side, “maybe we should get to know each other more? Exchange numbers… Hang out outside of this cafe…” You ran through some suggestions, almost bouncing on your feet in excitement. “I mean, I know you’re always so busy and might not have much free time to hang out. But— If you’re ever free one weekend…”

“I’d enjoy that,” he cut in, saving you from blabbering your mouth off and accidentally embarrassing yourself. “Didn’t you say you’d steal me away from work to relax? I’m still holding you to that.”

The beginnings of a smirk formed on his face as he looked at your flustered expression. Was he teasing you?

You huffed, pretending to be insulted by his playful mocking. “Guess I’ll really have to do it then.”

“Guess so.”

“Maybe you should give me your number first so we could plan it.”

“Okay.”

He handed you his phone and you handed him yours, both of your adding your numbers to the contact list. Smiling, you held the phone in front of the two of you to take a contact picture of yourself for Shouto’s phone. To your complete surprise, he laughed before promptly following suit and taking a selfie for his contact image.

“Cute,” you said when he handed you back your phone.

“You too.”

Placing your device back in your pocket, you looked at him, hand on hip. “Since when did you become such a smooth-talker? Am I going to have to guard my heart now?”

His only response was a shrug, but you could see hints of a smile playing on his face. The two of you seemed to be smiling a lot lately, you couldn’t help but notice.

“I should probably let you go to work now—and I should go back to mine.” You gestured to the growing line at the front of the store. Your manager looked like she had things under control, but you didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness. “You should text me later though. If you want.”

“I’ll do that,” Shouto promised, picking up his drink and pastry boxes from the side counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. And… I’ll message you soon.”

As you watched him leave the store, you were certain you had a silly look on your face as you stared in a trance.

“I’ll turn my phone off silent just for you!” you said to his back, hoping he understood what a momentous occasion this was. Your phone was always on silent (unless you were playing a game, of course). But for Shouto, you could handle hearing the obnoxious ringtone and text tone.

With an amused expression he nodded before waving goodbye.

Later on that day, at the end of your shift, you noticed a new message from a certain someone that made your stomach flutter.

Shouto: Hi there. It’s Shouto :)

You never knew those four simple words would be enough to keep the grin plastered on your face up until the moment your head hit your pillow to fall asleep. But, damn— Were you glad that happened to be the case.

a/n: whY WAS SHOUTO AND Y/N EXCHANGING NUMBERS SO CUTE idk that scene got me all blushy and :DDD HFJDKSF like taking a selfie with shouto and getting his number? only goal in life BFHFGF,, also y/n said no more tips how we feeling? ;o

what to expect in the next part:

an unwanted visitor ಥ_ಥ

shouto has a...proposition for y/n

FLIRTING FLUFF SO MUCH CUTENESS U MIGHT CRY

y/n struggles with their fEeLiNGs~

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anarchy2021 · 4 years ago

Text

PSA Day! (Rp etiquette)

{ID: A person standing next to a flipchart. They're thin, and have medium-length brown hair, pale skin, and dark brown ears. The ears are angled horizontally. They're wearing thin-rimmed glasses, and their expression reads as confident. Their hair is partially tied up in a bun. They also have a long tail the same brown as their ears, with brown fur the same color as their hair on the end. They're wearing black trousers, a black waistcoat with a white shirt underneath. Additionally, a black overcoat with gold edges is draped over their shoulders. The inner lining of the overcoat is red, and partially visible behind the person. They have their right hand on their hip, and with their left hand, they're holding a stick up to the flipchart, which reads "RP 101 :)". The 101 is underlined. END ID.}

Greetings! You may not recognize me (unless you were watching the debate perhaps, then, sup) as I admit I’ve been a bit…. Behind the scenes as it were (as secretary of VOID there is a lot of looking at the void, usual routine for me mhm mhm). Regardless, I’m Days (or Nights, either or) and for today’s PSA I’m here (along with some words from our recently freed from totally-not-prison president, Graphite, at a later date) to talk to you about roleplay! More specifically, rp etiquette and terms and how that relates to the DSMP and how it should be talked about.

Now now, you might be wondering “oh but what is your experience?” Glad you asked! I’m a long term text rper with over 5 years of experience- and my main avenues of rp are rps similar in structure to that of the DSMP- long term improv driven sandboxes that also have important events planned ahead of time in some regard but are often player driven most of the time. Now, let’s get into it!

Head writers/admins

Let’s start off with a pretty hot topic regarding the server, which is the existence of a ‘head writer’ (usually in reference to Mr. Soot). Now, mainy take this as meaning quite literally a writer- like in a show, but, with what information we have I think it’s safe to say he’s not really that and more along the lines of an rp admin/head. The admin’s main purpose is to keep things structured and organized, as well as putting together the events they’re in charge of. This is pretty much how everyone treats the man anyways, BUT, while an admin is in charge of a lot they do NOT have the final say over everything, particularly in regards to the characters and their players.

Players in an rp for the most part have full control over their characters (within reason and the confines of the rp setting) and an admin enforcing their will onto a character (such as enforcing certain backstory choices that don’t seem particularly wanted. For example, the fridge with c!Phil) is often frowned upon unless there is a good reason for it and discussed with the rper.

It is also notable that just because there is an admin, that doesn’t mean they’re the sole writer/organizer/etc. It is not at all uncommon for specific subplots and or other important events to be headed by players involved in it in this type of rp. This can be seen in practice with how the Eggpire plotline was headed by BBH and the prison plotline was mainly written by Dream and Tommy.

Summary:

- head writer/admins do not and should not control everything

- organise and structure events

- players might admin their own smaller plots within a rp

Narrative consequences

Now, another hot topic- especially in regards to character discourse (my abhorred personally). Narrative consequences. These are generally referred to when someone thinks a character is not getting the consequences for their actions in the story that they should, or (more rarely in my experience) when they feel a character is being punished too hard for their actions. While this is an understandable feeling to have, at the end of the day narrative consequences just aren’t much of a thing in roleplay, at least not to the same extent as a book or tv show.

This is for one simple reason, consequences rely on the character’s actions and how they respond to others around them, if a character does not feel like it’s fit to react or if it angers their character- it is 100% within their right to respond accordingly.

However, there is also an argument that can be made if a character responds to something in a way that doesn’t align with a character’s usual actions. For a personal example, one time in a rp I was playing a character who was intervening when another character was being hurt, however, my character was met with scorn from being somewhat aggressive regarding it- I felt that this was unfair as none of these character showed the same scrutiny to characters who did worse things, and none of these characters had been established as hypocrites.

This grudge lasted the entire rp until my character died. This is a point where believing that the consequences to a character are unjust is more or less fair, but, a character simply not getting immediately smited or a character getting scorn is not automatically a point against the character, especially since an rper cannot reasonably make their fellow rpers react a certain way.

Summary:

- narrative consequences are not the same in RP as in other mediums

- can't force characters to react, or force players to react in a way they don't feel is fit

- but can critique RP if things feel unfairly ooc/inconsistent

Retcons

Next up, retcons. What is a retcon? It’s short for retroactive continuity, in essence it’s when in a piece of media something is changed retroactively- such as a character’s personality, how an event occurred, etc. for an outsider audience perspective retcons are often looked upon unfavorably, as it’s changing something already established which can cause friction among those attached to certain ideas, but in reality retcons are both a neutral concept and fairly normal to occur in rps.

Rps are (generally) not professional writing, they’re things made up on the fly with perhaps a base to work off of (and depending on the rp, not even that. However in the rps I’ve done we generally had character sheets and the like for backstories and all) and thus sometimes mistakes happen. One of the main causes for minor retcons is when details are confused or left out that would have realistically affected the situation or how characters would have responded to it, unless in severe cases these usually happen on the spot and don’t cause much of a fuss.

Major retcons often fall along the lines of players and how they choose to present their character. This is especially common when a player is using a character for the first time or even if they’re just new to an rp in general, sometimes as we rp we simply decide to take things in a new direction and sometimes that direction may cause things already established to be retconned, even if not outright stated.

A good example of this is the enderwalk with c!Ranboo, the enderwalk as it was first introduced is very different than it is portrayed now, likely as a result of Ranboo taking a new direction with his character since then. More widespread retcons may happen if people are unhappy with a certain plot thread, in this case an example would be the canon status of SBI, Wilbur used to push it but Techno (and later Phil) didn’t want it to be canon, so anything about it previously said has been soundly retconned.

In my own case character retcons very often happen to me when I first use an oc, as the character takes a different shape than what I put on the paper in practice, even sometimes within the same rp (one of my first ocs was practically unrecognizable as the same character in the beginning of an rp as compared to even just a few weeks later).

So, retcons are fine and normal to occur, but, like I said- they’re neutral. A retcon can very well be done poorly and cause problems. This is mainly in issue with retcons made that affect highly established and built upon aspects without discussion with all those who’d be effected, this can cause confusion, plot holes and cause characters to be in a weird limbo if they don’t know how to have their character act without whatever was retconned. Major retcons need to be discussed in order to prevent these problems, and in some cases should be avoided entirely- instead it being better to work for a compromise and rework events rather than removing them.

Summary:

- retcons are normal and neutral

- small retcons happened frequently in RP to help keep things going in an improv heavy medium. Usually unnoticeable

- large retcons tend to have with new players, or if the story is taking a new direction.

- large retcons require a lot of communication, and sometimes whould be avoided, instead working to compromise and rework the direction of the RP

Metagaming and godmodding

Metagaming and godmodding are two very important terms to know for rp etiquette and if you’ve done any rping you’ve probably seen these words thrown around in rules lists and such already. These are both ultimately negative things that should be avoided at all costs. What are they? Metagaming is when you use information that you know OOC and use it IC even though your character should not have that information. Godmodding is when a character is taken over by another person for one reason or another against the player’s will- such as having a character react to something without letting the actual rper do it.

The former is a big issue when it comes to discussion of the DSMP and how people interact with it, mainly in the chat and donos. When you are trying to get a character to react to information that they shouldn’t have you are trying to get them to metagame, which is heavily frowned upon in an RP. This is also important to note in discussion, a character not responding to certain important events is not a mark against them if the character has no way of even knowing what was going on, or would not reasonably respond to it with the information they have.

Summary:

- both frowned upon

- god modding is taking over someone elses character

- metagaming is using out of character information to do in character acting

- Meta gaming is relevant to DSMP particular in how it relates to donos and chats. Don't encourage meta-gaming

All of these factors are important to consider when discussing the DSMP and it’s narrative, it’s not going to function the same as other forms of media nor should it- as once you go in that direction you’re competing with the big boys over at tv and at that point things would fall apart. Improv and it’s unique variables is what makes the DSMP, and anything else like it, special and interesting to follow!

