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itsuki-minamy · 1 year

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"SIDE GOLD"

CHAPTER 4: IKU AND THE BIRIBIRI GROUP (Part 1)

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Anno

"Homeless". A child who does not have parents or guardians and who has not settled. In Japan during World War II, there were many war orphans who lost family members in war fires and their homes burned down. Among them, most of the children who lost their place to go became homeless drifters. During and after the war, their lives were extremely difficult and many of them became involved in criminal activities.

The "Kagirohi Trade Association" market was bustling as if the commotion from a few days ago had been forgotten. On that isolated vacant lot, the "Yakumo" gambling hall is being rebuilt under the leadership of Tamataro Okuma.

"Bastards, I'll finish it before opening time!"

A loud cry that made even the thick billboards that were up tremble.

Although it is called a rebuild, it is not a complete creation. As long as there is enough space for people to gather, such as a game room, the deal is done. It was a random hasty construction to build a house that was as small as a shack. The new "Yakumo", which no one remembers what generation it is, has already completed the frame and is in the process of installing the roof and walls.

"I understand, big brother Okuma!"

"Thanks to the boss and sister, I am used to erecting pillars and thatched roofs!"

"Don't say that, if they listen to you, you'll have to start over."

Rude, hard-working people are inefficient and unpredictable despite their good humor, but their environment is cheerful. The reason why many of them don't feel terrified when witnessing mysterious monsters is because they feel comfortable living from day to day, and more than anything, they trust their boss, who has declared that he will defeat them next time.

From the ceiling to the front of the wall, work voices flew.

"Are the blue clothes still keeping watch in front of Yokocho's gate?"

"Ah, they still go back and forth with Danbira in hand."

According to what they heard from the older sister of the blues, the monster appeared because the powerful boss and the guy in the blue hat collided. So it seems that it will probably be safe if both sides back down after sharing the pain. As explained, the boss, who had turned off due to various incidents, simply withdrew, and the blue hat also turned its back and left. At the moment, it seemed unlikely that the blues would go in or out, or even encounter the monster. It seemed that peace had arrived.

Each person had a different way of perceiving such results.

"Heh, even though the monster has been quiet ever since, they've had difficulties every day."

"You better be careful. I'm sure you feel the same way about blue clothes."

"What? In front of you, you are not afraid, are you?"

"Oh? What is it?"

Not satisfied with the exchange of voices, he rolled up his sleeves and pressed their foreheads against each other.

"Who is scared... Ouch?!"

"Nga?!"

Okuma's fists attacked in quick succession. Blocking the sunlight with their thick bodies, the two of them crouched in the shade with their heads in their hands, and a loud voice fell over them.

"Move your hands instead of your mouth, layabouts."

"Hehe!"

"Sorry!"

Okuma looked at the two people who were scattered, and then looked at all the work.

(It should be back to normal before today's opening.)

After thinking about it, he felt a stab in his throat like a small bone.

(I wonder if it will really go back to normal.)

It's not just about conflicts with monsters and the blue clothes.

Okuma wasn't amused the fact that some kinds of "King" or imposed good manners are getting in the way with straightforward gait of his proud boss.

In the neighborhood where the sound of work can be heard, there is a Suwako canteen. This whimsical restaurant (the only sign is "meshi") has a reputation for being cheap and filling, but the taste is average. It is also known as the place where Unno Yutaka stays when his usual hideout, Yakumo, is destroyed, and is seen from the outside as one of Kagirohi-gumi's strategic bases.

Actually, it was just a place where Suwako let him eat free food and Unno would lie down in a small room in the back. For the former, it was an important space where they could recover the relationship they had when they met. But to the latter, that is unknown thing because he hadn't even hinted at it, let alone talked about it.

Now it's Suwako's turn to feed him free food. In the middle of the small shop, Unno is stuffing his mouth with okara sushi at the counter. As the name suggests, it is a dish that cannot be said to be a dish that only puts ingredients on a piece of okara, but it is a specialty of this restaurant.

The side that is allowed to eat is hated and slaps him in the mouth.

"Only the topping has improved."

* Okara Zushi; a type of sushi that used Okara(soy pulp) instead of rice, with topping a fish marinated in vinegar. It is local food in Chugoku-Shikoku region.

"Shut up and eat, you bastard."

The usual show of cutting rebukes from the feed side.

It was supposed to be usual for Suwako to rest her chin on the counter and look at the stubborn Unno, but since that night, she felt a bit strange.

"Yutaka-chan."

"What?"

With his mouth open, Unno replied.

Suwako lifted her chin and used the courage she had built up over the course of several days to ask.

"Are you ok?"

"......"

Unno munched his okara sushi in silence. Secretly thinking...

(I wonder if it came out on the complexion, it's gross.)

He still hasn't resolved his feelings about meeting another "King".

Of course he wasn't intimidated. It was uncomfortable knowing that the anger and desires that were supposed to be him were embedded in something else. Besides, not being able to sort out his feeling like that was very unpleasant. With holding such a stone weight, he couldn't laugh optimistically, or stop thinking and run.

Ignoring all of that, he might have been able to become stronger.

However, when he ate at that restaurant, he felt a little less competitive.

That's why the answer wasn't clear.

"How is?"

"Yutaka-chan, aside from me, that sort of thing... were you aware that there are some really cool psychics out there?"

Suwako isn't afraid to reach Unno's core when they are alone in this restaurant.

Unno also responded to Suwako, who did so as honestly as possible.

"As for the guy with the blue hat and Ootono-nii-san, I didn't know until I met them. But the other person..."

"Um, the monster with the gapped teeth?"

"No."

After a brief denial, Unno paused to put his feelings into words.

"I've felt many times that somewhere far away... well, deep..., there's a guy reaching into the river and trying to catch the current."

There was something that came to Suwako's mind.

"Even if that's the case, the guy with the blue hat said something like that when we parted ways..."

"......"

Unno didn't even hide his displeasure from her and remained silent.

After dismissing Thomas Colt, just before Kagiro-higumi and the Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau withdrew, the guy in the blue hat (the husband), the Blue King, pretended to make a casual postscript and offered some history.

"This is a test, but are you willing to meet the "Golden King" Daikaku Kokujoji?"

And of course Unno... "No."

He just returned a word over his back as he walked away.

(That's right, I can't stand doing what that bastard says.)

Thinking of that, Unno reached for the okara sushi again and saw that Suwako's face was filled with anxiety. Its meaning was easy to understand. Or rather, the kind he himself had.

There is something big that you don't understand.

It was the feeling of existence beyond the words "Slate" and "King" that Nazumi said.

It was a terrifying power that haunted him, that if he could feel it and touch it, it would be irreversible.

That's why Suwako is afraid from the bottom of her heart of him.

For Unno to meet the "Golden King".

Being carried away by something big and mysterious.

That's why Unno said it clearly.

"I do not go anywhere."

"Yes."

Suwako's face, who answered in a low voice, turned pale and bright.

Unno felt embarrassed by the situation and tossed the pickled okara sushi into his mouth. As he muttered and chewed, he opened a mouth again with hatred.

"You're not good at grabbing at all."

But he will never say that he like the taste. So that Suwako can see his feelings in his smile. Of course, the answer is short.

"Noisy bastard."

++++++++++

Daikaku Kokujoji, the "Golden King" who normally refrains from going out, sometimes makes exceptions.

That was the meeting with the president of the ruling party, who was escorted by him and "Tokijikuin", and this time it was a special trip. The destination is a villa in the suburbs owned by the governor.

In a large site in the mountains, it is commonly called "Oyashiki" witlessly. In part, it was a signal to avoid telling details, including the owner.

In a simple but elegant Japanese-style room facing the courtyard, the two faced each other over celebratory dinner with sake.

Kokujoji was wearing a suit and was sitting up straight like a statue.

The president was dressed in a kimono and sat loosely crosswise. That wasn't because he was arrogant, but because he received a gunshot wound from a thug during his time as a diplomat before the war, and couldn't sit on his knees for long periods of time.

The president said in a calm voice that he didn't seem like a tough face.

"I heard about that, Kokujoji-kun."

"Hah, it seems that he is the "Seventh Person". As a result of discussions with Director Nazumi, we have decided to call him "Colorless" for the time being."

Kokujoji responded with a mild explanation, but that is not the issue the president wanted to bring to the table. For him, "Slate" and "King" were things to talk about next to reality.

"I see."

After slightly nodding, the original topic was brought up.

"By the way, it seems that Nanakamado's work unit was present at that time."

"...That's how it is."

Kokujoji, who guessed, felt ashamed of his immaturity for misreading the focus.

Only the "King" and his empowered ministers could perceive the strangeness of the unexpected "Seventh" as an imminent threat. For ordinary people, it was natural that they had little knowledge or interest.

(At this rate, the way forward will be in jeopardy... study up and take heart.)

In today's reality, in other words, what is important to the president is the "political significance of Nanakamado, an intelligence agency, using force at his own trial.

"I heard, that they even fought a street battle against the "demon" in question."

"Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau arrived just in time and we were able to contain the turmoil within one area of the market. The workforce has also managed to capture almost everyone."

"A person seems to be sent back to them."

"Hah, an American commander. Director Nazumi will probably serve as a check or a warning to Nanakamado, but it will have little effect."

As expected, Kokujoji was surprised by the accuracy of the information he was given, even when he communicated without hesitation. In just a few days, from what source did he get the information? He has been swimming through the turbulent political world for nothing, and has reached the post of president. Kokujoji was impressed by his speech technique, which didn't make the other feel hard.

(This is the "Gold" that he himself have prepared and polished...)

The president is not a servant of "Tokijikuin", nor is he attracted to any talent.

Or rather, Kokujoji had yet to add to his vassals a single politician who had become his sympathizer. This is a measure to ensure that "Tokijikuin" gets involved in the political world from the point of view of a collaborator.

That "Slate", like it or not, creates a side to rule and a side to be ruled. Furthermore, instead of "mentally and physically acknowledging'' social status and biological abilities, it "gives structure to the functions of kings and ministers."

The EX-α individual and the β individual are not the same at all.

There was a huge difference in the functions and overall power of the two.

The problem is not how do they feel that, is the fact as that is.

In a post-war society where distrust and hatred of authority burn, and, moreover, in the ideal democracy that Headquarters tries to establish, this "structure" placed under others provokes resentment or even more indignation. Of course, it would be even more so if someone with high social status, such as a key politician or the head of a conglomerate, couldn't always get the talent he wanted.

The reason why Kokujoji keeps his former subordinates as comrades-in-arms and dedicates himself to behind-the-scenes work is to make them seem like a powerful but closed small professional group. (It is also based on the same reasoning that Nazumi established the "Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau'' as a department with a legal foundation.) Even if they were wrong, they should not have been made to think of themselves as beings privileged above people... as the "transcendent ruling race" that the German Third Reich dreamed of.

Still, ever since "Tokijikuin" rose to prominence despite being behind the scenes, sharp-nosed politicians, ex-servicemen, surviving liberal activist, and even charlatans of the like have contacted Kokujoji to become his vassals. There have been many attempts, even more cases of faster attacks and kidnappings to seize power from the "Slate" or "King".

Humans are creatures that greedily seek power.

Especially now, when society is full of gaps and opportunities.

These realities made Kokujoji well aware of the dangers of hastily introducing the deadly drug "King", which was in the midst of trial and error, now in post-war, here in Japan.

Therefore, while sympathizing with the regime, they did not merge, and while showing their intentions, they did not issue orders... This position was firmly held by the "Golden King" Daikaku Kokujoji and "Tokijikuin". And it was precisely because he continued to stand his ground that he was able to gain the trust of the political world.

At this time, he can even have a secret face-to-face conversation with the president of the ruling party, who is not even his vassal.

"I see."

The president gave a slight nod again and casually filled the cup with sake.

"I agree with you."

Kokujoji did the same and filled his own sake cup.

"What is the trial material?"

"Although it has some privileges and power, it still feels like an intelligence agency running too wild. I tried looking in various directions to see if there was a backup behind it."

After half, the president wiped his cup at once, perhaps to moisten his throat or to make a decision, began to speak in a calm voice to Kokujoji who was waiting for his words.

"They frequently communicate with Atsugi."

"Atsugi?"

Kokujoji felt suspicious.

In the city of Atsugi, Kanagawa Prefecture, there is a large airfield for the occupation forces requisitioned from the former Japanese army. Immediately after the war, many squadrons were deployed, but by the end of 1948, it had become a supply base for the occupation forces in the Kanto region, and no military forces were stationed there.

"That place is under the jurisdiction of none other than the Headquarters, and even if you say Occupation Army, it is just logistical support..."

As he answered, Kokujoji thought of something strange.

In Atsugi, there is a large-scale facility that doesn't look like a supply base.

It was a "radar site" radio detection facility for the detection of sword-shaped "Schwert" Kouki, which the occupation forces hastily set up for fear of a mass uprising by the Japanese people in response to the "Chofu Incident".

In reality, this facility was useless. He ended up showing that all the sword-shaped "Schwert" Kouki that appeared after Red, Blue, Green, and Gray did not show any reaction to the radar. The reason why the facility still stands is due to both the practical aspect that is useful for air traffic control of the Occupation Forces, and the psychological aspect that is a symbol of confrontation with the unknown.

Kokujoji had investigated these items as being related to the "King" of him, but from the conversation with the president, he suddenly began to worry about a certain item. Slowly he spoke.

"If I remember correctly, the electrical probes placed there were under the jurisdiction of the United States Department of Defense, not the Occupation Forces. Engineers sent from the country of origin are also managing maintenance."

"Yes. That is very important."

The president nodded three times like a professor giving a passing grade.

"It appears to have been removed from the Defense Department's Advanced Research Projects Agency "ARPA" in response to a request from Headquarters to send in the latest state-of-the-art equipment. It is the people there who are in charge of maintenance."

After a pause, his calm voice turned heavy and low.

"Officially, most of them were reorganized last year, and they are the intelligence officers of their home country."

Kokujoji was surprised and accidentally put down the cup.

"......! Are they from the CIA?"

In the era of its predecessor, the Strategic Intelligence Agency "OSS" (although it was only three years ago), the Central Intelligence Agency "CIA" began to fight with the Headquarters over the advance of their base of operations in Japan. a destiny whose activity was sealed.

Since then, the Commander-in-Chief, Admiral General, dislikes "rogue spies", and has not tried to interfere with Japan. It was supposed to be, but it was only on the surface.

His undiminished anti-communist sense of mission and desire to expand his power secretly spread the roots of the conspiracy to Atsugi's neighborhood, or even to Nanakamado's throat.

(Nazumi also reported that Nanakamado was "exporting" psychics for anti-communist spy warfare... certainly, the recipient could be no one other than the CIA.)

Kokujoji finally found the reason of unusually bullish attitude of Nanakamado.

"So Nanakamado is trying to survive after our country regains its sovereignty by communicating with the CIA in the United States and cooperating in the re-advancement?"

"Nanakamado's intentions are probably like this."

And then the president spoke calmly about the core of the crisis.

"The nature of this matter is much bigger and deeper. Most worrisome is that the Pentagon is involved in the camouflage operation. There is only one person in the world with power that can make them allies of the CIA."

"......!"

Kokujoji guessed with a shudder, but didn't mention the title.

With the president's understanding, he added the most alarming information he had collected.

"The Department of Defense is sending a light aircraft carrier to and from Yokosuka under the pretext of carrying materials to Atsugi. Half a year has passed. It seems that the overbuilt ships from the previous war are being used as transport ships."

The tone of voice that he did not believe on the surface of the information was the meaning of the information.

"When we bring in materials, we line up the cars to watch the roads where there are no attackers. For some reason, most of these staff members are Japanese. What do you think of this situation?"

"The convoy... is probably practicing marching along the way, disembarking and deploying to military installations."

Kokujoji first thought of a former soldier and then of a "King".

"Japanese pretending to be guards are believed to be people with 'exported' skills in the past."

"In other words, the CIA is preparing a unit of talented people in our country, separate from Nanakamado."

"The reason they are using the Japanese is that they are doing everything they can for the local powers, and they are sure to get rid of them."

The president was calm, Kokujoji was strict.

"Hm, it's a way of doing things, similar to an intelligence agency."

"Nanakamado's original plan was to secure a piece that would guarantee the superiority of Headquarters, in other words, to secure our "King"... or perhaps make him cooperate."

After a calm exchange without changing the tone of theirs voices...

"However, they, who should have sent out the elite soldiers, were completely defeated by the "King" and were not able to get his cooperation. Even so, there is another goal in daring to use a unit of talented people."

"If it's the second best measures, they won't hit the same enemy twice... then,"

After sharing and researching, checking and analyzing, the two of them naturally came to a solution.

Even with that conviction...

"The next best thing is a sudden armed rebellion..."

The president involuntarily smiled wryly at the eccentricity of the resulting solution.

"It's like a coup before the war."

"It doesn't matter if it's successful or not, the goal itself is to create a riot in Tokyo. It would be nice if it could be used as a basis for criticizing the Occupation Army's current occupational rule, especially its ability to maintain public order."

Kokujoji was able to see through the brutal fashion of the time, where politics was intertwined with conspiracies and tyranny.

The president also calmly pursues the dangers affecting Japan's national fortune.

"The continental United States is participating in this operation to strike a blow at Headquarters which is too arbitrary. The overall goal is to create an excuse to reduce the excessive authority given to Headquarters and push Japan back into an anti-communist bulwark."

The old politician smiled wrinkled when he realized that all the cards were in his hand.

"I see, it's a nice photo."

With a smile on his face, he became furious.

"But I won't forgive them."

"Yes."

Kokujoji is also short and sharp and he agreed.

An air of tension filled the air between the two of them.

Kokujoji was the one who moved the fastest and stood up without panicking.

"Please leave me your phone. I will urgently take countermeasures with the Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau."

"No, I'm the one who will call to."

The president, who took the thought of him one step further as a politician, stopped him. He explains before asking.

"An armed rebellion is different from a popular uprising that can only be stopped by dissipating the accumulated heat. It is an operation based on a political plan. Furthermore, both the initiative and the execution come from the intelligence agencies."

"Eh?"

Kokujoji, who couldn't understand the meaning of his explanation, took the form of an attentive listener.

The president admonished the young man who thinks he is fit about the dynamics of politics.

"In other words, if it turns out that he can't carry out his plan, it's the kind of thing that loses the foundation of the rebellion and puts an end to it."

"Do you have a measure to prevent the outbreak in the first place instead of suppressing it?"

"It's not as difficult as calling it a measure."

His smile, still filled with rage, glowed with murderous political maneuver.

"However, by making a proposal with the above reasoning, we can take away the bases to activate it."

"Proposal... what, where?"

The president, showed his "gold" to Kokujoji.

"Dismantle the intelligence agency, Nanakamado, to the commanding general of the occupation forces."

Saying so, he clapped his hands to call the butler.

In fact, a phone call was not enough. As soon as an appointment for negotiations was made at the Dai-ichi Seimei building in Yurakucho, Tokyo, where the general headquarters are located, the president returned to Tokyo in a safe driving car.

"Until I'm gone, give the quarterback time to reflect. A phone call is a message that says 'I'm going to make a proposal like this'', and it's a grace period to make a decision. I am a gentle man, so I will go home at a slow pace."

That's what it looked like.

Kokujoji did not accompany him, but according to the guards who were sent in his place, the negotiations in the commanding officer's office were completed in a very short time.

Then the next day at noon.

Immediately, Kokujoji received two notices. The first was a document from the Department of Public Health and Human Services containing the Directive of the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces (SCAP Index Number, or SCAPIN), as recommended by the Governor.

As written...

"Notice: 1. There is no intelligence agency under the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces, Headquarters, which controls the Japanese people by any special means. 2. The Research Institute for Infectious Disease Control (at the Nanakamado City) will be decommissioned and withdrawn as of tomorrow in accordance with the achievement of its intended objectives. 3. Tasks 2 will be handled by the Metropolitan Police Reserve, US Army 1st Cavalry Division and the US Army's 97th Infantry Division."

It made no sense even to those who didn't know the circumstances, and it was extremely harsh for those who did.

In summary...

Nanakamado will be dismantled after its existence is officially denied.

The research institute where has been their base of operations will also be demolished, leaving no trace.

Not only the police but also the Occupation Army will be involved in the implementation.

That's what it meant.

You could see the marshal's anger as much as the president's, if not more.

(Not unreasonable.)

Kokujoji thought.

The United States has just forced Headquarters to change its policy of rebuilding Japan as an ideal democratic nation. It would be strange not to get angry if he knew that a conspiracy aimed at further reducing the authority of Headquarters was afoot at a time when the humiliation had not cooled. (As for the marshal personally, after the crushing defeat in the presidential election half a year ago, he was deeply involved in rebuilding Japan.)

The fact that the negotiations with the governor were brief also shows the extent of his anger.

Driven by ambition, the Nanakamado intelligence agency faced the end of punishment.

Regardless of what they thought, they were just an unofficial branch of the Occupation Forces, with all the authority given by the Headquarters. As long as their authority is revoked before the uprising, the intelligence agencies' ability to carry out their actions... in other words, the ability to force their way through the outside world will be gone, with one exception.

And due to the dissolution of the organization guided by the Japanese side, the troops prepared in Atsugi lost sight of the reason and the opportunity to move. If an armed rebellion is a political plot by an intelligence agency, it will be even more difficult to move lightly in uncertain circumstances. The prepared combat power became useless.

Above all, this order is also a signal to confront the home country that "Japanese Headquarters and the Japanese government have become aware of the plot". The situation has already moved to a phase where both parties are playing bargaining both implicitly and explicitly. Whether the result is a restoration of relations or an escalation of conflict, the turn of active force will not come for the moment.

The political apocalypse is coincidentally decisive.

Nanakamado's future was completely closed.

However, they are left with one more option that will not lead them into the future.

An act that is nothing more than a sterile and perverse struggle.

The option was to use the existing force to explode.

If they thought about it with calculations and reasoning, it was almost impossible to take such an action. There was no longer any prospect of reversing the situation, no matter how they used the forces they had, they could not expect the support of the CIA, and the credibility of the Headquarters had eroded.

Yet even so, for humans... especially for an organization that is entrenched in only one direction, impossible behavior often becomes a last hope. If violence is the only card left, the illusion is stronger.

In case Nanakamado did turn out to be like this, Headquarters prepared a second copy, a document from the Second General Staff Department (intelligence agency representative).

According to the document...

"Notice: 1. Request the Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau to supervise the dismantling and removal work of the Research Institute for Infectious Disease Control (in Nanakamado City). 2. The commands and orders for dealing with people with capacity to induce and maintain anomalous phenomena will be in charge of the director of the same office, and not of the National Public Safety Commission. 3. All responsibility for actions in accordance with the notification falls on this headquarters."

It was an official dispatch request to confront the psychics organization directly from the Occupation Forces Headquarters.

In other words...

"Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau" will be in charge of responding to the outbursts of people with capabilities.

They would not care about the higher ranking organization and would act according to the judgment of the Chief, Somei Nazumi.

Whatever happens, the Occupation Forces Headquarters will take responsibility.

That's what it meant.

This precedent will determine the position of the organization, such as the nature of the duties carried out by the Legislative Office of Legal Affairs, its superiority over other police organizations, and the maintenance of an independent chain of command.

Anyway, everything was ready.

Calling out will be tomorrow.

There was no time for political maneuvering.

Even setting up a counterattack would be dangerous.

The Metropolitan Police Reserve Corps (predecessor of the Metropolitan Riot Police) and the Occupation Army will be in charge of dismantling and removing the facility, and if a person with capabilities moves, the "Fourth Legal Affairs Office" will delete it. Atsugi's forces are politically neutralized and there is no threat of intervention.

"Everything, no omissions."

The president said by phone during the preliminary consultation.

Kokujoji thought so too, and actually responded in agreement.

But...

(Is that really so?)

Somewhere, he had the feeling that something was issuing a strong warning. Assuming it was the "Golden King's" intuition, he didn't know where or what made him feel that way.

If he dared to raise a concern, it would be the matter of "Colorless King", but if it weren't for the huge power clash between the "Kings", it should be nothing more than a threat from a street passerby.

Even if Nanakamado mobilizes all the remaining ability users and challenges in a battle, he doesn't think they'll be able to develop a fierce battle that would make "Blue King" Somei Nazumi manifest "Schwert" above his head.

(Someday, the power of the other "Kings" will have to unite to deal with the "Colorless", and they will have to take it seriously... but, in the morrow, there should be no curtain for that to happen.)

Faced with a fate that has yet to be understood, Kokujoji had no choice but to confirm the current situation.

The president will take measures to control the situation, the marshal will make the difficult decisions, and the "Blue King" will take over the actual work... these measures are being carried out without delay and without fail.

The situation was supposed to proceed as planned.

There is nothing to worry about, it is fair and safe.

Both the era and history march orderly on the basis of reason and rationality.

Until the arrival of the "King" of change, who destroys and disturbs all those inevitabilities.

The last day of December 1948.

A long day for everyone, the first difficult step of regeneration is approaching.

#k #k project #k side gold #kokujoji daikaku #unno yutaka #somei nazumi #todokoro suwako #Tsunogui Iku

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gunebuggieswriting · 11 months

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Good Bad Habits Run In The Family: Chapter Six

DPxDC Crossover, Jason Adopts Danny AU

[AO3] [FF.net] [Wattpad]

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Jason left as soon as he could, not wanting to be in the batcave any longer after hearing what Duke said. He knew it was Danny as soon as he heard that B had called a meeting about a new superhuman, possibly metahuman or alien, in Gotham. Afterall, Danny had just left his warehouse yesterday, and it didn’t take a genius to connect the dots.

The only thing that had made him doubt was that the first description that Duke had given them, as the Danny he knew didn’t have white hair or a black and white jumpsuit. Actually, Jason was pretty sure that the teen was probably still wearing the clothes he had given him right before he left, a plain red shirt and some black jeans. The thing that made Jason so sure that the unknown super was Danny, was that Duke also said they had glowing green eyes, sharp teeth, and were short. He knew that the kid going around like that was just asking for somebody to notice him, he should have talked to him before, made him more aware that he wasn’t the norm around here.

Perhaps the white hair and odd clothing was what he actually looked like or something, afterall, he sure wasn’t completely human. Now that the whole flock of bats was looking for the teen though, including the man himself, it was even more dangerous for him to be on the streets of Gotham. Duke said that he looked terrified, and although Danny was rather skittish, he also wasn’t afraid to fight. For him to flee like that, or vanish in Duke’s words, meant that he could already be in danger.

Jason hopped on his motorcycle, it humming back loudly to life for a second before he took off. He was going to find Danny before any other bat could. He should have already got to him before Duke, instead of retreating as soon as daylight rolled into the city. It didn’t matter if he was a nighttime vigilante, he didn’t care if others saw him during the day. Nobody except the other bats would question him, but he would risk that to hurry up and find Danny before them. He can cover his ass easily, but Danny on the other hand? Well, he was just a teen, a scared one at that. He didn’t need all the bats cornering him and asking him a whole bunch of questions.

He was heading towards Shelton Street, hoping that he would find some sort of trail that would point him to where Danny could have gone. He drove quickly down the streets, ignoring some of the traffic laws as he passed through the overcrowded city. How in the world did so many people want to live here? He could understand the ones that didn’t have nowhere else to go, but the ones that chose to be here? Absolutely insane people if you asked him.

When he got to Shelton Street, it was disappointingly normal. Everybody was minding their own business, a few of them noticing Red Hood and taking pictures of him or whispering among themselves. It bothered him, a reason he much rather do things during the night, but he could ignore his discomfort in turn for finding Danny. He searched around, and found a tenement that seemed like it should have been demolished ages ago, and guessed that it was probably the one that Duke had mentioned Danny being on.

He went into the alley, scarring off a couple of cats as he walked, and took out his grapple hook, launching into the air as soon as it gripped on top of the roof. Climbing on top of the building, he looked around, seeing nothing out of place. There was a billboard sign, but nothing else out of the ordinary. It was still pretty high up though, and Red Hood used it to have a better look around the place.

There was no sign of Danny, none, absolutely zip. Though he had to have been here at least an hour ago, so he shouldn’t have gone too far. Though, if the boy really could teleport, then that would make it a lot harder to track him down. What if he already found his way out of Gotham? Jason would be looking for nobody.

Not one to make assumptions or give up quickly, Red Hood went back to the alley where his motorcycle still was sitting. He already didn’t have much patience, especially when he was this worried worked up. He felt the need to find Danny, and it was much stronger than last night when the kid first dipped.

Cursing at himself and his weird emotional bullshit, he got back on his motorcycle and began searching rapidly around the area, trying not to miss anything. Every time he saw black hair, he would take a second look, disappointed each time that they weren’t Danny. One time he even saw a person with white hair who wasn’t old, but instead of being some out of the world version of Danny, it was just some girl in her twenties who probably dyed her hair that way.

He kept looking, spreading all over the area, double checking some places to make sure Danny didn’t show up after he left. He knew he probably looked a little crazy, and he felt a little crazy too, searching like mad for a teenager he only knew for about three weeks. Even though he may not know Danny too well, and less than he thought he did it seemed, that didn’t mean he didn’t care about the brat. Jason knew that he could be in danger, and he would be damned if he let the kid be hurt because of some crazed dumbass out there.

It was becoming dark and Jason knew that the dragging feeling in his eyes was him becoming tired, as he hasn’t slept in the last day from everything that has been happening. He was tempted to take off his helmet so he could rub at his face, maybe calm down some of his nerves, when he felt the temperature drop and the air turn stale, almost like he entered some haunted mansion that’s been around for far too long. Though, he knew this feeling, and hope sparked in his chest.

He turned, looking around the alley he was in to see if he could spot Danny. The feeling was still there, so that meant that Danny was still here. He didn’t want to scare him off again, especially after spending the entire day searching every small space to try and find him. “Brat?” He called, glancing around again to see if he could spot the boy. The chill intensified and then warmed back up, and Jason was afraid that he did scare him off.

“Red Hood?” Jason froze, spinning around on his hills to see Danny a few feet behind him, and he couldn’t help but question how the fuck the kid snuck up on him like that. Probably another power thing going on, he really needed to know more about that. Other than that, the kid’s hair was still black, and his eyes weren’t glowing at all, an icy blue like they had been for the majority of his time in the warehouse after he had settled in. “Am I back in Crime Alley or something? I knew I was going around in circles, I’m so fucking stupid.”

“No we’re not in Crime Alley,” Red Hood corrected the younger teen, who seemed more tired than usual, probably not having slept yet either. “I was actually looking for your dumbass.” Danny stiffened, and Jason could visibly see the panic rising in him.

“I- well- I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly- I” Danny tried to get out, his hands going up to his head to thread through it as he avoided looking at Red Hood.

“That’s not why I tracked you down. I’m here because apparently some idiot got caught by Signal.” Red Hood said, crossing his arms, although he tried not to sound too harsh, which was hard with the modified voice in his helmet.

Danny’s eyes somehow got bigger, and bit his lip and looked away again. He couldn’t help but think how Red Hood actually was connected to the other bats like he thought they were, which was given with the bat symbol. Did Red Hood tell them stuff about him? He may not know much, but he did know his name and how he really looked. Shit, Signal saw his other form. Red Hood probably knew now. Who he truly was.

Red Hood saw how the nervous boy was starting to become afraid too, and that was the opposite of what he wanted. If Danny felt threatened in any way, he would bounce and vanish once more. Jason wasn’t trying to scare him, he didn’t want to. “Look kid, I’m not going to do anything, okay? I simply looked for you to tell you that you’re a dumbass for letting them see you and that you need to be more safe or some shit.”

Danny relaxed a bit, letting a worried breath escape his mouth. While he was human he did need to breathe, so he sucked another breath right back in before he spoke. “I know I’m a dumbass, I just sorta forgot about Signal, alright? I’ll be careful from now on, I promise. I mean, I haven’t been caught again all day.”

“What about right now?” Red Hood shot back, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.

Danny stuttered, flailing his arms for a second before composing himself so he could properly defend himself. “If I didn’t want you to know I was here, you wouldn’t have seen me. The only reason I came out is because I knew it was you from that dumb voice modifier in your helmet that makes you sound like a boy band member who uses monotone instead of autotune.”

“That was one of the lamest comebacks I’ve ever heard in my goddamn life.” Red Hood said, but couldn’t hold but a short laugh and a wide smile that Danny couldn’t see. “Y’know squirt, for somebody being so tiny you sure are feisty. Reminds me of a chihuahua.”

“Those little bastards are feral demons, don’t let the smallness fool you.” That sure got an actual chuckle out of Red Hood, making Danny join in a bit in turn.

Then Danny sobered, his smile turning bittersweet, and Jason hated that look. Last time he saw it was in the warehouse, during his last visit before Danny left for good. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but he knew it meant nothing good now.

“Thank you Red Hood, really. I know I’ve said that a lot in the past couple of weeks, but I really do mean it. Who knows, I might have died that night you found me.” Actually Danny was supposed to die the night that Red Hood found him, but the man didn’t need to know that, and he felt like keeping it to himself anyways. “Though right now, I really want to be alone. I promise I’ll be more careful until I can find a good way out of here without messing more shit up. No more vigilantes for me.” He tried to end with a happy note, but there was still a sadness in his voice that he couldn’t quite place, and neither could Red Hood.

Red Hood wanted to argue with the kid and drag him back to his apartment or tell him how to leave the city, but he couldn’t. There was a certain look in the younger boy’s eyes, and Jason knew that he wouldn’t be able to convince him that whatever was going on could be fixed. It wasn’t his place either. He could see plain as day that although Danny may relax a bit in his presence, but that he didn’t trust him. He couldn’t tell Danny that him being a teen all alone on the streets without a home was something he couldn’t let happen, no matter how much he wanted to, because then Danny would just run away again. He couldn’t tell Danny that he didn’t have to leave, when he saw how convinced the other was that he needed to. He couldn’t tell Danny that he cared for him. That would only freak him out.

“What about right now?” Red Hood shot back, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Those little bastards are feral demons, don’t let the smallness fool you.” That sure got an actual chuckle out of Red Hood, making Danny join in a bit in turn.

He couldn’t do anything to stop Danny, say anything to let him stop himself, so he sighed and decided that there were some things he couldn’t do. “Fine then Danny, just know that you can always come to me if anything happens. I’ll probably be somewhere in Crime Alley, but if I’m not, go to one of my people and they’ll help you until I can get back. I’ll make sure to tell them to keep an eye out for you, but I won’t tell them much, does that sound good?”

Danny was surprised once more, but nodded his head silently, not trusting his voice at the moment. He could tell he was on the verge of another breakdown like he had several times that day, probably because of how stressed he’s been since that morning and how tired he felt. Red Hood was offering him help, but he knew it was selfish to take it, as he’s already taken so much and put the other in way too much danger. Taking in a deep breath to try and temporarily calm his nerves, he gave Red the most of a smile he could give him, which wasn’t much with how much his lip wanted to crumble into a trembling mess. “Thanks.”

Then he turned around and went right back into the shadows, turning himself invisible and disappearing into the now new night, flying slowly as he willed himself to not turn around again. Tears welled up in his eyes, and it wasn’t just because of Red Hood, but being reminded from all the times that his family and friends had offered him help. He had selfishly taken theirs too, and it led them to their death. He wasn’t going to do the same to Red Hood.

Red Hood watched him vanish right back into the shadows he appeared from, standing there for a moment, keeping his ear strained in case anything happens to Danny while he was still near. After a few minutes of nothing but the usual sounds of the city at night, he turned around and headed back to his motorcycle, a newfound feeling of disconnectedness in him as his thoughts failed to form beyond basic things. He didn’t know what he was exactly feeling, but he found that he really hated it, but couldn’t bring himself to try and push it away as it became all consuming.

Revving up his motorcycle, he drove off and back towards Crime Alley. Maybe a night patrol around the area before speaking to his commanders about the new rule with Danny would make him stop feeling like this. It usually worked when Red Hood was having a bad day, so why not right now?

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Tim watched as Red Hood zipped around on his motorcycle, during broad daylight, and searched. He knew what he was looking for too, or who to be more exact. After Tim had the realization from the camera footage he had removed his Red Robin costume to his civilian clothes, because unlike Red Hood, he wasn’t an idiot. He followed him around, well, the best he could anyways. It was a good thing that Red Hood actually kept his tracker on this time, because it made it a lot easier to know where he was going. The other must have been really distracted if he forgot about that and didn’t pay attention to if anybody was tailing him.

He had been following Jason all day, going all throughout the city near Shelton Street and double checking areas sometimes more than once. He was beginning to think that he would never find the superhuman, and he was becoming more doubtful as the sun began sinking. Then Red Hood stopped in an alleyway, and Tim rushed to get over there. When he was finally near the man’s location, he made his way on top of a building close to the alley, so he could spy listen from up above on the rooftop without being noticed.

Cautiously peering down, seeing two people in the alley, and he assumed that the other was the person that Jason was looking for as he was talking to them. Not able to hear what they were saying, he threw down a bug with a microphone and put an earbud in his ear so he could listen in. He almost felt bad for doing so, after hearing how private and emotional the conversation went, but it was important information nonetheless.

From what he could gather, the raven haired kid was in fact the same white haired teen that Duke reported earlier, meaning that he had two forms. This one was most likely to blend in easier with the other people, which was honestly pretty smart on his end. Though it made Tim wonder why he didn’t use it earlier when Signal saw him? Maybe he thought nobody was there and wanted to relax for a second.

Another thing was that the teen trusted Jason enough to give him his name, which was Danny. Whether that was his actual name or not was up for an internal debate later, but Tim stored it away and continued to eavesdrop. After hearing Red Hood make an offer that was incredibly out of character for the man, and the small and somber thanks he got in return, he watched them both make their separate ways.

Everything really was coming together, making a bigger picture for Tim to understand and look at, slowly but surely. Though he needed more information to really know what was happening, before anything terrible happened. It sounded like Danny was afraid of something, not Red Hood, but something else. Was it Gotham? Was that why he wanted to leave? Was it having to do with him being somewhat or entirely inhuman?

Tim didn’t know, but he desperately wanted to. If this Danny was that important to Red Hood, then there must be a reason, and a good one at that. Whatever was harming Danny or making him so afraid that he couldn’t allow Jason to help him, Tim would get to the bottom of it too. He swore that he would keep everybody in Gotham safe, and it included Danny too now as long as he wasn’t the one harming others.

Getting the bug from the alleyway and beginning the long trek back to the Wayne mansion, Tim had a feeling that something much bigger than just some lost superteen being scared was going on, and he didn’t like it. He would patrol for a bit longer tonight, just to make sure everything was fine. He wasn’t going to try and check on Danny.

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Tim may have been spending a lot of his extra time looking after Danny. A lot more than he was willing to admit. A few days that have passed since he eavesdropped overheard the conversation between Danny and Red Hood in the alley way, and over the course of those days Tim has found himself seeing Danny more than he meant to. Sometimes he would intentionally seek the superhuman out, and other times he would accidentally come upon him. Every time though, nothing strange happened, at least nothing that signaled that Danny was anything other than human.

The first time that Tim had found Danny again was the night of the deep talk between the teen and Jason, and he had been looking out for him while he patrolled. He saw him walking down a street, obviously looking for a place to safely stay the night, if checking buildings and little nooks in alleys was enough to tell that. It concerned Tim that Danny didn’t have a place to live, but he already figured that when he thought about how he had lived with Red Hood for a couple of weeks. Tim may have stayed out longer that night than he usually did, keeping an eye on the teen while he kept another eye on the city, watching both in case something happened.

Luckily, Danny did eventually find a place that he seemed to deem good enough for the night, which was one of the newer abandoned buildings, which didn’t have too many cracks in it yet. It still made Tim worry, and he had to push the urge to go up to the teen and straight up drag them to an actual bed where he would be much safer. Didn’t Danny listen to Jason at all? What happened to the promise of being more careful?

Tim decided to not confront Danny, aware he would scare him much like the others seemed to. Plus, Danny probably had enough of the vigilantes in Gotham to want any more interrogating talking to him. Retiring for that night with a racing mind, Tim wasn’t able to get sleep, instead hiding out in the batcave in front of a computer trying to figure out who Danny truly was. There had to be some information on him, about some superhuman who had two different looks. Yet, Tim found nothing, there was zero data of any kind about a super powered teenager named Danny. It made Tim feel a bit more confused, and wary, but he thought about how Danny was. How secretive and elusive the teen could be when he really wanted to be.

The next time Tim saw Danny, it was completely by accident, with Tim in his civilian identity. He was going down the block for the coffee store that allowed him to put in as many espresso shots as he liked, and he really needed the energy at the moment, when he saw the black messy hair that belonged to Danny. He didn’t think about it at first, his brain supplying him that there were many males in the city with black hair, as he had only seen the hair, but when Danny moved away from the walking crowd and allowed Tim to see more. He knew it was Danny then, the lanky body of the teen unmistakable.