#dsmp #dreamsmp #rp etiquette #mcytblr elections #anarchy2021 #mcytblr election 2021 #PSA day #art by Days #long post #editted by zaph :]#first post from yours truly #(thats days not zaph... i post a lot i will not shut up <3)

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ur-favorite-queer-queen · 4 years ago

Text

Second Chance

For Maribat March day 12 theme second chance

Master List

Sometimes Marinette really wished Penny and Jagged hadn’t adopted her. It’s not that she didn’t want to be a Rolling-Stone, no that wasn’t it. In fact, she was grateful that they had saved her from the horrors that Paris now held for her. It’s just they dragged her to stuff like this, some rich man’s gala.

She had slept for a full 12 hours after finishing Penny’s dress, only to wake up to the news she was coming with them. She probably should’ve seen it coming. Although she was hoping this would be one of the lucky cases where she didn’t have to go. Despite her protests they insisted she needed to interact with other humans who weren’t serving her coffee. In Jagged’s words, “Who knows, you might make a rock n roll friend!”

Now here she was, in her black and purple dress that matched Penny’s and Jagged’s outfits. Letting a bit of her anxiety out as she fiddled with the strap of her matching purse. Watching her parents mingle with the rich folk while she stood off to the side. Every once in a while they would cast her a ‘go make a friend’ look but it never bothered her, she just needed to wait until they stopped turning to look back at her.

After about 10 minutes they stopped, perfect. She casually asked a waiter where the bathroom was and made her way there. Once inside she slipped off the pearl anklet that was Daizzi’s miraculous, letting the kwami make her way into her purse, before pulling out a familiar nose ring. Now that Jagged and Penny were letting her do her own thing, she could go back to scaring people into not socializing with her. While she would’ve loved to keep Daizzi’s miraculous on so that it could combat Stompp’s miraculous side effects, she learned that it took too much energy to do so. And she didn’t want to explain why she was so tired after the gala if she wasn’t talking to anyone.

She schooled her features before making her way back out sending a cold look to anyone who tried to come up to her. She pulled out her phone only to see that 2 hours had passed, she still had 4 more to go. Time was moving much too slowly for her liking.

A clearing of the throat brought her out of her thoughts. She rolled her eyes, putting her phone back in her purse, getting ready to glare at the person who was going to try to talk to her, only to stare in shock at the green eyes that were watching her. The same ones that had bumped into her just days before. The same ones she had sworn she probably wouldn’t ever see again.

Her mouth moved without her permission, again she blames Stompp, “You.”

He smiled or maybe it was a smirk, responding with way too much amusement, “Me.”

She once again schooled her features to look bored, but she’s pretty sure her eyes gave her away with the way he reacted, “What are you doing here?”

Just like before it took him a moment to reply, his smirk growing just the tiniest bit, “I’m always invited to these things, I’ve never seen you before though.”

“With any luck this will be the last time you see me.” She remarked. She didn’t mean to be so rude again she blames Stompp but she really hadn’t expected to see him. To his credit he didn’t seem deterred by her cold vibe, if anything he seemed more determined.

“Why would you say that?”

“These types of things,” She waved her hand around, motioning to the room, “Just aren’t my thing. My parents make it look so easy, but I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. Plus I leave Gotham in a few days.”

“Desperate to get out here?”

“You could say that.”

“Who are your parents?”

She raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” If this was the game he wanted to play she would play it. Trying to find out who she was by asking about her parents, real subtle. Well Mr. Hot shot, she’s letting Stompp take the wheel now.

“You know, you make trying to have a conversation pretty hard.”

She rolled her eyes at him, not even trying to stop them from rolling, “Who says I wanted this conversation?” It was a rhetorical question. She turned to leave only for him to grab her wrist.

Suddenly she was brought back to that night. The night that changed everything. Three pieces of jewelry in her hand, two brooches one ring, her earrings 2 beeps away from her transformation leaving her.

A pale hand holding her wrist, keeping her from running away. Green eyes and blond hair belonged to the owner of the hand.

It had happened too fast. One second she was getting ready to run and detransform. Then someone had stopped her, she turned around to meet hungry green eyes. She froze as she felt lips pressed onto her own. It was only the beeping of her earring that brought her back to reality. A knee to the groin, and she pushed him off of her. Letting the police deal with the trio as she fled.

She turned to the owner of the tan hand that was holding her back and could only register green eyes. She wouldn’t stand still this time. She twisted her hand so that he was forced to let go. A knee to the stomach had him holding his gut and as she raised her arm ready to punch him was when she finally registered that this wasn’t Adrien. It was just some weird stranger who was persistent in getting past her walls.

She could hear people talking around her and when she dared to glance around they were all staring. She forced the embarrassed blush that wanted to grace her cheeks down, she wasn’t 13 anymore, she was 16 god damnit! Locking eyes with the mysterious yet persistent guy again, she ran. Ran until she found herself on a balcony, the cold air brushing her face as she gripped the railing.

Why did she react like that? Why did she always have to be so aggressive? Why couldn’t she just let go of the past and take this damn nose ring off so she didn’t have to go and do stupid shit like this? Why couldn’t she just be normal and let people in?

Oh yeah, because she had a bunch of shitty friends that all turned on her because of a liar. The same liar turned her already neglectful parents against her. So Jagged and Penny got custody of her in order to get her out. Her parents didn’t even put up a fight about it, too busy gushing about precious LILA! And now she has major trust issues despite wanting to open and trust people again. Man, she is a wreck.

“Hey, are you out here?” The mystery guy spoke from the entrance of the balcony.

“No, I’m not.” She didn’t see the point in not acknowledging him, he could probably see her from where he was standing.

“I’m sorry about earlier, you were obviously uncomfortable and I pushed your limit. So I really am sorry.” He apologized.

“Yeah, sorry about kneeing you in the stomach. I thought…” She cut herself off, she didn’t need to pour her whole life story out to a stranger. He probably didn’t even want to know either.

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He made his way to the railing, he was a good distance away that she still had her own space, but close enough they could still talk. She relaxed a little thanks to the distance, resting her elbows on the railing. He leaned his back against the railing. They stood there in silence and Marinette decided she wouldn’t mind seeing this mystery boy again. Wait she didn’t even know his name.

It seemed like he had the same thought since he spoke up, “I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves.”

“We didn’t.” Damn her being so cold, she should probably take this nose ring off. So that’s what she did, took the nose ring off and placed it in her purse. Maybe this would be good for her.

“Well, I’m Damian Wayne.” He stated, holding his hand out to shake.

“Wait, Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in the Ice Prince of Gotham?” She questioned, shocked.

“Oh, so you’ve heard.” He seemed a bit disappointed.

“Yeah, but I won’t judge if you don’t judge.”

He raised an eyebrow at that before she continued, “My name is Marinette Rolling-Stone.” Now he looked surprised.

“You're the elusive Diamond Stone?” He asked, disbelief made its way into his voice.

“That’s what they’re calling me now. At first it was Sapphire Stone. Guess that’s what happens when I stay out of the media too long.” She chuckled a small smile making its way onto her face.

“Wait, where did your nose ring go?” He looked around as if expecting it to magically appear.

“I took it off.”

“Why?”

“Well at first I wore it to scare people off. People are scared of people that have piercings. I was thinking of getting a tattoo but I’m too young and they’re too permanent.”

“Why would you want to scare people off?”

“I have a complicated past. Sometimes putting your trust in someone takes too much risk, I tried to avoid it altogether.” She pulled her sketchbook as she wrote something down.

“Tried?”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?” She tore the paper out.

“You're putting your trust in me?”

“No.” She quickly answered, “But maybe one day.” She handed him the paper and left.

As she walked away she released a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. Maybe giving people a second chance wouldn’t be such a bad thing. But right now she just needed to find her parents so she could head home.

Damian hated galas. He hated having to talk to the stuck-up rich folk who thought they were better than everyone just because of their wealth. The girls who would try and flirt with him in order to gain his last name. And their parents who tried to push them together.

Yes, he definitely hated galas. What made this worse was that his family wouldn’t stop teasing him about the girl who he knocked over that one time. Threatening bodily harm did nothing but amp up the teasing. It was times like this where he truly wished there was a not a no kill rule. If only to give Jason Todd some revenge.

2 hours into the gala and he was already done. 4 girls had already tried to drape themselves over him and it took all his self-control not to hurt them. He was ready to storm out of this gala when he caught sight of her.

The mystery girl he had bumped into days before. She was here, at a Wayne gala. Her outfit certainly looked the part of a rich socialite, She wore a long halter dress that flared out at the waist. It started out black at her neck before turning purple at the waist. The bottom of the dress had black music notes dancing across and she had a matching black and purple purse hanging off her shoulder.

Her hair was down and she seemed to be wearing a little bit of makeup. The only reason he was able to tell it was her was because of the black nose ring that stood out against her fancy look. It looked so out of place compared to everything else.

He watched as a man tried to approach her only to receive the same glare he had gotten days before, quickly moving on to someone else. Seems like he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be here.

He made his way over to her, perhaps to give himself a second chance at a new impression. She proceeded to pull out her phone and look at something before deflating the tiniest bit.

He cleared his throat to grab her attention, she looked at him with the same glare once again before her eyes took on a look of shock.

“You.” She seemed surprised that she had stated this as well.

He couldn’t help the smirk that spread on his face, she remembered him and still had the same spunky attitude, “Me.”

Her features took on a look of boredom, but her eyes looked only curious yet cautious, “What are you doing here?”

The fact that she didn’t recognize him as a Wayne was surprising. He thought that she was only in a hurry before that’s why she didn’t register it was him, but now he knew she truly didn’t know it was him. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. “I’m always invited to these things, I’ve never seen you before though.”

“With any luck this will be the last time you see me.” She said it with such confidence he felt inclined to believe. It was strange. He seemed to be the last person she wanted to talk to and yet he still wanted to talk to her. He didn’t want her to leave. So the next best thing is to get answers.

“Why would you say that?”

“These types of things,” She waved her hand around to motion to the room, “Just aren’t my thing. My parents make it look so easy, but I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. Plus I leave Gotham in a few days.”

Well that sucked for him. “Desperate to get out here?”

“You could say that.”

“Who are your parents?” Maybe he could try to get his father to arrange a meeting with them.

She raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Nevermind.

“You know, you make trying to have a conversation pretty hard.” He didn’t mean to say that, that was rude.

She rolled her eyes at him, it looked like he was meant to see that, “Who says I wanted this conversation?” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist. He didn’t want her to go just yet. He felt her freeze then tense when he touched her, her breathing became a little more forced, and she seemed to shake a little.

Suddenly she twisted out of his grip and kneed him in the stomach. She raised her arm and looked ready to punch him. Her eyes looked far and distant and afraid. They seemed to refocus on him as she dropped her arm and glanced around the room. Of course, people were talking about them.

She locked eyes with him once more before running. He ran after her before his path was blocked off by Dick Grayson. “Damian what-” He didn’t get to finish that question as he dashed passed him, determined not to lose the one girl who wasn’t a stuck up brat.

He thought he had lost her but then he heard someone taking deep breaths from out on one of the balconies. He was about to go up to her, but from the way she reacted to his sudden hold on her arm earlier, it was probably best to give a warning. “Hey are you out here?”

He walked out onto the balcony. “No, I’m not.” She likely didn’t want to talk to him.

“I’m sorry about earlier, you were obviously uncomfortable and I pushed your limit. So I really am sorry.” He apologized. Which was so unlike him because here Damian Wayne was apologizing to a stranger. The weird things she made him do.

“Yeah, sorry about kneeing you in the stomach. I thought…” She cut herself off, it looked like she wanted to say more but wasn’t going to.

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He walked over to the railing, making sure he was a good distance away that she had her own space, but close enough so they could still talk. She seemed to relax a little thanks to the distance, resting her elbows on the railing. He leaned his back against the railing. He quite liked the silence, her company was nice. Oh god he didn’t even know her name.

“I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves.”

“We didn’t.” She stated in what he was pretty sure was a cold tone. Maybe she wanted to stay mysterious, so he would just introduce himself.

“Well, I’m Damian Wayne.” He held his hand out to shake.

“Wait, Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in the Ice Prince of Gotham?” So she recognizes the name, not the face. Great.

“Oh, so you’ve heard.”

“Yeah, but I won’t judge if you don’t judge.” Why would he judge her?

He raised an eyebrow at her before she continued, “My name is Marinette Rolling-Stone.”

“You're the elusive Diamond Stone?” He asked, disbelief accidentally made its way into his voice. He couldn’t help it. She was claiming to be the adoptive daughter of famous Jagged and Penny Rolling-Stone. The girl that made Jagged’s stage outfits from scratch and managed to get the ferocious Fang, Jagged’s pet crocodile, to love her. The media could only ever get a hold of the back of her head, but those that had talked with her said she shined as bright as a diamond. Hence the nickname, Diamond Stone.

“That’s what they’re calling me now. At first it was Sapphire Stone. Guess that’s what happens when I stay out of the media too long.” She chuckled, a small smile had made its way onto her face. Sapphire Stone, he hadn’t heard of that nickname but he could always do some stalking research. That’s when he noticed.

“Wait, where did your nose ring go?” He looked around trying to see if it had fallen off her face and she hadn’t noticed.

“I took it off.”

“Why?” He was truly baffled.

“Well at first I wore it to scare people off. People are scared of people that have piercings. I was thinking of getting a tattoo but I’m too young and they’re too permanent.”

“Why would you want to scare people off?” That seems like something he would do.

“I have a complicated past. Sometimes putting your trust in someone takes too much risk, I tried to avoid it altogether.” She pulled out what looked like a sketchbook as she wrote something down. Wait what did she mean by ‘complicated past.’

“Tried?”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?” She tore the paper out of the sketchbook.

“You're putting your trust in me?” He asked, she didn’t seem like the type to trust people quickly.

“No.” She quickly answered, he thought so, “But maybe one day.” She handed him the paper and left. As he looked down at it he saw it was her number. There was a message attached below ‘My number. Maybe we can meet up somewhere before I leave.’ He certainly wanted to take that opportunity.

He tucked the paper into his pocket and made his way back to the gala only to be met with his annoying family. By the curious look in their eyes they wanted to know what just happened. This was not going to be fun to explain.

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Hi, I have not disappeared, just didn’t want to write for prompts 8-11. I was honestly going to do prompt 8 but then stuff came up and I didn’t have the time to write. I was also planning to write something for tomorrow’s prompt but then I found out I have something I need to do tomorrow so nothing for tomorrow either. Because I had a specific thing I wanted to write for tomorrow I’m changing it to fit day 14′s prompt. Which means it’s not going to be mega angsty like I originally thought was gonna be 14. You have escaped mega angst and now it will only be medium angst.

On another note that was a bitch to write and edit. And the fact I had originally planned to write more for it baffles me. I feel like I left it kind of open ended so if you want a part 3 to what I have going on here go ahead and tell me. I’m still trying to decide if I should do a part 3 yet. For those who are confused today was a part 2 to day 6′s prompt, miraculous side effects. Go to my master list and you can find it.

You can also see on my master list that there are days that are crossed off, which means I won’t be doing those days. I can’t do every single day if I want to still get decent grades. Why I skipped days 8-11. Sorry for that long explanation/rant. Also sorry for posting so late again. I do these things all the way to the last minute. Let’s see if I can break that habit throughout the month. Probably not but a girl can hope. Anyways hope you enjoyed.

@maribatmarch-2k21 @birdiesthings @buginetye

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #maribat march #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #damian x marinette #daminette #tell me if you want a part 2 #i'm still deciding

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banditthewriter · 4 years ago

Text

Intensity - Loki

Here we have a Loki fic. That came out of nowhere, I’ve only ever written drabbles for him. It’s not long but hopefully it’s not bad?

Enjoy!

*gif not mine*

*****

Unlike most people, the mutant gene didn’t show up when you were a kid. You could be grateful for that at least. Because of that little grace, your childhood had been completely normal. No worries, no fears, nothing out of the ordinary.

Then you started to notice changes.

People seemed calm around you for the most part. If your emotions were out of control, you realized that others would be that way too. It took a while to understand that it was more than just the environment, more than just coincidence.

It took a disaster.

It was a fight with your dad when you were a teen. You didn’t even remember what it was about, what caused the issue, but you were angry enough that you were told to go to your room. Your mom had come in to sit with you for a while to try to calm you down.

The next thing you know, she went into the living room and tried to attach your dad with a butcher knife. He was okay but he did have to get sixteen stitches. And your mom was traumatized, not understanding why she tried to kill the man she loved.

That’s what had them put it all together. The little things they’d noticed but had brushed off had come out in a big way.

You could influence other people’s emotions. Oddly enough, anger was easier than the nicer emotions, but you’d had a pretty laid back life so you didn’t feel anger a lot.

Maybe that’s why it was so potent when you did feel it.

Emotion manipulation could be dangerous without proper training so in college, after a few years of trying to pretend you were normal, you left to find someone to train you. Therapists, doctors, military people all tried their hand to get you trained. All of them had the same thing to say.

You were undisciplined at best. At worst? You’d never be able to be completely in control.

Over the years it became harder and harder to keep in contact with people, including your family. It wasn’t like you could have an actual relationship that way. You could never be sure if you were influencing someone’s emotions, even when you tried to get control of your powers.

The military had a bracelet that worked for other mental powers. It didn’t work flawlessly, but it helped. It dampened your emotional field so that it took touch to influence someone for the most part. That and a steady regime of keeping calm, you got a better grasp on it.

Better didn’t mean perfect though. You still sometimes affected people when you didn’t mean to. You still hated it when you did it.

One of the things you did learn while working with various therapists was that there was more to your power than just emotion manipulation. To a lesser degree, you could read emotions on people. It didn’t work as well when you had the bracelet on, dampened that power as well, but sometimes...sometimes you could catch bits and pieces off of the people closest to you.

While you traveled from military base to military base to try to figure out a way to work on your powers, you didn’t expect to get a call from the Avengers.

Well. It was less of a call and more of Iron Man dropping down in front of you and one of the generals so that he could offer you a place to stay at his tower.

“How’d you hear about me?”

Although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew that Iron Man—Tony Stark, it was Tony Stark in front of you—was looking at you.

“Fury. He has a way of getting information on lost souls that need a little help. What do you say? Wanna be a part time Avenger? Use your mojo to make some people really docile so that we don’t have to keep wrecking New York City every time some supervillain decides to stop by?”

You shifted a bit and looked at the general beside you. He just shrugged.

You weren’t a prisoner of the military. It had been very evident that you were there voluntarily. It was up to you.

“I’m working on a better dampener for mental powers. Maybe I can make one that’s specific to your power and you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

And just like that, you didn’t need to hear anything else.

------

The tower is bigger than you thought it would be. Which is a good thing. Especially when you realized it’s not just the Avengers that frequent the tower but other members of Shield.

“This area is all yours,” Mr Stark says as he shows you to your room. Suite. Apartment. “The walls are made from the same dampening material as your bracelet so it’ll contain your powers.”

“My powers aren’t that powerful,” you said softly as you touched the bracelet in question. “Thank you Mr Stark. I...I want to help people but I am scared of what my powers might do. I want to protect people from me.”

He turned to look at you and dropped some of that rich man bravado he’d been sporting since he escorted you onto his private jet.

“You don’t have to be scared of yourself here. I promise.”

That’s not the last time you see him either. He explains that you should call him Tony and although it’s weird at first, you do.

“Tony, aren’t you scared I’ll influence you?”

He looked up from where he was typing on a tablet, his feet up on the table in your kitchenette.

“Pretty sure you do,” he said casually as he looked back down at the tablet. “It’s only ever small things though. Calm sometimes, tired sometimes. Hungry that one, that’s why I ordered pizza.”

You felt your heart start to beat fast at the thought of you accidentally influencing him, but he must have caught on to that.

“Anxiety and I are old friends,” he explained as he put the tablet down and crossed over to you. “I’m not worried about it. Your influence doesn’t last if I’m not around you so once I leave, I’m back to myself. But honestly? Your influences are a lot simpler than some of the things I’ve felt.”

You thought about everything you knew about Iron Man and the Avengers and decided, yeah, he was probably right. Anything you could make him feel would be pretty tame compared to flying a nuclear warhead into a wormhole without knowing if you were coming back.

------

The first time you meet Natasha Romanoff, you spill orange juice on your shirt. She just smirked and grabbed a napkin to hold out to you.

It was the first time you’d let yourself out of your rooms. The new bracelet was supposed to be more effective, but Tony said he wouldn’t know if he was on the right track until you let yourself be around people.

People meaning Shield agents. You didn’t expect to be face to face with Black Widow.

Her grin wavered for a second before it came back even brighter.

“You have better control than I thought you’d have,” she admitted as she leaned against a nearby table. “Stark said this new bracelet would still let you influence, but you stopped it pretty quick.”

“I didn’t even realize what I was doing,” you confided as you gripped your half full glass of orange juice. “I just want to hold it all in when I’m around people.”

Natasha tapped her fingers on the table before she crossed over towards the door.

“It’s not good to hold it in. You might end up like a grenade without a pin.”

With that helpful piece of advice, she left.

Later, in Tony’s lab rather than your room, you told him what she said. He nodded as he made a few adjustments.