Tim had glanced back at the coffee shop he was nearing, debating for only half a second, before giving in and running after Danny. He didn’t really follow Danny, being more curious than worried, and only watched him for a few minutes. Again, nothing abnormal happened, Danny continued to walk down Gotham’s busy streets like he has always been there. The only reason Tim knew he wasn’t was from how the teen would flinch at sudden loud sounds such as the wails of a siren flying by or shying away from looking up at the tall buildings. He felt like Danny may have come from a smaller city, or maybe even a small town, but it was all speculation, and Tim had coffee to drink.

When Tim went out again as Red Robin that very night, he was searching for Danny. This time to see if the other finally found their way out of the city. It wasn’t that confusing, was it? Surely the teen could find his way after spending so long here. There were plenty of highways and streets that led the way out of Gotham, and if anything, Danny could have just walked in a straight path and found a way out that way. What if Danny didn’t actually want to leave? Did he lie to Jason or Duke? Or is there something else pressuring him to leave? Tim once again thought about Bruce and his actions towards the nonhuman population of Gotham.

Bruce did allow anybody to live in the city, but he was a bit sensitive when it came to those who weren’t entirely human, or human at all for that matter. He had grown a lot from that whenever he adopted Jarro and Duke, but anybody could tell that the man still held some suspicions towards them, no matter how harmless they seemed. If they were unknown, he treated them as if they were a threat. Maybe it was just the over cautious and paranoid side of B talking that drove him towards that. Hopefully it wasn’t because he didn’t like other races than humans and Jarro. Afterall, he had sworn to protect everybody in Gotham as well, which included those who weren’t human.

The third time that Tim saw Danny was also when he was Red Robin, but this time he was in the middle of a fight with a group of petty muggers. He was taking them down rather easily, as they seemed untrained when it came to fighting. It didn’t matter if they outnumbered Red Robin, he had more skill than all of the bozos put together.

It was while he was kicking another mugger in the knee when he felt a small uneasy feeling rise inside him. He didn’t know what it was, but it distracted him for only a second, just enough for one of the men to punch Tim in the jaw. He had felt the air grow colder as he spat out blood, but his body ran hotter from a spike of anger as he swiftly and mercilessly knocked the guy unconscious. He knew that he had hit them with a bit of extra force than necessary, especially since he knocked them clean out, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

It was while he was tying up all the men that the cold atmosphere warmed up a bit more, although the feeling he felt didn’t go away. It was similar to whenever he felt like he was being followed, but different all the same, as it was the same uneasy feeling somebody would feel when entering a graveyard. He hadn’t known it was Danny, but when he exited the alley and saw a small snippet of a boy with black hair running into an alley across the street and the feeling he had immediately lifting, he knew who it was. Was Danny watching him too?

Other than that and the odd vibe, Danny seemed painstakingly average. He never saw his eyes glow, the sharp teeth that Duke talked about, or the white hair that flowed with magic. Danny seemed human, and Tim was almost starting to doubt that he was anything but in the first place. It didn’t make any sense to Tim. How did somebody who before seemed to have a hard time hiding what they truly were, begin doing it so well that it tricked even the most perceptive of people? He didn’t know how to feel about that.

The last time that Tim saw Danny was early the next night. He was trying his hardest to track down Danny once again, hoping that somehow his questions would be answered. He was surprised he was able to go this long without truly being caught, if that time Danny watched him fight was not him getting caught that is. Didn’t Danny have some sort of power that allowed him to sense others when they got near him? Shouldn’t it be working on Tim?

He was standing in an alley, by himself, looking at particularly nothing. This was the first time that the vigilante has seen the other teen doing something that most would call unordinary behavior, and it interested him. He watched, being completely silent and staying what he thought was out of sight. He waited, anticipating for something to happen that would somehow solve this entire mystery.

Nothing did happen, Danny just stood there, and in all honesty it was starting to freak out the self acclaimed detective. Then, as soon as Tim blinked, Danny was gone. Nowhere in the alley below. This caused Tim to freak out, having to swallow down a surprised yelp as he flinched, not expecting that. Did this just prove everything that Duke said? Could Danny actually teleport?

Then the cold air he was starting to grow used to the past few days around Danny increased, causing an involuntary shiver go through Tim. The pressure of the area felt heavier, and it made Tim tense, not moving a muscle afterwards. After a few seconds of realizing how quiet everything became, even the city acting like it was waiting for something to unravel.

Finally letting out a small breath, Tim peeked behind him, seeing that there was in fact a figure there. Seeing this, his heart picked up and he spun around and faced the stranger with two batarangs flying out of his hands. He watched with wide eyes as both of the sharp objects flew right through the other like they were made out of fog, not even scraping them. Then there was a flash of green lights and Tim realized that it was coming from the person’s eyes.

Danny. It was Danny who somehow appeared right behind him without him realizing it. Did the superhuman teleport behind him? Was it just luck that he did that as soon as Tim blinked, or was it another power?

Tim stood there, frozen in a fighting position as he stared at Danny with heavy pants. He hasn’t been that spooked in a while. Now though, he had a good look at the teen. He really did have glowing green eyes, looking similar to neon lights in a mini golf course with how bright they were. They dimmed a bit, allowing Tim to have a better look as he tried to assess his situation, as so far Danny hasn’t tried to harm him.

“It’s not fun being watched is it?” The teen finally said after several minutes had passed by.

“Wha-?” Tim’s confused noise was the only thing his sleep deprived brain could offer for the moment, his thoughts scattering fifty different ways. Danny snorted, his hand immediately going to his mouth as he did so, the green eyes completely fading away as he tried to hold back a giggle. Blue eyes, the teen had light blue eyes and black hair. Tim wonders if B would adopt him if he saw him like that.

“Damn it- I- I was trying to be serious for once. Stop making this so hard, I’m supposed to scare you.” Danny said, still choking down giggles with his bright blue eyes glistening with amusement. They also appeared to be glowing with how the moonlight reflected on them, and Tim squinted his eyes and titled his head to make sure they weren’t. This only made Danny laugh more. “What- what the actual fuck- why are you looking at me like that? You look like a cat- holy shit- I can’t.”

Tim gave the giggling mess of a teen a blank stare as he stood up and straightened out of his fighting pose. “Okay, ‘mister glowy eyes’, you look like one of those stereotypical halloween cats.”

Danny stopped laughing, his eyes blinking with surprise. “My eyes were glowing?”

Well that just threw Tim through a loop. Did he really not know his eyes glowed? Why was everything about this kid so complicated? “How the fuck do you not know?”

“Oh shit, are they doing it right now? I can usually control it, shit, how long has this been going on?” Danny’s amusement earlier was completely gone now, replaced with nervousness.

“No, they’re blue right now.” Tim answered, wanting to lean closer and get a better look at his eyes, but refrained, remembering that Duke said that Danny fled after he tried to get closer.

“Oh, um, that’s cool.” Danny awkwardly replied, his hand going back and scratching the back of his neck. “So, I came up here to try and scare you, but it seems that kinda failed.”

Tim wasn’t about to say that he basically jumped out of his own skin when he saw Danny’s shadowy figure behind him. “How did you pop up behind me like that? I only looked away for half a second at that.” Might as well try and get some answers while Danny seemed like talking.

“None of your business weirdo.” Danny said, arms over his chest. “I should be the one asking you about why you’ve been following me around so much these last couple of days.”

So, Danny did know that Tim has been watching him. “How’d you know that?”

“You’re not that good at being sneaky.” Danny flatly said while giving Tim a face that read “are you serious”.

“Are you sure it just isn’t your powers?” Tim shot back, ruffled from the insult of his skills that he carefully crafted and mastered from years of practice. Totally not from the days he used to stalk Robin and Batman.

Danny went rigid once more, and he didn’t respond for a few seconds before his face turned into a scowl. “Stop stalking me.” He practically growled out, and although Tim saw a small twitch of Danny’s eyes and a hint of green coating them, they didn’t start glowing again. Danny must be trying to suppress it, but it was too late for that in Tim’s opinion.

Tim scoffed and allowed his cape to cover the front of his body as he shifted to lean on his left foot. He didn’t say anything though, and Danny glared at him for a few more seconds before he turned away and went to the ladder that went down the building, taking it down. Tim watched him leave, making no movement as he saw Danny go down the ladder. He wondered why the other didn’t just teleport away like he usually did, but he guessed it was because he was making more of an effort to hide it. It was about time to learn that, albeit a bit too late.

Tim was going to keep an eye out for Danny no matter what the boy said, but he kept that to himself. Though he may not use the same methods, as it seemed to be disturbing Danny. Which he isn’t dumb, he knew he was going a bit overboard. Perhaps approaching this situation differently was a better option, instead of following the poor boy around Gotham.

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johaerys-writes · 8 months

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Ch. 17: Cherry

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

It’s been a wet kind of summer. The rains started early after spring and persisted until the tail end of June, unusual for this time of year. The air is thick and humid, as if moving through water, and the sky hangs dull and heavy above the valley.

For the most part, Patroclus has been working in the vineyards of the area, along with the throngs of other seasonal workers that arrive in Phthia for every harvesting period. It’s hard work, but Patroclus has never minded physical labour overly much. More than anything, he’s glad that the exams are done and over with; if his mind had to retain yet one more piece of information, it might explode.

Bees buzz merrily around him as he clips the grapes from the vines and tosses them in his basket. His back is aching and the sweat stings his eyes; there’s only a few more minutes until the end of the work day. Patroclus is looking forward to a cold drink of water and an even colder shower. He woke up at six this morning to ride his bike all the way here; the vineyard is quite far out, past Atreus' farm and across the Spercheios river, miles upon miles of wheat and alfalfa fields with their deep irrigation ditches. Grape harvesting pays slightly better than other jobs, but you can't work too fast or the fruits will be bruised. Employers don't like that.

Some days, like this one, when the sun burns bright above them and there isn’t the reprieve of rain clouds hovering above, Patroclus wonders if he’s making things way too hard for himself. Peleus all but assured them that he would pay for any and all expenses he and Achilles would have during their move to the capital, and more besides, but Patroclus feels better knowing that he won’t be relying entirely on Peleus’ charity. His savings will be just about enough to cover his personal expenses for the first couple of months, until he finds another job there. Patroclus considers that a win; he thinks it will be good for him to be a little bit more independent.

He returns with his basket filled to the brim and a procession of bees in tow, then lines up along with the others to receive his pay for the day. Most of the workers are undocumented immigrants; the job pays five bucks per hour and there are no papers to sign, no tax deductions. They're all paid under the table, in cash.

Patroclus accepts the bills with fingers darkened by dirt and sticky with sap, and slips them in his pocket.

He gets on his bike and pedals fast down the dirt road. A quick stop by the house for a shower, a change of clothes and a snack, and he’s off again. The others must already be at the basketball court, probably already a couple games in. Achilles must surely be among them, obliterating the opposing team’s defences.

He had found Patroclus’ decision to work for most of the summer odd. He didn’t tell him as much, never tried to dissuade him, but Patroclus could tell from his baffled frown and the words he held back that the notion of working the summer before college never once crossed his mind. Not out of laziness, but out of a lack of need. What use was there to waste his time working in someone else’s fields, when his father owned so many of his own?

“It’d be a conflict of interest,” he’d told Patroclus with an easy smile. “Bad for business, you understand.”

Patroclus had laughed and they’d said nothing more about it, but the tinge of disappointment in Achilles’ eyes every time Patroclus has to miss one of the boys’ outings or basketball games is impossible not to notice. Perhaps it grates a little at Achilles, the same it does at him, that they aren’t spending all of their time together like they used to, like they have done every other summer since Patroclus came to Phthia. That they aren’t racing with their bikes down the empty dirt roads, leaving clouds of dust in their wake, or reading dusty books from Peleus’ library underneath the shade of the willow tree at the shed. That they don't... exist together as naturally and effortlessly as they once did.

But things aren’t quite the same between them now as they were back then. Since their row in the garage, Achilles has been a little quiet and aloof around him, not quite as eager to monopolise his time and company. And in the span of two months, Patroclus has been to the shed with Achilles all of five times and to the beach only once. During those times, he was careful not to linger too long, not to let the conversation drift towards… dangerous places. Not to sit too near, lean too close, touch. No funny business.

It’s all for the best, Patroclus knows. The right and sensible thing to do. The line they’ve been walking with all of this has been far too thin; it was only a matter of time before it all blew up in their faces, surely, before someone found out or before their friendship started unraveling because of it. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something essential, that he’s fucked up somehow. He doesn’t know how to fix it.

The echo of the ball’s dribble and the scattered conversations reach him before Patroclus turns the corner to the basketball court. It’s rather busy now that the sun has fallen a bit, and the bleachers are half full, younger kids from school or from the next village over. He spots Briseis and the other girls up on the third row, giggling amongst themselves as they watch the game.

Briseis waves happily at him. “Took you longer than usual,” she tells him as he comes to sit next to her. “Does the future of Phthia’s winemaking rest solely on your very capable shoulders?”

Read the rest on AO3!

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #the song of achilles #tsoa #hades game #modern au #patroclus x achilles #achilles x patroclus #johaerys writes

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mwolf0epsilon · 8 months

Text

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 10: Branding

Summary: Two days after the 212th breaks away from the 501st, Waxer and Canivete come across a rather unusual specimen while out scouting the perimeter of their current basecamp.

Warning: N/A

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

"I'm just saying... It's not that he can't rock the mustache all on its own, but would it kill him to try to do something different with his hair once in a while?" Waxer carried on with the previous discussion he and Canivete had been having during mealtime.

And, as rude as it was to talk about a vod who wasn't even on planet, Cani couldn't help but to agree a little with what he was saying. Boil could really use a new look that didn't just consist of putting all his effort into facial hair.

Maybe some kind of decorative fade, or maybe even a mullet...

"Keep your eyes on the ground. This place is crawling with critters ready to snack on our bone marrow..." She responded instead, making sure to keep her own peepers glued to the forest floor as she walked.

For all that Umbara was a bit of a desolate hellhole, one couldn't deny that the plants and trees had a sort of ethereal look to them. The Zabrak Spikes's glowing red spines looked beautiful against the dark hues of the landscape. And (if not for the fact they were aggressive) the tendrils of Death's Embrace moved in strangely alluring manners that were almost hypnotizing. Almost.

That enchanting beauty was exactly why it was so easy to get caught unaware by the creatures that roamed up above on the canopies, or that chose to camouflage down below with the foliage.

The Vixus, for example, were masters at just that.

"I hear ye, and I see it too." Waxer reassured as he glanced forward to what had alarmed Cani in the first place. A Vixus tendrils, just barely visible among actual plant roots. Waiting for someone to be so careless as to tread on it. "Nasty beasts..."

Nasty indeed. Too many had already fallen into this particular trap for them to have any understanding or sympathy for this particular way of hunting. Even Pi, with his fascination for animals, wouldn't defend these beasts after he heard just how many vode had been devoured.

If Cani got to live long enough to tell him that is...

Shaking that particularly negative thought out of her head, the medic carefully sidestepped the seeking tendril and carried on moving. Waxer tailed calmly behind her, flashlight skimming over the beast's closed bulb-like maw. Then his footsteps stopped abruptly, causing her to pause as well.

"Waxer?" She turned around, noting the way he was observing the dormant Vixus. "Leave it be, we need to keep moving."

"I know..." Even with his helmet on, she could easily tell he was frowning. "I just... Does that look natural to you?"

He pointed, her eyes following his finger and noting the rather strange marking on the creature's outer shell. It looked like some kind of symbol had been stamped on it. Or rather, burnt on with a branding iron. For what purpose however, she did not know.

Neither did Waxer who was staring at it with clear confusion.

"Uh... Weird..." Cani mumbled as she went to grab her datapad off its belt loop. "There's lettering on it. Umbaran, obviously. I'll snap a holo and we can show it to the General. He's good with languages."

"Yeah, probably best we do that. It's never a good sign when you find a big predator with some kind of branded symbol on it..." If anything, it was downright suspicious. And they both knew it. "Last time that happened, dang thing was some kind of tracking beast..."

"I doubt these things are trainable, but it's better to be safe than sorry." Canivete conceded. She took the holo and then motioned for them to carry on. The sooner they finished scouting the perimeter, the faster they could ask General Kenobi about the odd specimen they'd just encountered.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #clone trooper waxer #clone ocs #clone medic canivete

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shiningwonderland · 6 months

Text

Camus (All Star) Memorial

Translator: Mimi (twitter: _mimisaurora)

Memorial 1 - Loves Japanese Sweets

The Carrot Club November Issue: Join Myu-sama! Visit Kyoto in autumn, and enjoy enchanting Japanese sweets

Camus-sama, the noble idol recognized among his fans as Myu-sama, will be the guide for this edition.

He will show us some of the Japanese confectionery shops he has recently been into while strolling through the ancient capital in autumn.

By the time our journalist arrives on location half an hour before the meeting, she realizes the Earl was already there!

“I could not allow myself to be late for our appointment, madam.”

Myu-sama smiles at our journalist, who is a little flattered.

“M-My apologies. We’ll be conducting an interview today….”

“Regardless of the interview, you are a lady first and foremost, madam. I, Camus, would be honored to escort you to the very best of my ability. Now, this way, please.”

Following Myu-sama's pace, the first stop is a long-established Zenzai shop named "Konoha", located along a side road off the main street.

The shop’s poster dog, Tanusuke, appears to be well acquainted with Myu-sama.

Their tail whips about happily.

“Do you come here often?”

“In all honesty, I would love to come every day. However, my schedule is quite busy... It's actually for this reason that I was really looking forward to today's interview (laughs).”

Myu-sama reveals a cuter side of himself; a complete departure from his typical perfect butler persona.

His first order was their most popular chilled Zenzai.

“I must say, the refined sweetness of the red bean paste is delightful. It's so delicious that I usually find myself eating more than I should. There was a time I had up to four cups, much to my kouhai’s dismay.”

“Four cups! That many!?”

“How embarrassing… I couldn't help bringing it up. I shouldn't have. May I ask you to keep this between you and I?”

“I apologize, but because this is an interview, I cannot omit any details.”

“As you wish. I fear I may be scolded once again by my kouhai, but I shall persevere.”

“The kouhai you’re referring to is Cecil Aijima, whom you co-starred in a musical* with, correct?”

*Note 1: This August, the musical "Phantom Thief Nyan Nyaan" held its final performance to critical acclaim. There surely were many ladies thrilled to watch Myu-sama play the role of a super sadistic police dog, a complete 180 from his usual kind personality.

“Yes. You’re right.”

“It was also featured in the June issue of Carrot Club. The long dog ears and tail were so cute and a hot topic at the time.”

“Were they cute?...(laughs) This is something I'm not used to being told, it makes me a little shy. That being said, nothing makes me happier than to know that you ladies enjoyed it.”

“You say your kouhai will scold you, but could it be that nothing you do will ever be good enough for him?”

“How about putting it as… I consider us to have a positive, mutually respectful relationship, regardless of positions.”

After picking up a souvenir for Cecil Aijima, we head south of town along a riverside road where Meiji-era structures remain intact.

This is Myu-sama’s favorite path.

“Despite it bearing no resemblance to the streets of my hometown, it brings me a curious sense of nostalgia. It may be a bit of a detour, but please bear with me for a while.”

“It does have a very pleasant atmosphere, making you feel as if you've been sent back through time to the Meiji Era.”

“It would have been even better if the leaves had begun to redden…. I hope to show you around again next time during the height of the season.”

The road is lined with ginkgo and maple trees, making it a popular spot among insiders.

“Speaking of, were you surprised when you first saw the autumn leaves in Japan?”

“Very much so. I was impressed by the sight of the mountains dyed in five different colors. I had wished to show it to Her Majesty, the Queen of my homeland.”

The next stop was a Western-style café named "Moonlight".

“The sign shows an advertisement for a cake set, but do they serve Japanese sweets here?”

“Yes. Surprising, isn't it? Allow me to show you what's in store.”

“Is this a coffee jelly parfait on the table?

It's covered in a yellow powder….”

“Madam, please have a bite first.”

“Then, if you'll excuse me…

It’s… brown sugar jelly!”

“You’re right. The yellow powder is soybean flour. I've been enjoying its delicate sweet taste lately. It pairs amazingly with soft-serve ice cream, too.”

“Do you also like brown sugar?”