“She’s got the right idea at least. You stretch your wings with it every now and then, that’s one thing. You don’t work it at all and the muscle will atrophy. Who knows what a gift like yours can do if it degrades and you don’t have control over it?”

It took a while to come up with a plan. A few Shield agents, volunteers specifically, would work with you and let you influence them. Under supervision in case you lost control.

It was a step. You just wish you knew if it was in the right direction or not.

------

“This is Thor and that’s his...brother Loki. Don’t worry, he’s on his best behavior these days.”

You nearly swallowed your spit when you turned around and sure enough, you were faced with Tony, Thor, and Loki. This was somehow your life but you hadn’t really figured it out yet. You were a few feet away from literal Gods.

Thankfully Tony couldn’t read your thoughts because he’d think you lumped him in with that group.

“Uh, hi,” you said as you introduced yourself.

“Ah, another Avenger? Welcome.”

You smiled at Thor and shook your head, but Tony moved over and draped his arm over your shoulder.

“Definitely an Avenger, just with training wheels. Probationary,” he explained at Thor’s uncertain look. “We’re working on the kinks.”

You wanted to elbow Tony to get him off of you, especially as you could feel your heart start to race in your chest. This was nerves, anxiety building into a spike in your chest. Only Tony didn’t seem to react. He usually would at least look at you if he felt you influencing him.

And he didn’t seem to feel anxious or nervous in the least. Neither did Thor who was talking to Tony about...something about a bridge, you weren’t sure.

But Loki. You hadn’t paid much attention to him after the initial greeting, but you met his gaze now. He was staring straight at you, an intrigued look on his face as he watched you.

Tony and Thor might not have noticed your influence, but it seems Loki had. Great.

“I should get back to the lab,” you said as you stepped out from under Tony’s arm. “It was nice to meet you both. Bye.”

You heard Thor’s farewell at your back, but you could still feel Loki’s gaze on your as you turned the corner.

------

Any other time that you ran into Thor in the tower, he always put you at ease. Tony had explained your powers and how you were coming to grips with them. Thor asked questions about it, always careful to never put you on edge, but he didn’t seem concerned for himself.

“It would be hard for a human such as yourself to influence an Asgardian mind,” he said with a smile when you asked him about it.

That didn’t explain Loki then. Besides your first meeting, every time you were around the dark haired God you’d turned into a nervous, babbling mess. The look on his face was always intrigued, but it wasn’t cruel. It seemed almost clinical.

Although you’d heard a lot about that particular God’s abilities. Maybe since he had some mind control abilities himself, he could feel it in you.

And didn’t that just put you on edge. You weren’t sure how you felt about having something in common with Loki, God of mischief.

Although you weren’t entirely sure that was the only reason you felt nervous around Loki. Most people talked about how attractive the God of thunder is, with reason, but there was just something about the dark haired God that caught your attention.

So of course you would find yourself alone with the God in question while you waited for Tony. The Avengers were off Avenging and you didn’t like to be holed up while you waited for them.

You weren’t sure why you expected Loki to be off with them, but he wasn’t. He was in a chair in the room, a book on his lap that he flicked through lazily. When you walked in, his eyes lifted up and met yours.

There was a challenge in his gaze. Normally you’d make an excuse and turn to leave. He was challenging you to see if you’d do it now that there weren’t other people around.

Instead you crossed over and went to the kitchen area.

“Is it because of my past misdeeds? Is that why you’re nervous around me?”

You hadn’t heard him speak before right then, but his voice fit him. You tapped your fingers against the fridge door that you had pulled open even though you weren’t hungry.

“I’ve heard a few stories about you, sure. But you’re a God. It’s...intimidating.”

You heard the chair creak. When you looked over your shoulder, he had stood up and crossed a few feet to be closer.

“Regardless of my past, you have nothing to fear from me.”

Slowly you shut the fridge door and turn to face him completely. The look on his face made you believe him. But it was more than that. You could feel something from him, an emotion buried in the haze from your bracelet.

Honesty.

“Okay,” you whispered as you met his eyes. “I’ll...keep that in mind.”

------

The lower library wasn’t exactly your favorite, but it was usually empty. You walked through the first few aisles and froze when you saw that you weren’t alone.

“You come here to be alone,” Loki guessed as he looked around the room. “It’s one of the few places that’s technically public but usually void of people.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself and nodded.

“I’m supposed to be in public for a few hours each day but sometimes it gets to be a bit too much. So I come here.”

He nodded as if he understood that. Then he turned to face you head on.

“How powerful are you?”

You almost laughed at that, but held it in.

“I’m not powerful, I’m untrained. Dangerous,” you added as you looked away from him.

One of the Shield agents had to be sedated when you’d made her feel too many things at once on accident. You weren’t sure how she was doing.

Tony was still calibrating the new bracelet, but you wore it anyways. You just hoped...hoped it was enough.

“I can help you. I’m skilled with mind control of stronger beings than humans.”

You fingered the bracelet you wore and thought about the Shield agent, your parents, all the people you’d influenced over the years that had bad results.

“I’ll think about it,” you said softly. Then you sighed. “I should go back to the lab. Tony will be looking for me.”

“Ah, yes, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

You smiled and looked away. You weren’t sure you could handle for Loki to pick up on how charmed you were by him just then.

You really needed to get better at keeping your feelings a secret.

------

The lab was in disarray. You stumbled from where you’d fallen, the debris mostly away from you.

Even in his panic, Tony hadn’t hurt you. He’d flung himself as far away as he could, kept his robots from hurting you, but he’d nearly destroyed his lab in the process.

“Tony?”

It was quiet for a moment but then you heard a rasping breath. You climbed over a fallen stool and went to your knees next to where he was crumpled on the floor.

“Tony, are you...what can I do?”

He let out a gasp, his eyes on your face for a moment before they slammed shut tight.

“JARVIS, get Pepper,” you called out, unsure of what else to do.

The mechanical voice said it would be a moment and then said that Miss Potts was on her way down. You slumped on the floor next to Tony, careful not to touch him.

Your anxiety about this test, about how long it had been since there had been any progress, had bled over to Tony. Only it was heightened somehow, the anxiety and worry causing a full blown flashback for him. You’d caught glimpses of it, almost-images of the wormhole and falling through the air.

It’s why you asked for Pepper. He hadn’t been able to talk to her before...before.

When she came in, she gave you an understanding look before she went to his side. Since he was being cared for, you got up and stumbled away from them. Your bracelet was still on the receiver so you grabbed it and hooked it on, grateful for the dullness you felt afterwards.

Then you left the lab. All you wanted to do was go to your rooms, to bury yourself under your blankets and wish it all away, but instead you headed in a different direction.

The room that Loki had been given was in the same hall as Thor, but you thought Thor was away on a mission with Steve and Sam. Loki’s door was shut, but when you raised your hand to knock, it came open.

“I need help.”

Loki came from across the room in a hurry, probably thinking you meant you were being chased. When he was sure the issue was less immediate, he nodded and met your eyes.

What he saw there made him let out a breath. He reached for you, slow so that you wouldn’t pull away. He unhooked the bracelet and set it to the side.

“This might be a bit uncomfortable,” he said softly as he raised his hands to your forehead.

In an instant you were no longer in the tower, no longer in New York. You were in your childhood bedroom, your mom helping you make your bed while your dad laughs at the two of you. It was such a distant memory, something you had forgotten.

As more and more of those happy memories come to the surface, you sense something from Loki. A bitter tang on your tongue.

He had hoped that your childhood would have been like his. He had seen you and imagined that you’d been set apart as well. To see a loving, happy childhood had almost been a disappointment for him.

That faded away as the next memory appeared. He watched from your own eyes as your mother, in a rage not of her own, tried to kill your father. He sees your best friend yelling that she can’t trust you, teachers telling you that you can’t come to class, job and job firing you after only days.

He sees relationship after relationship burn hot and bright at first and then the horror sets in, the worry that they didn’t want you like you wanted them, the anger from them, the apathy. You felt it all in spirals, in such quick succession that embarrassment started to well up inside you.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he promised as he continued to dig inside your memories. “You’re not there. They don’t matter.”

There’s something like a tug and then suddenly, like a dam breaking, you're overwhelmed with emotions. They seem to come from every direction like the room is crowded.

You open your mouth to say his name, to ask him for help, but instead there’s nothing but darkness as you give in to the pain.

------

The medical wing is new to you. When you sit up, there’s a hand on your shoulder to help you ease up the rest of the way.

“It’s been two days,” Natasha says in a tone you can’t quite read. “Thought we were going to have to take turns kissing you, Snow White.”

“Thanks for…not doing that,” you said as you reached up to rub at your forehead.

Loki. You had been in his room, he was in your mind. He was trying to help you, going through your memories. There had been...oh the emotions you’d felt before you’d passed out.

“Where’s Loki?”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, just reached out to grab a cup of water from next to your bed. As she held it out to you, you pushed it away.

“Natasha, where’s Loki? Tell me.”

She sighed and put the cup down.

“Steve and Thor had him put into a holding cell for attacking you.”

You were shaking your head before she even finished.

“He didn’t though!”

A tablet was on the table. After a brief hesitation she grabbed it and navigated through a few things.

“Watch this and tell me he didn’t attack you.”

You watched the recording from his room. The two of you were in front of each other, his hands on your head. There didn’t seem to be anything at first but then you saw what looked like a surge of magic go from his hands to your head.

You shook your head as you rewound it and watched the same spot.

“I need to see him,” you said when you finally looked up at her. “Now, Natasha.”

Although she obviously didn’t want to let you, she gave you a nod. You were already in sweats for comfort while you were unconscious, so you just slid on some too big slippers and let her lead the way to the holding cells.

Steve immediately raises his hands once you enter the hallway.

“What the hell Romanoff, I said–”

“Yeah, when’s the last time I listened to you,” Natasha snarked with a smirk. Then she gestured at you. “She wants to talk to him.”

Steve was just about to say no, but Thor came from down the hall with a frown.

“I think she should. I know what we saw, but we don’t understand it. It’s possible the only one that can understand it is her. Besides,” he added with a sly look in your direction, “Loki is on his best behavior when she’s around.”

You didn’t know how to take that, but thankfully it seemed to persuade Steve. He told you he’d buzz you into the cell once you were there. They had a camera so they’d see and hear everything and, if you needed it, could come and save you.

You really didn’t think you’d need it.

In the cell, Loki seemed different. He ignored you when you came in, just threw a ball against the wall and caught it over and over again.

You wished you could use your powers to read Asgardians as well as humans, but...wait.

There was nothing. From Natasha, from Steve, from the nurse who had released you. Usually you felt something, a low hum of their emotions, but there was nothing.

“The force of it was too much for you, but it’ll come back.” He caught the ball and let it rest beside him on the bench. “You felt too many emotions at once. Your mind was adapting to having mine in there when it happened and it overloaded.”

You nodded and sat down beside him, a few feet away just so that Steve wouldn’t bust in. You really didn’t need observers with this, but you knew you didn’t have a choice.

“It felt so weird. It was like I could feel the emotions of everyone in the tower at once.”

Loki looked over at you in surprise.

“In the tower? That was everyone in the city at once.” At your surprised look, he offered a smile. “I knew you were powerful when we first met, I just didn’t realize how powerful.”

You sighed and leaned back against the wall.

“Holy shit,” you breathed with another laugh. “No wonder I’ve been asleep for two days.”

And here you thought you couldn’t really surprise the God of mischief more than you already had.

“Two days? So that’s...why you haven’t come to set the record straight.”

Oh. Had he thought that you believed the story that he’d attacked you? Or did he just think that you were letting him suffer?

“Just woke up. Saw the video, heard you were down here, came to rescue you.”

He laughed at that, a sound that both surprised and pleased you.

“How do you feel?”

You thought about it. The emptiness in your head was blissful. So was the fact that you didn’t need to worry about making people feel your emotions.

“I hope it never comes back.”

His hand closed around yours and, with a gentle tug, he pulled you a little closer to him.

“You shouldn’t hope for that. The gifts you have don’t have to be a burden. You can learn to control them, learn to use them.” He smiled at you, his eyes locked on yours. “I said I knew you were powerful and I meant it. I could feel it in you.”

You rubbed a hand over your wrist where your bracelet usually sat.

“Maybe I should be the one in the holding cell.”

Loki’s face became more serious as he looked you over.

“It could happen one day.”

The memory of Tony curled up on his side after your influence made you think about what had happened in Loki’s room. Your mind had reached the entirety of the city. If you could push your influence that far…

“I have to…”

You didn’t bother saying more, just tore from the room in a rush. Steve was outside and he nodded when he met your eyes.

“We saw. We believe you. We’ll let him out.”

You nodded because that was good, but that wasn’t the only thing on your mind.

You needed to talk to Tony.

------

“You sure you don’t feel anything?” At your baleful look, Tony shrugged and looked back at the scan. “Your brain is unusually active.”

“I’ll try not to be offended,” you said with a laugh.

Tony crossed over to where you sat. He looked good for a man who just a few days ago had been basically curled up under his table in a panic. And he had forgiven you for that.

“Make me feel something. Something small, please,” he added with a grin.

You drummed your fingers on the table for a moment before you nodded. Then you focused on Tony and a new feeling.

“God I could eat a cheeseburger,” he commented as his hand went to his stomach. “Wait. Was that it? Was that you?”

You started to smile but then you focused on him some more. There was surprise, under the surface, but you had to actually look for it. It didn’t come out of nowhere.

“I have control?”

Tony clapped his hands together. Then he reached out for your bracelet and tossed it into the trash can.

“It was a prototype anyways. We’ll get one together just in case, but I think we can say you’re off the bench for now.”

You laughed and tossed your arms around his neck.

“Thank you Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah, now let’s get something to eat. Seriously, I’m starving.”

------

A few days after his release, you found Loki in the library. He looked up as you entered as if he knew it was you.

Maybe he did.

“Thank you. Because of what you did, I have control now.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. “Thor said you’ll be going on a mission with them soon to celebrate.”

Yeah, you’d heard that as well. It was exciting, if a little daunting.

“It might do you some good to continue to train with me, if you wish. To perfect your talents.”

You smiled. Then you moved over to sit beside him. Now that you had control, you let your mind open to try to read him.

Silence. You frowned and tried again.

“Because of my powers, I can protect myself,” he said with a tap of his fingers to his temple, a grin on his lips. “I do appreciate the effort though.”

You laughed and looked down at your hands. Nervousness settled over you.

“I just thought if I could read your emotions, I could know if…”

If he was interested in you. If your feelings had influenced him at all.

“You could never influence me, I promise.”

You opened your mouth to ask how he knew that’s what you were thinking, but then you remembered. He’d been in your head. Besides seeing just how horrifically all of your past relationships had ended, he would have felt how you felt about him.

He was putting you at ease. Your nerves started to rise and either he could tell, or he just knew you that well already.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You met his eyes and smiled, a little breathless as you thought about the possibilities.

“Not uncomfortable. Just...nervous.”

He leaned in towards you, his grin nearly blinding until his lips met yours.

You didn’t need to be nervous anymore.

Thanks for reading!

#loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki fanfic #my writing

184 notes · View notes

magpie-scribbles · 4 years ago

Text

Ahhh I’m bit late but here is my part of the BNHarem ~*Collab*~

Title: Call Me

Pairing: F!reader X Maijima Higari (Power Loader)

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Smut, sex work, older man younger woman

Higari sighs, his metal tipped fingers tapping on his work table 11pm, 11 pm and he still had so much to do. Normally he relished having work to do, rather being a busy bee than not, but lately the stress had been catching up to him. The academic year was in full swing, and with more villain activity than usual he was beginning to wear...A lot of his projects (pet projects) were starting to fall behind because frankly he was too stressed and found himself getting upset with himself when he made mistakes or miscalculations, which seemed to be happening a lot in his overall raised tension.

Realizing he wasn't going to make any progress aside from going in circles. He slumps, plunking down onto the stool next him, thumping his head against the metal of the workbench and just...sitting there allowing himself to cool off...or perhaps it was wallow…

Bzzzzz bzzzzzzz he feels it as much as he hears it as an incoming text reverberates through his skull. He tilts his head, just enough to glare at his cellphone on the far end of the workbench; he could ignore it, he could...but he doesn't. With a groan he sits up leaning over to swipe the phone up to see the notification.

Oh...Nemuri.

"Heeeyyyyy, how you doing???" She follows up with a few heart emoji.

To someone on the outside looking in it might seem like she’s flirting, or that they had something going on. But he and Nemuri had been good friends for so long that he doubts he could ever see her as anything but.

"Fine" He types out simply, not in the mood for banter, he hopes she's not putting together a last minute bar hop.

"Ooooo"

"That rough huh?"

"Stressed?"

The texts come in rapid succession. He sighs.

"I'm fine" He repeats; though it's nice to have someone that worries about you from time to time.

It takes her a moment to respond, he can see the little typing indicator, bounce along the bottom off his screen and then stop and then start again.

"Did you call her yet?? 👀👀👀" Her response finally comes and he groans.

He had a feeling she was going to bring this up sooner or later.

"No I haven't called her yet" He replies, grumbling to himself as he hits send harder than he needs to.

"You should, she could really help you relax 😌" He can practically hear he voice through the illuminated text on his screen, goading him.

He can feel his face heat up, he wasn't a prude...this was just...he wasn't a prude!

"Kayama" now beginning to wish he never picked up the phone.

"It's not just about sex Maijima, where's your head??😏😏😏" now she was just being cruel, he shakes his phone in his gripe blowing out a puff of air, wishing he could berate her.

"In all seriousness tho, she can help you out, it's her job, she's really nice!" She adds.

He sighs, deflating a bit, mulling over the idea for a while...he thinks he still has the card Nemuri gave him.

Reaching into the front pocket of his jeans he pulls out a crinkled card, oh, yeah he had definitely washed these pants a few times. Luckily the card had been printed on heavy sleek looking cardstock. And even with the edges slightly worn and the the paper somewhat crinkled, no expenses were obviously spared as the elegant type face remained readable even after a few trips through the wash...which was good for him because if it hadn't then he'd have to ask Nemuri for the details and that's something he would not want to live through.

He sighs, looking from the card to his phone, weighing his options...he was very stressed and Nemuri said it didn't have to be about sex...not that he didn't like that! ...Damnit…

Suckling on his teeth he slowly punches in the number printed in embossed gold.

___________

You settle down into the pillows and blankets of your freshly laundered bed, wondering if you even want to try and read the next chapter in your book that sat on your nightstand. The sheets were still warm from the dryer and damn, it was tempting to just nestle in and go straight to bed.

BBBZZZZ BBBZZZ

Your brow furrows, the sudden sound brings you out of your very important and very difficult decision. For a moment the sound eludes you as you listen for it again.

BBBZZZZ BBBZZZ

Oh fuck that was your phone, your head whips to the nightstand again; the illuminated screen blocked by the book you had just been considering as the device vibrates beneath it.

You grumble, you know it could be a client but most of them had the decency to not call this late…well most of them did.

Grabbing your phone you gaze down to the screen, cocking your head when you see a string of numbers you've never seen before, hmmm.

Reclining back into the comfort of your pillow pile you answer.

"Hello this is L/N F/N speaking." You say, all business; not one to ever come off as unprofessional even if it was a spam call.

There was a long pause; you almost repeat yourself when you hear someone clear their throat.

"Miss L/N, this is Maijima Higari....uhhh, Kayama Nemuri said I should contact you." His voice is soft baritone with a bit of gravel to it, he seems very uncertain, but you know who he is right away.

To be honest you had been quite curious about him since Nemuri had told you about her fellow hero and coworker.

You worked a lot with heroes, some high profile ones too, but you've never had a client that was also a support specialist, or as Nemuri had put it, a keen inventor. You were intrigued.

"Ah Mr. Maijima, Kayama mentioned you-" you begin.

"She did?" He interrupts and you can hear him shifting away from the phone "motherfucker" you hear the breathy hiss, and you have to keep yourself under control because you did not want your first conversation with the man you had been interested in hearing from, to be you laughing at him.

He must have realized you can hear him because there's more scrambling on the other end of the line.

"Sorry 'bout that...Nemuri...likes to talk." He sighs.

You chuckle warmly; she had mentioned he was somewhat proud and what she called "aggressively" shy.

"She definitely can be quite the gossip." You reply and you hear him groan. "Though I assure you, it's all good things Mr. Maijima."

"Somehow that doesn't put me at ease at all…" he huffs, and you can't help but let out a small laugh.

There is a pause again, and you decide to gently encourage him.

"So what can I do for you Mr. Maijima?" You ask gently.

There's shifting on the other end of the line again and then a small cough.

"I've...I've been stressed lately, like...more than usual and Kayama said that you might be able to help with that." You can tell he's a bit uncertain on how to ask for your services.

"Of course, I'd be more than happy to help, just tell me what you need and I'll set up an appointment. " You recline further into your pillows.

"Uh well...fuck I've never done this before…" he sighs.

"That's perfectly alright." You reply, waiting for him to continue.

"...I-I don't know?" He says finally and you smile, you like when they're honest; not trying to show-off.

"Of course, we can figure everything out along the way." You hum and you hear him sigh in relief.

"Alright, yeah."

"How about I put you in for this Friday at 8pm, I'll make sure that we have the whole night free to get you settled." You make a mental note to put that in your planner (not that you could forget, you were surprisingly eager to meet him.)