“It’s a favorite of mine. It’s wonderfully rich.”

“I was surprised at the variety of sugars available in Japan. You have not only your traditional white sugar, but also brown sugar and sugarcane… I was especially amazed by the elegance of Wasanbon.”

Since coming to Japan, sweet-toothed Myu-sama apparently carries some Wasanbon on him every day.

“You're well known for always keeping sugar on you, but where exactly do you put it?”

“Heh. That’s a secret, even for you, madam.”

Myu-sama simply smiles and avoids the question.

“Could it be that you don't really have any?”

“Is that what you believe?”

With a snap of his fingers, he suddenly reveals a snow-shaped Wasanbon in the palm of his hand...!

“The beauty of Wasanbon is its ability to take on a multitude of shapes, like this. Of course, coarse sugars like granulated or icing sugar are great too.”

“Surely white sugar is common in Silk Palace?”

“It is very cold where I am from, so before, sugar itself was a rarity. That’s why for me, Japan seemed like a dream destination (laughs).”

“Then are the sweets in Silk Palace not… well, sweet?”

“No, on the contrary, because of how precious it is, they're made very sweet. It may even be too strong for some ladies to eat. In moments like those, we brew a strong cup of tea together.”

“It’s similar to… matcha tea in Japan. Though not as formal as the Japanese tea ceremony, Silk Palace also has a custom of hosting guests with tea.”

Myu-sama smiles with a cup of tea in his hand.

“I would be happy to brew you a pot of tea whenever you desire.”

In the end, Myu-sama personally picks out a souvenir for the Carrot Club editorial staff.

“Hatsushimo" is a long-established Japanese confectionery shop that has been in business since the Genroku era.

Upon passing through the shop’s traditional noren curtain, one is immediately hit by a brilliant shade of red.

“The wonderful thing about this place is their Nerikiri. Many of them have autumn leaf motifs** this time of year.”

**Note 2:

The selection of Jo-namagashi changes with the season.

Please inquire with the store for more details.

With a twinkle in his eye, Myu-sama began to select Namagashi from the display case.

“These, for instance, are works of art. They’re designed to resemble autumn leaves in the process of changing their color from green to red. It’s beautiful… It would be a pity to eat them.”

A sweet shaped in the form of a bird was the next one to catch our attention.

“This one here must be inspired by the Hyakunin Isshu. Long is the mountain pheasant’s tail that curves down in its flight; but longer still, it seems to me, left in my lonely plight, is this unending night. It’s a love poem about an autumn night that feels as painfully long as the tail of a mountain bird, when one sleeps alone and apart from the person they love.”

“I see… that explains why the bird is atop a backdrop made of black bean paste.”

“To even understand the Hyakunin Isshu… you are indeed well-informed on Japan, Myu-sama.

Not many Japanese people are as knowledgeable in this subject as you are.

It’s fantastic.”

“No. One can acquire all the knowledge they want later in life. The existence of this historic restaurant is proof in itself that the people of this country have long had a love of beauty and culinary delights. I believe that their passion is far more remarkable than their knowledge.”

Yokan, Higashi. The amount of souvenirs for the editorial staff quickly grew.

“By the way, what is your top pick?”

“It would be Botamochi. Only recently did I learn that the name changes from Ohagi in the fall to Botamochi in the spring.”

He speaks with a smile and buys three pieces of Ohagi for himself.

We ended the interview greatly satisfied.

“Thank you for your cooperation today.”

The December issue will feature “Join Ren-ren! Explore Hama's authentic Italian cuisine”.

- - - - - - - - - -

“So Camus-senpai loves… Japanese sweets.”

I jotted down the gist of the magazine article and then looked up.

“I wonder if he would cooperate with creating the unit song if I brought him some delicious Japanese sweets…”

I genuinely considered it, but shook my head.

No, it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Camus-senpai is someone who keeps his private and public life separate. He wouldn't help us out so easily.

“Then… A song inspired by Japanese sweets…?”

That’s just as bad. It’s not that simple.

If I don't get to know Senpai even better and write a song that only he can sing, and would want to sing, he will never come to acknowledge me.

“In any case, I just have to keep researching.”

I drew in a small breath to get myself in the mood, and turned back toward the stacks of magazines.

#utapri #all star #all star camus #camus utapri #camus memorial

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moroser · 2 years

Text

Weeks. Not more than five, she was sure. But that’s how long she had the boy with her. It was weeks and it was not easy. Weeks that the two of them weaved their way through towns and cities through the night. Weeks that had Lilith thieving things she previously would have paid for like cars and clothing. She even took things from people's homes and straight from their pockets. Weeks that forced Lilith to change not only her life but herself for the sake of their safety. It was weeks that Lilith had to study him, to figure out how he functioned and what his needs were. He was one of Them after all. An Other.

Lilith had her hands on the wheel of an old truck that didn’t belong to her. It was clunky and unrefined and the smell reminded her of an old garage but it was what she could could get her hands on. Next to her on the long, only seat, was the boy. Small, curled up against the door with a (stolen) blanket over him and his mouth hanging slightly open in his deep slumber. He needed more sleep than she did. When they were first settling, Lilith learned he preferred to sleep at night and it was because his kind can be in the sunlight and awake during the day. A fact she never knew and one that scared her. It forced her to rethink how they’d travel and keep from being ambushed by the Others.

Daytime was a weakness for Lilith. The sun seared away her flesh in seconds, corroding it away and turning it to ash. Just thirty seconds in the sun would kill her and it was a fate that no vampire wanted to catch themselves in. With proper dress and care, she could manage to be out, but it was a risk among a hassle.

The night around the truck was extra dark, the new moon fresh and barely an orange sliver above them. Even in the darkness, though, Lilith could see. In fact, she could see better in the dark than during the day when the sunlight didn't mess with her vision. Her eyes narrowed and she used her hand to shield the glare that came off a passing sign that read ‘Welcome to Pennsylvania.’ They were far from her home back in Massachusetts and she frowned while wondering if she’d ever see it again. She was taking them West after considering the distance it would put between them and his nest, which was also in the deep woods of Massachusetts. The Others. They wouldn’t travel that far to get to him, would they? The thought seemed preposterous and desperate but it was desperateness that had them in their situation to begin with. Desperateness to keep him alive.

----

A vampire traveling with it’s own predator. The thought almost made her laugh but no sound came up her throat. It wasn’t very funny. It was unheard of. It was unprecedented and it was too late to think about it. He was with her now and she was going to keep him alive. So far she’d been successful. There was no reason for her to want to do this, to care for a child and definitely not one that could take her life. But somehow it had been weeks.

When she'd first found him, they holed up in her own house. It made her chest ache to maim her house in any fashion but she outfitted it to be as secure as she could. It was an old Victorian tucked away on several acres of land with a long driveway and no neighbors. There was privacy and there was security. She owned the woods that encased it and she set traps herself, even before the boy. Lilith was there for fifty years before they left and the entire time had never crossed an Other. Word of the Others was rarely talked about among vampires. Their history was long and tracked right along side their own history, but somewhere through time, any traces of them started to vanish. Barely any victims of sightings were reported to vampire communities and when there was, word spread quickly and over great distances. Vampires did not have a strong sense of camaraderie, not naturally. Most of them were loners who lead solitary, nightly lives. But they did all want to live and they all were frightened of the Others, even if some didn't even believe in them. In recent years, even the rare cases started to dwindle and most vampires would call you crazy if you suggested they were around. They became like myths, just like vampires were to humans. Lilith knew that trusting everything she heard from her own community could lead to trouble, anyway. The community was full of deceivers and liars. Some lied for the fun of it, others were out for personal gain. They were creatures with everything and nothing to lose and all the time, ever, to lose it. But it wasn’t so different than humans, and if Lilith had to guess, she’d say you were more likely to run into a vampire you couldn’t trust than a human you couldn’t trust.

Over the long stretch of road, Lilith’s eyes flickered between both sides of it to check the trees. Any movement and she would see it. The pines and woods were thick and within them shadows darker than black stamped what little light the moon could muster to get through. She wondered if They could be in there, right now. She wondered that a lot. Even in a truck and traveling on a highway she knew it wasn’t safe to let her guard down. Some vampires and Others alike could run just as fast as they traveled in the vehicle and it was at night they were more likely to take on attackers. While most humans slept.

Her focus is broken when a small, wet cough broke the silence in the truck. She didn't want to look from the road, but she did and was met with a pair of bright eyes looking back at her. “You’re awake,” she stated, but gently, “that wasn’t very long and you need the rest.”

The boy pushed himself up and nodded while he tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “I can’t sleep anymore,” he replied with a wobbly certainty. Lilith looked back to the road and twisted her mouth. She suspected that was only a partial truth. He wanted to stay up with her now, as it was his wish before his little body crashed and forced the sleep on him. “Did we get to a new state?”

“Mm,” she nodded. Her eyes stayed on the road but she decided to humor him. It was barely a week ago she taught him about the states. She told him what they were and some of their names. His nest, purposefully isolated from any outsiders, gave him a false sense of the world. He had no idea there was more than the woods he came from. “We are in a state called Pennsylvania,” she told him, “the sun comes up again in a couple hours. We’ll get a motel room.” One in the city. One around a lot of humans.

The boy repeated the name of the state. Lilith was sure she heard letters that weren’t supposed to be there and it made her bristle, but she didn’t correct him. She stole a glance to him, and caught him still trying to fight against the sleep that pulled at him. She also noticed the bags under his eyes. They were always there, but like her, he looked sicker when he hadn’t eaten enough. Her eyes were hard on the twin yellow lines that cut down the center of the road. It has been three days since he last ate. Lilith noticed he started to act differently after four and she didn't want him in that state of mind again.

Again her mouth twisted as if aggrieved, “are you hungry?”

He shook his head, “no.” She could feel his eyes on her and it sent a shiver through her. Like she was dipped in cold water. He was small and young and he had barely been taught anything by his nest because of it. But he was her predator and natural instinct was strong.

“I don’t believe you,” her tone was hard and accusatory. “You need to be honest with me. You cannot wait to feed. It’s too dangerous,” she found herself fumbling over her words and her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, “...f-for your own good! You will get weak and that cannot happen. I already have to fight any enemy that comes our way, I can’t be expected to carry you and pick up your slack too. Your efforts are needed.” Her face felt warm and she was embarrassed for being so mean but she did not apologize.

She could still feel his eyes on her and she still did not look at him. His voice was small and carried a whine, “I said I’m not hungry.”

Lilith took a deep breath and eyed a green sign that gave a list of the upcoming exits and their cities. The closest was a half hour away. They’d stop there.

The two rode in silence for half the time. “Then you will eat when the sun sets tomorrow. After I eat and before we go back on the road,” she said, finally. She said nothing when he begrudgingly accepted the compromise.

For the rest of the drive, Lilith turned on the radio and let it fill the silence. She didn’t know the song and wasn’t paying attention to it anyway. She found the shifting music of the decade was not much to her liking, but the boy liked any of it. The world around them took on the early morning hues of the low rising sun and Lilith knew she didn’t have much time to get them in a room. There were enough motels in the town, but she chose the one with the most open courtyard and with the most cars parked in front of it. A group of bikers was smoking and drinking and no doubt had been awake the entire night. Lilith was glad to see them.

The truck’s too-loud engine came to a long anticipated silence and Lilith finally faced the boy and could take her eyes away from their surroundings. After fishing up a dark green duffle bag from the floor by his feet, the sound of Lilith unzipping it split the quietness in the cab of the truck. She pulled out a wad of cash that was held together with an old rubberband and gestured for the boy to hold his hand out and he did. Lilith began to count money into it before wadding it back together and shoving it deep to the bottom of the bag. “Can I learn to count the money too?” he asked suddenly and was met only with a harsh, whispered ‘quiet!’ from Lilith while she continued what she was doing. This time, she pulled out a stack of cards, also held together by a rubberband. Quickly she filed through them until she found her driver’s license, setting it in his hand too.

After replacing the bag to the floor of the car and pocketing the items she took out, she opened her side of the truck and slid herself out to her feet. The boy sat on his side and waited for her to turn to him and gesture for him to come to her. He climbed over their things and along the long seat so he could get out on her side, too. It was one of the first things she taught him while they were on the road. He wasn’t allowed to get out on his side alone.

She helped him out of the truck and tightly took his hand into hers. The slam of the truck door was muted by the surrounding cars in the lot and so was the sound of their feet on the wet ground. An earlier rain left the smell of wet pine and wood that filled Lilith’s senses. It was replaced by an old musty smell when she pulled the boy into the small room with the front desk.

The boy pulled at her arm when he saw a stack of books on a small waiting table and she yanked him back to her. She pulled him to the front desk, moving him in front of her to put her hands on his shoulders as if to push him into the ground so he wouldn’t move. “We need one room, please,” Lilith asks, more rudely than she intended. Despite her grip on him, she could feel the boy trying to look at the books. He wanted to read everything ever since they started to fill their down time with learning letters and numbers. She tried to tell him he couldn’t read yet, but he did not listen and would pretend he could anyway.

Lilith ignored the looks and curious energy coming from the older woman behind the counter and paid their due amount. She thanked her and took the boy’s hand again to pull him back to the truck where she instructed him what to grab and filled her own arms. But she left her hand free to hold him by the back of the shirt while she lead him to their room.

The key gave her trouble but finally the door opened and she hurried them in. After locking the door, both the handle and the latch, she dumped what she was holding on the bed to go to the window and pull the drapes shut. She turned to another of their bags and worked a blanket out. Her attention was drawn away when she noticed the boy just standing there and her eyebrows knitted together. “What is it?”

The boy looked away and then to the floor. Short fused, Lilith audibly sighed out her annoyance, “tell me what you are thinking!” Her energy was tight and wound up. It was hard to come down from being on alert as long as she is while they travel. But they were safe there in that room and she told herself that.

“I’m hungry!” he confessed loudly, breaking her thoughts.

Lilith pressed her lips together and let the frustration she felt boil in her chest. Of course he was. She’d never sleep knowing he was hungry and it’d been many days since she had. With a deep breath she exhaled through her nose as if to expel her irritation out with it.

“Are you mad?” he asked, smally.

“No. I’m tired,” she retorted.

He did not move from where he stood. Lilith didn’t look at him any longer and continued to set up their room, making sure it was a place that they were both safe in during the day and night. A blanket over the window, tucking a towel under the door frame to hide their smell from the outside. Lilith slid open the closet and started to put blankets and pillows in it.

She noticed she was moving quicker than before and the tension she’d wanted to wash away for the morning was stronger than before. Feeding the boy was the most difficult task of their journey together and something they were still perfecting.

Feeding the boy was something that scared her. Even though it’s been weeks.

#vampire au #mal writes #im so sorry if its boring but its all I HAVE #i love boring

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almaqead · 3 months

Text

"The Cast." From Surah Seven, Al Araf, "The Heights."

Ramadan Day 4.

Muhammad's account of the confrontation between Moses and the Pharaoh continues. The Pharaoh, unwilling to let the Israelites go, asks Moses for proof this is what God wants. He summons magicians to challenge Moses for the divine right to keep the people of Israel in slavery.

In Muslim Islam, a magician is a sideshow charlatan. A prayer person, a quoter of scripture who memorizes things, requotes them and then poof! case closed. Muhammad hated people like this.

To quote memorabilia is the opposite of what happens during Ramadan. The process was implemented by Allah to rid the world of it. Once a year, all Muslim pilgrims are supposed to challenge the world to make an account, just as Moses did of the Pharaoh. The Quran says Pharaoh wanted a reward if he won the account. But we know he did not:

7: 113-129:

The magicians came to Pharaoh, saying, “Shall we receive a ˹suitable˺ reward if we prevail?”

He replied, “Yes, and you will certainly be among those closest to me.”

They asked, “O Moses! Will you cast, or shall we be the first to cast?”

Moses said, “You first.” So when they did, they deceived the eyes of the people, stunned them, and made a great display of magic.

Then We inspired Moses, “Throw down your staff,” and—behold!—it devoured the objects of their illusion!

So the truth prevailed and their illusions failed.

So Pharaoh and his people were defeated right there and put to shame.

And the magicians fell down, prostrating.

They declared, “We ˹now˺ believe in the Lord of all worlds—

the Lord of Moses and Aaron.”

Pharaoh threatened, “How dare you believe in him before I give you permission? This must be a conspiracy you devised in the city to drive out its people, but soon you will see.

I will certainly cut off your hands and feet on opposite sides, then crucify you all.”

They responded, “Surely to our Lord we will ˹all˺ return.

Your rage towards us is only because we believed in the signs of our Lord when they came to us. Our Lord! Shower us with perseverance, and let us die while submitting ˹to You˺.”1

The chiefs of Pharaoh’s people protested, “Are you going to leave Moses and his people free to spread corruption in the land and abandon you and your gods?” He responded, “We will kill their sons and keep their women.1 We will completely dominate them.”

Moses reassured his people, “Seek Allah’s help and be patient. Indeed, the earth belongs to Allah ˹alone˺. He grants it to whoever He chooses of His servants. The ultimate outcome belongs ˹only˺ to the righteous.”

They complained, “We have always been oppressed—before and after you came to us ˹with the message˺.” He replied, “Perhaps your Lord will destroy your enemy and make you successors in the land to see what you will do.”

Commentary:

Muhammad's version of the debate between Moses and the Pharaoh contains an important diversion from the one in the Torah, one that highlights the entire argument. Without a clear proof mankind is better off following a tyrant than praying to God and following His Commandments, such a thing should not happen.

Pharaoh's chief scribes warned him Moses would spread corruption against him and their way of life if they were allowed to go free. Moses was not corrupt, it was the potentates of Egypt that wanted to cast spells than do right by their guests, the Israelites. They were the authors of the corruption, not Moses.

Even still, Moses had to prove himself, to the masters and also the slaves if the corruption was to end. An unenviable position unless his position was far stronger than any other. The Quran says he threw down his staff and won the argument, but what does this mean?

Then We inspired Moses, “Throw down your staff,” and—behold!—it devoured the objects of their illusion!

So the truth prevailed and their illusions failed.

So Pharaoh and his people were defeated right there and put to shame.

And the magicians fell down, prostrating.

They declared, “We ˹now˺ believe in the Lord of all worlds—

the Lord of Moses and Aaron.”

The Value in Gematria is 11996, יא‎טטו‎ ‎, yatto, "Ease up," and 7648, ז‎ו‎ד‎ח‎, zodah, "and understand this."

Corruption once again is the focal point of the institution of the Quran. The beginning of Ramadan therefore, is supposed to always result in the end of all corruption. As Muhammad said, "The outcome always belongs to the righteous."

And right now we are all watching the Spirit of Oppression brew up an evil magician in America named Donald Trump, embodying him and his coven to inflict a reign or horror on this world like no other in history. If the free world cannot cultivate a rich taste for his blood and those like him now, today, we are all damned in the tomorrow that lies ahead.

0 notes

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame.

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels.

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers.

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless.

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom. Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,” Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear.

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her.

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again.

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat.

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction.

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?”

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

We’ve heard Jiang Fengmian as WWX’s bio father, now it’s time for Lan Qiren as secretly his father. (Please no Wangxian for this one!)

ao3

“You want me to what,” Lan Qiren said.

“Be the father of my child,” Cangse Sanren said. Simply and straightforwardly, as if that were just a thing people said.

Casually.

To their friends.

To their – as far as he knew – platonic friends!

“You’re married,” he stressed.

“Yes, Qiren-xiong, I’m aware,” Cangse Sanren said, her eyes bright with mirth. “I was even there through some of the festivities. Though not all, of course, since the bride gets sent away far too early at these things, and of course then there was all the liquor –”

“Cangse Sanren,” Lan Qiren said through gritted teeth, wishing not for the first time that his friend had an actual name rather than merely a title – something he could use or not use to emphasize his feelings on the subject.

She laughed at him, because of course she did.

“Let me explain,” she said, probably because she sensed that he was considering stabbing her if she didn't. “Lao Wei and I –”

“Aren’t you older than he is?” Lan Qiren asked, dubious. “Possibly by several centuries?”

“Humans call their husbands that,” Cangse Sanren said, waving her hands at him. “Don’t bother me with details.”

“…you’re human, right?”

“Of course! This is the fourth time you’ve asked, and the answer hasn’t changed. Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“The way that you continuously refer to – no, I’m not letting you distract me this time. Explain yourself!”

Cangse Sanren giggled into her sleeve. “We want children,” she said. “But he can’t, you see. Wrong parts. So we need someone else to be the sire, and I want it to be you.”