"Today's Wednesday." He says in reply.

"Yes?"

"So you mean in two days? The Friday in two days?" You suppress a chuckle; definitely needed to relieve some stress.

"If that's an issue I'd be happy to-"

"NO!...No it's fine, just surprised is all." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Sooooo so how do I do this?"

You pause for a moment considering. There are a few luxury hotels and venues you've preferred to use in the past...but...you decide to throw caution to the wind.

"Let me give you my address." You reply, a very rare option you give to only your most trusted clients; but he was good friends with Nemuri and you trusted her judgement whole heartedly.

"Oh!...are you sure you're okay with that? I understand if you don't want to do that, safety and all, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable" You smile, he was already quite the charmer even if he didn't know it yet.

"No need to worry, I wouldn't give it to you if I didn't want to."

"Okay, if you're okay with it." He replies warily and you smile to yourself.

"I'll send you a follow up text with my address and a reminder of the time; is this an okay number to send that to?"

"Oh yeah, sure."

"Perfect, well Mr. Maijima, I'll let you go and I'll send you my info."

"Yeah, sure...uh thanks for this Miss L/N." He replies.

"It's my pleasure." You reply.

He gives you a quick goodbye and then the line goes quiet; chuckling to yourself you scoot down further into your blankets and quickly add Maijima Higari to your schedule. Before opening Maijima's number and adding it to your contact list.

Nemuri definitely seems to have good taste in friends (well you're one of them.) He has certainly caught your attention...in a good way.

_______

Higari groans, while body deflating as his muscles relax somewhat...that was one of the most nerve-racking calls he'd ever made.

God he probably sounded like an idiot.

Huffing, he looks back at his phone and opens up his chat with Nemuri.

"I called her" he writes before getting up from his workbench with a groan, back popping as he stretches.

His phone buzzes a moment later.

“Maijime it’s like 11:30 at night!” Nemuri’s text reads; he pales and looks at the time on his phone.

Fuck....now he felt like an ass. He goes to respond, not even sure if he should defend himself or brush it off when another text comes in from a new number. Cocking his head he swipes it open.

“Hello Mr. Maijime, it was a pleasure speaking with you tonight, I have you all booked for Friday at 8pm and I look forward to spending time with you.” he swallows thickly, reading over the message a few more times, taking note of the little hearts on the end.

“This is her job, this is her job, she’s just being nice…” he mentally berates himself.

Reading over the message one more time he responds.

“Thank you Miss L/N.” he pauses and then adds “Sorry ‘bout calling you so late, lost track of the time.” he hits send before he can chicken out, and shoves his phone in his front pocket; out of sight out of mind

It’s only a few seconds before he hears the buzz of his phone again and he scrabbles to get it, not even sure why he put it away in the first place.

“Nothing to worry about sweetie, I’ll see you Friday.”

Higari decides he needs a very cold shower and then promptly after needs to put himself to bed...he’d deal with Nemuri tomorrow.

_______

You decide against the silk robe after some debate, donning luxurious Egyptian cotton instead. You'd rather not scare him off or look too presumptuous, after all he might be satisfied with your other talents, though Nemuri had said he could do with a good Fuck. You had of course laughed at her crassness, but you couldn't help but feel a spark of warmth in your belly, it surprised you, it had been awhile since you had, let alone for a potential client.

You needed to be professional.

Giving yourself a once over in the mirror you found your attire agreeable. Your robe was a little longer than the ones you usually wore for your clients, coming to brush against your knees. But it was your favorite, plush and warm and while a bit promiscuous it was also classic.

Your hair and makeup was in place and you gazed down to your phone

7:45pm

You hadn't received and cancelation call or text so at this point all you could do was wait.

Padding through your apartment on your way to the lounge you make a few quick mental notes.

Did you have both red and white wine as well as a few stiffer drinks just in case ready? Check.

Bottled water on ice as well and had you tea kettle ready with an assortment of teas just in case? Check and check

A few hors d'oeuvres, nothing too over the top? Check.

You come to settle on your favorite chaise as you finish your little check off; yes you believe you had everything ready…

Your intercom pings, and you quickly get to your feet and shuffle over, pressing the talk button.

"Yes?"

"Miss L/N, there is a Mr. Maijima here to see you." The doorman's voice responds.

"Yes of course please have him come up."

"Of course ma'am."

To be honest no matter how long you had done this you could never quite figure out what to do with yourself while you wanted for a client to come up to meet you. Nothing ever seemed natural or smooth... it irked you. You wondered what other consorts did, maybe you should ask a few of your colleagues next time you go out for drinks-

There's a firm knock on your door, jarring you out of your thoughts.

Giving yourself a quick once over you, smooth down your robe and slap on a warm smile before opening the door.

"Mr. Maijima, I'm so glad you came." You move out of the way, opening the door further to allow him in.

"Uh thanks, yeah me too." He lets out a nervous laugh as he shuffles inside.

He was quite charming. Nemuri had shown you pictures but pictures can never do enough justice to some people.

He was dressed in a bomber jacket, dark pull over and well worn jeans and boots. He looked comfortable, the perfect amount of dressed down; he looked like himself, not trying to put on airs like some of your clients.

"Let me take your jacket while you get your shoes." You say warmly and he gingerly shrugs out of the fabric.

"Thanks." He replies as he leans down to untie his boots.

"Nice place you have here." He replies as he looks around from his lowered position.

"Oh thank you!" You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as you look around your place fondly. "The main foyer is a bit much though." You add with a chuckle thinking to the decadence of the building's main entrance.

"Was pretty swanky." He replies nearly finished with his second boot.

"I assure you I'm much more down to earth." You reply and he perks up at that, you eye him curiously.

"Hehe, earth." He laughs and it takes you a moment to remember he's the Excavation hero and you let out a laugh, surprised by his humor.

"I wouldn’t have guessed you'd also be a man with a good taste in jokes." You reply and extend you hand out to him as he tucks his boots away. You have always been a fan of so-called bad jokes.

He seems to like that and puffs up with a smile, slipping his large hand into yours. Oh it was warm and rough; Nemuri did say he was good with his hands.

"How about we settle in." You say nodding your head towards the lounge.

He nods and swallows thickly, still visibly unsure, but obviously not willing to back down.

You smile at him and gently lead him out of the entryway.

As you lead him further into your apartment you had taken note that while he was untying his boots he could have very easily looked up your robe, but instead all of his attention was on you, his sharp grey eyes peeking out from a thick fringe of fiery hair. He was watching and listening to you not ogling you, it made your heart warm.

Yes, you had decided that he was certainly a catch.

You lead him into the lounge motioning for him to sit anywhere and he takes his place in one of the plush armchairs across from you chaise. You wish he would have opted for a closer seat but you want him to be comfortable first and foremost.

"Can I get you anything? Wine? Something stronger? Water, tea?" You ask.

"Uh water's fine right now, thanks." He replies and you crack open one of the water bottles and pour it into a crystal tumbler.

You hand it to him and leave the water bottle close to him on the coffee table.

"Thank you L/N." He replies and takes a sip.

"Please call me F/N." You say as you settle on your chaise, he pauses for a moment, mouth full before swallowing

"F/N…" he parrots, voice surprisingly gravelly despite the water he just drank.

You smile and nod your head.

He fiddles with the empty glass in his hands before looking up at you with genuineness; your heart flutters and you’re once again surprised by your feelings.

"Call me Higari."

_______

Higari slowly begins to relax as you talk, his posture loosening and his voice becoming less tense and formal. When he finally laughs fully at one of your jokes, you feel warmth wash over you in a pleasant wave of contentment.

Despite his obvious relaxation you can’t help but notice he shifts every so often, adjusting his back or subtly rolling his neck. Small ques that make you realize that he wasn't only mentally stressed but physically as well.

"Higari." You catch his attention as he excitedly tells you about a project he's working on. "Sorry to interrupt but is your back bothering you?" You ask softy and he blinks at you in surprise.

"Oh sorry, that noticeable?" He chuckles. "'S probably from hunching over a workbench all day." He's trying to wave it off, not make you worry.

"Would you mind if I used my quirk on you?" You ask gently, not wanting him to feel pressured.

"Uuhhh, you haven't already?" He looks a bit confused and you can't help but let out a hearty laugh.

"Of course not, I would never use my quirk without your permission." You smile and you watch as his cheeks turn ruddy with blush. "Might I ask what you thought my quirk was doing all this time?"

He leans back a bit huffing softly to himself, trying to control his embarrassment.

"Make me relax I guess?" He mutters under his breath and you smile fondly, happy that he truly was relaxed around you.

"You’re sweet, while my quirk does help people relax, I wasn't using it on you." You reply sitting up and gently patting the space next to you on the chaise. " could I show you, I'll stop if you don't feel comfortable."

He observes you for a moment, mulling over the idea or trying to pump himself up you're not exactly sure; but then he slowly gets to his feet and walks over to you.

"Never done this before…" he says softly as he looks down at you, trying hard to be open and honest.

It's one of the sweetest things you've ever had happen with a client and you gently take his hands and pull him down to sit next to you.

"That's perfectly alright, whatever you are comfortable with, whatever you want Higari." You say gently and give his hands a reassuring squeeze.

He looks down, his hands are so large in yours; turning them over in his he brushes the metal tips of his thumbs against your palms reverently, and you swoon a little bit.

"Show me you quirk."

You feel pride well in your chest.

"I would love to." You smile before adjusting a bit. "Lay down on your stomach, there should be enough room for you to lay down fully."

He complies, seemingly throwing caution to the wind, but you can see the tremble in his arms as he lowers himself to the plush cushion of the chaise.

"I'm going to sit on your thighs is that alright?" You question.

It takes him a moment to respond and when he does it's a breathy "yes" and you're glad he's facing away from you so he doesn't catch the shiver that runs up your spine at the tone of his voice.

Slowly you crawl up his body, careful to let him feel every move, to let him know your position until you are sitting comfortably on his muscled thighs, your legs tucked on either side of him. He lets out a shaky sigh as you reach out and run your hands from his shoulder blades down to the small of his back.

"My quirk works best with skin to skin contact, you are certainly welcome to leave your shirt on or remove it." You begin your typical overview of your quirk when he moves beneath you suddenly, almost setting you off balance as he reaches behind his head. Fisting the fabric at his back and rucking it up over his head, fluffing up his hair as he does before letting the article of clothing crumple to the floor.

You're too surprised to move from his sudden boldness as he settles back down, neatly crossing his arms beneath his chin.

After a few moments you manage to pull yourself together and you slowly, gently lay your hands back on his now bare shoulder blades and oh! Beneath your palms he is trembling; now you desperately wanted to sooth his frayed nerves.