“Why?”

More giggling. “Because I like you. And why not?”

“And Wei Changze agreed to this?” Lan Qiren asked, slightly appalled. He knew Cangse Sanren well enough to assume that the answer had to be yes, and yet still...

“Yes, he did, but you’re welcome to talk with him directly. In fact, I encourage it.”

“Perhaps I will,” Lan Qiren said.

Wei Changze was a pleasant person, even if he and Lan Qiren weren’t direct friends – Lan Qiren was a bit too inflexible and serious, Wei Changze a little too free-spirited and light-hearted, so they’d never entirely bonded, but they were both very fond of Cangse Sanren in all her strangeness, each in their own way, and that was enough of a basis for a decent relationship.

“I’d be honored if you would agree,” Wei Changze said when Lan Qiren asked. “You’re my wife’s favorite person besides me – why not you?”

Lan Qiren could think of many, many reasons why not.

“I don’t want to impact your relationship with her,” he said cautiously, and Wei Changze blinked at him as if to say how would it do that? “If jealousy were to arise…”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Wei Changze said.

“…you understand that if I agree to your proposal, I would be sleeping with your wife.”

“Oh yes,” Wei Changze said. “Several times, I hope. We've got to make sure it takes, after all. On that note, can I watch?”

Lan Qiren was a man aware of his dignity. It was beneath his dignity to flail around like a teenager.

He flailed regardless.

“You don’t have to let me if you don’t want to,” Wei Changze said, but he was pouting. “I guess. I just think it’d be hot, that’s all.”

Lan Qiren put his head in his hands.

“You’re bright red,” Wei Changze observed. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“I don’t even like Cangse Sanren that way,” Lan Qiren said, voice muffled by his palms. “I mean, I like her, but I don’t – like her. Romantically. At all.”

“And I’m very happy about that,” Wei Changze said soothingly. “As is she, being as she married me and not you. You don’t need to have romantic or even sexual feelings about her, you just need to platonically bang her a few times.”

“…I will do it provided you never refer to it that way ever again.”

“Deal,” Wei Changze said, and grinned, waving his wife in through the door; she bounded in like a lion on the hunt, smelling blood.

“Additionally, we should be clear about what we expect regarding the child,” Lan Qiren said, even though he was already being carted along to the bed by Cangse Sanren’s excessive momentum and Wei Changze’s entirely unnecessary assistance in removing his clothing. “Obviously any child will be yours in every respect, legally and emotionally and otherwise, both of you, but if possible I would still like to see him –”

“Of course,” Cangse Sanren said agreeably, removing his pants. “Whenever you like.”

“Something is wrong,” Lan Qiren said firmly.

Yu Ziyuan scowled at him, even as her husband frowned thoughtfully. “Cangse Sanren is a rogue cultivator,” she said acidly. “It is not unusual for rogue cultivators to go a few months without contacting their friends in the cultivation world.”

“We have an agreement that she would come by once every season or else send word. She has not missed a single instance, and yet now she does.”

“Why would she agree to meet so regularly with you? We barely see her once a year, if that,” Yu Ziyuan asked, and Lan Qiren knew her issues with Cangse Sanren were actually issues with Jiang Fengmian, but it still irritated him to be used as a pawn in their troubled marriage.

“If you do not intend to help me search, then just say so,” he said heavily. “I fear that something has happened to her, and I intend to find her; I would like your help, but will proceed without it if need be. If all is well and she just decided not to come, and also not to send word or any other sign, then I will apologize for the inconvenience and repay you any monies expended. But if not…”

“I will help,” Jiang Fengmian said, and Yu Ziyuan looked on the verge of exploding.

“I’ll leave you to sort that out,” Lan Qiren said, shaking out his sleeves and leaving at once. As per their agreement, Cangse Sanren brought Wei Ying to the Cloud Recesses once every season or else sent word explaining her absence – the lack of any word this time was deeply troubling. After all, in the end, despite Cangse Sanren’s relatively humble goals and low-key life, there was always that doom said to be associated with those who left the immortal mountain…

He worried.

He’d planned to tell Cangse Sanren about He Kexin’s death during her present visit, had hoped that Wei Ying’s presence might help lift Lan Zhan’s mood after the loss of his mother and give him some comfort – Wei Ying was Lan Zhan’s favorite person in all the world, bar none, and he had waited so anxiously, if wordlessly, for him to arrive during the month that they expected Cangse Sanren and her family to come. And yet the days ticked by and he didn’t arrive at all…

Lan Qiren worried.

Still, with Jiang Fengmian’s help, and of course the Nie sect’s – Lao Nie hadn’t hesitated to agree, even though unlike Jiang Fengmian he did not have a personal connection to either Cangse Sanren or Wei Changze and was acting wholly on account of his friendship with Lan Qiren – they would be able to cover a great deal of the cultivation world, especially given that Cangse Sanren disliked both Lanling Jin and Qishan Wen and was unlikely to venture into either of their territories.

They would find her.

He hoped that they would find her.

“Well, that was a meeting full of revelations,” Lao Nie said, eyes curved into crescents of mirth. “The only thing that would have made it better is if you’d ended your sentence with ‘so fuck off’. You know, so that it would’ve been ‘Because he’s my biological son, so fuck off’.”

“It isn’t anyone else’s business,” Lan Qiren said querulously. “I don’t consider him my son – he’s Wei Changze’s son! His surname is Wei for a reason! The exact mechanics of his conception are private-”

“Are they? Too bad, I’d have liked to hear about it.”

“Lao Nie!”

“What? It’d be hot.”

“Wei Changze said the same thing,” Lan Qiren grumbled. “What is wrong with all you people? Anyway, that was not my point; we can discuss your sexual titillation later. My point is that Wei Ying should not have a shadow cast over his parentage – I should not have had to reveal that fact at any point.”

“You had no choice,” Lao Nie said, not without sympathy. “Given that Wei Changze was a former disciple of the Lotus Pier, Jiang Fengmian had the better claim to custody absent that fact. Never mind that you were Cangse Sanren’s close friend, or that they came to visit you more often; never mind that Yu Ziyuan is to this day only barely able to restrain her jealousy and hatred of the pair of them and would be made miserable by the boy’s presence on the Lotus Pier, and possibly make his life miserable in return; never mind that Jiang Fengmian already grossly favors the boy over his own children, a surefire recipe for disaster…you had to say what you said, Qiren. Wei Ying will be better off at the Cloud Recesses.”

“He’ll be a disaster at the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Qiren said, rubbing his temples. “He’s as free-spirited as his parents were. That’s the only hesitation I have…if it weren’t for all the other things you mentioned, Yu Ziyuan’s jealousy and the favoritism and all that, I would think he’d be better off among the Jiang.”

“He will make a very unique Lan,” Lao Nie acknowledged. “But he’ll be an adopted cousin to your nephews, and they’ll grow up as brothers. A-Zhan will be delighted.”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, acknowledging the point. At least there was that. “Yes, he will.”

“Maybe I’ll have a talk with Jiang Fengmian,” Lao Nie said, more to himself than Lan Qiren. “That poor Jiang boy, no one deserves to grow up with a real-life person being ‘another person’s child’. Perhaps I’ll see about inviting the boy over to the Unclean Realm more often. A-Sang could use a playmate…”

“You’re weird for a Lan,” Jiang Cheng said.

“That’s because I’m not a Lan,” Wei Wuxian laughed. “I’m a Wei! Lan Zhan’s a Lan, Xichen-da-ge is a Lan, but I’m not. Don’t let the white robes mislead you.”

Jiang Cheng coughed. “That’s not – what I meant.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at him.

“Well,” Jiang Cheng said, abruptly looking extremely awkward. “Your father’s a Lan, isn’t he? Teacher Lan.”

“Oh, that! No, he’s not. Easy mistake to make,” Wei Wuxian assured him. “Lots of people think that, what with me knowing the Lan sect rules backwards and forwards and upside down – mostly so that I can haggle my punishments down when I break them, that's how I learn them best – but actually I’m Wei Changze’s son.”

Jiang Cheng’s face was red. “But…my dad said…”

“He helped,” Wei Wuxian conceded, tapping his nose meaningfully. “That’s why I’m so pretty! But Wei Changze was the one that wanted me, Wei Changze’s the one who gave me his surname; it’s his grave I sweep during Qingming. If you like, you can think of me as having been adopted into the Wei family; that’s common enough, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Jiang Cheng said, blinking. And then he said, sounding doubtful, “Do you really know all those rules?”

“All of them! You have no idea how much trouble you can make with a good set of rules.” Wei Wuxian grinned. “Want to see?”

“I – can we?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, stepping into the room. He looked tired, as always, but Wei Wuxian thought that there was never a time when he didn’t, certainly ever since he became sect leader too early. Lan Xichen was always worrying about him, and Lan Qiren, too, and since they were worried, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had figured they might as well get in on the action. “Not in the Unclean Realm you can’t. Save it for the Lotus Pier, since the Cloud Recesses are too wise to you now.”

“No one is truly wise to my wicked ways,” Wei Wuxian boasted, and Nie Huaisang poked his head out from behind Nie Mingjue’s back and waved – he’d been dragged away to saber training, leaving Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng to try to make friends without him. Without Lan Wangji, too, which was even more unfair; how was Wei Wuxian supposed to represent the gentle snow and wild wind without his other half?

Stupid seclusion. Wei Wuxian was with his uncle in disliking it even when it was necessary.

Though Jiang Cheng was kind of cool…

“This is,” Lan Qiren informed Cangse Sanren’s memorial tablet, “entirely your fault.”

Despite her son’s newfound demonic cultivation skills – or his taste for revenge: he had taken the burning of the Cloud Recesses very personally, and the attack on the Lotus Pier, and so on his best friend Jiang Cheng, very nearly as badly, and that, somehow, had inspired him in new and even more uncontrolled ways – there was no response from the grave.

And yet, somehow, Lan Qiren suspected that he could hear her laughing at him.

#mdzs #lan qiren #cangse sanren #wei changze #sect leader nie #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics

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getouswh0re · 3 years

Text

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre: yandere, unhealthy relationships, mentions of violence, blood & gore, mass murdering, obsession, slight manga spoilers

synopsis: he would tear the entire world apart with his own hands, just to keep you by his side evermore.

****************************************************

Love is a lethal bliss.

Bearing semblance to momentary sweetness, it warms the cockles of your heart; yet before one could even savour it for long, in its honey-like aftertaste is a deadly poison — seeping through the branching veins and killing every cell of the living host within its reach. Soundlessly, life is sucked out as one discovers themselves teetering on a tightrope of death.

i) The ambience of the atmosphere between you and Gojo is silent, deadly — akin to the calming weather before a raging storm. As the two of you stand at opposite ends of the living room, eyes refusing to meet with the sorcerer’s as an expanse of sky blue smoulders holes into your soul. Feeling your limbs trembling from the intensity of his stare, cat got your tongue. The words you’ve meant to say are stuck at the back of your throat as the taller male shifts a step forward, and you unconsciously leaning back against the wall.

“Do we have to do this love?” You cringe at the feigned pain interlaced in your ex’s tone. “You know you don’t have to do this. This is painful for both you and I, and knowing how much you love me, you certainly don’t want to put both of us through all of this. Don’t you?”

You bite your lip, eyes downcast.

You wish all of this isn’t necessary, that everything that has happened is nothing more than your imagination regarding the red flags displayed before your periphery. Still, you have to do it having mulled over it for a while. It is about time that all of this come to an end.

Ever since a certain man called Gojo Satoru meandered into your life, everything changed as your feelings for the male blossomed, like fresh buds on the bare branches with remnants of snow thawing into tinges of spring. It didn’t take long for the two of you to reciprocate one another’s feelings, yet cracks gradually surface on what seemed like an all-too-perfect fairy tale, breaking the crystal ball of illusion that you had been trapped in throughout all these months.

For as long as you could remember, Gojo has been acting out of character; sure enough he retains his childish personality and insufferable god complex, yet there are times when you could barely recognise him. On occasions he would whine for hours, desperate to gain your attention, and there were moments when he’d follow wherever you went. Initially dismissing his clinginess as his way of displaying affection, you didn’t think much about it. That was until his demeanour underwent a 180 degree shift; being overbearing was one thing, yet the sorcerer had the audacity to dictate your life and your social circle, stepping his foot way past the boundaries that even you thought was too much.

It wasn’t like you didn’t give Gojo an opportunity to change for the better. You did; it was him who failed to reflect on his own mistakes, to take things for granted without realising he had been in the wrong all along. With those alarming signs of the relationship spiralling into a toxic one, it occurred to you that you should end things fast before circumstances aggravated.

Love is a beautiful pain.

To relish its fleeting vestiges between their fingertips, one must endure the torment of its thorns. Not everyone has the courage to sacrifice their sanity for something so transient, but one — or maybe few, who are more than willing to pay for their price, would do anything to hold onto such evanescent reminisces close to their heart.

ii) “Come on y/n. You know you don’t want to break up with me, stop lying to your heart.”

As if his saccharine smile isn’t enough to make bile surge up your throat, the lovelorn white-haired man stares at you with such adoration, making you revolted than ever; before you could even blink, he is already inches away, bringing up his slender fingers and caressing your cheeks with utter delicacy.

“From the moment we met, it’s like the red strings of fate intertwining, akin to two worlds colliding.”

Feeling his breath tickling your frigid neck, goosebumps laminate your skin as you shudder underneath his lasting touches.

“Your heart belongs to me, and mine yours. It’s like the universe wants the two of us to be together — forever. Just stop denying your feelings, okay? I can hear your heartbeat ... it’s beating crazy, just for me.”

“Gojo, you need to stop all of this —“

“Oh honey, don’t say that ... I know the look in those eyes.” He presses on, his insufferable ego refusing to give in. “You might be pushing me away, but your body does the exact opposite. You’re still in love with me. You care for me, I know you do.”

Perhaps that is what makes terrifying about the sorcerer. Wearing his usual smile on a deceptively charming face, his true thoughts are inscrutable beneath the unfazed facade; worst of all, you never know what would drive him off the edge, not until you experience triggering a ticking time bomb by accident.

“Gojo, hear me out.” You push the towering male away, determined than ever to cut ties with him for the sake of your own safety. “What you do is not love anymore. It’s ... obsession! And it’s suffocating me! If you truly cared about me you would’ve respected my wishes and opinions — but you didn’t. No matter how much you love someone, this is far beyond acceptable. I ... we need to break up, for the sake of both of us.”

Stunned, the remnants of hope flicker in the sorcerer’s azure eyes before dissipating into darkness, along with his despondent heart that has plummeted into abysmal depths of a bottomless void. Hands retracting from your skin, you heave out a sigh of relief when spine-chilling chortles echo from Gojo’s throat.

“You think that’s it? That I’ll let you go?” The crazed glint in his burning stare convinces you even more that breaking up with this delusional man is the only option to save yourself. Slowly backing towards the door, you have prepared yourself for the worst, making a potential run with a bag filled with your valuables.

“You cannot run away from me y/n! You know you can never escape from me. I will flip the world upside down to find you — and hunt you down! Want me to prove that? I will tear the entire world apart by my hands, just so that you won’t run away from me anymore!”

You finally make your run, sprinting out of your shared apartment as fast as you could whilst ignoring his shrilling screams, deciding to leave everything behind for good.

Love is an unprecedented enigma.

Like a never-ending Möbius strip, the red strings of fate intertwines people's fates — yet at the same time, it looms over everyone's lives like a doom of death, mercilessly tearing loved ones or those held dear to their hearts apart within the blink of an eye. Callous as it seems, it reminds people how minuscule acts of gratitude allow them to appreciate the present before they lament or carry their regrets later on in life. Unfortunately, with the complexity of destiny, nobody could ever foresee when karma would dawn upon their heads. Not even you.

Little would you know that doomsday would be awaiting you so soon.

iii) For what feels like going through hell and back, you finally manage to rid yourself out of the psychotic sorcerer's hands and his devious manipulation. For what it’s worth, there is no guarantee about your life returning to normal. Knowing that it is nearly impossible to escape from Gojo (knowing that his sixth eyes can instantly locate where you are), you eventually make the decision of moving away with a heavy heart, considering that it would be what it’s best to solve your issues with your controlling ex.

Having settled the documents and errands, all that’s left is for you to leave the place filled with nothing other than sad memories. As if it seems like a fresh start is extending its outstretched hands towards you, freedom is just within hand’s reach.

Not until all hell breaks loose on October 31st — the day of your departure.

Copper tinges beckon indigo skies at twilight, remnants of the setting sun shining through the windows as you take a last, rueful look at the apartment you’ve resided most of your life before grabbing your belongings and heading towards the train station. With the day being Halloween, it isn’t surprising at all that the streets would be crowded, flooded with jovial citizens who want to enjoy themselves during the spooky season. All you have to do is make your way onto the designated train.

Yet that never happened, because havoc descends among the living like a catastrophic plague.

Just as you writhe your way through the streets and making your way towards the train station, screams erupt when a massive quake demolish the surrounding buildings into shambles, tearing the festive merriment in the atmosphere apart as people turn and run in all directions without warning — leaving you extremely perplexed about the current state of Shibuya. Horror is evident in every onlooker’s eyes whilst they dash for shelter; the city is in absolute chaos — danger looming, asphalt pavements ensanguined with blood, distressed cries resonating into the night.

“Hey!” You call out, grabbing onto a random passerby. “What the hell happened?”

“Danger ... curses ... sorcerer —“

Your blood run cold upon the mentioning, and it didn’t take long for you to figure out the entire situation and who has been responsible. In hindsight, you should’ve had followed the rest and ran away from the scene immediately, but you don’t — standing there amongst the quiet streets in utter terror. And before you could even lift your legs and sprint for your life, there he is, stained from head to toe in blood — an inebriated stare full of nothing but infatuation for you.

“Honey! There you are ...” Skipping over mountains of corpses humming a joyful tune, Gojo happily pulls you into his chest, nestling his face against your squirming shoulders, his grip a vice against your futile efforts of struggling to break free. “I was so worried about you ever since you left! I ... I feel like my world is falling apart, and I just cannot live without you you know!”

“Get. The. Hell. Off. Me!”

The sorcerer chortles at your demand, ignoring your protests as he hugs you closer to his throbbing heart.

“Darling ... we could’ve been so happy together. Yet you have to do all of this. For what? If you had given me your heart and soul, none of this would’ve happened —“

“Oh, so this is my fucking problem now?” You hiss, shoving the taller male off. “You really are crazy — Gojo Satoru. But I never regret the decision I’ve made, and I will do it again and again if I need to!”

That is when he activates his domain expansion.

All of your sudden, your mind is a blank — staring into the sorcerer’s cerulean eyes as it overwhelms you like a raging hurricane, sucking you deeper and deeper until your entirety sinks into his infinite void. For once you finally fear the strongest man on earth — of the dangers he possesses and what would’ve happened had he decided to break your mind the hard way.

“To be honest, I don’t care ~” Silent tears roll down your cheeks once you recognise the drop in the man’s usual carefree tone, feeling the remnants of sanity being ruthlessly stripped away from you as you fall limp in Gojo’s loving arms.

“The seas can rage, the heavens will rumble. But no matter what happens, I’m never going to let any of this take you away from me — for you and I are the honoured ones, destined to be together ...”

With his voice dwindling to a hushed whisper, the sorcerer slips a shimmering ring onto your finger, declaring in utmost adoration his vows of undying love.

“In time and evermore.”

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hephaestuscrew · 3 years

Text

Every Time I Can Think of When Names/What People Are Called Is Significant in Wolf 359

Cutter using everyone's first names as part of his terrifying over-friendliness thing. It's also definitely a power move because the crew aren't permitted to call him by his first name. They have to address him as Mr Cutter.

Alexander Hilbert / Elias Selberg / Dmitri Volodin. Since Hilbert has been working for Goddard for a long time, we can assume that these aren't even the only names he's gone by. The repeated identity-switching illustrates how Hilbert doesn't really have a life outside Goddard.

When trying to find out about Hilbert's past in Ep25, Eiffel asks him for his real name, like he thinks this might tell him who Hilbert really is.

After learning Hilbert's original name, Eiffel agrees to the continuation of the Decima experiments, although he says "I still don't trust you, Dmitri Volodin." I think this is the only time we hear Hilbert being called by his original name on the Hephaestus. Even at the funeral, Eiffel calls him Alexander Hilbert. The name that sticks is just the one he happened to die whilst wearing.

Lovelace sometimes calls Hilbert Selberg (e.g. "I've seen Selberg's dark side")- this seems to indicate when she's feeling most mistrustful of him.

Although the aliases are a practical measure, they also create a degree of separation between Hilbert and his previous selves. I think the most notable example is when he yells "Selberg not here today" at Lovelace in Ep26. When Hilbert is trying to save Eiffel from dying of Decima, he does not want to be called by the name of a man who killed two people using that same virus.

Like Hilbert, Cutter has gone by many names (William Carter, Marcus Cutter etc). He sheds identities to suit his purposes.

Andrea Nash /Rachel Young also took on a new name when she joined Goddard.

In her logs from the first Hephaestus mission, Lovelace says about Lambert, "I wish you were here Sam, I wish you were here to ask me not to call you that"

In her first meeting with Hilbert, Lovelace insists on being called Isabel.

I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the only people who call Lovelace "Isabel" at any point are Cutter and Hilbert. Cutter calls her it because he does first names with everyone, but Hilbert asks "Isabel... are you listening to yourself?" in Ep38 after she's given an any-means-necessary revenge rant. And he calls her Isabel again in Ep44 when they are inspecting the mind-reading chair thing before the mutiny. In a twisted way, it's an acknowledgement of their shared history. Hilbert thinks he knows Lovelace better than the rest of the crew do, so he feels entitled to call her by her first name.

For Hera, her name (as opposed to her designation of Unit 214, which places her as just one among many, rather than an individual) is an assertion of personhood. Pryce insists on calling her Unit 214 and chides Cutter for calling AI by their names, because she doesn't see AIs as people.

The crew call Hera Unit 214 when they are being mind-controlled and Eiffel gives away his non-brainwashed state by automatically calling her Hera, indicating his inability to see her as a mere machine.

In Hera's first meeting with Minkowski, Minkowski initially calls her Unit 214 because she had heard that AIs prefer to go by their serial numbers (incidentally, the fact that Minkowski looked into this is wonderful. I wonder whether its true that most AI like to be called by their serial numbers or whether this information is put out by Pryce to deprive AIs of identity.) Hera responds "Oh, no, no. Hera. Definitely Hera."

In Hera's backstory ep, it is revealed that Goddard doesn't name their AIs until after they've been assigned to a posting. This really illustrates Goddard's attitude of "we won't consider treating you like a person unless you're useful to us".

Hera doesn't always have control over how she addresses the crew. She is forced to call Hilbert Commander during his Christmas mutiny. After Kepler's arrival, she starts calling Minkowski 'Lieutenant' rather than 'Commander' without even noticing. This is a symbol of her lack of autonomy over who to respect/ obey.

When Eiffel's freaked out about Lovelace being an alien, he keeps calling her "Cap" and she picks up on this as a sign of something being up.

Minkowski's surname and its correct pronunciation as a representation of her Polish heritage, which Eiffel disrespects by mispronouncing it. He says he initially tried to get it right, but stopped trying after they started fighting. After she tells him how much his mispronounciation bothers her in Ep51, we do hear him start to try to correct himself.

Eiffel insisting on calling Minkowski "Commander" even when she isn't officially the Commander - at times, it almost feels like a nickname or a term of affection. Even when she's voluntarily given up command to Lovelace, he still asks "Do I really have to call you Lieutenant?" It's an indication that, even though he doesn't always show it, he does see her as the one in charge.

I remember seeing a post which suggested that Eiffel calls Minkowski "Commander" when he is showing full respect for her and "Minkowski" (pronounced wrong) when he isn't, and I think there's definitely some truth to that.

He calls her Commander in his last words before being stranded in deep space (Ep28), before launching himself into the star (Ep52) and before the mind-wipe (Ep61).

I'm pretty sure that the first time Eiffel calls Minkowski 'Renée' is when he is begging her not to send him off back to Earth in the Sol. This is followed by Minkowski saying "Goodbye, Doug."

Minkowski does call Eiffel Doug several times in the early episodes but I think this is more because the writers hadn't fixed on the significance of names at this point. I think I remember seeing the writers saying that they wish they'd held back on her calling him Doug so that it would have more power later on.

During Eiffel & Minkowski's first meeting, she cuts herself off from asking him to call her Renée, and says Minkowski instead (perhaps because she's trying to be more formal/authoritative). After he butchers her surname a few times, she tells him to call her Commander.

Minkowski reintroducing herself to Eiffel after the mindwipe. Eiffel pronounces Minkowski's name correctly first time. This time she does ask him to "call me Renée".

This might be a stretch but arguably it's significant that she reintroduces herself with "my name is Renée Minkowski. I'm the Commander of this space station" rather than "I'm Commander Renée Minkowski"- she isn't defining herself by her military position.

The si-5 have a similar thing going on where they don't often call each other by their first names, so when they do, it gives those moments extra emotional significance.

Kepler calls Maxwell Alana in Ep39 when telling her not to get sentimental about Hera.

Maxwell first-names Jacobi twice in Ep42 (the Outside Jacobi Incident), once to tell him that if its a joke, it isn't funny and once to say a firm No to the idea of leaving Outside Jacobi to die.

When Maxwell is calling out for an answer from Outside Jacobi, our Jacobi says "Alana... I didn't go anywhere."

In Ep43, when Maxwell is about to lay into Jacobi for losing his cool over the Outside Jacobi Incident, she begins with "Daniel? Look at me." He eventually responds with "Alana, you're... You're absolutely right."

You could even argue that the classic introduction of 'This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel' draws attention to names as a key motif.

#The ridiculous number of these really illustrates how interested this show is in identity and personhood and how we relate to each other #This post got out of control #It's been sitting in my drafts for ages cos I keep thinking of things to add #I'm sure I've missed things though #Feel free to add on if you can think of more #W359 #Wolf 359 #doug eiffel #renee minkowski #hera wolf 359 #isabel lovelace #daniel jacobi #alana maxwell #marcus cutter #alexander hilbert #the empty man posteth #wolf 359 spoilers #I hope someone other than me is interested in this #I spent a concerning amount of time going through transcripts

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

Text

it takes two | one shot (myg)

summary: min yoongi was the one who came to understand you and took you for you. but, when boundaries start getting crossed and priorities begin to change, you start to question if your relationship with your bestfriend is strong enough to make it through.

pairing: athlete!reader x athlete!myg

genre: bestfriends to lovers au, basketball au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 12.3k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, protected AND unprotected sex (later on), slight breast play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, missionary, riding/straddling, mentions of alcohol consumption, dancing, mention of marijuana, sex on the beach kinda?, some heavy angst, insecurities, crying, injuries (like a cut/ankle sprain), yoongi is just kind of an idiot at one point

note: heavily inspired by the movie love and basketball. unedited for the most part, pls excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

tags: @ggukkieland @miinoongi @bluesharksandfish @unicornbabylover

⏏︎ now playing: triggered - jhené aiko ; sorry enough - chris brown

First Quarter: 6th Grade

You didn't really have a lot of friends in elementary school. Any, actually. Hell, the girls in your class purposely ignored you because you acted different. Dressed different. Enjoyed the shit boys liked, like playing ball and video games. You couldn't relate to their gel pens, Lisa Frank folders, cute binder stickers and bracelet charms. None of that shit was you. But you didn't care, you were fine by yourself. Nobody to please, nobody to care for.

The only person that came to understand you was Min Yoongi and that's because you played basketball with him and his friends during daycare. At first, it came as a surprise because truthfully, you felt like Yoongi only let you play because he felt bad for you. Which, okay, whatever— so be it. But, after the last round during a game of two versus two, you found yourself on the ground, huge gash on the knee from chasing after the ball before it could go out of bounds.

"Ouch! Crap!" You groaned as you sat up and checked out your knee. Yoongi walks towards you and crouches down, examining the bloody gash.

"Come on." He says, holding out a hand to help lift you up. He swings your arm over his shoulder, already knowing that any sudden movements to your knee can make the wound sting. He takes his time and walks with you as you hop on one leg towards the office, not really saying much. Yoongi wasn't the most talkative in class. He hung out with two or three other boys in your class on the daily, but they were quiet. Weren't much troublemakers, didn't cause ruckus like the other boys did. But, he was still popular among the girls because he was a little cutiepie. You remember walking into the bathroom, hearing Angie and her friends tease her about her crush on Yoongi. Then, the following week, one of her friends also ended up crushing on Yoongi and they bickered [weirdly] in the bathroom about it.

Getting to the office, he sits you down on the bench before approaching the office admin to grab some bandaids and ice for you.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Min?" Mrs. Yao comes over to greet him.

"Y/N's hurt. Can I get a bag of ice and a bandaid for her, please?" Mrs. Yao looks over her shoulder and does a head tilt before sighing. She knew you weren't like the girls in your class, always getting hurt one way or another, being more hardheaded and stubborn than the usual. She grabs a bag of ice and hands the supplies over to Yoongi before placing her hands on her hips.

"You think you can take care of Miss Y/N, or do you need me to help?" He shakes his head.

"I got it, thank you Mrs. Yao." He politely says, giving her a small toothless smile. You silently watch as he walks over, crouching down once again to tend to your wounds. "I don't think this will hurt, but stay still so I can put this bandaid on." He says softly as he spreads the small Neosporin packet across your wound. He wipes his finger down on his pants before removing the back of the bandaid and pressing it against your knee. "There. You should keep the ice on it so it doesn't bruise and stuff." He stands.

"Thank you." He nods as he watches you stand and slightly limp before you adjust your steps to the right pressure. He follows you out, coming back to your side with his hands in his pockets.

"Why don't you act like the other girls?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"What? Not liking all the girly stuff that they like?"

"Sure, or you playing basketball. You know girls are usually like cheerleaders and cheer the guys on instead."

"Well, I don't wanna be a cheerleader. I just would rather play. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's just weird to see."

"You're weird." You snapped back.

"How am I weird?"

"You shoot weird."

"And you don't? I shoot better than you." He furrows his brows.

"No you don't."

"Fine, wanna play one more time? Unless you're a wuss and can't play cause of your knee." You rolled your eyes at the sudden change of events.

"I'll play you, I'm not a wuss. Unless you're afraid to lose to a girl." You taunt him as you both walk back to the court.

"Whatever, I'm not afraid cause I won't lose." He grabs the ball and checks it in. "My ball first."

"Sure, if you think that'll help."

And that's how Yoongi lost to you, busted knee and everything. From there, it was history. You became inseparable, Yoongi becoming a large part of your days and vice versa. His parents eventually became close to yours after the numerous times you both have been dropped off to hang out, or catching rides home after school. Yoongi lived in a nearby neighborhood, only being a good 7 minute walk, to be exact.

Second Quarter: High School, Senior Year

In high school, it became a little different. Yoongi grew up, played varsity basketball and became a fucking jock even though he claimed he would never. Yeah, bullshit. You too, played on the girls varsity basketball team, and surprisingly, you two kept each other close. It was a blessing and a curse though, because you couldn't see your life without Yoongi. He's been there since the 6th grade. However, girls took note of that shit. Trying to use you as their way in to Yoongi's heart, or pants, or both. You made it very clear though that you weren't interested in being a fucking messenger. Girls thought you were mean, but really, they just couldn't handle you. Hence, why you really couldn't relate and be one of them.

Yoongi was still the only person who could understand you and handle you, bad attitude and all. Tomboy habits and all. Not wanting to make friends and all.

"Jesus fucking christ, the day just started." Yoongi says as he watches you toss your duffle bag and backpack aggressively in the back seat of his car. "What's your deal?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired." You slump in his passenger seat after buckling your seat belt.

"Chill, don't start your day like this."

"Whatever, dad." You rolled your eyes, causing him to let out a pathetic chuckle.

"Are you coming to my game later?"

"Yeah, if I'm not too tired from practice."

"Y/N, I always make it to your games even if I'm tired."

"Do you?"

"The fuck? Yes I do. When haven't I?" His tone raises with yours. "Don't try and justify your shit by coming up with lies."

"Yeah, yeah bighead. You'll have plenty of cheerleaders there for you."

"Yeah and?" He smirks. "You're the one I'll be looking for though." He caresses your chin, making you smack his hand away while he laughs loudly.

"You're stupid." You groan as you sink lower in his seat. The rest of the ride to school, you shut your eyes and enjoy the peace before you're having to walk down those annoying, congested hallways.

People rave a lot about senior year, but it honestly hasn't felt special to you. Maybe because you kept the same routine since freshmen year, or maybe you really just didn't care as much as everyone else did about how "special" it was. You've always been locked in to basketball even if your mom wasn't a big fan of it. She wished you were more into cute, girly shit, like makeup, shopping, manis and pedis and dresses and heels, but she came to accept this was the way it was going to be. Especially because your dad was your biggest fan. You came to love basketball, more than just a side hobby. You joined the varsity team and practiced day in and day out. When basketball wasn't in season, you'd play with Yoongi at the park or sign up for camps and tournaments. You just wanted to keep bettering yourself so that you could play in college and get into the league post-grad. Yoongi was the same, and he may or may not have influenced your passion for ball. Either way, he was always supporting you and cheering for you even if the other females hated it.

His ex for sure hated the relationship you had with him even though you really steered clear when she was around. Wasn't your fucking problem or responsibility to take care of her insecurities. Same with his flings.

"Hey, so later, yeah?" He asks in between throwing nods and smiles to girls passing by.

"Mhm." You hum. "You gonna be free for lunch later?"

"I don't know. I know where to find you though if I am."

"Have a good day, punk."

"You too, bub. See you in English." He turns on his heel, walking towards his friends, aka his team members. Aka his jock ass group. Aka the ones females flock to.

Namjoon, Jimin, Eunwoo, Lucas.

They were all pretty boys who knew they were pretty boys and used that to their advantage to make big asshole moves. You hated that Yoonks got pulled in from time to time, but shit, it wasn't your life, you were only a small part of his. Sometimes, they also pulled in the football boys, Jungkook and Seokjin. Even the baseball boys, Hoseok and Taehyung. It was all a huge pretty boy, jock, asshole group in the making outside. A big fucking party for a lot of the girls at school, though.

So even if Yoongi was really the only one in your life, you weren't the only one in his. It is, what it is. As long as he doesn't go switching up on you, then whatever, so be it.

The first half of your classes go by quick, being that you enjoyed your chemistry, french and english classes. You had your english class with Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok. You had gotten to know Namjoon and Hoseok a little through it, and it was enough to know that they weren't all that bad. At least in this classroom setting.

"You two going to prom together?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi snort.

"No, what the hell?" Yoongi responds.

"You guys can have fun at prom." You roll your eyes.

"You're really not gonna go?" Joon bites on the end of his pencil.

"No? The fuck I look like?"

"Y/N, I know it'd be weird as fuck to see you in a dress, but it's senior year. You didn't go last year, did you?" Namjoon asks from Yoongi's other side.

"Really, Namjoon?" You give him a look as if it could state the obvious.

"Well shit, I don't know. I know it's not your thing but can't really say I would have noticed either way." Hoseok laughs, causing you to throw your pen at his head before flicking him off.

"Miss Y/N!" Mrs. Maxwell calls you out mid-movie, eyes wide and in disbelief at how you're acting.

"What?! He started it." You slumped back in your seat and let out a sigh.

"Not another word." She says sternly.

"Not another word." You mock her under your breath.

"Aye, stop. You and that attitude boutta get in some trouble the last weeks of senior year." Yoongi puts his hand on your wrist, causing you to shake your head and click your teeth.

"Anyway, you should go." Hoseok whispers as he leans over on the table to look at you.

"No. Besides, with what date?"

"Take the basketball." Joon snickers.

"You're a complete dumbass, Namjoon. Stop talking." You snap.

"Maybe they're right, bub. It's senior year and it's coming to an end quick. I'd hate for you to regret it." Yoongi turns to you and says lowly.

"You know that won't happen." But really, part of you did feel a little bad. You knew it wasn't your scene, and you really didn't care what people thought of you when it came down to it. However, you always wondered what it would be like if someone liked you. If someone wanted you. Crushed on you so hard that they couldn't keep their hands off of you, couldn't stop thinking of you. Your first love. To feel pleasure, pain. Mixture of emotions simply by being in love. You wondered what it would be like to lose your virginity and have good, good sex. Besides, you were a human with needs. But the only person you have ever been close to was Yoongi. For the most part, you didn't see him that way because you knew he definitely didn't. But, you also couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to take your relationship to that point. If it was anyone, he would be the one you'd have feelings for. He would be your first kiss, your first everything. Because Yoongi was comfort and security for you.

But you valued your friendship more than anything.

"Just saying, think about it." He follows up.

"Think about getting an expensive dress and painful ass heals to wear for one night, just to dance around in 'em and take one professional pic with a date? Maybe get railed if I'm lucky?" You playfully wiggle your eyebrows making Yoongi shake his head.

"Don't be such a party pooper for once."

"Mmm. Great reasoning. Really convincing me here." You laugh it off even though in all honesty, you were thinking about it.

The bell rings and thank god it's finally lunch because you were fucking starving. Appetite and attitude on na-na, no doubt. You silently part ways with Yoongi to stop by your locker and grab your lunch. You make your way to the rowdy ass cafeteria, quickly scanning the room to catch a sight of Yoongi. You see him sitting on top of one of the lunch tables with Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung sitting around him. Clearly, Yoongi wasn't free today.

"Wassup baby? Wanna trade that ball in for me?" Jimin says as you pass by their table to make your way outside to the bleachers. You flick him off before rolling your eyes and pretending to gag.

"Fuck off, Park." The group laughs except for Yoongi.

"Wonder if she's got that bad attitude in bed, too." Yoongi doesn't hesitate to smack Jimin upside the head because yeah, no matter what, he was gonna protect you as much as possible. "Owwww, I'm just kidding Yoongi."

"Don't let me hear you say that shit around me ever again."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. It was just a joke." Jimin winces as he rubs the back of his head.

"Damn Min Yoonks, why don't you take her ass to prom if it's like that?" Taehyung says, chewed up food coming into full view as he smacks loudly.

"Why don't you learn how to close your mouth first?" Yoongi spits back.

"Y/N is really rubbing off on you."

"It's manners, idiot. You should've been learned that." Namjoon says, laughing.

"But foreel, why won't you take her? You both are close, you've never seen her that way?" Hoseok asks making Yoongi shake his head in response.

"She's my bestfriend. I value her just the way she is, no more no less."

"Ah, you must have thought about it at least once." Yoongi keeps silent. Luckily, the group easily gets distracted and starts paying attention to Seokjin and Jungkook coming over as they talk about the dates they've scored for prom.

Yoongi has thought about it. Still does. Just like he is for you, you're the only one who understands him and takes him for who he is. You know the real him besides basketball player Yoongi. You're the only one who keeps it real. But he would rather keep it this way than ruin things between you and him. He'd hate to fuck up with you because he knows he can fuck up, there's no hiding from it. He'd never forgive himself if he lost you.

Practice is hell today for you and fuck, you really wanna just go home and lay down for the rest of the evening. Coach had you all running suicides and conditioning drills on the courts outside and pulling scrimmages against each other left and right. Let's not forget how coach is always on your ass right before a game too. Hell, she catches an attitude way worse than you before game time and after a loss. You wanted to avoid that at all costs. But, to avoid taking the bus home and instead hitching a ride with Yoongi, you throw on a hoodie and haul your ass to the gym in some nike slippers. You take a seat on a free end at one of the bleachers, holding Spalding in between your legs with your duffle next to you on the floor. The game is off to a start in about 5 minutes, Yoongi catches sight of you on the bleachers and nods. You give him a small smile as a gesture of good luck, which he reciprocates.

The game starts off intensely, both teams scoring closely even with the boys putting straight pressure. Towards the end of the first half, Yoongi and Eunwoo are the leading scorers, putting their team up by 10. Halftime is a bunch of hoo-haa, with cheerleaders in their itty bitty skirts, trying to shake their asses as they cheer for the boys. The boys don't even hide the fact that their ogling, and it's clear as day they all want some pussy. Quite frankly, they walk around thinking they deserve it cause of how hard they try to pull some wins and put the school on the map. Student government comes up for a bit too, pulling some kind of skit to weirdly promote prom. It makes you cringe and in all honesty, it makes you not wanna go even more, but it is your senior year. If you can snag a date, then maybe.

"Hey." Terra [not a cheerleader but still a pretty, popular chick] plops next to you with a smirk on her face. Immediately, you want no part in it because you already know what she's trying to do.

"Hi?"

"I'm just gonna cut straight to it. Do you know if Yoongi is seeing anyone?"