"My quirk allows me to admit frequency through my skin, that I can channel into vibrations." You tell him gently as you smooth down his back again, slowly activating your quirk.

He tenses for a moment and then begins to relax into your touch.

"It can help muscle relaxation and promote blood flow." You continue as you knead a knot along his lat.

"It ah- sounds like your quirk is definitely a benefit." His voice is breathy, almost sighing as he falls further into your touch.

"I like to think so too." You say fondly, you were really starting to enjoy his company and his kindness. "You were talking about one of your inventions earlier when I interrupted, I would very much like to hear more about it." And it was the honest to God truth.

He hums in contentment and from his position on his folded arms you can see a genuine smile grace his lips.

He quickly eases back into his explanation and his ideas as you allow you quirk to sink into his skin while you massage his tense muscles. Honestly you could listen to him talk for hours, even if you didn't quite understand some of it; it was fascinating and his passion and enthusiasm was a pleasant warmth that enveloped you.

Slowly his muscles begin to ease up under your ministrations and his voice begins to get more husky and more lax. You’re not exactly sure when he stopped talking but you suddenly notice the silence and the absence of his pleasant voice.

"F/N?" You blink, gazing up from you hands, to find Higari staring lazily up at you through the fringe of his hair. His stare is hypnotizing

"Yes?" Your voice is breathier than you would have liked.

For a moment he doesn't say anything and then he shifts, starting to roll on his side and you gingerly move to sit beside him, you barely have anytime to take in his sudden change when his large hand comes up, fingers brushing against your jaw tentatively.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks softly and you definitely swoon, you hand coming up to press his touch closer.

"I would like that very much." You hum, your blood singing at the thought of his lips on yours.

Slowly he rises up and you can feel him moving against you and as he does you feel his lower half brush against your hip and the strangest combination of pride and desire fills your chest as you feel the hardness straining against his jeans.

Everything seems to still for a brief moment and then his nose brushes against yours and you suck in a shaking breath as his lips press against yours.

It's like firecrackers, zipping along you skin, you feel your toes curl and you lean into him. He groans against you and slings his arm around your shoulders pressing you to him, your chest flush with his bare one.

You sigh against him and he takes a moment to adjust, tilting his head, teeth clacking against yours as he slots himself against you.

You feel as though you are made of feathers, your whole body alight as you kiss him back feverishly. It's been awhile since you felt this and you can't get enough.

Letting out a small whine you smooth your hands down his ribs bringing them around to rest on his lower stomach; you feel the muscles jump against your fingertips and then he trembles against you letting out a wonderfully gravelly moan that reverberates in his chest.

Then he's slowly pulling you back with him, laying back down against the chaise, tugging you on top of him. He pauses moving away to catch his breath, a hand coming up to smooth over your hair. Your breath hitches as you take him in; he's beautiful… his cheeks stained with blush, his grey eyes gazing up at you half lidded and hazy, pupils blown so wide the irises are halos of near silver.

"Can we…? Is this okay?" He asks hesitantly and you have to stop yourself from squealing in delight.

"It's more than okay Higari, I would love to." And you mean every word of it.

He groans, lips parting to wet them before he cups your face in his hands and pulls you back down into a fiery kiss.

It's almost feral the way you move against each other, palming and smoothing down every inch of skin that you can. He slowly pushes your robe from your shoulders, the belt the only thing keeping it from coming free completely, and he lets out a strangled sound when he realizes you're wearing nothing underneath.

You quickly grab one of his hands and press his large palm to your breast and he quakes beneath you as he begins to knead the soft flesh. You instantly melt into him, moaning and moving against him in your excitement, his metal tipped thumb coming to press against your pebbled nipple.

He's wonderful beneath you, shedding his shyness as his lips move from yours, coming to place open mouthed kisses against your jaw and neck.

Your hands continue to roam across the wonderfully compact muscles of his torso, fingers pausing to flick at his nipples before moving to dig into his sides before sliding down to rest on his belt buckle.

You pull away and he lets out a whine as you sit up, gazing down at him, watching as his chest heaves. You wet your lips, thumbing his buckle to get his attention and his gaze darts down to where your hands rest, just above the straining tent in his jeans. Slowly his gaze drags up your body and then…

"Please…" It's breathy and needy, and you can help but let out a small moan as you nod and get to work.

You quickly divest him of both his pants, boxers and socks, leaving him wonderfully naked and needy beneath you, and oh is he a sight to see.

Taut muscles tensing against soft skin, a smattering of coppery hair on his chest that tapers down his belly to a thatch of curly short hairs framing his perfectly sized cock that now lays dribbling against his stomach.

"Oh Higari, you’re beautiful." You purr, running your hands down his chest.

"Got nothing on you…" he grunts arching into your touch, practically begging you to go lower.

"Such a charmer." You reply with your finger sliding teasingly over his weeping head.

He arches, pale column of his throat on display for you as he lets out a moan.

"Y-you're perfect." He husks and you feel your chest swell with pride.

You pull back for a moment, much to his displeasure, but that quickly changes as he realizes you're removing your robe.

You quickly take the condom out of your pocket before discarding the clothing to the floor in a heap. Laying the rubber next to your calf for easy access.

Straightening up you perch on his upper thighs and then slowly move your hips.

"Can you feel me Higari?" You hush knowing full well you’re dripping all over him. "Can you feel how wet I am?"

He lets out a needy moan and his hands come to clamp down on your hips as he rolls his hip, cock thrusting up into the cool air of your apartment.

"Please, please, F/N...please." His words are soft and airy and you absolutely live for them as you roll your hips again, hand smoothing down his aching length.

"Anything you want love." You hush him and grab the condom, he's already so far gone he doesn't even perk up at the sound of the foil tearing.

You need him to pay attention. Tapping his hip bone he slowly comes to focus on you.

"Watch me Higari." You say and you slowly roll the condom onto his straining length.

You want to absolutely pamper him as he makes small little hiccups as you smooth the rubber down him before gently grabbing his base, moving up onto your knees hovering just over him.

"Watch me Higari…" you repeat and he's enraptured as you slowly sink down onto him, bottoming out on him completely in one go.

"Ha-ah!" He arches hands pushing you impossibly closer as he thrusts up into you though there is no more room left to fill.

Oh he's perfect, filling you to the brim, stretching you deliciously as he becomes an unabashed mess beneath you.

You try to move, but his grip is bruising, abdominal muscles tensing as he tries to keep himself in control.

"Higari." You sooth and he looks up at you, lips parted and eyes holding so much adoration it nearly knocks you over.

He lets up his hold after a moment and you lean forward, placing your hands and his chest to steady yourself. You give him an affectionate stare before you rise up, keeping just the tip of him inside before swiftly curling your hips and spearing yourself on his length.

He practically howls and throws his head back, and oh you want to see more of this, want to see him come undone.

You begin a rhythmic deep pace, making sure to swallow him whole on each downward roll of your hips. Higari is already a mess beneath you, now completely out of his shell on full display. In the back of your mind you briefly think he could have been a porn star if he put his mind to it.

He pushes you out of your thoughts as he grips your hips once more and tries to aid you in your movement, you can't help bit smile.

"Relax Higari, this is about you, I'll take care of everything…" you breath and he swallows thickly.

"Wanna help." He slurs "ha! You're so good, soso good."

"Next time." You're even a bit surprised by how sure there will be a next time and Higari seems to take note of that as well as you watch his gaze unfocus and refocus.

You continue your pace, though your thighs begin to ache, it's too delicious to even think about slowing down; the way your positioned has your clit rubbing against his pubic bone with each roll of your hips.

You can tell he's getting close, the way he trembles and the way he tries to jerk up ever so often out of sync with you. His gaze catches you and for a moment you feel like your drowning. It's then you feel the pad of his thumb press against your clit; you gasp and look down to watch his metal tipped finger swirl around your delicate bundle of nerves, cock disappearing lewdly inside of you with each roll of your hips.

"Gonna, cum, wan' you to cum with me." He husks, bringing your attention back to him and suddenly you're on the cusp, the precipice.

"Oh, yes, yes...Higari." your head lolls as you allow him to help, his hips thrusting up to meet yours.

And then he's curling, body tensing as he lets out a breathless moan, mouth slack and eyes fluttering closed as he starts to cum.

That's what pushes you over the edge, his debauched display. And as you tumble over the edge, stars bursting behind your eyes, and toes curling you briefly wished you could feel him pumping you full.

It takes you a moment to come down from your brief jaunt in paradise, sagging against him, panting. You feel his grip on your hip loosen and he brings his other hand to your thigh, thumb coming to sooth over your skin.

You sit in silence as he softens inside of you and you know you should get up and tidy up a bit, but you're basking in the afterglow and you can't find it in you to care that much.

Higari lets out a pleased sigh and he looks completely and utterly satiated and relaxed; it warms your heart.

The next words that come out of your mouth surprise you.

"Stay the night." You whisper almost shyly and it quickly catches his attention.

He cocks his head observing for a moment.

"Do most of your clients stay? I don't want to intrude."

You honestly are afraid to answer because the answer is no, they don't, and you suddenly feel so raw and exposed it almost scares you.

He must pick up on your nervousness because he gently cups the side of your jaw, brushing some of your sweat damp hair away from your face.

"I'd love to." He says and you feel your heart soar as you nuzzle into his touch.

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princessphilly · 4 years ago

Text

Plain Jane Chapter 2

Word Count: 2391

CW: a mention of P K*ne, allusions to issues with alcohol, references to being in the closet

Tag list: @newlibrary , @luvsherleafs @spine-buster , @m00nlightdelights @lovethepreds @myhockeyworld87 @Defiant-mouse, @callllumhood @yzas-stuff , @stars-canucks @laurenairay @cutiesara23, @besthockeyfics @hockeyallthetime @tazerass , @markymarkstrom @letsgobaby, @himbos-on-ice @hockeywocs @bloodthedevil @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @whatishockey @dreamer1430 @shelbsatans @no-pucks-given @stlbluesbrat21 @mydarkestsecretlol @t0xickisses2 @heatherawoowoo

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I’m too damn stubborn for my own good. I admit it; I don’t like to lose or be wrong. I hate being wrong. Well, I hate losing money more than anything else. But I really hate losing or being wrong after that. - Journal 10/12

One year later

Jamila couldn’t help but look at Jonathan Toews as he sat at the table for this charity dinner. He really was more handsome in person than in the pictures. But the guy sitting next to him was just as good looking as him, in her opinion. He was rougher looking with long auburn hair and blue eyes and probably a good decade older than her, just the way that Jamila liked it. The only issue was… Duncs was nice but he wasn’t as exciting as Jonathan Toews. But Jamila told Shan and Mel that she was going to fuck Duncan Keith and she always got her man. Plus, it didn’t help that Jonathan always has something smart to say which made Jamila more dedicated to fucking Duncs.