"How the hell would I know, Terra?" You furrow your brows at her.

"Because you're close to him, aren't you?"

"And? Doesn't mean I'm telling people his business. Besides, he's not obligated to tell me everything just cause we're close." She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. Look, can you do me a favor and give this to him?" She tries handing you a little ass piece of paper folded neatly with a pink heart decorated on the front.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?"

"That's no fun." You scoff and roll your eyes. Really, miss girl? "Be a doll for once, yeah?" She winks and slips the note in between your wrist and Spalding so it stays put. You take the note and eye it, letting out a deep sigh as you shove it into your pocket. You weren't in the mood to be extra rude today so you'll give it to him later when he drives you home.

The game finally finishes with Yoongi making a final three, the boys keeping their lead up by 10. Everyone cheers and showers the boys with love after the team has finished shaking hands and high-fiving their opponents. You stick around until the crowd dies down, watching Yoongi flirt with Terra as you swing your duffle bag strap onto your shoulder before slowly heading down the bleachers.

"Hey bighead, good game today." You lightly punch him against the chest.

"I knew you'd come."

"Shut up. I'll be at your car."

"For what?"

"Cause you're taking me home, punk."

"No please?"

"Please." He shakes his head and chuckles before you part ways to let him gather his things in the locker room. When you finally catch sight of his teeny head coming towards you from the gym, you hear him unlock his car to let you in while he continues to walk over.

"Fuuuuuck." He says, throwing his things in the back before buckling his seat belt and switching the gear into drive.

"You have fan mail." Yoongi looks over and sees you clutching the note Terra gave you.

"What's that, a condom?"

"You're sick. It's from Terra."

"Who's that again?" You make a face at him.

"You were just telling her sweet nothings earlier after the game?"

"Oh, Terra with the tig o' bitties. Got it." He shakes his head. "I wasn't telling her sweet nothings."

"Right. You're an absolute dipshit, you know?" You prop up a leg on the seat while you unfold the letter.

"Give it!" You move it away from his grasp and begin to read it out loud.

"Yoongi, you're honestly so hot. If you don't have a date for prom, I just want you to know that I'm free, and I promise I'll give you a good time if you take me." You cackle. "Boy, what the fuck is this? Ew."

"Shut up." He blushes before laughing along with you.

"Look at her, writing her coochie out on paper."

"She isn't."

"Oh, really? Pfft." You softly scoff. "So, are you taking her or what?"

"I don't know? Maybe, damn. What about you?"

"What about me, fool? I told you I'd think about it."

"Go with Jimin. He still doesn't have a date." He hates to say it with how much of an asshole Jimin can be, but if it meant you'd be at your senior prom then Yoongi will let it pass. He'll make sure Jimin doesn't try any slick shit.

"Ew, god no."

"Look, I'll make sure he doesn't go overboard. I promise."

"Why do you want me there so badly, Yoongi?"

"Because it's our last year in high school together and I'd really like to celebrate with you somehow." You sigh heavily.

"Fair enough. Let me sit on it."

"Better hurry and stop keeping that seat warm."

"Don't rush me." You punch his arm, causing a groan to erupt from him.

- - -

Really, you'd rather be anywhere than at prom with Park Jimin holding onto your waist the way he is for the pictures you're taking with him, Yoongi and the rest of their group and dates. After all the pictures and fake smiles, you feel him slowly slip his hand down your dress to try and get a grip on your ass, but before you could do so, you're grabbing his wrist with full pressure and making him wince.

"Don't you fucking dare or else I'll cut your dick off and throw it in a blender."

"Aish, ah, fuck! Okay, I'm kidding, let me go!" He whines lowly. You let go of his wrist after one more good squeeze, causing him to wiggle his hand to get the feeling back.

"Get me some punch, will you? My mouth is dry."

"You know, I might know something else that can help." Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he continues to hold onto his wrist.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Or not. I'll be back." He accepts defeat by smiling from ear to ear before walking off. You sit off to the side, the heels a huge pain in the ass on top of Jimin already being a huge pain in the ass. You lean over on your knees, completely forgetting you have a short dress on, causing boys passing by to whistle and eye at the easy access.

"The fuck are you looking at? Keep it moving." Yoongi says pushing the guys forward before shooting you a look. "Y/N, really?"

"Shit sorry, I forgot. I'm not used to this." You sit up and adjust your dress before rubbing your arms at how self-conscious you suddenly [and unexpectedly] feel.

"Are you having fun at least?" He sits next to you, manspreading on the seat in the navy suit he has on.

"Mmm, sure." You slightly smile at him. "What about you? You actually took Terra, huh?"

"Yeah, it's pretty fun." He chuckles. "Don't lie, I saw you dancing a bit earlier."

"That's when the alcohol hadn't worn off yet." You snort, remembering Seokjin's older brother giving the group alcohol after all the parents were done taking their pictures of you all. Yoongi laughs along with you before he looks over and simply stares at you, hair all done, makeup done perfectly without it being too much. You in a dress.

"You look beautiful tonight, bub."

"You don't look too bad yourself, bubby." You blush before Jimin interrupts the moment with your cup of punch.

"Here, princess."

"You better not be trying anything slick, punkass." Yoongi says.

"Mm, don't worry. I haven't been able to." You kick his shin as you chug your punch, causing him to cough and choke on his own words. "I'd like to peacefully have this slow dance with you at least, damn." You swallow the last bits of punch before you're taking Jimin's hand to the floor. Yoongi watches as you two make your way to the dance floor for a slow dance, slightly regretting that he didn't just ask you to dance.

"Let's dance, babe." Terra's baby voice comes out as she pulls him up from the seat to find a spot on the dance floor. Yoongi is honestly tired of having to keep up with Terra's energy and her clingy ass, but nonetheless, he was happy you were around for prom.

He was really happy you were around for prom, even though you hated this shit more than anything.

He had you in full view ahead, and so did you. He couldn't help but direct his attention towards you and keep his eyes on you. Fuck, he has never seen anyone so beautiful until you walked through Seokjin's doors with Jimin. Look, let's get this straight. Even though you had your own way of expressing yourself, he always loved your natural beauty, your natural glow. He loved watching you on the court and how happy it made you to play ball. He remembers every accomplishment, every milestone you've reached. How you've grown tremendously as a ball player. He would never admit it to you in person, but he definitely admires how you push yourself and how you always do what you can to improve. Hell, you might just be the better player between the both of you. And when you catch him looking over, he doesn't even try and hide it. He doesn't even care that he's still holding onto Terra and slow dancing with her.

Something within you flips. You feel that shit in the pit of your stomach, at the heat of your core.

But, you brush it off and break eye contact first, even if he doesn't stop staring. This couldn't happen, no. This was your bestfriend. You weren't gonna let the things you felt get in the way of that.

Nope.

Suddenly, the song changes to something more upbeat and twerkable, Jimin taking the opportunity to spin you around and grind on you. You really need a distraction anyway, something to rid you of those god awful thoughts about your bestfriend, so you let him and you have fun with it. Everyone around you is having fun anyway, and fuck, you wouldn't have to do this ever again so fuck it.

"Let me get a dance with my bestfriend." Yoongi says to Jimin.

"Go dance with your date!"

"Shut up and switch for a second!" Yoongi says, pushing him off of you so he could get behind and dance with you.

"Yoonks, what the hell?" You laugh.

"Go with it, bub. It's fucking senior year, we're graduating soon." You go with his movements, having the time of your life with everyone around you as prom quickly comes to a close.

When you get into Jimin's car, you knock off your heels as he continues to talk nonstop about the night. Jimin was a cutie but god, you could not stand his mindset for the life of you. You were grateful he had agreed to take you to prom, but damn. Prom was done and all you wanted was some peace and quiet.

"I hope you had fun with me tonight." You give him a toothless smile before slipping your heels back on.

"I did, thank you for taking me. Really." He smiles from ear to ear before leaning over near your seat.

"Can I get just one good smooch for the night?" You look at him before you smirk and lean over near his lips.

"Sure." You whisper.

"Oh fuck, this is actually happening."

"Close your eyes, I know you don't fucking kiss with your eyes open. What are you doing?"

"Right. Sorry." He closes his eyes and puckers his lips. You lean in a little closer, feeling his breath against your lips.

Then you flick his nose.

"Ouch!"

"Peace out, Park." You throw open his door to step out and shut it behind you to quietly walk into your house.

The lights are off and your parents are already tucked into the room for the night, leaving you a note on the fridge reminding you to make sure all the doors are locked before retreating to your room. You do as you're reminded before quietly shutting your door and tossing your heels to the side. You let the pins down from your hair, ruffling it around a bit and relieving any pressure on your head. Before turning away from your dresser, you notice a letter from the one university you had been waiting on. You had been waiting to hear back from Stanford for the longest time, and quite frankly, you had been upset you hadn't heard especially when their scouts were at your game awhile ago.

You had broken down to your parents, to Yoongi, automatically assuming the worst when you heard that other people had already been accepted and scouted for Stanford. Suddenly, you found yourself working harder and harder because you felt like you were lacking in so many areas. You felt low, and like your dream was running miles and miles away from you. Faster than you could keep up.

You take the letter in your hand, but don't want to open it because you don't feel ballsy enough [surprisingly]. You call up Yoongi, not caring that he could possibly be in the middle of getting his dick wet.

"Sup?"

"Are you busy?"

"I was just about to walk into my house."

"Oh, nevermind."

"Need me to come by?"

"I got a letter from Stanford."

"Shit, I'll be there in 2 mins."

And in 2 minutes, he surely was knocking at your window. You slide it up enough for him to climb in, Yoongi still in his prom get-up as well.

"Here." You instantly hand him the letter.

"What, why me? It should be you."

"I can't, I really can't." He sighs.

"Are you sure you won't regret this?"

"No, bub. Please." You sit on the bed and fiddle with your fingers as you watch him rip the envelope open and tear out the letter. You can't even keep your eyes on him as he reads the letter and starts backing away from you.

"Shit."

"What? What?!" You stand, trying your best to keep your tone low. He covers his mouth, causing you to pinch his bicep at how dramatic he was being. "Just say it!"

"You're not going." Your heart sinks, but before you could process it, Yoongi speaks up again. "To any other college because Stanford wants you."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" You whisper and shove him.

"Congrats, bubby. Guess we'll be together in college too." Your eyes widen.

"Y-you're going? T-to Stanford?" He smiles and nods.

"Yeah, I am."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Look, I just wanted to give you your space. That's all. I found out before you went all cry baby on me."

"Shut up." You say before laughing and jumping into his arms, throwing your legs around his torso while he swings you around. As he sets you back down onto your bedroom floor, your hands linger around his neck, gently tugging on the hair that rested there. He keeps you close, his hands resting around your waist as your chests are still touching. You honestly have no idea what takes over you— perhaps all the feelings you felt tonight at prom taking over, or feeling overjoyed from finally hearing back from Stanford, you couldn't decide. But you crash your lips against his, immediately pulling back after you realized you've just kissed your bestfriend.

You just had your first fucking kiss through accidental causes.

Well, shit.

Was it accidental or no?

Mind is going off on a tangent.

"Woah. I'm so sorry, Yoonks, I—" He doesn't allow for any space between you two, keeping your body flush against his as his lips crash onto yours again to cut you off. To be quite honest, things are moving fast and the kiss deepens quick. You follow his motions, gaining some rhythm as your tongue dances along with his in the [now] wet, sloppy kiss.

"Wait, Y/N." He pulls away as the moment intensifies. "A-are you sure you wanna keep going? To be honest, I don't know if I'll be able to hold myself back and I know you haven't exactly—" He knows it would be your first time and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. I mean, sure, he loved you. You were special to him. But he wanted to make sure your first time was also special, whether it be him or whoever else.

"Please. I want this. I wanna do this with you."

By the looks of tonight, it seems like it's meant to be him.

You press your lips back onto his with the same intensity and start to unbutton his shirt when you feel his hands hike up your dress. He gently pushes you on the bed, crawling over to you as he kicks off his shoes and finishes ripping off his shirt and tie. He slowly removes the straps of your dress down your shoulders and undoes the zipper on the side before slipping it down and leave you in your panties.

You had no bra on.

Yoongi's eyes widen when he realizes such, your cheeks heating up while you watch him stare down your body. You begin to feel incredibly self-conscious so you cover your chest with an arm. Yoongi senses your uneasiness, your confidence shooting down below zero.

"You're beautiful, bub. Don't." He says, gently tugging your arm away and letting it fall limply to the side. You simply nod and let him take the reigns because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. So many emotions were flooding your mind— you were nervous, you were scared, you were shy, you felt lost and too innocent under Yoongi, even if he knew you like the back of his hand.

And because of that, he could pick up on it with the way your body continued to tense up. He shook off his pants, leaving on his boxers until you were ready for him. Cause fuck, he was ready for you, but he had to take this slow. He had to take care of you.

He lowers himself onto you after the two of you have climbed under the sheets, lowering his head against your neck to press light, feathery kisses along the surface. You felt the tingles shoot down your spine every time his lips made contact, causing you to softly gasp and arch your back at how sensitive you were already feeling.

"If you ever feel uncomfortable, just tell me to stop okay?" He says lowly. You nod in response, Yoongi taking it as leverage to plant a kiss on your lips before moving down to your breasts. He keeps his eyes on you, making sure you don't seem uncomfortable in the slightest bit. But you don't, and it's indicated in the way you bite your bottom lip and arch your back at the way his tongue wraps around your hardened bud. He does the same on the other breast before peppering kisses down your stomach and abdomen.

"Yoongi." You slightly gasp, shy at how unusually close he is to your lady friend.

"What's wrong? Want me to stop?" His thumbs gently caressed your thighs as his head hovered over your pelvis. You shake your head and nervously swallow before speaking once more.

"I-I'm just scared, what if you don't like—"

"Shh." He shushes you. "You're everything to me, you know that. You don't have to change just so I could enjoy you in bed. I'll take good care of you, bub. I promise."

"O-okay." He nods, placing a kiss over your clothed clit before pulling them down to get lost within your sheets. He swipes a finger down your folds, causing your breathing to hitch slightly. You watch as he slowly inserts the same digit inside of you, biting onto his bottom lip watching your facial expressions turn from uncertainty to straight pleasure. "Another." You moan.

"You sure?"

"Yes, please." He inserts another digit, curling his fingers upward as he starts to finger fuck you at a steady pace.

"Shit, you're so wet Y/N." He says lowly before lowering his mouth onto you to get a taste and tease your clit. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation, feeling the pleasure bubbling in your core and you had no idea how to deal with it. He picks up his pace while tonguing your clit and sucking at the right pressure until suddenly, you short circuit and tremble under his grip. You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from moaning too loud with your parents at the other end of the hall [jesus fucking christ], knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets tightly.

Your first orgasm came and washed over you quick.

"Did you just—" He removes his digits from inside of you, drooling at your cum accumulating all over his fingers.

"Holy fuck." You whisper as you regulate your breathing, twitching when Yoongi places a quick kiss on your pussy before coming back up to you.

"How was that?"

"So good. Wanna feel you." You whine, tugging him down towards you.

"I got you, bubby." He says, kissing your jaw, cheek, nose and lips. He reaches over into his pants on the floor, grabbing a condom out of his pocket. You furrow your brow and chuckle, confused if this was something he always did.

"You just carry that around?"

"The guys and I split on a box and carried one each for tonight. Just in case."

"Total fucking assholes." He chuckles.

"Better safe than not, right?" He rips it open with his teeth, spitting the wrapper out onto the floor before rolling it down his cock. He was perfectly thick and long, and it made you a nervous wreck all over again thinking about how this could feel. "Ready? I'll go slow." You nod. You immediately felt immense pressure when you felt Yoongi dip his body and slowly enter you. You winced, Yoongi immediately pausing until you tapped his arm to continue. And so he does, and you continue to breathe through it until he bottoms out and lets out a soft groan against your neck. "Fuck, you're so tight bub. God, you're gonna make me cum quick." He slowly pumps in and out, steadying his pace when he feels you buck your hips up to go along with his motions.

The pleasure skyrocketed; You shut your eyes, letting yourself be in this moment. Feel this moment.

He picks it up a little faster, careful not to bang your headboard against the wall. His forehead is pressed against yours, watching as you let out soft whimpers against his lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yoongi-Yoongi—" You whispered. "You're gonna make me—" It was becoming overwhelming, your clit rubbing against him as he steadied his pace and continued to fuck into you. He nods, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"Yeah, that's it. Let go. It's okay." And that was enough for you to reach your second orgasm tonight. Quick, but fuck. Yoongi made you feel so good, and you wouldn't want it any other way. You shut your eyes as you hurdled over the edge, mouth open with silent, inaudible moans being released. "So fucking pretty." Yoongi says as he feels himself reaching his high with the way your walls pulsated against his cock.

God. So, so good.

He holds onto the headboard and quickly fucks into you until he's spilling his seed in the condom, muffled moans being released against the crook of your neck. It takes a moment before Yoongi raises his head, your hands running through his black hair while he presses a tender kiss against your lips. He slowly removes himself, wrapping the condom in a tissue before tossing it into your trash can. He plops next to you and welcomes you into his arms, caressing you to soothe you from your first time.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." You say, the both of you trying to savor the moment before trying to navigate where to go from here.

What now?

Third Quarter: College, Junior Year (Present)

You bent down, hands resting against your knees as you tried to catch your breath during the timeout Coach Chu had called with 5.2 seconds literally left on the clock. He laid out the play he wanted you and the team to pull off in order to gain the win over Berkeley.

It had to be executed perfectly. No flaws.

Coach Chu had been riding your ass since you were a freshman. But, over the years, you've learned how to work through his tough love and turn it into positives, bettering yourself on and off the floor. It paid off, and he saw the fire in you, finally moving you up to starting point guard right before the season ended. Some team members hated it at first, but eventually, grew to work with it as well.

The plan was to have you come down into the paint and lay up the ball or take a shot at the very last second to avoid Berkeley from getting another chance at scoring. Sometimes you hated the pressure, but you've also learned that a big part of playing ball was thriving under pressure.

Your team closes up the huddle before you and your teammates are heading back out onto the floor to try and get this win. You shake off the nerves, bouncing the ball out of bounds until you check it in with your teammate. After that— it was like a blur. Shit happened so quick, you couldn't even process it. You passed the ball and dashed over to the other side of the court while your teammate put up a screen. You rose your hand as you ran into the paint, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you awkwardly lay up the ball in the position you were in and stumble onto the ground from losing your footing. You turn your head as the buzzer went off, noticing that the ball had bounced off the rim.

You missed a fucking lay up.

How could you miss a fucking lay up?

"Fuck!" You cry as you sit up and smack the floor.

"Aye, it's all good girl! Ain't a big deal! You win some, you lose some! We still got a ways to go!" Your teammate [roommate, and closest college friend] Clarice said as she helped you up. She was right, but every loss to you was a big loss no matter what. Coach was for sure gonna drill you about this too, and you were already mentally preparing.

"Thanks." You mumble. You look out at the disappointed crowd slowly dispersing, wishing you could still catch a familiar face in the crowd.

But, Yoongi hadn't been to your game in years. So you thought. You never caught him if he ever stepped foot into your game.

Your head hung low as the familiar feeling of pain and loneliness came rushing back while you headed to the locker room. Too bad you didn't see him hiding out on the side of the bleachers with Lucas.

"Y/N, a word." Coach Chu says, leading you into his office.

Fuck, here we go.

You shut the door behind you and stand awkwardly in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers.

"Look, I just want to say that you put on hell of a show tonight, win or lose. We still have plenty of games left, plenty of opportunities to lock in play-offs. Alright? Don't be upset."

"Thanks Coach." You give him a tiny smile.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing coach, just been a hectic couple of weeks." In which, it was no lie. You crammed for test after test, project after project. You barely had any time to breathe this year.

"Well, my door is always open if you need to chat." You nod. "I'll see you at practice. Enjoy your night."

"Thanks again." You say as you exit his office and get yourself showered and into comfier clothes.

Meanwhile, Yoongi heads back to his dorm room alongside Lucas, hands dug deep into his pockets while his head hung low.

"You ever gonna talk to her?"

"I don't know." He sighs. "Pretty sure I fucked up any chance of that."

"Look, dude. You haven't really been the same since you and Y/N fell out." Yoongi stays silent as they slowly climb the steps up to their room. "Why are you just gonna leave it like this? It's been so long already. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Positive she doesn't want me around." Lucas shakes his head.