But it seemed like that wasn’t going to happen. Jamila was frustrated; she knew she was gorgeous and she was used to getting her way. But Duncs had a preference for blondes and.. Jamila had no desire to dye her hair blonde anytime soon. Plus, she hated the fact that she was going to lose because then Jonathan would hold it over her.

Normally, Jon wouldn’t give a fuck that a girl wanted Duncs over him. He knew exactly where he stood with the vast majority of women and that he could have anyone he wanted. But he really, for some reason, wanted her. It had been over a year since they met and she was still hung up over Duncs. Granted, during that time, Jon was recovering from an injury and was at home in Winnipeg. Now, he was back and he wanted Jamila, even though she was supposed to be Cizisky’s girl. Jon had pulled the younger defenseman to the side and asked him about her and Cizisky straight up said that she was just going out with him as a friend to events. So Jon knew that Jamila was basically single and available.

Jamila was smiling in Duncs face but whenever he talked to her, she got angry and flustered. Jon knew she really wasn’t that interested in Duncs. He could tell by the way Jamila got closer to him when they argued that she really liked him. But the stubborn woman didn’t want to admit it.

As the captain, Jon was used to solving problems. But this was a problem that he couldn’t solve and he was becoming frustrated.

It wasn’t fair how intense those dark brown eyes were. And they had been focused on her while Jamila attempted to flirt with Duncs. Jamila had to admit she was failing and it was annoying her. He was being polite but she knew she was being brushed off.

She could hear Jonathan; “Duncs isn’t interested. Aren’t you tired of wasting your time?” All of that paired with a mocking look. She was done doing favors for Shan’s cousin. Next time he needed a plus one, he could find someone else.

“Tired of shooting wide?”

“Really, a hockey metaphor?” Jamila rolled her eyes while Jonathan chuckled. He really was tired of watching Jamila flirt with Duncs. She wasn’t his usual type but Jonathan wanted to be her type. Once Duncs made it clear that he wasn’t interested, Jonathan decided it was time to try his luck.

“Good, you’re learning about the game! But are you tired?”

“What do you mean?”

Jonathan was tall enough that while she wore 5-inch heels, Jamila still had to look up at him a bit. He licked his lips and once again, Jamila felt those unwanted shivers. Jonathan smirked before saying, “Stop pretending you’re interested in Duncs when we both know that you really want me.”

“You’re so conceited,” Jamila retorted. A small part of her said he was right but her pride hurt so fuck him.

Jonathan gave her a devilish grin. “Fuck me? We can make that happen.”

Jamila’s eyes grew wide when she realized she said that out loud. “Captain Serious? More like Captain Dickhead!” Jamila rolled her eyes as she gave him a once over.

Then Jon shocked her. “That was a bit too much, I’m sorry,” he said. The earnest look in his eyes told Jamila he was telling the truth. “But seriously, you’re wasting your time.”

Jamila sighed deeply. She knew he was right but her ego didn’t want to let her admit it. Jamila just grimaced before pushing away from Jonathan.

For the rest of the night, Jamila kept mostly to herself and Alex, nursing her wine. She was tempted to get something stronger, very tempted, but she kept herself to her one glass of wine. It helped that Alex was watching her like a hawk, as if he knew that Jamila was in a mood. As soon as he was able to, Alex made his goodbyes, escorting Jamila out to the valet.

“What happened, Mila?”

Jamila sighed as Alex’s car was brought up. “Nothing, buddy. Nothing.”

Alex wisely didn’t press it as he got his keys from the valet, opening the door for Jamila and closing it after she got in. Once he was in the car and driving away, he said, “You’ve been in a mood since you talked with Tazer. Did he say something that triggered you? I’ll tell him to back off if he’s triggering you, Mila.”

Jamila sighed. “He didn’t say anything that triggered me, per se, but you know I hate being wrong.”

“Yeah, because you’re very wrong about Duncs… I’ve been telling you that for months,” Alex cracked.

Rolling her eyes, Jamila replied, “Jonathan basically said the same thing. Then he hit on me, again.”

“I thought you enjoyed verbally sparring with him. It’s entertaining as fuck.”

“Fuck you too, Alex!”

Alex snorted as he said, “I would if I liked pussy.”

“Talking about that, have you thought of coming out,” Jamila asked.

Alex looked at the road as he thought about his words. Then he said, “I could but I feel the same ones who talk about ‘You Can Play’ and all of that aren’t as accepting as they pretend to be. I mean, Tazer would be supportive, probably Duncs, maybe Kaner, Brinks, Murph, but the rest of the guys… I don’t want to risk it right now.”

Jamila reached over, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder. That was a lot to have to deal with. “People fucking suck, man.”

“I know. Thanks for being my plus-one, Mila. I will always support you, even when people are asking me to call you names when you finally get with the captain.”

Jamila laughed, tears forming in her eyes at the idea of dating Jonathan. “That was very funny, Alex, you should become a comedian.”

Smirking, Alex turned into the parking lot of the building that they lived in. They had separate units, Jamila’s bigger and more expensive, but it was still home. “Jamila, your eyes still follow Tazer everywhere he goes when you two are at the same place. It’s a matter of time, well, it’s a matter of how stubborn you are about it.”

As Jamila walked into her condo, she thought about Alex and his words. She felt a bit bad for him; locker room culture was real and it sucked that Alex couldn’t fully be himself yet. At the same time, Jamila wasn’t fully open about her own sexuality. If she wanted attention, she could easily come out as pansexual but Jamila didn’t want her life to become a circus. Add on the fact that she enjoyed bdsm and was a submissive…. It would be a hot mess, she thought. However, Jamila knew that she didn’t have to worry about the potential reactions of a bunch of other people if she did decide to come out.

One thing Jamila did have to worry about was her thesis. It was finished, turned in, it was just a matter of finding out when she would have to defend it. Since she was graduating with her PhD this December, Jamila knew it would be before then. Not knowing the exact date was just irritating to her. Maybe once she had it, her dad would respect her more.

Jamila sighed as she looked out at the Chicago skyline. It didn’t matter anyway. He wouldn’t really care. The only ones who would were Nina, Marisa, Ms. Tracey and Mr. Vernon, Siobhan, Lauren, maybe Karesha and Desiree. Sighing again, Jamila decided it was time to go to sleep for the night.

Jon looked at his computer screen as he looked at his budget for the month. Coming back this season has had it’s ups and down so far. The travel and other rhythms of the season were familiar but at the same time, Jon had enjoyed being at home. For over a decade, Jon had lived under the grind of the NHL season plus the playoffs. There was something nice about being a home, not a hotel room every couple of weeks. The hotels were all the same, they stayed at the same places in the same cities every year. But staying in his own bed night after night had it’s own appeal.

At the same time, Jon wanted a 4th cup. It still irritated him that the team had decided to rebuild without even asking if the boys wanted to rebuild. Last season, Jon appreciated that the boys didn’t give up and tank even though the front office would have preferred that they did. Odds were stacked against them this season but Jon believed that they could make it. Once the playoffs started, it was anyone’s chance to get the Cup.

Jon sighed as he opened the Netflix app. He was starting to really feel his age this year. He was only 33 but he could feel every hit now. Plus, coming home to this new place with no one waiting for him was getting very old. “Maybe that’s why you like that girl so much,” Jon muttered to himself. He felt dumb; every time he talked to Jamila, he felt like he put his foot in his mouth. But then, it seemed like she was just looking for an excuse to tell him no.

As he mindlessly scrolled through shows, Jon felt super frustrated and ready to give up. He didn’t want to continue asking her out if she kept saying no. Jon blanched as the idea that maybe he was making Jamila uncomfortable came in his mind. As he clicked on watching Brooklyn 911, Jon decided that he was going to leave Jamila alone.

Jamila felt weird. It was two weeks since the last time she saw Jon and he was keeping his distance from her. All night, all he had done was say hi and wave when she greeted him. Jamila felt strangely bereft. Unconsciously, Jamila’s eyes drifted towards Jon more often than not during the charity auction. His black suit fit him like a glove, the crisp white shirt setting off his remaining tan. Of course, Jon didn’t wear a tie and it made him look absolutely delicious. Jamila inwardly scowled as she looked down at her water.

Jamila was attempting to be good by sticking to water instead of any of the myriad alcoholic options tonight. The last time she had wine, she had to resist the urge to down the whole bottle. Jamila sighed; she thought she could try to have a bit of alcohol but now, she was sure that was impossible. Her sobriety was worth more than trying to fit in.

The auction went pretty quickly, all things considered. Jamila made a couple small bids, there wasn’t really anything that caught her eye. Then the auctioneer said, “For our last, and surprise, auction item tonight, a date with the captain, Jonathan Toews. The winner gets to have one night with Captain Toews, at a place of your choice. Mr. Toews is a gentleman so it will be on him. Bidding starts at five hundred.”

One woman yelled, “One thousand!”

There were a flurry of bids and Jamila knew she had a screwface as she listened. One of the bidders was that bitch Frances and it looked like she was going to have the winning bid. The bids went up to six thousand before it started to slow. The auctioneer called out, “sixty-five hundred, do I hear sixty-six hundred?”

He waited for a couple of moments for additional bids. Jamila looked at her hands as the auctioneer said, “Sixty-five hundred, sixty-five hundred, going once-”

“Seventy-five hundred,” Jamila called out, raising her placard.

There was a hush as people turned towards her. Jamila smirked as Jonathan raised an eyebrow.

“Seventy-five hundred, do I hear seventy-six hundred?”

Jamila waited as she sipped her water. Frances called out, “Eighty-five hundred,” frustration laced in her voice. Jamila smirked; this was time for payback.

The eyes turned towards her and Jamila looked down at her phone. There was a message from Alex: have u lost ur mind?????

“Ten-thousand,” Jamila called out.

Jon let out a whoo, pursing his lips. This night had turned out in a way he hadn’t expected. The auctioneer called out, “Ten-thousand, ten-thousand, going once, going twice, sold, to number 53.”

Jamila rifled through her purse, looking for her wallet. She hoped she could just put it on her black card instead of needing a check. The money wasn’t a problem; the way of paying could be. One of the team’s interns came to Jamila. “Miss, come this way to pay.”

Following the intern, Jamila gave Frances a wide smile when she passed her. Luckily, Jamila was able to use her card to pay for her bid.

“This wasn’t expected,” a deep voice said to her side.

Jamila smiled. “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

“I’m a tool for revenge? I feel like shit,” Jonathan joked.

Jamila shrugged. “I’ll let you know if I ever want that date.”

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Jamila walked away. She still felt some satisfaction winning the bid over that bitch, but something told her she made a crucial decision in some way.

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