"You haven't even tried. You just gave up and that shit is cold, to be honest. I know Y/N always held it down for you, I would have expected you to do the same." The words cut through Yoongi so deep, he doesn't even know how to respond and leaves it at that.

As you heavily dragged your body back to the dorms and took your sweet ol' time, your mind began to wander back to Yoongi as well. After he had taken your virginity that night, things took a turn for the worst.

He treated you differently, created this distance that allowed you to grow farther and farther apart from each other until he was no longer in your grasp and vice versa.

You went from Yoongi being a part of your every day to nothing. And fuck, did it hurt you. You cried and cried, until you were so tired of crying. You had to pick yourself up and keep it moving no matter what. Life waits for nobody.

You reminisce on those days of debating over who could really be considered the greatest. Although, you did pay your respects to the bigs, the greats— Kobe, Magic, MJ, Lebron— you paid respect where it was rightfully due. However, Derrick Rose at his prime? Rajon Rondo? Chris Paul?

Hell, even Baron Davis, Monte Ellis. Rookie Steph Curry? Shiiit. They were it for you, and Yoongi used to dog your ass on how unrealistic you were being.

That was all gone.

He must be having a ball watching Steph climb up those charts now, though. You wonder what he would say to you.

The days of going to basketball games, to each other's basketball games, to ordering hella pizza and creating chaos in either house over the dunk contest during the NBA All Star Week or yelling all around the living room and jumping on couches during the NBA playoff season and championship games— All gone.

If you knew this would drastically change you and Yoongi, you would have never let that night happen. You continued to put on your brave face, your thick, tough skin even though deep down, it took everything in you to suppress the hurt, betrayal and confusion. Even after all these years.

He meant everything to you. Did you not to him? You could never understand until this day. How could he dispose of you so, so quickly?

You see him on campus and quickly break any eye contact, or run the opposite way. You were tired of doing this even though you felt like you needed closure. Some explanation. You deserved it. But you weren't gonna initiate that. Even if Yoongi did, you don't even know if things could ever go back to the way it was. He promised he would never hurt you, but he has. He still is hurting you. The wounds— it cut deep. Deeper than he could ever imagine.

"Hello?" You smile, hearing your dad on the other line.

"Hey dad."

"Hey baby! How was your game? I'm sorry I couldn't catch it tonight, work kept me behind." You sigh.

"Eh, it's probably good you didn't. Didn't turn out so well." He picks up on how your voice cracks ever so slightly, enough to indicate that you were trying your hardest not to break down about your performance. "I missed the winning shot."

"Oh sweetheart, you'll get 'em next time. You always do. You still have a couple of games left don't you?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that I played shitty as hell tonight."

"There's always room for improvement, only way to go is up from here right?" He says softly, making you smile. "You'll get 'em next time, I have no doubt. You always know how to better yourself even when I think you've already reached your highest potential."

"Thanks Dad. You always were my number one fan."

"I still am." He chuckles. "How's everything else? School?"

"Fine." He always has to stop himself from asking about Yoongi, even to ask if there's been the slightest change to your relationship.

"You sure?"

"Course." You lie.

"Alright, well you know me and your mom are here for you if you need anything."

"I know."

"I'll let you go and get some rest, alright? Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Mmm, I'll try." You chuckle. "I love you."

"Love you too. And hey, baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Always remember that you deserve everything good in this world. If someone can't handle you at your worse, they sure as hell don't deserve you at your best."

"Thank you." You smile as if your dad can see you through the phone before hanging up and unlocking your dorm door.

"Sigma Nu party going on tonight, wanna come and slide through?" Clarice asks as she watches you toss your duffle aside.

"I'm tired, not in the mood."

"So aren't I, but I think we both need it. Come on girl, just for a little." You sigh. Clarice had also been there by your side since you both were freshmen recruits. One day, she came into the room and found you a crying mess, causing her to wrap her arms around you and craddle you until you calmed down. You had spilled the beans about Min Yoongi, especially when he quickly became the talk of the campus as a ladies man and one of the best freshmen recruits Stanford has ever seen. You hated it, but a part of you still found yourself happy that he was getting the recognition he deserved as a ball player.

He wasn't the tallest, or the biggest, but boy had heart and played every game like it was his last. You had been his number one fan, and even though you hated him, that fact would never change.

Anyways, without Clarice, you weren't sure where you'd be. Definitely not here because you'd be too busy running away from your past and all the issues that came with it.

Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and say it. You would be stupid enough to not go to your first choice just because of a stupid boy.

"Fine, fine. I'm leaving as soon as someone wants to start acting up and getting all crazy though."

"Deal." She chuckles. You've learned how to dress up a little more— and by a little we mean baggy sweats, a crop tight fitting tee and chapstick. No way in hell you'd get dolled up for a party. Out of the years you've already been here, you probably went to two parties. One being the party Coach Chu threw at his house for a record-breaking season. The other was a legit party that you stepped foot in for all of 2 seconds before you figured it was time to head home, especially after seeing Yoongi hugged up with some chick and disgustingly tonguing her down while groping her ass.

Shit, you were never gonna get used to it.

The frat house is fucking packed and wreaks of weed even down the corner. You and Clarice push your way through, greeting people who were acknowledging your presence and waving at your other teammates that were also present.

"More basketball babes have arrived, let's go!" One of the frat guys cheers as you and Clarice make your way to the kitchen where all the alcohol is laid out.

"One shot?" She asks as she already has her hand wrapped around the Svedka handle.

"One and done." You tell her. You shouldn't have let her pour the shot though because now, you're stuck with nasty ass vodka near the halfway mark of the cup. "Clarice, what the fuck is this?"

"It's called savoring our one."

"You're fucked up." You joked as you tap your cup against hers and take the shot in three chugs. "Really fucked up." You wince.

"Come, lets go see what the other girls are up to and hang out for a bit." You follow her lead to the corner of the living room, chatting it up with your team before dancing around in the little corner you all occupied— keeping as far away as possible from sloppy and messy dudes.

You turned to eye the crowd at some point, catching Yoongi coming down the stairs, a female following from behind holding his hand. Then, they disappear to the outside of the house. You swallow the lump in your throat, the room feeling hotter than it already was.

Why he still had this affect on you, you had no idea.

Clarice and your teammates are too busy cracking jokes that they don't realize you've slipped away to get some air. You're finding that the crowd has come bigger in the short amount of time you've been here and navigating through it has become difficult. You're having to bob, weave and shove your way out, letting out a sigh the closer you get to the front of the house. You're also really glad you've been able to steer clear from—

"Shit, my bad." You unintentionally bump into someone making your way to the front from the side of the house due to you keeping your head low.

"Y/N?" You whip your head around to see Yoongi raising a brow, dropping his arm from the same chick's shoulders.

"Hi." You give him a fake, tight-lipped smile and rush your way to the front of the house. Thank god you finally make it because you were starting to feel claustrophobic, even being outside. However, you weren't prepared for Yoongi to come after you and grab your wrist the way he did.

"Wait, I didn't expect you to be here." Out of defense, you quickly snatch your wrist away from his grip and furrow your brows at him.

"Yeah, and now I'm leaving."

"Why, hang out for a bit—"

"And what, Yoongi? Watch you be the life of the party? Watch you walk around all fine and dandy like shit never happened between us?" You feel the tears welling up on your bottom lids, but you promised yourself you would never cry over him again. You refuse to. He had already taken up so much of you that you refuse to give him any more.

"Is that what you really think?" He says, the hurt apparent in his expression. To be frank, no. Yoongi really, really never meant to hurt you. And just like he had mentioned before, he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. He hasn't forgiven himself. He hasn't forgiven himself for how he let you slip out of his grasp when it was his own fault for pushing aside his feelings for you. He thought the world of you, the only woman who kept it real with him and stuck by him through the highest of highs, lowest of lows. There was no one as special as you, no one who could ever be as special as you, no matter how many times he tried to sink his dick into other females.

No one was real like you.

But, he was also conflicted because of that. He felt like he couldn't give you the love you rightfully deserved, he didn't think he could love you properly. He had so much to learn and he didn't wanna hurt you in the process. It sounds so fucking stupid [because it is] that he thought distancing himself was better than just being honest. He was a dumbass high schooler, he didn't know any better. But, he never meant to make you feel special for one night, then run from it. You were always special to him. You had always been. You always will be. And these past years hurt like a bitch, but he coudn't find the words to explain. Eventually, he just believed he would do less damage if you both remained distant this way.

Although, he longed for you. He really needed you just as you needed him. He always has, always will.

So when the two of you bump into each other tonight, he felt like maybe, it was a sign. Maybe it was time to stop being childish.

God, he missed your face.

God, he was a fucking asshole.

"No, I'm not doing this shit." You shake your head. "Just— continue to stay away from me, okay? I'm better off without you." The words sting you, but it doesn't sting you as much as it stings Yoongi. You glare at him once more before you turn on your heel and begin walking down the street to head back to your dorm.

"Y/N! Wait up!" Clarice calls for you, eyeing Yoongi as she passes him to catch up with you down the street. "Hey, hey. You okay?" She swings her arm around you when she catches you silently crying to yourself. "What did he do, Y/N?"

"He fucking exists, that's what." You groan. "Ugh, fuck! I'm not supposed to be crying over his dumbass, I'm better than this Clarice— Why the fuck am I crying over it?" You break down, crouching down to your knees, causing Clarice to hover over you and pull you into a hug.

"Maybe you just need to let it out and stop forcing yourself to not feel anything."

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him." You bawled into your arms. "I hate him so much." She caressed your back. "But he still finds a way to mean so much to me."

"I think it's time for you two to talk."

"I can't. It's just better this way."

"Are you sure? Because look at you, Y/N. You're a mess, and this hasn't even been the first time you broke down about him. As much as you want to believe that you're fine without him, you're not. He was your bestfriend and I think you need him more than you even know yourself."

"He's doing fine without me."

"You don't know that, baby. Dudes are annoying as fuck because they can literally go on about their day and mask that shit well. If he's ready, let him explain. Hear him out. You both may be misunderstanding the entire situation." It takes you a good minute before you can finally gather yourself and make it back to your dorm room with Clarice.

She was right.

But you were so angry more than anything. You were angry and you weren't sure how you could get past it.

He left your side.

And so the next day, you go about your day in class, staying quieter than usual during practice. For the most part, Coach Chu was always on your ass because of how vocal you were and how much you caught an attitude when things didn’t go the way you'd like it to. So, to see you this quiet, almost sullen even, concerns him. But, he already pressed you once and he wasn't gonna do it again to avoid irritating you any further.

You run the usual conditioning drills, practicing play by play before a final scrimmage game for the night. You push yourself hard like you always do, almost coming out of practice dry heaving from how tired you are. It was your bad habit though, you wouldn't quit until you got it right. Until you felt right. And unfortunately, it's another one of those nights where you feel unsatisfied with your performance. So, you take it upon yourself to continue practicing in the empty gym that was set to close within the next hour. You're tired out of your mind, and you know this is probably a bad idea, but you can't shake off the feeling of dissatisfaction. To you, that was the next worst thing. Right behind Yoongi.

You begin to work on your three pointers, lay ups and shots out of range before you start to play a scrimmage game with yourself.

"I'll play you." You suddenly hear, the sweat beads dripping down your forehead at this point. You watch Yoongi as he drops his water bottle off at the side of the court before walking over to you.

"Go away."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

"No, I just don't wanna play your ass." You shot up the ball, only for it to bounce off the backboard and land in Yoongi's hand.

"Ball up. Let's play till 10."

"Why the hell do you wanna play me, Yoongi? Don't you have a random chick to bone?"

"I'm clearly standing right in front of you aren't I? Quit fucking talking and play." He aggressively passes you the ball to check it in, you following suit, making the ball damn near bounce off of his chest with how hard you pass it back. He knew exactly how to rile you up.

You get into the zone quickly, trying to find some kind of redemption for the way you had been feeling lately. Redemption, validation, way to take the edge off— anything, really. It was only until the first person scored to 10, but Yoongi was putting up one hell of a fight, jet black hair parted down the middle and matted to his forehead from the sweat building up. You take the lead, sitting at 8 while Yoongi sat at a sad 6 points.

"Ball." You call out as you scored a layup, ramming yourself against the padded wall with the force you had put up.

"That's 10."

"Ball, Yoongi." You huffed and puffed.

"Stop, don't overwork yourself. You just got—"

"Suddenly you care? Stop being a pussy and pass me the goddamn ball." He furrows his brows as he passes you the ball, crouching down to meet you at eye level to try and guard you. You run towards the right of the court, pulling a pump fake before you pivot to get away from Yoongi's guard. You pivot hard and drive it up to the basket, only to fall on the wrong footing and twist your ankle on the way down. "Ouch, fuck!"

"Shit, Y/N!" Yoongi comes to your side, hand supporting your back as the other is on your ankle.

"I'm fine, leave me—"

"Stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you." He says angrily. You don't say anything else while you fix your position on the floor. "Can you wiggle it at least?"

"Y-yeah." You wince as you wiggle your foot and roll it around a couple of times. Phew, at least this shit wasn't gone for good. But Coach Chu still wouldn't be happy to hear you sprained your ankle releasing your anger on Yoongi during a dumb game. Yoongi helps you stand, arm around your waist as he throws your arm around his neck and holds you steady by the wrist.

"Try walking on it."

"I can, but it hurts a little." Yoongi sighs.

"You just sprained it. Let's go get you some ice or something at the nursing center before going back to your dorm." You silently nod as you hang onto Yoongi for extra support, careful not to make the situation any worse than it already is. He has you sit on the chair within the nursing center, the nurse coming over to wrap your ankle nicely before giving you crutches and some instant hot compress to pop onto it. She orders for security to drive you two over to the dorm building in their go-cart so that you wouldn't have to do much walking on your foot while you focused on healing.

Yoongi doesn't leave your side, even after you've walked into your dark, empty dorm room, not really knowing where Clarice is at right now [possibly library]. He shuts your door and sits you on the edge of your bed, setting your crutches near your bed side and your instant hot compress.

"You need anything else?" Your head hangs low as you slightly chuckle and shake your head.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask him lowly before looking back up at him, tears clouding your vision. "Hm? Why, Yoongi?"

"You're hurt, why wouldn't I—"

"Hmm." You hum. "I'm hurt? So where the fuck were you after prom night? When I was hurt then, where the fuck have you been?" You began to cry.

"Y/N." His tongue swipes over his lips before he sighs. "I'm sorry." He says, close to a whisper.

"Are you? Because I don't think you really understand how bad you hurt me." You aggressively wipe away your tears while continuing to look at him, his body language soft and full of regret. "You didn't care about me."

"How could you say that? I cared—" He sighs as his head drops for a second. "I care about you more than you know."

"If you did then why the fuck was it so easy for you to drop me the way you did?!" You yelled. "You just don't do that to the people you care about, especially if it’s your bestfriend."

"Look, you're right. I have no excuse for the way I acted, and if I could turn back time to re-do it, I would. But I can't, and the only thing I can do is apologize and do my best to make it up to you." His bottom lip trembles as he steps closer to you, a small frown forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Yoongi." You cried. "I did everything for you, I stuck by you through everything, even during the times you didn't deserve that shit from me. But I stayed! I stood by you because you meant everything to me and god—" You groaned. "I needed you. I needed you and you weren't there! I fucking hate you for doing this shit to me but part of me will always have love for you no matter how fucked up the situation is. I will always drop everything for you. I will always care about you, and it's so unfair." It broke Yoongi's heart and he didn't know what to say, but he wraps his arms around you anyway, keeping you in a tight hug against his chest. He's surprised that you let him, even more surprised at how he feels your body soften under his touch.

"Fuck, I'm so, so sorry bub." He says lowly as he presses a kiss on top of your head. "I'm so sorry."

"Please don't ever go again." You cry against his chest.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna be right here." He says hugging you tighter. "You're the only one who's ever understood me, who's ever kept it real with me. I don't deserve you, but I know damn sure I'll work hard to make up for letting you go in the first place." He places another kiss on top of your head. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere. I'm so sorry."

- - -

"THE STANFORD BOYS TAKE THE CHAMPIONSHIP!" The commentator screams into his mic, Yoongi running a lap around the court before he's cheering loudly with his teammates and joining the group hug. You run down the bleachers, dashing straight into Yoongi's arms while he swings you around.

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" You squeal and giggle as Yoongi places you back down and plants multiple kisses around your face, hands resting on the small of your back.

"Let's get out of here." He whispers in your ear.

"I'll wait at your car, bighead." You wink, causing him to smile that gummy smile of his that you adore more than life itself.

There's obviously a huge party going on tonight to celebrate this huge achievement, but Yoongi says he doesn't wanna join for once. He's happy, yeah. But the way he wants to celebrate is in peace. After so long, he feels like he can finally say he's content with where his life is at and where it's going. He drives over to the nearest beach, backing into a space so the both of you could sit in the back and try catching all the shooting stars up above. Yoongi leans against the side of the trunk, allowing you to lay your head on his lap while you curled up beside him listening to the waves slowly crash against the sand.

"Saw one." He says, looking up at the sky.

"You're a punk, no you didn't."

"What?" He laughs. "How are you about to say that? I caught it with my own two eyes."

"Oop! I saw one!"

"Now that's a lie. I was looking up too."

"Shut up." You laugh, causing Yoongi to tickle you along the sides before he stops and plants a kiss on your lips. It's silent for a minute while the two of you take in the night view— The sky and ocean coming together as one, forming a view that seemed endless.

"Hey."

"Hm?" You hum as Yoongi's fingers gently brush through your hair.

"You know I love you right?"

"Ew with the sappy shit, Min Yoongi." He laughs.

"Seriously."

"I know." You smile up at him. "I love you too."

"Come here." He says softly, tugging you upwards. You sit up, allowing Yoongi to press his lips against yours. He pulls you in by your shirt, having you straddle his lap while he grips onto your hips and immediately grinds against you. You let out a small moan feeling how quickly he hardened, his cock hitting you in the right places as you continue to grind on him. "Fuck, wanna feel you babygirl."

"Here?"

"Yeah." He chuckles and bites onto his bottom lip.

"What, all of a sudden you're scared?"

"Fuck off." You fire back, releasing his hardened member from its confines as you stroke him gently. He tilts his head back in pleasure before tugging your shorts and panties to the side, enough for him to cop a feel of how wet you are.

"Baby's all wet."

"What're you gonna do about it?" You whisper against his lips, biting onto his bottom lip and pulling back slightly. He hisses at the sensation before he moves your hand from his cock and takes control. He pushes you upward, positioning you enough to line up with your entrance.

"Take this shit off."

"Yoongi, we're in public."

"So, you're all talk and no play."

"I hate you."

"Nobody's here." He groans. "Just take off your shorts, pleeease." He begs as he slowly strokes himself. You toss aside your shorts, Yoongi immediately hooking his finger at the bottom of your panties and tugging it aside in order to push himself into you. He does enough before he lets you do the rest of the work and sink down on his length, a gasp leaving your throat as you take all of him in. He grips your hips tightly, setting the pace as he groans into your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair resting at the nape of his neck.

"Shit, babe." You moan as you tilt your head back.

"Fuck, you always ride me so well." He presses light kisses against your neck before he's nipping at the surface.

"Godddd why do you feel so good?" You whimper.

"You like how I feel inside of you?" You nod. "Yeah? Like how my cock fills you up?"

"Never gonna get tired of it." You moan, Yoongi making you pick up the pace aggressively. Besides the waves crashing, the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin fills the car, along with your soft moans and Yoongi's groans. Your clit is constantly rubbing against him, causing the pleasure to build so quickly it becomes overwhelming. You try to hold off as much as you can but—

"My pretty baby. All I fucking need." He almost growls, the words enough to send you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, not even caring for the houses nearby as your orgasm hits hard and ripples throughout your body, sending aftershocks. Yoongi continues to have you ride him fast and hard, the overwhelming sensation causing a hint of pain to mix with more pleasure until you feel him feel you up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groans as his nails dig into your skin, giving two good thrusts upwards into you to help ride out his high. You both sit in the position for a minute, trying to come back down from your highs. Yoongi gives you a delicate peck on the lips, smiling into the kiss before he pulls away. "Swear you're all I need."

"See, I don't know if I could say the same." He smacks your ass as you hike up and off of him to put on your shorts.

"Take it back."

"I'm kidding." You blush.

"My ride or die. Are you with me?"

"Always have been. Are you?"

"You know I am."

"Good. You know it takes two." He smiles before pulling you into another hug and pressing a kiss against your temple.

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